Such dark days! It’s 11pm in Poland and I’m hearing more about one church’s ministry to Ukrainians fleeing the war. Marzena, a council member of the Baptist church in Bialystok, Poland, has called me to tell me the latest news. Such are the pressures of all she needs to get done, this is the first opportunity she’s had to talk since she got home from work. ‘I’m just back from the meeting,’ she says. ‘It was good. No-one was speaking any discouragement.’

I find myself drawn towards the nitty-gritty light of Marzena’s faith. It’s down-to-earth and practical, doggedly finding ways of opening doors that seem always to be shutting.

‘I used to pray, ‘God, I find myself living at one of those times when nothing much happens to me,’ says Marzena, ‘when the worst is a car-accident or cancer.’  Then she becomes more animated, more alive.  ‘But then, since Covid, the world just got crazy! I started to understand that my life was not going to be a regular life without hard experiences.’ If deep down she’d like to have her old life back, she doesn’t say so. This is the present, these are the circumstances, and she’s called to respond as best she can.

The challenges facing the church are colossal. Thanks to the generosity of many near and far, the church is not only welcoming Ukrainians into homes and into its reception centre, it’s also now sending more and more van-loads of supplies to those still in Ukraine. The need is increasingly great. The vans cross the border, where the contents are transferred into other vehicles which transport them further into the country.

The logistics of managing such an operation means involving new volunteers, all of whom come with their questions and need for training. New coordinators have to step up. How many vans are there? How many drivers will be needed? Where will they come from? Have they done the necessary paperwork? Procedures and checks are in place to allow humanitarian aid to cross the border, and all the details need meticulously to be attended to.

Despite this, practicalities at the border are still very chaotic. The church has been asked to participate in an international networking initiative, instigated by a charity, attempting to coordinate assistance more efficiently. The church is delighted to participate, but it means more meetings, more calls, more contacts, and it all takes more hope-sustained time and energy.

‘We pray about people all the time,’ she says. Marzena knows by heart the names and stories of the people at their centre, and the details of their circumstances. There’s news of Viktoria who was staying with Marta. Once her sons had arrived, the whole family was welcomed at the centre. A week later, they took the decision to move on – to Holland. A Dutch church sent a bus to transport anyone who wanted to travel onwards to the Netherlands. The family has now been offered full accommodation in their new country.

But not all are keen to travel onwards, Marzena tells me. Many who have left loved ones in Ukraine want to stay as near as possible to them. Others are in too traumatized a state to decide where they will go. Others again imagine that the war will end in just the next few days and that they will be able to go back home. Yet others are reluctant to travel to countries where they don’t speak the language. ‘We mustn’t hurry them. We aren’t going through what our guests are going through. But we’re there to offer comfort and support.’

The well-known hymn Brother, sister, let me serve you, includes the moving lines:

 ‘I will hold the Christ-light for you

In the night-time of your fear.’ 

The times we live in are very dark: increasingly it seems, unspeakably so. Despite our best attempts, no speech seems enough to articulate either the horror or the terror of destruction, and no words about the love of God seem adequate to make a dent in the agony. However, the simple promise to hold the Christ-light seems small enough and profound enough to be meaningful.

There are perhaps many ways to hold such a light – practical, prayerful, financial, relational. Marzena seems to be doing all four! But as we pledge with trembling hands to hold the Christ-light for another, we remember that we do so in the humble faith that when it’s our turn to be overshadowed by the darkness, others will be there for us with their candle.

Discover more about the church’s ministry to Ukrainians here: https://marycotes.co.uk/2022/03/12/crossing-the-border-scenes-from-a-polish-church/

Read more about the story of Viktoria and others like her here: https://marycotes.co.uk/2022/03/09/lent-from-the-borderland/

Find your copy of Women Without Walls here: https://www.bookdepository.com/Women-Without-Walls-Mary-Cotes/9789811471568?ref=grid-view&qid=1645452441503&sr=1-1