There was one person I wanted to see more than anyone else at last week’s LittWorld conference in Hungary. That person was Serhii Sologub.

We met at the previous LittWorld when John Maust asked me to interview him for MAI. That interview felt like old home week for me. I heard about his journey to faith in the context of Soviet atheism. How God had rescued him and called him into ministry.

His name tag read Sergey. “Call me Serhii,” he insisted. “Sergey is Russian; Serhii is Ukrainian. I am Ukrainian,” he explained.

Serhii had published a book on family devotions. He proudly showed me the book. On the back of the book was the logo of the publisher—Mission Eurasia. That is the mission founded by Peter and Anita Deyneka, the mission where Lorraine and I served. Not only that—he was a pastor at the church where Charley and Cheryl Warner attended.

It was like finding a brother I never knew I had. Honestly, I could have talked to him at every break and shared every meal with him, and I would have been happy. This was exactly the sort of person we had given many years of service for. A Christian, moving into ministry and writing for his people. We did a video interview as well.

But he didn’t come to that pre-pandemic LittWorld just to talk to me, plus I had other writing assignments to complete and others I genuinely wanted to meet. We did talk again, and Serhii went on to discover an English publisher (Moody) for his book and learned a lot about writing and publishing at the conference.

That was almost four years ago, and just a few months ago, Charley was in the office meeting with Curt Miller to plan the visit of five pastors from Irpin Bible Church. Charley said to me, “Serhii is coming to Wheaton!” He explained the concept of five pastors coming to find out about our pastoral residency as a possible model for pastoral training at their church.

When they arrived, we were all hearing the rumors of the Russian invasion. I went to an early morning meeting where all five pastors were to be. I was excited to see Serhii. I looked around the room, hoping to see him.

Charley introduced a Sergey. I looked at him. If this was the Serhii I met at LittWorld, well, he was taller, stockier. It looked nothing like him. Was my memory playing tricks on me?

There were indeed five pastors, but Serhii—my friend—was not one of them. Pastor Vasil kindly recorded a video message from Lorraine and me smiling and waving, saying that we hoped to see him at LittWorld in just a few weeks.

As the invasion happened and the war began, we were all praying for the pastors to get back to their families. But I also was praying for Serhii, the pastor who stayed in Irpin. I didn’t know why he had not come.

Lorraine went to women’s retreat, and I flipped cable news channels and internet news to see everything I could about the war. Irpin became front-line news. A man from Irpin Bible Church was killed. Some of the other pastors were texting messages about their travels and what they were doing once back.

As we watched the images of mothers and children leaving the country, the news came out that men under 60 were not allowed to leave Ukraine. I assumed this meant even for a short-term training event like LittWorld in neighboring Hungary.

It seemed impossible that he would be able to come this time, but John Maust told me that not only was he coming--he was bringing his daughter with him.

When we arrived at Lake Balaton outside of Budapest, we checked in and touched base with John Maust, then unpacked and stepped out of the hotel to head toward town and find some dinner. And there he was—Serhii and his daughter. After many hours of driving, they had arrived.

He looked the same as I remembered. He looked good. And his daughter was lovel and an aspiring writer. We spent more time together catching up. So many questions.

Ukraine allows a father to cross the border with a child or children. His book has been published in English, but also in German, Chinese, Russian, Ukrainian, and they are talking about publishing in Hebrew as well.

Besides being a small group pastor and a writer, Serhii is a web developer. When the war broke out, he created a program to help people keep track of where the church had scattered. Rivne, Irpin, other places in Ukraine, as well as Poland and Germany—and they are forming small groups in those places where people have fled. In addition, staying behind enabled Serhii to be part of the team working to care for the church and community.

“We are meeting our neighbors,” he said, of the many who live near the church and are only now discovering the loving hand of Jesus at Irpin Bible Church. The church is intact, but 70 percent of the city is damaged.

So what are you writing, I asked. Or are you? It’s easy to say that you’re too busy to write. If there was ever a case where this would be true, it seems to me that this would be it.

“I have started to write the stories of people in the war,” he responded. “Vasili, Vitali, Dima—little glimpses of people and what they are doing to help.”

Now this is a book I’d like to read. He likely won't put himself in that book, but his story inspires, too.

And then it was time to say goodbye.

Early yesterday morning, I emailed Serghii and asked if he had any prayer requests. He replied, "Please pray with us for the team at the new center for people in Gostomel. Our church opened it just this week. We need brothers and sisters who can come and help people there."

Serhii ended his email with this footer: "God is good. All the time." And my brother believes what he believes all the time. War has not changed that. God's goodness guides us all today--in Ukraine and here in our homes even now.