Day 2: Friendships Are Formed As Our Trip Kicks Off

Hello everyone,

it's Christian here, live in Yerevan reporting back on a riveting Day 2 in the books for our Armenia trip. What a day it has been! We had a completely wonky sleeping schedule, with all four of us later discovering that we had all, at separate times woken up between the hours of 3 and 5 a.m. because we simply could not sleep. Here is to hoping that we have a little more luck tonight with a stable sleeping schedule.

During those two hours in the early morning, we heard noise and movement in our hallway, but I personally was too tired to go outside and find out who had arrived or what they were doing making noise at such an ungodly hour. However, when I got up this morning and stepped into the hallway, who did I see but my beloved Maroon 20 partner Sona, who is here for the conference from Greece (Maroon 20 was the nickname we gave our 2015 Armenia missions team). It was such an amazing surprise to see her there, especially because she had not told anyone she would be attending and I was not expecting to see her there, let alone know she was staying two rooms away from us. I had not seen here in three years, so it was a special moment to embrace and realize that we would get to serve together again in Armenia.

Because today was technically a free day for us as all the groups from around the world are flying in to begin the trip, the four guys decided to head out to grab a tasty breakfast before beginning our day. We decided on a quaint sidewalk café called Hemingway's (he's made his way out to Armenia, apparently). Nicholas and I both ordered omelettes, but they did not come in the traditional American half moon shape. My omelette came in a bowl, watered down with the juice of tomatoes I ordered in it, while Nicholas' came on top of pita bread and served with vegetables. It was a switch-up from what I'm used to, but it tasted fantastic, so I can put that down as another amazing meal here in Yerevan. It seems you can't go wrong with the incredible variety of food available to you here. Certainly a far cry from the boring, bland Russified cuisine of the Soviet era that many people may envision when it comes to Armenia's cuisine (borscht, anyone?).

After breakfast, we decided to explore the central area on our own a bit more, and somehow ended up stumbling onto a little gem of a gelato shop down one of Yerevan's main streets, Northern Avenue. For some reason, even at 10 in the morning, gelato went down fantastically well after our meal, and especially given how hot it already was, gelato was a good choice for everyone. As we were walking, we stumbled across a comical and hilarious scene of a truck that must've been from the time of Stalin parked in the middle of a busy intersection as an older Armenian man was fixing an electrical line that ran over the street. It looked like dangerous work, and ever the kind and caring servant for the public good, George could not help but wonder if this man was unionized or not and was being compensated properly for his exertions (hint: he's not). Picture is included below for your viewing pleasure.

We returned back to the AMAA headquarters to relax and wait until a driver came to take us and our luggage to the Ibis Hotel in Yerevan, where we would be staying for a portion of the missions trip. We ended up napping (or in my case, reading) for about 3 hours, until our very Armo but very awesome driver Samvel (not Samuel, you must call him SamVEL) arrived to take us over to the hotel. We all had our own worries about what a hotel experience would be like in Yerevan, but I am happy to report that the hotel is fantastic, modern and chic, with all the amenities and then some that anyone could ever want. Nicholas and I are sharing a room, as are Pat and George. The rooms, in typical European fashion, are extremely small, but we are all making due. I guess they model the hotel room size after Armenian men's pants here in Yerevan; too tight in all the wrong places. The beds are barely big enough for Nicholas and I both if we are laying straight, but we are enjoying the experience nonetheless. Being on the ninth floor and having incredible views all around doesn't hurt my opinion of the hotel either. We managed to catch an episode of Spongebob (hilariously dubbed in Russian) before we nodded off for a little while to rest.

We took a little time to relax before getting a knock on our door. When I answered, it was none other than our own cousin Alyssa from Ohio! We were overjoyed to see her, as it was her first time traveling to Armenia, and she had wanted to come on this trip specifically so she could serve with us. Alyssa is only half Armenian (her dad is black), and so she doesn't know any Armenian and isn't very close with her Armenian roots, but from the time she first heard about this missions trip, she had her heart set on coming and serving in her home country, and we encouraged her to pursue that goal! Originally, we thought she had missed the reservation deadline for the trip, but somehow she managed to finagle her way onto the team and it was such a funny yet odd feeling seeing her in a place that is completely foreign to her. We normally see her in Ohio or California, so it really was crazy to see her here, thousands of miles away from her normal territory, ready to serve with us. I admire her courage to travel to a country whose language she does not know, and whose people she is not necessarily close with. She has a servant heart and we are delighted to be with her!

