Friday, August 5, 2011 – A day in Batumi
The rain persisted through the night, and was more steady in the morning. Our schedule wasn’t pressing, allowing for a bit of sleeping in. Tamadze came mid-morning with French toast, sausage links, jams, and tea. Jim ate heartily; I ate sparingly, nursing an “iffy” stomach.
By noon, a small group assembled for our meeting. Zura (45-50ish) pastors a church about 20 minutes away, just on the north side of Batumi; Tamadze, Tiona (his 22 year old daughter, with 1 year of University in Tbilisi left), Tamadze’s brother (who trusted Christ just over a year ago), and a young man (Tiona’s age, perhaps) named Giorgi. Gia was also in attendance, translating. Jim and I sat on one end. We started the meeting in prayer, then Jim began to explain the prospect of a master’s level course of study, through Bakke Graduate University, in Georgia. He, and I, covered just about the same subjects, and answered the same kinds of questions, as we had in Tbilisi on Tuesday.
As I related later to Tamadze, I was unable to read well the body language of those seated around the table. Still, after 2 hours, it appeared that there was unified support for moving forward, if God gave us His blessing and the pieces (as it were) could fall into place.
It was time for fellowship, which meant loading in cars to head to a restaurant overlooking one of the harbors of Batumi. A multi-layered establishment, which permitted patrons to ascend stairs and eat on various levels in order to get different views of the harbor. The mid-afternoon luncheon lasted perhaps 1½ hours. Most ordered an oblong bread pastry loaded in the middle with cheese, eggs, and butter…and just about anything else fattening! In length, equaling an American football, but flat. A bit out of step with the others, I ordered some meat – a kabob-bee – a length of meat wrapped in a tortilla, and dipped in some red, pepper sauce. Though the other plate was ordered for me as well, I could eat none of it (nor did I dare to), and it would be taken home by the young Giorgi.
By late afternoon, everyone disbursed to their homes. Tamadze offered to take us back to the church. I inquired if I could walk back. “Do you know the way? Won’t you get lost?” I assured them I believed I knew where I was going, and permission was granted. "Be careful," Gia offered. "Careful about what?" I asked. "That you would be kidnapped," he replied, grinning. "No, there's no chance of that. Just don't get hit by a car or something."
For about an hour, I wandered generally north, occasionally stepping into the small shops all displaying for sale every kind of sandal and footwear, shirts, pants, socks, hats, personal items, trinkets, souvenirs. Foods as well. Just off the shoreline was a commerce area consisting of a labyrinth of shops, the lanes of which snaked back behind the streetside buildings. There was even a multi-storied mall which looked inviting, but upon entering, you discovered that virtually none of the spaces on 3 floors housed stores. Too expensive rental space, no doubt.
Winding around, for a few minutes, I wondered if my assurances of knowing where I was going were, in fact, accurate. My reference point where the tops of the large cranes which were loading cargo ships in the harbor. If I kept them in view, and headed north, I would come upon (I surmised) the more familiar neighborhood of the church. Such was the case. I bought a coke in a small grocette. 1 Lari (about $.60). The church was up around the corner, to the right, past the now familiar tower which had many communication satellites on it. I found Jim and Tamadze playing a game of “horse” at the basketball goal attached to the outer wall of the courtyard behind the church.
The rest of the day was filled out with a nap, and then an evening trip back to Tamadze’s apartment for a lighter evening meal. Four of us spent about an hour talking about issues in the Georgian Protestant church, and how the classes might be helpful. For my part, I am yet wondering about my role – not about the “what” of the role, but rather about the feasibility of it. Not knowing either language (Russian or Georgian), and being asked to oversee a program which requires key infrastructure support, is becoming a bit more daunting for me. It would not be good to promise, and then not deliver.
Somewhere around 10:30 PM, we returned to the church facility for a long night’s rest. I listened to “all the songs” of the Concordia Choir on my iPod, while reading another episode in “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.” Something about a stolen gem, which had been forced down the throat of a goose by the thief, who then lost track of the goose. Holmes sorted it out, and in mercy, let the scoundrel go.
Mercy triumphing over judgment. What God, in Christ, has done for me.
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