This is Pripyat, Ukraine; it has been deserted since the nuclear
accident of April, 1986. The entire population was
evacuated in two days, and with radiation remaining too high for human habitation people have never returned. It's empty streets and buildings sit as monuments of a once proud city and as reminders to the world on how quickly things can change.
Pripyat was found in 1970 as a nuclear city and served as home to those who worked at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. The city began as strictly support for the plant, but it quickly grew to become a rail and cargo port for the Ukraine province (it was once part of the Soviet Union). At the time of the disaster, Pripyat was home to almost 50,000 residents. There were 15 primary schools, 5 secondary schools and 1 professional school. The average age of a Pripyat resident in 1986 was just 26 years old, and in one day, everything changed.
In the early 90s, I visited Kiev, Ukraine for two weeks in the summer. Pripyat and the Chernobyl disaster were still fresh on the minds and hearts of the people of Kiev. I do not believe many outside of Ukraine know the true account of that day, at least that is my impression from those I encountered in Kiev that summer.
The Ukrainian people are a humble selfless hard-working people. It is very easy to like these people.They are gregarious and so gracious, giving up their beds, tables and even food to a stranger like me. Their country has been conquered and overrun by many over the centuries, therefore, they are familiar with tragedy and heartache. This disaster was just another sudden tragic change that they would have to live through, and they would live through it with a resolution worthy of admiration.
As I walked the streets of Kiev that summer, I was amazed at what I saw. Every older Ukrainian face that returned my gaze did so with an unidentifiable ambiguity, at least that is what I thought. They would nod and politely offer a silent guarded hello with their eyes. It was not hostile, but it was not welcoming either; it was... suspicious. As each face looked back at me, each was missing something, something I could not quite comprehend.
I ended up becoming fairly good friends with two of our translators who responded to my question late one night. What I was missed noticing were the missing smile lines. Ukrainians, they explained to me, at least the older generations, did not have smile lines because, quite simply, their lives have been filled with heartache and sadness.They are a guarded people who have been betrayed many times by others. And, now Chernobyl sits as a reminder of another betrayal, and how quickly sudden change can come to something that was to bring such prosperity. Ukrainians are not use to prosperity; they are almost afraid of it because prosperity has always been fleeting to the Ukrainian people.
My two friends spoke that night about the young Ukrainians and a new generation. Both of my friends had smile lines and smiles to go with those lines, and the main reason those smiles were producing those smile lines... both of them knew Jesus as Savior and Lord. I was young in the faith at that time, and their testimony was a testimony to me. They had given their time, given up their home, their food and their things for me and my comfort. They had so little, but, yet, they had so much. They knew Jesus in a way that I had not seen, and their lives were spent living for Him and not for this world. The world and its troubles did not trouble them. They had little compared to me, but that did not matter to them because they had Jesus, and He was their world.
My two friends spoke that night about the young Ukrainians and a new generation. Both of my friends had smile lines and smiles to go with those lines, and the main reason those smiles were producing those smile lines... both of them knew Jesus as Savior and Lord. I was young in the faith at that time, and their testimony was a testimony to me. They had given their time, given up their home, their food and their things for me and my comfort. They had so little, but, yet, they had so much. They knew Jesus in a way that I had not seen, and their lives were spent living for Him and not for this world. The world and its troubles did not trouble them. They had little compared to me, but that did not matter to them because they had Jesus, and He was their world.
This past Sunday, I heard a wonderful sermon regarding God and his omnipresence. He is far and near, all at the same time. He knows you and your secrets as if they are all out in open. In Amos 5, God commands us to seek good and not evil that we may live. We live, not for what is here now, but for what awaits us in heaven. We live, not for the applause of men, but for the approval of our Savior. We live, believing that God is at work, even in Pripyat; it is all part of His amazing plan. He is our trust, our beliefs, our friend, our Savior and our all; when sudden change comes, as it always will, those who know the Savior will rest in the Savior and persevere for one reason... they will live for Him and not for men.
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