We arrived and met the rest of our team at Nashville International Airport before the sun came up. I wasn’t really anxious about the flight or anything like that. After all, I fly for work all the time. My biggest fear was that I would do something dumb and lose my passport somewhere. It was weird to think, “If I don’t keep track of this little pocket-sized book, getting home is not going to be easy.” Needless to say, that little book was on me at all times, and like someone with OCD, I checked my secure, double-buttoned cargo pocket of my shorts religiously.

After a long flight over the Atlantic and a quick layover in Munich, we arrived Saturday morning in the capital city of Chişinău (terrible American pronunciation = “key-sha-now”). We were met at the airport by some fellow Americans who had been there the week prior, and the young men in JMI’s “Boys2Leaders” program, who were smiling, yelling to us, and holding up a massive American flag. A little bit of home was nice, but outside the view was pretty spectacular. The airport sits on top of a hill, and with no tall buildings surrounding it, you are looking at what seems to be endless countryside. Having lived in the Midwest for a few years, I was surprised at how beautiful the countryside can be when it isn’t totally flat.

We divided ourselves up between the two buses and made our way to the new pride and joy of this little country: MallDOVA. MallDOVA is a very large, highly American influenced shopping mall. We were there for two reasons: exchange our US dollars to Moldovan lei, and get some food in our stomachs. We made our way up to the top floor to where the food court was and I wasn’t sure what I would find. To my surprise (and disappointment), we had choices such as McDonald’s, Sbarro, and KFC, just like every shopping mall in America. Mandy and I opted for Sbarro, since we usually try to steer clear of McDonald’s. Despite our best efforts, we would be unable to do this the rest of the week, as the downtown restaurant was the easiest and fastest place in the city to grab lunch on the go. We left MallDOVA and headed to the home of our host family, which is the same property that JMI’s Grace House sits. And this is the point where the week really began.

I still wasn’t sure what to expect. All I knew is that we were going to run summer camp for the children of Straseni (terrible American pronunciation = “stre-shane”), grab a quick lunch and then head over to spend 2 hours with the children living at the Internat 2 orphanage. I knew that I would have to teach the “Life Skills” portion of the curriculum to the “Younger Boys” (boys between the ages of 6-11). That in itself was nerve-wracking, then throw on top of it the language barrier (most Moldovans speak Romanian, as well as Russian), and having never worked with an interpreter before, and you can imagine how easy it was to stress out.

The truth is, I could sit here and write the day to day accounts, but that’s not really what I want to do. I want to share what I learned throughout the week and what I took away from the trip. As weird (and maybe terrible) as this may sound, I didn’t feel like I connected much with my Younger Boys. They were out of control and there were times where I felt like we spent more time getting them to settle down than we did teaching them. Some of them listened, but most of them didn’t pay much attention. But I did my best to love on them anyway, because that was why I was there. All week I questioned God, “Why am I here if I feel like I can’t minister to these kids?” As the week concluded I felt like God answered that question by saying, “You did minister to the kids of Straseni and Internat 2, but I also brought you here to minister to some other kids, you just weren’t expecting it.” God is amazing. Let me explain.

I made a big connection with the guys who are in JMI’s Boys2Leaders program. These are boys who grew up in the orphanages where JMI serves, and now go back into those places with us as translators. Just like the girls in the Grace House, these boys are kicked out of the orphanage when they get to be a certain age. Some have families, others don’t, and even those who do may not want to go back to the families that abandoned them. They have grown up with each other and really are each others family. They will be the first to tell you that they are brothers. So with the help of sponsors these boys have moved into an apartment and are going to school and are not on the streets. While all of this is great, one fact still remains: these boys were orphans. Some were orphans because their parents died, but others were told from a very early age, “we don’t want you,” or “we can’t afford you.” And from talking to these boys, life in the orphanages isn’t easy. You feel alone and abandoned. You have no one to look out for you but yourself. You have to build up walls between you and the rest of world. You feel like you can’t really trust anyone. I can’t imagine going through that at the age of 8 or even younger.

Everyday I rode on the bus with these guys. A few of them played guitar, and they all love Christian music. There was one in particular that wanted to learn as much as he could.  Much of the time spent driving from one place to the next became the perfect time to give guitar lessons. I’d sit there while he held his cell phone up to my ear playing Chris Tomlin, Hillsong United, or Tenth Avenue North songs and I’d learn them on the fly and teach them to him. I’d watch him as he would try over and over again until he got it right, and when he finally did and I told him, “Yeah! That’s perfect! Great job!.” His reaction broke my heart. When those words came out of my mouth, his face lit up. Maybe more than anything he was just looking for an older male figure to give him some type of confirmation that he was doing a good job. That someone was proud of the accomplishment that he made. These lessons continued all week on the bus rides around Moldova. They are some of my favorite memories.