At 6:30, we gathered as a group and walked back over to the AMAA headquarters to meet up with the other 100 or so youth from around the world for fellowship and dinner. It was fantastic to see people I knew from Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Lebanon, Armenia and beyond, and to meet new people from around the world as well. The kind women of the Evangelical Church of Armenia, Yerevan had prepared a delicious meal of chicken, salad, and pasta, and it was safe to say we destroyed our plates. Thank you Armenian women, we love you very much. We had the rest of the night to ourselves, so we decided to go as a big group of about 20 of us to a lounge and cafe near the city center where we hung out, ate, laughed and reminisced until around 10.

George, Pat, Nicholas and I headed back early so we could get a full-body workout in before bed. We are determined to stay fit and healthy on this trip, and that means getting in regular exercise, whenever and however you can. It is so helpful when you have other guys who care about fitness just as much as you, pushing you to work harder and achieve maximum results, and so even though we were doing exercises in a tiny hotel room, we got it done and we all feel great as a result! And so, that draws an end to a relaxing but eventful day in Armenia, as we prepare for our first day with the entire group tomorrow. Stay tuned and thank you as always for reading and sharing your thoughts. I am so happy to hear from each and every one of you, even while we are thousands of miles away. Thank you.

Love,

Christian

Non-Union, which stressed George out ;)

Pyoorker Kink, anyone?

The lobby of the Ibis Hotel Yerevan

Alyssa is here!

We Are Back Baby!

Hello everyone,

Christian here. I know you have all been anxiously awaiting my next blog post for the past two years after I traveled to Lebanon in 2016 for missions work.

And now, after much hard work (and about an hour of typing) I bring you our new blog, this time so cleverly titled 'Men On A Mission' (see what I did there?). You see this time, it's not just me traveling alone across the world for missions. No, this time I've somehow managed to convince three other strapping young lads to join me on my misadventures and hijinks in Armenia. I guess my powers of persuasion haven't waned yet. George Doctorian, Patrick Hovsepian, and my brother Nicholas Manoukian will be my constant companions and sources of support on this trip, a shoulder to cry on when things get rough and friends to laugh with when times are happy (or when I just don't understand our Armenian taxi driver).

We left LAX as a group on Tuesday (July 31) afternoon around 4 p.m., flying Aeroflot to Moscow. I can now officially confirm Aeroflot is the worst ever airline around; cramped living conditions on our twelve hour flight, sub-par in-flight meals, REALLY sub-par and malfunctioning in-flight entertainment, and flight attendants who refuse to smile no matter how funny you think you are. I warn you, don't fly Aeroflot if not absolutely necessary. Luckily, George and Patrick brought sour gummy worms along for the trip, which cures all ailments and sicknesses and certainly made the flight experience more bearable. I found out Liam Neeson is still an absolute boss when he's thrown into crappy situations (go watch 'The Commuter' if you have not yet), and we all experimented with every possible upright sleeping position in our seats, with no success whatsoever.

We landed in Moscow at 2 p.m. the next day (August 1), and let me say, I have no clue how an airport that size accommodated so many of the fans of the World Cup just last month. The airport is very long and narrow, not a comfortable walking experience for just our group of four on a normal Wednesday, let alone when thousands of fans are arriving for World Cup games. I don't know how they did it, but credit goes to them because it appears they pulled it off fantastically.

I will never forget the smell of Moscow bathrooms, and wasn't surprised one bit when I stepped inside one and realized the smell hadn't changed; a stench of stale urine and cigarette smoke, topped off by no functioning A/C in the restroom. You'd do well to bring a gas mask along with you for vitality's sake.

After about an hour's layover, we boarded our final flight to Yerevan, knowing our long journey was nearly up. It was comforting yet unsettling to see so many Armenians in the same place on the plane, hearing your mother language being spoken like it's no big deal is always a special feeling. The perpetually 'screaming-bloody-murder' Armenian babies magically appeared like a trial from God during the last hour of our flight to test our patience, but praise the Lord, we prevailed and no babies on that plane were hurt in the writing of this blog post.

We arrived in Armenia as the sun was setting over the capital city, and the view as you're landing still does not disappoint. Mount Ararat, it's snow-capped peak glinting in the distance, is a constant reminder of our rich heritage and beautiful culture, as well as an awesome statement of our Creator's power and might. The rich green of the surrounding countryside, dotted by houses here and there, reminds one of Armenia's status in the world as a developing nation, still working on dragging itself out of the third world and into first or second-world living conditions for its residents. More on that later.

