Home

On days like this, I miss home. A lot.

Over the past several days, we have been ministering in the hard places of the front lines of Ukraine war, among refugees, soldiers, churches, and pastors who keep going under the weight of war. Some of what we have seen, I do not know how to put into words. Only God’s presence brings true comfort here. I am deeply grateful to serve among the hurting and to each of you who make this possible.

As part of our outreach here, we teamed up with a group of pastors, military chaplins, and massage therapists for a day of spiritual renewal for some of the soldiers on the front lines. Many soldiers arrived withdrawn and exhausted. Gradually, these men began to open up, sharing burdens too heavy to carry alone. Only God can bring them comfort and healing, and His presence was tangible to me. I’m thankful we could pray with so many. I hope to write more about this front-line ministry in a later post.

But sitting with those men, one thing became painfully clear to me. More than anything else, they want to go home. Not just a place. Not just a house. Something so much deeper.

Home.

When I asked these two soldiers what they wanted more than anything and what they longed for, without hesitating they both said: Home

War changes a man. You can see it in their faces. Hear it in the silence. The very place they long for most can become the hardest place to return to, because trauma does not stay on the battlefield. It follows them home. Some of the chaplains said many of these men will likely lose their marriages if they do not get intervention and a touch from the Holy Spirit. That is one of the cruelest parts of war. A man can survive the front lines and still not know how to come home.

In Hebrew thought, bayit is more than a house or a place. It speaks of belonging. Family. Covering. A place where you are known, and a place where peace is meant to dwell. No wonder the human heart aches for it so deeply. And when you lose your home, it hurts so deeply.

As we ministered to the refugees, home is always at the center of their stories. They recall what home once was, and the pain of losing it. Despite unimaginable hardships, they all long for one thing:

Home.

We also visited the home of one of our pastors near the front. His family’s story is remarkable. In places where many have fled, and where others have been killed in battle, they are raising up young people to go into villages and hold outdoor services. Hundreds are coming to these meetings. They live under sirens, drones, and air alerts, yet they still refuse to leave. Even when we arrived, air sirens were present due to the drones, and yet they insisted on giving us dinner and, of course, tea.

Why?

Because it is home.

Click the video below to fully understand the situation. This is shortly after we arrived.

There is something holy in that kind of perseverance. It reminds me that in Scripture, home is never just a place of safety. It is also a place of belonging. Israel longed for home in exile. And Jesus, in the Gospel of John, when speaking to troubled hearts, gave His disciples the promise of a permanent room in His home.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled ...“In My Father’s house are many rooms... I go to prepare a place for you.” And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me, that you also may be where I am.

What a promise, of all the things Jesus could have promised in our times of trouble, He spoke of His home and ours.

Not comfort.
Not escape.
Home.

Yesterday, Jesus’ promise became tangible for me. Ukraine was hit hard. Really hard with 1000’s of drones and rockets.

Then the messages started coming from our home in Ukraine.

Vinnytsia was hit hard. Frederick is our pastor there, and he was with me on our ministry trip. His wife, Lena, was in the town center on her way to minister at one of our hospitals when a large Shahed drone struck. She was just over one hundred meters from the point of impact. Physically, she is okay. But the trauma is severe. What stays with her is the drone's screaming as it came in, and then the explosion. This afternoon, she was doing much better. She is a warrior, and I admire her tenacity and determination.  Tonight she led the prayer meeting at the church.  Again, what a warrior!

Then one of our home group leaders, who had joined us on this trip to the front, was also deeply affected. His daughter was even closer to the blast, and as of last night, she still hadn’t regained her hearing.

Another church leader shared that his neighbor’s home was destroyed, and his own house suffered significant damage.

Later, we learned that a pastor in our network, serving closer to the front, suffered a devastating loss. His brother’s home was struck, and hours later, his brother died of a heart attack. Soon after, the pastor’s own home was hit for the third time, forcing his family to flee. Despite this, he continues to pastor over 200 people and is moving so he can continue caring for his community. The world is not worthy of such people.

This is the difficult reality in Ukraine.

But on days like this, it makes me think not only of the home I miss, but of the home Jesus promised. The scripture describes it for us.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

A reflection of home. Not the reality, just a reflection!

On days like this, I miss home deeply. But perhaps this ache points to a greater longing—a longing not just for my amazing wife, my kids, and my grandchildren, or even for my church family, but rather for my Father’s house and my true and eternal ... HOME.

C.S. Lewis said, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Home is not just a place; it is a promise!

Thank you for praying, and please help us continue to bring comfort to the people of Ukraine.