There were other things that happened throughout the week. I was reminded how much the simplest gestures can mean to people. Things like simply offering to buy some of our translators whatever they wanted from McDonald’s. To us it’s just a few dollars, but for them it’s much, much more. It made me think of how much we take for granted in our comfortable little bubble called the United States of America. So by the end of the week, relationships were formed and friendships solidified. But no matter how much I could do for them, I wasn’t prepared for what they had to show me.

These boys have a faith in God that puts me to shame. I was humbled by them. To hear the things that they went through while growing up, it is amazing to me that they have such a strong faith. I felt like I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when every single one of them ended their stories with something like, “But I know that God put me in those situations for a reason, and I am thankful to Him that He did.” Would I be able to say that if I were them? I would like to think that I would. It blows my mind that a middle class American like me can sit there and look at the situations in Moldova and ask, “Where is God in all of this,” only to be put in my place by a 17 year old kid telling me that they see Him everywhere. To tell me they lived it and they experienced His love through it all. That’s the kind of faith that I want in my life. I want the kind of faith that makes these boys want to go back to the orphanages that they grew up in together just to share their stories of how God is working in their lives to the other orphans, some of which they have known since they were little. I want a faith that beckons me tell these children that God loves them and, no matter what anyone else tells them, He has a great purpose for their lives. The things that those guys taught me are valuable than me teaching them songs on the guitar and buying them fast food. I am forever grateful to them. I am humbled by the memories I have of my time with them, and I thank God for the work He is doing through them to impact the younger generations of Moldova. I could go on and on. It was an incredible trip. I was a part of an incredible team. God did incredible work through us and will continue to do incredible work in Moldova.

I will end with this. JMI runs a sponsorship program for the kids at the orphanages in Moldova. I was fortunate enough to spend the two hours each day at Internat 2 with the boy that Mandy and I sponsor. His name is Artur. Even though there was a language barrier, it didn’t matter, just sitting together meant the world to all three of us. We send emails to Artur through JMI and they translate them and get them to him, and when he writes us, they translate it from Romanian to English and email us. I know that we are making a difference in his life. We shared a moment where, with the help of a translator, we asked Artur how we could be praying for him. His only response was, “That the three of us will always be together. Forever.” I’m not ashamed to say that I almost sobbed like a baby when he said that, and again on our last day when we prayed as a huge group and he did not want to let go of our hands. It was amazing and I’m thankful for what JMI is doing and for how easy they make it to have access to the child you sponsor.

You can sponsor a kid for $35 a month, and all of that money goes right to the needs of that child. Please pray about it. You can even be bold and go in with some friends and sponsor a Grace House girl. It’s more expensive, but you’ll be guaranteeing that 1 more girl won’t end up a victim of human trafficking (of which Moldova is ground zero for in Eastern Europe) after she is kicked out of the orphanage at the age 16. Pray about it. That’s all I ask. If you feel led to, go to the JMI sponsorship page and decided how you want to give. Also, pray about going on a trip with JMI, even if you don’t think Moldova is a place you want to go, look at the opportunities there are to serve in South Africa, Ecuador, Brazil, Haiti, New Orleans, and now possibly India next year. I promise you that you will not be disappointed.

In the end, I didn’t lose my passport, ate way too much McDonald’s, and found inspiration in the most unlikely of places.

It was a great trip.

The truth is that I enjoy writing. Some of my favorite memories from college were from the late nights spent up in our school’s newspaper office putting together the Entertainment section for the next issue of The Papyrus. Back then I mostly wrote album reviews and loved every minute of it, but that was easy because anyone who knows me knows that music more than anything inspires me. Even as I re-read that sentence I can’t help but think to myself, “That’s kind of sad.” It’s sad because I can look at my life and see that I am surrounded by so many things and by so many people that are an inspiration, but when it comes to putting words to it, I fail time and time again. I also think it’s sad because I know my faith more than anything should cause me to sit down and  tell the world about it. I’m a part of an incredible church family that is truly making a difference in the world fighting against things like human trafficking, poverty, disease, and spiritual hopelessness, all while fighting for things like orphans, the environment, and education (please go check out justiceandmercy.org and pray about getting involved in some way). I am surrounded by inspiring things! So why can’t I write about it? I may just be out of practice, but I think it’s mostly because it would be easier to throw on the new John Mark McMillan record, “The Medicine,” and tell you how good it is and that you should go check it out (and I just may do that in the near future).

