Anatoli Pnomarev
Kherson, Ukraine
I was born into a family of believers. It was during the Soviet times when atheism reigned, and Christianity was mocked. In the eyes of many people, my parents and siblings were viewed as enemies of the Soviet regime.
Our family was as poor as it was large. In addition to me, there were five boys and four girls making twelve of us in all. In spite of the disagreeable position of our family in the society, we lived happily because the values that my father drew from the Bible – love, humility, patience, and faith – created a positive atmosphere in our home and shaped our worldview. These values kept us from getting disillusioned with life.
Our mother did not work outside the home. She had a strong conviction that there is nothing more important in life for a woman then to bring up her children and give them all the attention she could. My mother put all her resourcefulness into the effort of keeping us fed, always managing to cook tasty food out of scarce supply. She never got discouraged in the difficulties. Mother even made clothes for us. The most amazing thing is that we children never felt like we were lacking anything. The love and care of our parents met all our needs.
Father worked very hard from early dawn to sunset on the collective farm. At the end of his long days of work, when he would arrive home, he always seemed glad to see us. He would spend time with us no matter how tired he was. He would show us that he cared for us by his kind words and wise paternal advice. My father did not fear to hold an opinion that was different from the society around him, even if he was persecuted for that opinion. He demonstrated great courage, fortitude and steadfastness, personal qualities that had a profound impact on me. I consider my parents as heroes of faith.
In 1980 I finished 8th grade and started working with my father to help our family out financially. At the same time I continued studying at school taking evening classes.
In September of 1983 I was called up for military service in the Soviet Army. They originally planned to send me to the navy, but a certain event seemed to radically change the course of my life. About this same time, my sister became a believer and left the Komsomol (the Communist youth organization). This created ill will towards our family, and I was reassigned to Uzbekistan where I was placed in a training program to prepare me for the war in Afghanistan.
In December of1983, I began serving in Kabul with those responsible for delivering fuel to military machinery on the battlefield. They referred to our group as the brigade who was “sentenced to death.” During the time of my service I was part of a convoy that made 120 trips to battlefields with fuel supplies. We were aware that any one of these trips could be the last one. The enemy was desperate to disrupt the fuel supplies by attacking these convoys. If hit by enemy artillery, the tankers would explode and turn the convoy into a fiery inferno, taking the lives of many men.
When I saw men dying, I often asked myself, “Is this all there is to life?” At moments when I was on the verge of death I thought much about having to face God. To my surprise, right there in Afghanistan, I experienced His presence and His protection, even though I knew I did not deserve it.
As the time of my service was coming to the end, I went through an experience which I will never forget to the end of my days. We were taking 200 tons of fuel over the Salang mountain pass to Kabul. When our column stopped at the block-post, a shell fell right in front of us. We were warned that an ambush of mujahideen (Afghani holy warriors/soldiers) was waiting for us in the pass. I understood that it was very likely that we would perish in a blaze of fire. I was struck with dread and horror. As I gripped my gun, deep in my heart I promised God, “If You’ll spare my life and lead me out of this hell, I will serve You!”
As we followed the ordered to move forward, I was gripped with the terrible anticipation that any moment something horrifying was going to happen. To my surprise we went through the pass without even a single gun shot. I remember the commander asking us, “Who is the talisman here?” He asked this question because a talisman is a person who brings good luck or charm to a situation. I, of course, was not the talisman, but because my parents and the church at home were praying for me, I believe God spared us.
I returned home in February of 1986. I thought that the bad times were behind me, but I began to encounter new problems. The memories of war and scenes of death plagued my mind, and I felt guilt over the mistakes and failures of my life. Furthermore, I lost my sense of purpose in life, and quite honestly, I do not know of anything more devastating to the human heart than to loose all sense of purpose.
I started to look for a purpose to my life. Out of deep love and respect for my parents, I went to church several times. Every time I heard the pastor preach, the sermon seemed to be speaking directly to me. I was greatly irritated by this. After all, I was certain that I could find a way out of my problems by myself. However, the more I tried to understand life and work my way out of trouble, the more I realized my inability to help myself.
Quite often, I felt reminded by God of the promise I made to Him in Afghanistan. Instead of understanding that God was reaching out to me and wanted to give me His love, I became angry and hateful, regretting that I had begged God to spare my life back then.
