I was sound asleep when our overnight train from Moscow to Odesa pulled into the station at Kyiv. My husband woke me up, so I could look out the window into the night at Kyiv. I promptly went back to sleep.

That was twenty-nine years ago this month. I might have missed seeing Kyiv, but I didn’t miss out on the kindness of a Ukrainian father and his daughter who sat across from us in the open car on that train.

Technically, we weren’t supposed to be in that open car. There was debate among our friends about whether or not we should even go. but the tickets had been purchased. We assured our ministry friends that we would be fine. And we were, thanks to the father and daughter. They demonstrated how the wooden seats opened like a trunk, where we could store our luggage and valuables, and if you slept on the top of your seat, “the hooligans” who roamed the open cars at night wouldn’t be able to steal your belongings. The twosome also made sure we had mattresses and quilts to keep us comfortable on the wooden seats.

They were right about the hooligans—loud and drunk they marched through our car, until the father decided he had had enough and stood up to them. These young men were an embarrassment to Ukraine and to themselves. If they had to walk through our car, they were to remain silent and not disturb the Americans. Every time one of us woke, the father was awake through the night guarding us and our stuff, ensuring we had a quiet night. And when my quilt slipped to the floor, he picked it up and put it over me.

Now, hooligans and worse have invaded Ukraine, and I would give anything to stand guard to ensure peace and even one quiet night for my Ukrainian brothers and sisters. Sadly, I can’t do this for them anymore than I can for myself and the hooligans that march through my mind and heart.

Hooligans of worry and fear invade my mind and steal a restful night. Hooligans like discontent loudly remind me of what I don’t have. Hooligans that whisper the ancient lie, “Did God really say?” and work hard to convince me that God isn’t good. After all, Ukraine is imploding; situations almost too difficult to bear remain unresolved; family members deconstruct their faith. Really? God is good?

I am not falling for the ancient lie. God is good, and like the Ukrainian father who watched over us that night on the train, God stays awake and is our keeper according to the ancient truth of Psalm 121—the Lord is my keeper. Back in 2019, Marshall Segal wrote an article for Desiring God called, “The Lord Can and Will Keep You.” In his article, Segal explains that God’s people traveled rough and uncertain roads to Jerusalem for one of the three major feasts. There would be unpredictable threats and dangers, but instead of worry or fear or falling for lies, they sang the song of Psalm 121 with its confident refrain:

the Lord will keep you
he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep
the Lord is your keeper
the Lord will keep you from all evil
he will keep your life
the Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever more

I don't think Segal knew three years ago what we read today in his words “no weapon of man, no weapon of Satan, no danger in nature can keep God from keeping you," or that he would be describing our Ukrainian brothers and sisters who despite the real fears of weapons or Putin are opening their churches as shelters to keep their neighbors safe and point others to Jesus and his Word in the midst of terror and chaos. As for me and my hooligans? They are in serious danger as I trust the One who keeps my going out and coming in to guard my heart and mind.