I’m rethinking what I said in my first paragraph. I’ve just proven to myself while writing this blog entry that I am surrounded by inspiration. So am I lazy? Probably. Too busy? Eh, kind of. Maybe I just have a hard time writing about things that really matter in the world. Whatever the reason is I want to change it, because I do like to write.

I just got back from a trip to Moldova, where I had the privilege of working with a team of amazing people to accomplish one simple goal: to just love on orphans for a week.  I am going to start working on an entry about my trip and where I found inspiration while in the poorest country in Europe. I think it will be a good start to writing again.

This list is going to be very personal. I think that in order to really find out which albums have changed my life I need approach this auto-biographically. I need to go back and retrace the steps along my musical journey and look at where I was, and how I got to where I am now. I hope that for people who know me as a musician this list might give you an insight on what has influenced my style of play and what has been my inspiration creatively.

Also, this list is going to be very embarrassing at times. As I look back and realize what some of the records are I laugh at myself. Hardly any of these albums would make it to that “desert island” list, but they all hold a special place in my heart. The are the albums that in one way or another changed the way I felt about music, influenced my beliefs, and even taught me important lessons about life.

I’m honored that you have taken the time to read this and are making the decision to relive this journey with me. I’ll try my best to keep it interesting and I promise you’ll have a good laugh or two. So here it is: the first of fifteen albums that have changed my life.

Jars of Clay – Jars of Clay (Essential, 1995)

I remember when my family started listening to a Christian radio station when we would be driving around in our gray station wagon. The station was 99.1 WAWZ to be exact. I remember they used to have a half- hour long show a couple nights a week where they would play some of the “edgier” Christian music of the day. This wasn’t the time of the day when you would hear Michael W. Smith or Steven Curtis Chapman. Instead I would hear bands like the Newsboys, Audio Adrenaline, and dc Talk. I was also listening to this show the first time that I heard a new band called Jars of Clay and their first single “Flood.” It was like nothing I had ever heard before and I instantly was drawn to them.

This was the album that started it all for me. It was the first album that I purchased with my own money. I can vividly remember being back in Jersey and going to the Freehold Raceway Mall one evening with my family. I was on a mission. I made my way up the stairs and all the way to the back corner of the mall where Lemstone Books, a very small Christian bookstore, was tucked away. From the back corner of the mall to the back corner of this little store I went and searched until I found it: my very first cassette. I couldn’t wait to get back into the car so that I could throw that tape in my Walkman, put on my headphones and listen to my new music.

I was hooked. I listened to that tape over and over again. Looking back I can think of a few reasons that this album struck me in a way like nothing else did. Sonically, my ears were hearing things they had never heard before. Never before had I heard acoustic guitars being driven by electronic drum loops. I remember being blown away by the intensity that was built in “Flood” just before the bridge and then everything cut out and Dan Haseltine’s voice is accompanied only by strings. The way the strings were featured on the entire album had me completely mesmerized. The instrumentation and arrangements of the songs all seemed so foreign to me. It was also the first time I really paid any attention to harmonies, and those harmonies have remained a defining characteristic of their music to this day. They were different from everyone else I had ever heard on the radio, Christian or non-Christian, and I loved it.

I think that I was also drawn to this album because I was learning how to play guitar and all I had was my 3/4-scale Prelude acoustic guitar. I felt like I could learn these songs and they would sound right. That was never the case because I wouldn’t learn until much later that the entire album is played in EABEBE tuning and almost always with a capo. Regardless, it gave me hope of one day playing those songs on my little acoustic. I would also have to credit this record for my absolute love of playing acoustic guitar.

Most importantly they were my band. The first one that I would obsess over. I felt like I discovered them and they wrote those songs specifically for me. No one else I knew listened to them. That would change soon as their popularity grew and I even heard “Flood” on the local mainstream radio stations. However, my dedication to the band remained and is still there to this day.

Jars of Clay have influenced my life greatly. They are the reason the I chose to go to Greenville College, where I would meet my future wife and form some of the best relationships I have ever had. It was there that I would discover my love for studio recording. I played in two bands with some of my best friends and through those bands I found my creative niche both on guitar and bass.

It’s funny to look back and realize just how big of a role one cassette tape has played in my life. I hope that as I continue these blogs I will be able to pick out as many connections as I can with this one. They probably won’t be as long as this one, but I had a lot to say about this album. After all, it is the number one album that has changed my life.

Until next time I want to encourage you all to read my friend Chase’s blog on his website, www.chasemacri.com. Should you decide to do your own list, please let me know because I would love to read it. Later everybody.

Ian