When we arrived, we had a long delay in getting our luggage, which caused a brief fright, before we realized that George had come prepared with six pairs of underwear and four shirts already packed into his carry-on bag and that we would not have to worry about lost supplies with him in our midst. We had a very friendly driver sent by the Armenian Missionary Association of America pick us up at the arrivals area, and drove us the 25 or so minutes to the AMAA headquarters at the 18 Marshal Baghramyan Avenue in Yerevan.

It is such an amazing feeling to travel back to Armenia and see everything written out in a language you can read and are familiar with, to see people who's features and characteristics remind you of people who may be close friends or family members back home, and so on. We realized that when we arrived at the headquarters around 9:30 p.m., we were absolutely starving (and eager to put the experience of Aeroflot food behind us), so we decided to head out for a late dinner on the town. We are so lucky that our residence is literally five minute's walk from the city center and all the main shopping and dining, and we will definitely be taking advantage of that proximity over the next few days.

One awesome thing about Armenia that you may not be able to appreciate unless you've been to Armenia before or lived in a culture where isolation isn't the norm like it is in the U.S., is that even during the very late night, there are thousands of people milling about, walking around, sitting at roadside cafes talking and laughing, face to face, without the distraction (dare I say, scourge) of cell phones bombarding them with pointless notifications, and just enjoying one another's presence wholeheartedly. It is an intoxicating feeling, and one that quickly infected us with the same joy for life as those around us. For Patrick and George, it took a while for the shock of how lively and vibrant Yerevan is at night to set in, especially because this is their first time in the country and I think they didn't know exactly what to expect of the country as a whole. I have been pleasantly surprised both times here, and it seems like since Nikol Pashinyan became prime minister of Armenia, there has been a new surge of optimism and joy in this country and in a part of the world where optimism is traditionally in short supply. It is something we could literally feel, tangibly, as we were walking the streets at almost midnight with people all over the place still laughing, hugging, kissing, and talking. How beautiful it is to see a changing Armenia.

After much excited discussion at the variety of restaurants available to us, we eventually settled for a Lebanese cafe tucked away down a cozy side street near the Cascade Complex (because how can you possibly go wrong some good old-fashioned Lebanese food), and WOW, it did not disappoint. Tabbouleh, fattoush, mutabal, sarma, soujoukh pizza, and a chicken shawarma sandwich, all for a measly $24 USD. It is still unbelievable how cheap food is here. We were floored when we got the bill. The same meal at a restaurant in Glendale would've cost us at least double the price. I could get used to this, Armenia.

Now it is 4 a.m. here and I am typing this because my sleep schedule is non-existent as of yet, so as I adjust, hopefully the timing of these blog posts will be slightly more forgiving on my beauty sleep. In the meantime, we are so happy to have landed safely in Armenia, and cannot wait to see how the Lord will use each on of us individually as the trip gets underway. Speak with you again soon!

Love,

Christian

Let's Talk About "That" Picture

Hello everyone,

Christian here again, this time trying out a bigger, more readable font (let me know what you think of the change). I've been out of action for a couple of days now and really felt like I should wait until I had something truly meaningful to post again before writing. 

 I don't want to be posting dumb things all the time just to be "consistent"; on the contrary, I'd rather only post once a week if what I'm writing is something heartfelt or something that I truly enjoy discussing. It means my writing will be that much better and in the end, we will all benefit.

Anyways, like I said, I'm writing today's blog with a heavy heart.

If you've been keeping an eye on the world news over the past couple of weeks, you'll have noticed that recently fighting in Syria, and in Aleppo in particular, has really ramped up as the rebel forces and the Syrian government continue to wage war for control of strategic parts of the city.

During a very recent (read: 2 days ago) airstrike by either government or Russian forces on a rebel-held area of the city, multiple apartment blocks were hit by bombs.

Among the injured was a little boy, 5 year-old Omran Daqneesh.

At this point, you've probably already heard this story from any of the hundreds of news outlets that are reporting it or seen the picture online somewhere.

This has reignited the Syria argument and has really put a spotlight on the many tragedies and horrors the civilians there are forced to survive through daily.

In the video taken by Aleppo Media Centre, workers from the Syrian Civil Defense, more commonly known as the 'White Helmets' (read this absolutely incredible story on them HERE), pull out Omran from the rubble of a bombed-out apartment and rush him into a nearby waiting ambulance.

It's not unusual to see children suffering from injuries in Aleppo during these type of events.

But there are just some images, some videos, some things that will jar and wake up and shock a world such as ours; some just hit a particular nerve.

Similar to the stunning image published last year of young Syrian refugee Alan Kurdi, dead and washed up on a Turkish beach, this new image of little Omran looking dazed and stunned in the back of the ambulance has once again pointed a glaring spotlight on the Syrian conflict and it's disastrous consequences for everyone involved.