To silence the voice of my conscience and the memory of the past, I started to drink heavily. I lived in this debauched condition for eleven terrible months. My life felt like a hell on earth twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I finally understood that the drinking was not going to help me and started to look for something new. I remember thinking that if I got married, perhaps that would lift me out of my hopelessness and heal the emotional scars left over from the war.
In 1987 I married Galina, a girl who had been orphaned at the age of seven. What I failed to understand was that a good marriage comes through wisdom, patience and mutual understanding. I had none of these characteristics. When I recognized that marriage would not be the cure-all for my problems, I put my hope in having children. I thought that they would provide the joy that I had not discovered in married life. I loved children and waited eagerly for our firstborn. I was heartbroken when we discovered that we could not have children. Again my dreams were dashed to the ground, and I wonder what the meaning of my life could possibly be for me. Often during this time, I would come home drunk and inflict even more pain on my wife and parents. Instead of giving my wife the comfort she needed, I realized that I was creating even greater problems for her and everyone.
On one occasion while in a state of intoxication, I asked myself the question, “What is the sense of my life?” Again I could not find the answer. I thought, “What if I live in this condition until I am 60-70 years old?” That possibility overwhelmed me with horror. I did not want to live this way another day, much less the rest of my life. I contemplated suicide. I heard an evil voice tell me, “Just hang yourself and all the problems will end!” I was ready to do it, but another voice, tender and kind, told me, “Don’t do this! Remember Who you turned to before and Who always came to your help!”
In my despair I concluded that God had no more forgiveness for me. I had committed too much evil and had pushed God aside too long and too often. A terrible war was going on inside of my heart and head. In my frustration and rage I grabbed my own hair and plucked out a strand of it screaming, “When will there be an end to this?!” I was gripped with fear when I realized that I was totally out of control. The next day was Sunday, so I decided I would go to church and give God a real chance to change my life.
After the service I felt relief and hope. I eagerly waited for the next Sunday to go to church again. When it arrived, it became one of the best days of my life. After the service I briefly looked at the pastor and felt drawn to him like to a magnet. When I stretched out my hand to shake his, he looked me right in the eye – it felt like he was looking into my very soul – and said the crucial words, “I don’t know any other man to whom God would show as much mercy as to you.” At this moment I felt like God was right beside me. I felt like His tender arms helped me kneel down. I sobbed intensely not understanding what was happening to me. These words gushed from my heart, “Give me freedom, Oh God!” At that moment my wife came to me, and she knelt with me before the Lord. What a great miracle that both of us were converted together.
A week later we were baptized. To our great joy we soon found out that Galina was expecting a baby. I asked God if He would please give us a girl. Months later when I looked into the face of a beautiful baby girl, my heart was filled with delight. Our joy however was only beginning. After her we had four more children, two more girls and two boys.
In 1990, when I was 25 years old, I became the pastor of a church that was started in my home. I became very busy with the work that was connected to this new ministry. What a different man I had become. In the past, I had been disillusioned and depressed while I looked for the meaning of life. But now I had a family and a ministry that kept me busy.
However we all know that life is not just a constant stream of unmitigated happiness. Life has its problems and sorrows. Tragedy struck our home when our 3-year-old son Vanya got sick and died. My wife and I both took it very hard. We wondered why God would allow our little son to die at such an early age. We wonder if God had some special purpose for allowing this sorrow to become a part of our lives.
Later we would receive an answer to our questions. In 2001, I visited an orphanage. I will never forget what I felt when little children ran up to me with joy shouting, “Daddy!” My heart was deeply touched by the fact that these little children who had never seen me before were calling me their father. I heard an inner voice tell me, “Your son is here in this place.”
This proved to be such a moving experience that my wife and I decided to adopt a child. We adopted a baby boy and called him Vanya. Today he is seven years old and our family dearly loves him. In 2005 we adopted another boy, two-year-old Valik.
Through the experience of adopting these children, I began to feel the call of God to start a new ministry of helping other families adopt orphans. With help from my friends, I founded an organization called “My Home”. Today over 75 children have been adopted into good homes as a result of this new ministry.
I am so glad that many years ago as a young soldier in the Soviet Army that God heard my prayer one night while going through a dangerous mountain pass in Afghanistan. I am thankful that He spared my life and then gave me a new life in Jesus Christ. I am grateful that he lifted me out of the despair and depression in which I was engulfed and gave me the joy of the Lord in its place. I praise God that he has given me a large family and wonderful ministry. My new life has only one explanation: Jesus Christ.
