Preparing to return to Ukraine
Very soon, on March 21, I’ll be heading back to Ukraine for a few weeks.
What makes this trip especially meaningful is that for one week, I will be traveling with a veteran military chaplain who’s been given the rare go-ahead to visit soldiers at the front lines. We plan to meet these men wherever they are, pray with them, encourage them, and try to bring the hope of Christ into places where fear, trauma, darkness, and uncertainty are part of daily life.
Getting ready for this trip, I feel the weight of what’s ahead. These kinds of journeys are never easy. There’s always a pile of practical things—like packing, or figuring out the logistics of moving around in a war zone. But honestly, the bigger preparations are spiritual. I keep praying that God will help me be sensitive to His leading and fill me with real compassion. This is essential because statistics say that the great majority of these men will be killed or wounded.
What strikes me most about this mission is how many soldiers I’ll meet who’ve never been to church or heard of Jesus. For some, this could be their first and only real experience of Christ’s love, even if in a war zone, on the frontline, or in the middle of chaos. That really moves me. In moments like these, faith becomes real. The Gospel meets people wherever they are. As I write this, it makes me wonder—will the church here in America ever leave its comfort zone and meet people in their personal battle zones? So many are fighting battles: financial struggles, broken relationships, or deep spiritual pain.
On past trips, I’ve had the privilege of visiting wounded soldiers in University Hospital clinics. Those memories stay with me. I can still picture standing by bedsides, praying over men whose lives will never be the same because of war. Some showed obvious wounds, but many carried the hidden pain of trauma, grief, and exhaustion. In those moments, I’m reminded that compassion isn’t complicated. Sometimes, it’s just about showing up, really listening, praying with honesty, and letting someone know that God sees them.
Jesus always moved toward people who were hurting—never away from them. I think of the Scripture that says, “When He saw the crowds, He had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). In this, Christ sees every single one of them.
Thinking about the weeks ahead, I feel both the weight and the hope of it. The need is overwhelming at times, but I hold on to the hope that Jesus still meets people even in the darkest of places.
I also carry the families of these soldiers in my heart. War doesn’t just touch the person at the front; it reaches into homes, marriages, children’s lives, and entire communities. That’s why these moments of ministry matter so much. Christ’s compassion isn’t small—it stretches to the wounded, the anxious wife, the praying mother, and the waiting child.
During my recent visit to Ukraine, we connected with a family coping with the fact that their husband and father is missing in action. It is the reality that many in Ukraine are coping with.
As I read about the Roman centurion in Matthew 8, it hits me personally—Jesus really saw that soldier. He didn’t see just a uniform or a role, but a man coming to Him with humility and a desperate kind of faith. Jesus didn’t turn him away. He met him with compassion and a willingness to help. That story reminds me of the name Adonai El Roi—the God who sees. He sees the soldier who stands alone, carrying private burdens no one else knows about. He sees the families at home—the ones who wait, who worry, who hurt quietly alongside their loved ones. God sees the pain, the fear, the long nights, and all those silent questions that don’t have easy answers. Soldiers matter to Jesus. Their families matter, too. He sees them!
In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.
Matthew 5:16
As I get ready to go, I’d be so grateful for your prayers—for protection, wisdom, open doors, and hearts ready to receive. Pray that God would use this week on the front lines to bring shalom, peace, healing, and compassion.
If God puts it on your heart to support this mission, I’d be deeply grateful. If you would like to contribute financially, just hit the give button. But more than anything, please pray. In times like these, prayer isn’t just a small gesture—it’s part of the real work. And I go believing that, even in the hardest places, the light of Christ still shines.