As a side note, I should add that having been in photography for a little while now and having a passion for it, and as such viewing tons of photography books, awards, top photographs, breaking news photographs, etc., this whole situation absolutely twists me up inside.

For one, I can't totally get behind the photographer seen in the video just snapping away pictures of the poor little kid.

I understand that as a breaking news photographer for a major news agency, your ONE and ONLY job is to get that picture and send it back to your bureau for publishing.

I understand that in addition to that responsibility, as a war photographer you often feel a moral responsibility to in some way enact social justice in a situation, to get a certain tragedy or event exposed so that people become aware of what is happening and feel compelled to do something.

Photographers are some of the best and strongest social activists I've ever come across.

There are just some situations where in my mind, its just not appropriate at all to be taking photos.

Photos like this one, like the one of little Alan Kurdi, or the infamous vulture photo taken by Kevin Carter.

I don't know, maybe I just don't have the mental steel to be able to just break all barriers and snap away no matter how tragic the situation unfolding in front of me is.

Maybe I'm just not cut out for that, but I have a feeling I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Now, on the other hand, I think now that the images and video HAVE been taken and published online, I support that they're out there and that people who would otherwise be uninformed and blind on the state of affairs in Syria can now be educated and have their eyes opened to just how bad it's gotten there.

Possibly, HOPEFULLY, in some way they will feel compelled to take action and push for change.

Again, do not misunderstand me, I think EVERY SINGLE DEATH I see and hear about is absolutely heartbreaking. That much should be clear for every human being with a heart and a conscience.

But there is something so incredibly distressing, so heart-rending, so painful, about seeing a child suffer the same pain and suffering as an adult.

I can't quite put into words why that is.

Maybe because in much of the world, we have this image of children as sweet, pure, innocent, and tender.

They haven't been exposed to reality yet and are living in their own little world.

They haven't lost their sense of wonder and adventure and haven't been weighed down with all the worries and stresses that life hits us with.

Even in a war zone like Syria, kids will be kids. They will play soccer and cards and fight and quarrel and smile for the cameras and laugh at jokes.

Yet in this moment, we see the innocence of poor Omran being savagely ripped away from him, never to be returned.

That little boy has never had a day in his life where there hasn't been war, death, destruction, and poverty surrounding him in his country.

But as he looks around at his surroundings, scared and timid, I can't help but feel that he has been thrust now into a world so foreign and alien from the one he should be experiencing as a young child of 5.

Maybe it was his haircut, long and floppy up top, cut in the shape of a bowl; or maybe it was his rumpled T-shirt showing the Nickelodeon cartoon character CatDog; or maybe its his mouth and his lips, open just enough to form a small ‘O’, the look of confusion and shyness spelled out on his lips; or maybe it’s his dazed, confused, slow and sad movements in the video. 

As he is rescued, he looks around in confusion, his chubby forearm draped trustingly across the reflective stripe on his rescuer’s back, before he is plopped into the chair at the back of an ambulance, lit blindingly white.

He settles into a thousand-yard stare, apparently too stunned to cry. Then he puts a hand to his bloody brow, looks at his palm in surprise, and tries to wipe it on the chair. He glances around, as if trying to understand where he is.

I don't cry too often at too many things, but I'm not afraid to admit this video made me cry openly. 

Again, I can't exactly pin the reason why. 

Maybe it's because just a few weeks ago, I myself was playing with Syrian-Armenian kids just like Omran. 

I replay their movements, their actions, the curious and shy look in their eyes when they saw the boy from America step into the room. 

Just like Omran, many of them had been caught up in the crossfire of a brutal conflict far more serious than they had any idea about. 

They looked like Omran, they dressed like Omran, they acted like Omran, they were just lucky enough NOT TO BE Omran.

And that, I think, is what hit me hardest. 

Any of those kids I had held and played with and laughed with could've been pulled out of the rubble in just the same way, bruised and bloodied and covered in a blanket of dust and dirt. 

Their lives were, and still are, so fragile. 

As I watched the video and blinked back tears, I can't help but hope and pray that Omran becomes a catalyst for change. True change within the country that brings a halt to the violence and pain and suffering being inflicted on thousands of souls daily. 

My heart and my best intentions want this to be fulfilled, but the facts and evidence tell me that this is only the beginning.

Lord, please let me be proven wrong. 

(the video of Omran's rescue can be viewed HERE)

Song of the Day! (1)

Hello everyone,

Christian here. I didn't have the time to sit and develop a longer, more substantial blog post like I had originally intended.

