I am a photographer. I am also a sister, friend, daughter and teammate. Lately, I found these roles are more similar than I thought.
When I take a photo, I put the subject (people, landmark, street, stairs, etc.) in the spotlight. I learn about them. I figure out their gifts and the way they catch the light or what lights up their eyes, and I highlight that. Sometimes I give gentle feedback: tilt your chin down, step into the shade, or please wash your dirty dishes. I do what I can to make the subject shine and doing so makes the whole photo, or relationship, better.
There is often fruit from these efforts: giving the squad new headshots or the World Race more content, or seeing breakthrough and triumphs in my friends’ lives. Either way, photography or relationships, I’m harnessing my gifts for the Kingdom. I’m helping the helpers. I’m putting others in the spotlight and empowering them, and Heaven comes a little closer to Earth. The work is my love letter to the world, to see the fruit is a privilege.
This photo blog is a little different, a little shorter. Partly due to the nature of our work in the country and our inability to post photos with our friends for fear of persecution. Partly because we left before expected (fear not, this is not another post about coronavirus) and because I usually wait until the last day to take photos (you can truly see people more cozy & comfortable, perfectly candid). We didn’t know it was the last day until it was the last day; but, I digress.
And yet, it was the most beautiful time in Baku.
As the ancient Persian name of Azerbaijan will suggest, this is the land of eternal fire. The Yanar Dag fires have been burning over 4,000 years without ceasing, and these Flame Towers were inspired by the region’s reverence to the power of fire.
And then there is the Old City, a medieval labyrinth of cobblestones weaving through palace ruins, shops, bodegas, and stairs.
So many stairs.
In stark contrast, Baku is a bustling city on the Caspian Sea, flaunting the finds of rapid oil accumulation wealth to reinvent itself as a modern metropolis, risen from the ash heap of the former Soviet Union.
Exhibit A: a brand new shopping mall (don’t be fooled: you still can’t drink the tap water in this metropolis).
We never intended to spend much time here in Azerbaijan. We planned to cross the Caspian Sea by cargo boat and take a train into Uzbekistan to work with a host there.
Communication was few and far between, so we contacted the owner of the hotel our parents stayed at in Tbilisi, Georgia, who also happened to own property in Baku. He is an Iranian believer with a powerful testimony that moved a room full of adults to tears.
He housed us (and seriously helped us out so we could stay within budget) and led us to our friends at the local church with whom we would be serving.
They are prayer warriors, worship powerhouses, joy filled people who love each other and love the Lord. They welcomed us in like family, giving us city tours and taking us on a night hike, teaching us dances (please ask me for the videos) and how to eat Snickers jam, and even delivering hot shawarma to our home at midnight. These people do not underestimate the power of love.
But still, we came to help the helpers. To speak life into the congregation, to listen and empathize, to serve, to encourage.
The World Race hadn’t worked with them before, so we were always on our A-game, never knowing what to expect but always looking twice to see where we could squeeze in some Kingdom love. We even found ourselves in a college classroom learning about business leadership, among other things… like preaching or board game nights.
But it didn’t really matter what we did or where we went, because our only job is to love people well, and they made it easy.
We even taught them our classic game, Ranch or Chocolate (…I dare you to name a food that doesn’t go with either), and told them we would come back to make them ranch dressing (it’s just too hard to explain such a phenomenon and listing the ingredients does not help).
Because these are the things you talk about when you spend 8 straight months with someone. These are the things that still make me laugh. These are a few of the things I miss more than I ever missed tap water. And after our last meal at Hard Rock Cafe (judge us!), we headed back stateside to help the helpers here in America.
Join me in prayer: Lord, thank you for Azerbaijan. Thank you for the roll call of angels that embody your resilience, faithfulness, your love unending. Show us how to love people well, show us how to help the helpers.
