At Home

After taking a couple days and nights away from this amazing bustling city in a tranquil town with natural hot springs that lies across the Marmara Sea in Asia we had come back to our city. The ferry ride was quite windy and the boat, while packed with people and cars, swayed from side to side for the hour and half in the water. Once back in Istanbul we herded off the ferry like cattle only to board a crowded bus. Arriving at the metro station, we then took a familiar ride on the rail to the stop near our place. We are blessed to live so close to the station, but I still bundle up as the temperature continues to drop with autumn fully settled in. My scarf was tucked inside my peacoat and my hat pulled down over my ears. With a bag in each hand I stepped off the metro and started down the stairs. I hadn’t taken three steps when a rush of peace and joy overcame me; it was the serenity of being home.

Ever since moving into this flat two months ago I have been sleeping here each night. Despite the three days off of work last week I stayed at home and enjoyed the days with new friends and by taking care of issues at home. When we first moved in it was the lock on the front door, then it was electrical problems, the phone line, and most recently a leak in the kitchen. On Wednesday morning we woke to a constant dripping coming from our water heater. Wednesday was a holiday, so on Thursday I called the plumber. After waiting all evening for his arrival I gave up (enter: MacGyver). By duck taping a couple plastic bags together I was able to construct a trough for the drips to run across the kitchen into the sink. Immediately following work on Friday our team departed for the retreat together.

The retreat was beneficial; everything a weekend with the team should be. We relaxed in the natural and historic hot spring, ate traditional local cuisine together, encouraged one another, and worshipped the Lord in song and study. Philippians 3:20 reminded me that of all the places around the world where I have lived, from Spain, to China, to the USA, and now Turkey, none of them are truly my home. While I am immensely affectionate of this city, I still long for more years in Spain, and even still hold tightly to the hope that I will return to my church family in America. God has blessed me with opportunities to call many places home. I adapt, and after getting over some minor cultural differences I find I’ve fallen in love with yet another city where I imagine I could seemingly live forever. But the truth is I will never be completely satisfied in a place on earth because I belong to the Kingdom of Heaven, where Jesus Christ lives.

Happy Holidays

Maybe it’s my own fault for not listening, or perhaps I was sending a text message or checking my notifications, but I completely missed the cultural training session on the Muslim holiday known in Turkey as Kurban Bayram. Thankfully, in my time here I had become relatively aware that many locals would be slaughtering lambs in the street. Yesterday, on my afternoon run I smiled and waved casually as I jogged passed the guys skinning the sheep. In fact, I think they were the ones giving me strange glances since I was exercising in public. Later that night, the woman across the street had gathered some stones in order to build a fire pit on the sidewalk. She didn’t want me to take a picture of the ram’s head she had roasting over the open flame. But I only asked after I had snapped one on my iPhone.

Then my roommate, Alex, and I followed a stream of blood that we saw running down the street gutter. We could tell that it was fresh as the steady current picked up leaves and gurgled along over small stones. We proceeded walking up the street towards the market, jumping over large puddles of congealing blood near the intersection. Once at the top of the hill we finally found the source. Scully and Mulder should have been on the scene at once—the blood seemed to be pumping out of the ground between the cracks of the bricks in the street. While I won’t meddle with the idea that the stones in the street were actually producing the blood, the puddle, dark like a fine Cabernet Sauvignon, continued to trickle thick blood.

We got up to the market about an hour after sunset just as the fifth and final daily call to prayer rang through city. The little market lies directly under the megaphone that hangs from the minaret of the mosque. The call weighed heavier on me than it normally does. It wasn’t due to my proximity to the mosque itself but I was solemnly reminded of what this holiday is about. The Islam faith says that in devotion to God, Abraham was going to sacrifice his son, but God sent a lamb to take his place. Sounds familiar. In response, Muslims kill an animal once a year as a sacrifice. They then give a portion to the poor while keeping the rest to feed family and friends. It’s like Halloween and Christmas, “The Nightmare Before Christmas” if you will. Animal remains are in the street while the kids come knocking on the door asking for candy (or money) mixed with the whole family dressing up to come over for dinner.

Bringing a box of assorted chocolates we stopped by the neighbor’s house this afternoon to wish them “İyi Bayramlar” –or Happy Holidays. God had told Alex to do this and then Alex invited me to join him in the well wishing. We took the elevator down to our new friend’s house where we were invited to join the family party. The house was warm, decorated with white doilies and lace tablecloths, more importantly, filled with relatives. Each year the family members all gather there, all 250 of them. We were certainly surprised to be invited to join the reunion party and sat down to enjoy a local rarity, beef. Of course to cap off our meal we had some baklava and tea before going down the hall to the sitting room to chat with our buddy Mustafa and some of his family. I’m amazed that two months into living here we have already been able to build relationships that I hope last forever.

This morning we had traditional breakfast with my buddy who is on holiday from university in Ankara due to the festivities this week. It was great to see him again and we got to talk a lot about how this Muslim holiday compares with some of the holidays we celebrate. We mentioned that Thanksgiving and Christmas are both celebrated by feasting with family, similar to this one. But the best conversation has come up when talking about the meaning of the sacrificial lamb. The major difference in Abraham’s story is the meaning behind God providing a lamb for Abraham to kill in place of his son. God offered a lamb to take the place of the human life. Jesus continues to be the sacrifice that makes us right before God. He is the enduring sacrifice so that none will die but that everyone can have life through him. This is our message that we share with hope as God continues to impress on the hearts and minds of the people in this nation.