Instead, I thought I'd start a 'Song of the Day' blog, something unique that hopefully will continue every week on this blog.

Music is interesting. It's like a universal language; no matter what country you are in, you can put on a song and soon you'll have people dancing and singing passionately, even if they have no clue what the words are saying.

Case in point: someone tossed on Bailando by Enrique Iglesias, which is just another dirty song all about the singer taking full advantage of some girl sexually, and soon everyone was dancing like this was some beautiful victory song or something (without understanding one words on the Spanish lyrics). Probably not a good idea to dance to songs that you don't know the meaning behind.

Either way, music has a way of unnearthing deep emotions inside us. From grief to joy, hearing a melody can change our whole mood instantly.

For me this week, there has been a lot of work as I'm adjusting back to my new routine here. Without giving too many details, my mom is also heading to the hospital to have an urgent operation today, and that has been a source of anxiety and stress for me as well.

As a result, all week I've been listening to the song 'Psalm 139 (Far Too Wonderful)' by Shane and Shane.

I love Shane and Shane, and their latest album, titled 'Psalms, Vol. 2', is just a collection of worship themed after all these different psalms. It's a wonderful exercise to turn in Bible to the psalm title of the song and read it, then go on to listen to their matching songs, like 'Psalm 139'.

It's a beautiful song that reminds us that God is firmly and completely in control of our lives, from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs (something I need reminding of sometimes).

The lyrics are absolutely beautiful, so if you have any problems understanding them within the song, I urge you to search them up online and read them personally, either with the music or without.

Listening to it, I can't help but close my eyes and surrender all my fears and anxieties to God. It is hard, but we cannot let ourselves be slaves to these emotions that will only pull us away from Christ.

Go listen to this song, and let me know what you think.

Love, Christian

The Lebanese Have Responded!

Hello everyone,

Christian here again. I had no clue what to put as a title for today's blog, so please excuse the stupidity up top. You'll find it's semi-accurate, after all.

After yesterday's Reflections on Beirut post (which you can find here), I got a lot of cool comments from people who had read the blog. Some people said it was funny, others said they agreed with what I had written about the issues Beirut is facing, and still others said my analysis and reflections didn't match up with reality.

It was cool to get feedback from others, and I'd love to continue getting that, whether good or bad. I realize that I am an American writing these blogs, yet my audience is at least half Lebanese. My viewpoint and perspective might be totally different than someone who is experiencing these issues on a daily basis.

With that being said, I figured maybe the Lebanese people who read my blog aren't happy their views and opinions aren't being expressed.

Well, complain no longer! I've brought in some diverse viewpoints to give my blog some spice ;)

One of the people who got in touch with me after reading my blog post was my good friend Angie, whom I met while In Beirut. We had a good little conversation about some of the stuff I had written, and then I asked her if she would consider writing a response to my post, a "guest blog" of sorts.

To give you some background, Angie is 21 years old, from Beirut (obviously). She attends the famous Haigazian University, and she is majoring in business with an emphasis in finance. So far, not quite the biography of a writer, right?

Normally, you'd be right, but it turns out Angie has a huge passion for writing, and not only that, but she does it very well. She even has her own blog, which you can view RIGHT HERE. She has also been writing reflections from HER Kchag experience, I think you'd all do well to go read it and gain some wisdom from it.

Angie, being the awesome girl that she is, duly agreed to write a small post, discussing some of the issues I brought up in yesterday's post and responding from the perspective of someone who actually LIVES those issues every single day.

So, without further delay, here's Angie.

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You've written about every single thing that most of us feel/talk about in Lebanon. 

The electricity cuts, pollution, water problems, discrimination, wasta issues, it's all there, the list goes on and on. 

But you know what? Despite these issues, this country is really special to most of us (it is our home after all)! It's not only because we have gotten used to it but because it turns every day into an adventure!

• Electricity cuts? Well, we usually have an idea when the electricity is gonna go, so we don't  really need watches to check the time; it just happens and we are ready for it! Plus, free work-out sessions! We need to go and check on the generator several times a day, running up and down several flights of stairs from our house to street level (usually the switch would be somewhere on the street). 

• Sweat? Terrible Weather? Well, many people just head to the mountains for the entire summer season or they just go to the beach to cool off. Problem solved. 

• Sketchy Food? The trick is to buy from the same supplier each time and try to get to know him or her. The better we get to know them, the more we can trust the food we buy. 

• Water problems? It’s pretty simple, we just pay twice (same goes for the electricity) to get clean water.

• Wasta Issues? The more people you know the better. Having connections is a necessity in Lebanon. 

