I encountered Ukranian pastor Giorgi Vins, when he was preaching at my aunt and uncle's church in 1991. I had been listening to a series of sermons by the pastor, Steve Meeks, on the subject, "Does God Speak Today?" The pastor suggested that if you THINK God wants you to do something, ask Him to confirm it. "Ok," I prayed. "God, if you really DO want me to go to Russia someday, please confirm it. Because I hate this language!" this was on a Sunday afternoon. My uncle had encouraged me to go to the service that night, but I wanted to go back to college. I compromised. I agreed to go to the service that night, but I demonstrated my independence (rebellion) by deliberately going late. I called my girlfriend in South Carolina for a while, then arrived at church 45 minutes late.
As I walked in the door, I heard Russian being spoken from the pulpit. And I was understanding it. His daughter Natasha was translating, yes, BUT I WAS UNDERSTANDING IT. I don't think you fully appreciate how bad I was at speaking Russian. And it hasn't happened since then. But it was a miracle, just for me. It was the answer to my question to God and I understood immediately. "Yes, God," I said. "I understand. I will keep studying Russian." I bought his book that night, Let the Waters Roar: Evangelists in the Gulag."
Fast forward 30 years to December 2021... I was in my hospital bed with Covid pneumonia, fighting to breathe. God showed me a storm. I was in the water, churned by huge waves. God had been talking to me for some time about a Storm coming, and my thought on seeing the waves was, "Well, I'm in it now!!!" And then I recalled THIS story, THIS testimony from that book I bought all those years ago, and I wanted to share it with you:
When my family lived in Kiev, we were given a large, beautiful painting. On it was portrayed a raging sea, tempestuous clouds, and large waves pounding against enormous stones and cliffs. The picture was in a handsome frame. But the most important thing about the painting was the words written on the dark background of the sky and waves, excerpts from the first three verses of Psalm 46:
God is our refuge and strength...
Therefore we will not fear...
though the waters roar!
We hung the painting on our living room wall, and its message encouraged our whole family during difficult days and trials for many years. More than ten times during those years the authorities conducted searches and confiscated Bibles, Gospels, cassettes, and Christian hymns and sermons. Even personal letters with references to the name of God were taken.
But the painting continued to hang on the wall, and those words-- "God is our refuge and strength... Therefore we will not fear... though the waters roar!" -- were read by the people who conducted searches in our house. They were also read by the Christians who came to visit us.
In March, 1974 I was arrested, and in January 1975 I was brought to trial in Kiev. The public prosecutor charged me with nine accusations, all of them religious theme, including preaching the gospel and printing Bibles. The court sentenced me to five year deprivation of freedom in strict-regime labor camps plus five years of exile. On top of that, they handed down a third penalty: the confiscation of all personal property! This punishment was intended to hurt my family.
Soon after the trial, I was transported to one of the labor camps near the city of Yakutsk in Siberia. Some time later, during a visit to the camp, my family told me how confiscation of property had proceeded.
When the sentence went into effect, a special commission had arrived at our house to take inventory for confiscation: the table, the chairs, the buffet, a book shelf, the couch, the washing machine, the refrigerator, dishes, and so on. The commission even decided to confiscate the painting on which was written "God is our refuge and strength... Therefore we will not fear... Though the waters roar!"
During the confiscation, another Christian, Ivan Petrovich, happened to drop by our house. He sat on the couch, which had already been entered into the record, and silently observed what was happening. One of the commission members took the painting down from the wall and stood it alongside the furniture earmarked for removal.
Another commission member, a young woman, was writing a description of each object in the pile. But when she got to the painting, she was puzzled: How should it be recorded? "What's the name of the painting?" she asked aloud. "How should I enter it?"
No one answered. The other members of the commission were walking through the house, checking outside, and looking in the shed for other things to confiscate. In the room were the young woman was writing up her inventory were only my wife, my children, and Ivan Petrovich.
The woman lifted the painting, set it on the table, and asked again, "What should I call this? How should I enter it in the record?"
Ivan Petrovich stood up, stepped over to the table, took the painting in his hands, and said, "Write just what's written here: 'God is our refuge and strength... Therefore we will not fear... though the waters roar!' "
The young woman was pleased to find a name for the painting and started to write it hurriedly onto her document. She wrote: "A painting with the words, 'god is our refuge and strength...' "
"Why the word God with a small g?" Ivan Petrovich objected. "On the painting it has a capital letter. Write it the way it's written on the painting!"
The woman corrected the letter and wrote the word God with a capital letter. But she soon stopped writing and was obviously not going to enter the whole name of the painting, so Ivan Petrovich prompted her: "Please be good enough to write the full name of the painting for the record. Do you want me to dictate it to you?" So he dictated to her the whole text on the picture. " 'God is our refuge and strength... Therefore we will not fear... though the waters roar!' "
The young lady started to write down the name in full, but then she asked aloud, "What are we taking this painting for? Who needs it? Only believers!"
At that point, the other members of the commission entered the room. One of them, glancing at the document, asked, "What's all this stuff about God that you've written on the record? 'God is our refuge and strength'?"
"That's the long name of the painting that you took from the wall for confiscation," she answered.
As it turned out, this man was the head of the commission. He was obviously irritated with such an entry and said, "You've spoiled the whole record with this painting! And who's going to buy it from us with such a name?"
Then he said to my wife, "By law you have the right to make the first purchase of items confiscated here by the government. This is your lawful right!"
But my wife remained silent.
Then he turned to Ivan Petrovich. "As I understand it, you're also a believer?"
"Yes, I also believe in God, who is our refuge and strength!"
"Maybe you'll buy this painting from the government?" the official asked. Then he pointed to the document and the furniture and said, "All these confiscated objects already belong to the government. We can sell the furniture and painting to anyone we want. Buy this painting from us! What are we going to do with it? We don't need this painting. We won't ask much for it. Just five rubles!"
Ivan Petrovich pulled five rubles out of his pocket and presented it to the commission. Next, taking the painting, he triumphantly hung it on the wall in its original spot and loudly read, "God is our refuge and strength... Therefore we will not fear... though the waters roar!"
And so this painting remained in our house, proclaiming the strength and might of God, and encouraging and comforting the hearts of many believers persecuted for faith in Christ who visited our home in Kiev."
His book isn't on Amazon, but his daughter Natasha's biography, Children of the Stom, IS available.
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