Blog

Written by Lisa Mason
on 8th July 2023

*I recently had the incredible privilege of visiting Antakya, a beautiful city in the South of Turkiye that was among the worst affected by the recent earthquakes in February. It’s been hard to know what to share since I have returned. I have photos, endless photos of house after house broken and destroyed by the force of the quake, but you’ve seen the news so you’ve probably had your fill of those. There is a lot of rubble in Antakya and a lot of dust. There are rows of tents, rows of crumbling houses, rows of battered cars, rows of graves.

But that is not the whole story. The camp I spent a week serving in was set up by members of churches in Turkiye who drove to Antakya the day after the earthquakes hit. They were not professional disaster relief teams, they were ordinary people like you and me who drove into the ruins taking as much aid as they could carry. They set up kitchens and began to feed people, they dug in the rubble for family and friends, they slept in cars and makeshift shelters in the unimaginable cold and woke up the next day to do it all again. Out of their love and service, a permanent camp has emerged, staffed by a mixture of local people, believers from the churches in Turkiye and a constant revolving cycle of volunteers from all over the world. This camp provides approx 3-5000 meals a day of the most delicious food, under the watchful supervision of a local chef who terrified us with his temper but charmed us with his humour. The schools in the area are all closed and many families have left, so a group of local teenagers love to come and serve in the kitchen and hang out with the volunteers at the camp. They have seen things that no child should ever have to see but every day they brighten the camp with their curiosity, energy and eagerness to learn a little more about the world.

I want you to see that these people are there. Their homes have been reduced to rubble but they remain on their land in tents and containers because they love their city and want to hope that it can be rebuilt. There is currently no end in sight for them, no plan for how they will survive the winter, no guarantee that another earthquake will not come but still they remain. They welcome strangers into their homes for delicious coffee, they share their stories, their tears, their food, their time and their jokes. They are captivated by the love of Jesus that has been shown to them when they felt abandoned by everyone else. They are finding comfort in the Psalms and the gospels, in worship and prayer.

I want you to see them because we are not so different from them after all. Last night I spent time with a friend whose life has also been reduced to rubble in the past year. Her children have suffered more than they should have and in caring for them she is likely to lose her job. There is little hope of help in sight and it’s hard to see any change on the horizon. Her story made me weep, just like the stories I heard in Antakya.

In every home I visited in Antakya, I was offered sunflower seeds. In the UK they usually come in packets without their shells, but in Turkiye you buy them in their shells and salted. The trick is to split the shell with your teeth then you can pinch the seed out, or so I’m told, I’m still working on my technique. We enjoyed the teasing from our friends over our inability to perform such a simple task. After we returned to the UK we received a photo from the camp of a field of sunflowers that has grown up in the rubble of a block of flats. It took me some time to realise how they had come to be there but I can only guess that they were in a packet in someone’s kitchen and were dispersed when the kitchen was destroyed, either by the earthquake or the diggers that come to knock down condemned buildings. Something so simple and common had become something beautiful to behold, a sign and a wonder.

I asked God how the sunflowers had enough water to grow in such a dry and dusty place and I clearly felt him answer ‘they have been watered with tears.’ So let the tears flow, my friend. Perhaps your life feels hopeless and dry, perhaps there is no hope on the horizon but there are seeds that have been sown. The love of Jesus is everywhere, in the gifts that he has given you, in the life that he has poured out for you, in the peace that only his presence can give. Sometimes it is the most simple everyday things that become a place for love and wonder to flourish. Water those seeds with your tears and let them grow, trusting that beauty will come where all you can now see is brokenness. God is not afraid of the rubble, or the ashes of our lives. He is an expert in bringing light in the darkness, life from the dust. All he needs is a seed. A seed of faith, a seed of hope, that he can water and grow where we least expect it.

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed. Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. Restore our fortunes, Lord, like streams in the Negev. Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
Psalm 126

*First published on 'Letters from home', a blog by Lisa Mason