*Side Note: if you don't know what wasta is, I think this little article can help you get a basic grasp of the word and concept. Wasta is a Middle Eastern thing, although it exists all over the world. There is something about wasta that makes it distinctly Middle-Eastern. Just read and you'll begin to see the picture.

• Discrimination? Women Rights? It's a good thing we have NGO’s such as KAFA and Kun Hadi that are working towards helping us and working out controversial issues, otherwise we might be in some trouble.

• Public Transportation/Traffic problems?  No problem! We just wake up 1-1.5 hours earlier than usual to get to our appointments on time; plus, we know ALL the shortcuts (don't ask whether they’re legal or not)
    
Yes, we are deprived of many of our rights that others consider essential, but the intimate gatherings with family and friends, the loud people speaking 3 or 4 languages at the same time, the crazy crowded streets, and the anticipation of what the new day will bring is really what makes Lebanon feel like home!

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Reflections on Beirut

Hello everyone,

Christian here again.

It has officially passed the one-week mark since I "officially" left Beirut.

I can't believe it.

It feels like just yesterday that I would leave my house in the early evening, take a walk down the winding, narrow streets of Gemmayze/Achrafieh/Mar Mikhael (no one's been able to tell me exactly where I was staying), enjoying the tiny fruit and vegetable stalls, the clusters of old men leaning over tavli boards, the mopeds zipping down side streets, walk under Jisr Al-Hadid and into Mangia Pizza to order a slice of pizza in broken Arabic.

It feels like just yesterday that George came to my house in the morning with a steaming pot of delicious mamounieh for us to enjoy before our day got started.

It feels like just yesterday that I was in the old VW bus with Datev, driving stick shift through the very cramped, narrow, crazy streets of Bourj Hammoud, dodging mopeds and humans and killer cars trying to hit us.

It feels like just yesterday I was stumbling, half-awake, into the morning leader devotionals at Kchag, ready to devour a Choco-Prince.

These are memories I'll never be able to forget, ones that have been seared into my brain forever. Of course, they aren't the only ones. There are a million memories, most good, a few bad, all swirling around in my head like a tornado. These were just the few that I pulled from the storm.

Since I've been back for a week and have now once again settled back into my routine at home, I've had lots of time to sit back and reflect on my trip (the train to work is my favorite place to reflect).

The first (and most obvious) thing I noticed when I got back were the differences between Los Angeles and Beirut. After coming back, the differences were much more pronounced.

For example, after I landed and got home, I drove to the grocery store to buy a few essentials to eat. As I was driving, I looked around at the wide 3-lane streets with barely any cars on them, with beautiful bright stop lights telling people when to stop and go and lanes indicating a clear direction of travel.

I just smiled and shook my head.

For the last 3 weeks, I had grown accustomed to blaring horns at every intersection, cars weaving in and out of lanes that absolutely no one stays in, terrible traffic on every street, narrow one-way streets suddenly turning into two-way streets, and packed freeways where chaos reigns.

This was a nice change of pace.

I loved having a REAL address again, you know, the type with numbers and a name that you can type into your phone and find on a map.

In Lebanon, although some places seem to have "rough" addresses, no one uses them. They just direct you based on landmarks.

A sample exchange with our pizza delivery guy on Friday night went something like this:

Pizza Hut: Ok, where are you guys located?
Levon: We are at CMC, the old hospital.
Pizza Hut: I'm sorry, you mean Clemenceau?
*George whispering to Levon that he is an idiot (in the background)
Levon: No....uhm, never mind. Actually, we are fifty meters down the road from Geitaoui Hospital, if you are driving down the street it will be on your right side.
Pizza Hut: What is Geitaoui Hospital?
Levon: It's the big hospital near us. Just go down fifty meters, our building has a white gate. I'll be standing outside with a yellow shirt. If you get lost, just call me.
Pizza Hut: Ummmm.....okay, thanks.

Needless to say, I'm happy to be back to a place where it takes 30 seconds to give an address to someone rather than 30 minutes.

On a more serious note, Beirut taught me to seriously appreciate the littlest things in life.

I came home, and I realize how blessed I am that I can switch on any light or appliance in the house at ANY time of the day or night and it WILL come on. There will be electricity, and everything that I want to work WILL actually work.

In Beirut, the electricity cuts off every day for around 3 hours, a different chunk of time each day. That means that for 3 hours every day, your A/C (priceless in Beirut's hellishly bad summer weather) cuts out, your cell phone cannot be charged, your wifi stops working, lights don't turn on, refrigerator stops working, clothes washer stops working, and so on.

