My parents were Ukranians but I was born in Siberia, one of fourteen children. Mother never had enough food for us all, and when at the age of three I took ill with typhoid fever, they thought I would not live. However, I was wonderfully spared.
When I was old enough, I went to the village school and there heard very often that there was no God; that only stupid people believed there was. Teachers told us that if we saw or heard anyone pray, we should come and tell them and they would see that these people were re-educated. From time to time we noticed certain people would dippear from the village never to be seen again.
It was during World War 2 and at the age of sixteen I was taken into the Red Army and sent to the front line. We had no uniform nor any food rations and soon after were taken prisoners by the Germans. Many froze to death during the night hours, and I decided to try and escape.
I cut my way through the wire netting but did not get far before a soldier saw me and stood me against the wall to face the death penalty. An officer quickly intervened and I was spared and sent back to camp.
After traveling all the next day we were allowed to sleep in a field, and I hid under some hay thinking I was safe. Other prisoners did the same and orders were given to set fire to the hay. However, they had another idea; instead, a German soldier stood on top of the hay and fired down into it. One bullet passed me on my right side and another on my left, but none touched me.
Then it was as I lay there trembling, miserable and sad, I said to myself; “Why can’t I die?... If there really is a God protecting me and I find Him, I’ll serve Him for the rest of my life.”
Some hours later I crawled out of my hiding place. No one was in sight, but where could I go? Along a small path I walked and saw a horse whip. A voice inside seemed to tell me to pick it up. But why carry a whip? Suddenly a voice ordered me to halt! I had unknowingly walked into the German lines. The soldier saw me with the horse whip and, thinking I was the driver who brought them supplies, he pointed to a horse and a cart tethered to a tree. So I was allowed to go on without question.
On I walked until my strength gave way and I fell. A woman in a cottage saw me and came at once. Taking my head in her lap she exclaimed in tears, “Oh, my boy, I’m going to help you. I hope someone will do the same for my son, who is somewhere in this world.”
She took me into her home and looked after me until I was stronger. But I knew it was dangerous for both of us if I stayed, so I told her I must move on. I came to a river with a forest on the other side. The bridge had been deroyed so I had to swim across the icy water with my clothes tied in a bundle on my back. I had to let go my clothes, however, and arrived on the other side, cold, naked, hungry and no place to go. Again I wished that I might die. Then I saw my clothes had washed ashore not far downstream, and I was amazed to think how they had been given back to me.
After three days I came across a man cutting wood, and he took me to his home. His wife had a meal ready and at once with a friendly smile she pointed me to a chair at the table. Then I realized I was with some kind of religious folks. They told me the German Army had allowed them to have Bible classes and to meet together to read God’s Word. This was something new to them as before the coming of the Germans they could meet only in secret.
In the house was also a girl of thirteen who told me she, too, was a refugee and that the kind people who were caring for us were Christians. She told me her parents “had gone to be with the Lord.” I did not understand and asked, “They have gone to be with whom?” She explained that they were dead but because they were Christians they are in heaven with the Lord Jesus.
I said, “When you are dead, you are dead.” Then when I asked her why she was not sad at having lost her parents, she replied: “They are not suffering any more.” This did not satisfy me, and I wanted to know how she knew all this. She was younger than me, but here she was telling me about Someone I had never heard about. She told me she had read it all in the Bible—a Book I had never heard of before. But that night I heard from the lips of this little girl Marie, the story of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners, from His birth to His crucifixion and resurrection.
Three weeks later in that same village I took Jesus as my personal Saviour. I realized that God had saved me for a purpose. He had led me to this home. I had cried: “Lord, if ever I find Thee, I will serve Thee for the rest of my life.” So there is a God, and He had heard my cry.
I discovered that the whole village had only two Bibles and four hymn books. They could not give me a Bible, but they allowed me to write out the Gospel of John. For four years this was all I ever had until I got to Germany after the war and began working in an American Army camp.
One day a postman brought a parcel sent to me from America. Who over there could have sent me a parcel and how did they know where I lived? I could not bring myself to open it for sheer delight. But what joy when I did so—for in that parcel was a Bible. I danced around the camp telling everyone to come and see it. It belonged to me, my very first, and my very own. I do not know to this day who sent it, but whoever did may God bless him abundantly!
I am now a missionary. The Lord who did so much for me has given me the joy of seeing fulfilled my desire to serve Him for the rest of my life.
ML-07/29/1979