I would wake up many mornings soaked in sweat because the A/C had been on and off all night and wasn't strong enough to reach my bedroom from the living room. The rest of my building did not have A/C and the only wifi signal I could get was 2 floors down, so I would go sit in the lobby to use my phone and within 5 minutes the sauna-like conditions would have me dripping in sweat.

I would be showering and suddenly the bathroom would be pitch-black because the electricity shut off.

I stumbled around blindly for my towel, banged my head on the shower rod, stubbed my toe on the bottom shower step, and on top of it all, I cut myself shaving because I was using my iPhone flashlight instead.

A great article to read regarding the electrical problems Lebanon is facing can be found here. The article is almost a year old but it seems that many of the same problems remain.

In addition to now being grateful for electricity (something most in the US don't even think about), I also realized how grateful I was for water again.

In Lebanon, I was strongly warned from drinking tap water and told to stay away from it at all times. Because of Lebanon's previous trash crisis, pollutants had to some extent penetrated the groundwater supply and caused unsafe drinking conditions.

Even to brush my teeth, I began using my bottled water to clean. My showers had to be kept to a few minutes, not because of the tap water issue, but because the water pressure in my shower was literally nothing: it would be a little trickle at some points and I would get excited.

In Beirut, as soon as I stepped out of the shower, I would be hit with the heat from inside my house and would already start sweating again. It just turned into a vicious cycle.

It was a great feeling stepping into my Dubai hotel room shower and feeling jets of warm water on my body. It felt like my first REAL shower, like I was washing all the dirt, grime, and sweat of my 3 weeks down the drain then.

I'm grateful now for the US rating system for restaurants. In Lebanon, you never know if you the meal you are going to eat is your last because you could die of food poisoning.

I'm just kidding, that's definitely an exaggeration, but lets just say the sanitation standards aren't up to par.

I like to know what type of restaurant I'm walking into beforehand. You can walk into the dumpiest-looking restaurant in Lebanon and they can end up serving you the most incredible tabbouleh and hummus you've ever eaten.

Or you can walk into that same restaurant and see a rusty knife on the meat cutting board, which for all I know could've been used to kill someone earlier, now cutting through the kebab I ordered.

It makes every meal an adventure, shall we say? ;)

But in reality though, jokes aside, this is a big issue in Lebanon and many other places around the world.

I remember being in the car with one of my friends Lori a few days before I left and asking her if she enjoyed living in Lebanon.

She said no, and then there was a pause. I figured she would go on to talk about how there was too much traffic, or it was dirty, or something like that, but her answer was really surprising.

She told me she doesn't like living in Lebanon and doesn't know if she wants to stay, because this country can't provide even the most basic human rights to its citizens.

She spoke of the same electricity outages I had experienced, but also talked of full-water cuts (no water at all), not to mention citizens lack of protection from attacks (terrorist or other) is not at all guaranteed. I was constantly told in Lebanon that "you just never know; anything can happen at anytime and could end up sparking real violence."

In addition, women and women's rights seem to be actively discriminated against, although Lebanon seems to be making more rapid advancements in this field than the rest of the Middle East.

This combination of crucial issues going untouched and unsolved has caused much frustration and stress for not only Lori but also for most people within Lebanon.

The answer I received most often when I asked why no one seemed more disturbed the by the condition of country, was a simple dismissive "Eh, we're still living. We're living without too many problems, we 're used to it, we've adapted."

Being dropped in first-hand to experience these same problems alongside everyone else really makes you examine your own life and see how relatively spoiled you are compared to the rest of the world.

It certainly did for me, at least.

I am happy with so much less now, especially after seeing how joyful and glad the Lebanese people always were, even with the problems plaguing their city and their country.

They are a testament to enjoying the simplest things in life: family, friends, church, and fellowship.

Their constant joy, happiness, smiles and good humor were a huge encouragement to me in times when I was struggling there.

I love and miss them all (you're probably reading this now), and I don't just miss them because they were nice people.

I miss their resilience, determination, their fight and their desire to see change. I miss their desire to stand up for their values and not back down from what is right. I miss their passion in defending the morals and values that matter most to them. I miss their genuine passion for life.

That is definitely something we need A LOT MORE OF here in the US.

The Kchag Experience: Part 3

Hello everyone,

Christian here. I am suffering from some post-Lebanon jet lag, but that was definitely to be expected after my nightmare layover in Dubai. My internal clock is really messed up, and I'm waking up at all hours of the night and morning, ready to start my day, only to realize that there are still hours left before the rest of my family wakes up. Here's to hoping I will be back to normal by tomorrow.

In the meantime, I've been doing a lot of thinking and praying about how I wanted to approach this final part of my Kchag recap.

I had written at the end of Part 2 that in this blog, I would be talking about some of the celebrations we had at Kchag.

That probably confused a lot of you, and for good reason. I wanted it to be as vague and confusing as possible, so you would all come and read this blog and then understand exactly what I meant.

As leaders at Camp Kchag, all of us had (hopefully) gone to camp with the end goal of making a tangible impact in the lives of the campers and to draw them closer to Christ.

That's a pretty heavy responsibility given to each of us, that over the course of just ONE week we should hope to become immersed in individual campers' lives, learn their ambitions, hopes, successes, failures and fears and then be able to lovingly comfort them and bond with them and encourage them.

It's not always as simple as talking to them about whatever issue they're facing and then talking about how God can help them.

Sometimes, to show them their real worth and really make that impact in their lives, it's as simple as celebrating them for who they are. When you celebrate these campers, you are evangelizing to them without ever even saying the word 'God'.

To show them a perfect example of God's love, care, and joy, sometimes it's as simple as throwing a party for them to show that you too care.

So that's exactly what we did.

Believe it or not, this entire week was a celebration of EACH AND EVERY CAMPER.

We celebrated the athletic campers as they fought and competed in Army 101, Yuck Games, and all the sports they played. We gave them the platform to show off their athletic skills, to jump, run, slide, crawl, shoot, and dunk.

We celebrated the theatrical campers as they acted out a series of short skits that were presented to the same Syrian-Armenian children I had met a week earlier. They got to be creative and use their voices, their humor, and their emotions to portray to these young children some of the amazing stories found within the Bible.

We celebrated the campers who love to cook and bake. Together with Chef Levon, they got to learn more about creating delicious sweets. They got to sort out ingredients, stir marshmallows, create a Rice Krispie base, and create a finished batch of Rice Krispies. In this way, we gave them the opportunity to do what they love most and allowed them to bake something that we all ended up loving.

We celebrated the musically-gifted campers as well. All we had to do was leave out our instruments. Soon, as you walked around the camp, the beautiful sounds of the piano, guitar, drums, flute, and violin drifted out from the main chapel. We pushed the campers to be confident and play and sing during worship time; as a result, we saw them step out of their comfort zones and flourish as they sang and worshipped. As it says in Psalm 150, "Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and the lyre, praise him with the tambourine and dancing, praise him with the strings and flute, praise him with the clash of cymbals."


We celebrated the intelligence in EACH and EVERY camper as we challenged them at difficult mind games throughout the week. We had them anxiously discussing in groups the answers to questions on tons of random topics during our Jeapordy game.We tested their general knowledge and intelligence when they rushed around camp answering all sorts of trivia questions during Pokémon Go Matrix.  We forced them to analyze closely and use logic to figure out a murder plot in our Murder Mystery game. In these ways, we showed them something so simple yet something that many of them never hear or are told they're not: that they are smart, that they are intelligent and sharp kids and that they are each brilliant in certain subjects and topics.

And now, in this narrative, we have reached Thursday night.

On Thursday night, we had a revival, a chance for the campers to confess every burden and hardship weighing them down, a chance for them to come and accept Christ into their hearts, a chance for them to fulfill the words Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:17, in which he declares "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here!"

All the leaders stood in the back of the room, so that any camper, that felt something tugging at his or her heart could go back and be with a leader.

The worship band played through one song.

Then two.

Still no one had come back. We were all starting to feel a little anxious.

And then, in a moment I will never forget, one kid stood up and came back. His name was Boghos, and he had lost his dad when he was younger. He rushed back to his leader, Daniel. Daniel had also lost his dad when he was younger, and the look on his face when Boghos got up was one of pure, unbridled joy, so much so that it brought him (and the rest of us) to tears.

After that moment, it was if the floodgates had opened. Kids started streaming back, some smiling, others in tears.

So many people on that night decided to turn their lives around and either give their life to Christ for the first time or just confess that they were struggling with deep griefs and hardships.

If we hadn't already been brought together as one big family, this was the night that did it for us.

On Thursday night, we had our biggest celebration yet.

This was a celebration to honor and congratulate every camper who took the huge step of seeking God first in their lives. We celebrated their vulnerability, their courage, and their desire to seek change. We celebrated their realization that something within them felt empty, a hole that could only be filled by God. We celebrated adding more beautiful children into God's everlasting kingdom.

There was no better way to end Kchag than with a celebration.

The only difference with this last celebration was just one small thing.

This celebration is lifelong, and will last for eternity.

Photos: Levon Babikian