Submitted by rlp on Fri, 02/08/2008 - 10:29.
The Mission Trip: Part Two
Read part one
The mission trip plan was not complicated. Five of us would be dropped off at the University of Wisconsin, where we would walk around and tell people about Jesus, hopefully leading some of them to accept Jesus as their personal savior. The other five would go to a local community college and do the same thing. The following day we would swap campuses.
I was very uncomfortable about the whole thing. The idea of walking around striking up conversations about Jesus with strangers was frightening, so I was feeling high levels of anxiety. However, I had no way to think about that anxiety other than to consider it a personal weakness. If I loved God, certainly I would love these people enough to want to tell them the good news about Jesus. Of course I would. Otherwise they might go to hell. I felt that if I was a good Christian, I would be excited and happy about the task ahead. That I was instead plagued with a stomach full of butterflies was something that I would simply have to overcome. And I was determined to do so.
And so it was that on a March morning in 1982, a van rolled to a stop somewhere on the campus of the University of Wisconsin and dropped off five idealistic college students. The van drove away, and we were left to our work. We would be picked up late that afternoon.
It had not occurred to anyone to do any cultural research to see if the folks from Wisconsin might have some customs or social expectations that differed from ours. In most parts of Texas, strangers can and do greet each other. It doesn’t happen all the time, but sometimes a total stranger will ask you how your day is going. A friendly response is expected. Usually that’s all that happens, but you can strike up a conversation if you’re of a mind to do that.
In the North and Northeastern parts of our country, people are more hesitant to start conversations with strangers. This doesn’t mean people are less friendly there. It simply means the social morays and boundaries are a little different. In crowded urban areas, personal space might be the only space you have. As it turned out, walking around the campus of the University of Wisconsin trying to start conversations with total strangers was not the thing to do.
I think we were all a bit hesitant and unsure of how to get started. People were everywhere, walking quickly to class. I did the only thing I knew to do, something that might work on the campus at Baylor. I walked up to people, introduced myself, and tried to get them to talk to me.
"Hi, how’r ya’ll doin? My name’s Gordon Atkinson. I’m up from Texas, just visiting the campus. Say, have you heard about Jesus?"
I did not get the response I was hoping for. A good number of people just ignored me completely, walking by without any sign that they had heard me. Others flinched and drew back, somewhat alarmed. They walked away looking back over their shoulders or whispering to their friends. “Who the fuck is that guy?”
We tried. God knows we tried, but no one would listen to us. Soon it was apparent that a handful of religious zealots were walking around campus, and people began to actively avoid us. I hated every minute of it. But still I felt that this was the right thing to do, so I forced myself to engage people, only to get the same response every time.
I particularly remember opening a door for a young woman. I held it open with my right hand and and motioned her through with my left. I had a big smile on my face. I thought she might talk to me after that. She froze in front of the open door and looked at me with obvious suspicion. She moved away and left the building through a different door, walking away quickly which her books clutched to her chest.
That’s pretty much how the day went. We were ignored or stared at. A few folks got verbal and told us to fuck off.
By noon, I was done. I was emotionally shredded. I couldn’t make myself talk to even one more person. I went into the cafeteria and hid there drinking milkshakes for the rest of the afternoon. As the day progressed I felt more and more miserable. I knew that Jesus must be disappointed in a pitiful disciple like me. The apostle Paul endured a stoning and beatings to tell people about Jesus. But I couldn’t bring myself to talk to college students because I was embarrassed.
The guilt and shame were horrible. I tried to drown my feelings of sorrow by slurping down several milkshakes. It helped a little - a good milkshake always does - but not much.
That evening the van returned and we wearily climbed aboard. In the whole day only three people had managed to have even a single meaningful conversation. And that was with one guy who was intrigued by our accents. He kept asking the girls to say “ya’ll.” He was mostly just curious about why we would do something this boring and awful during our Spring Break.
We got back to where we were staying to find the other group jubilant and celebrating. When we arrived they rushed over and told us with great joy that five people had accepted Christ that day at the community college.
I took the news rather hard, though I knew I should have been happy that five souls were saved. Their success only served to accentuate my own disappointment in myself. Maybe they were more persistent and focused on their task. Or perhaps they had faith enough to keep them trying. I was pretty sure no one on the community college team had spent two or three hours in the cafeteria drinking milk shakes.
I wanted to be happy for their success, so I shoved my own feelings aside, forced a smile on my face, and joined in a time of prayer and thanksgiving for what the Lord had done that day. By the time we were done praying, I felt better. What did it matter how the Lord’s work got done? We had brought the gospel to five people. The whole trip was worth that, wasn’t it?
The next day the other team went to the University and we went to the community college. The other team had set up tables with literature in the cafeteria and had done a puppet show the day before. I know that sounds lame, but it was actually pretty funny. They had expensive muppets, like the ones on Sesame Street, which they made sing and play instruments. I had seen them do it before. I liked the idea of sitting at a table so we could engage people who were curious instead of trying to hunt them down all over campus. I sat down and a few minutes later, two mentally-challenged young men in aprons came over, asking about the puppets. I told them the puppets wouldn’t be there that day. They were visibly disappointed.
Their names were Philip and Roger. The community college had a program to teach food service skills to mentally-challenged people. I assumed these two guys were in that program. They were extremely friendly, so I chatted with them for a few minutes.
Suddenly Philip said, “I’m not going hell. I’m going to heaven. Did you know that?”
I looked at him, quizzically. Then Roger spoke up.
“Me neither. I’m not going to hell. I’m going heaven with him.” He pointed at Philip. They were both beaming with happiness over this.
I got a very bad feeling inside. I didn’t want to believe what I was suspecting. I asked them a couple of questions.
“Philip, how do you know that you’re going to heaven?”
“The puppet lady told me. She said that if I said the prayer, I wouldn’t go to hell and would go to heaven. And I did.”
“Me too,” said Roger.
I spoke carefully and seriously. “Philip, do you remember the prayer you said?”
“No.”
“Do you remember even one word of it? Do you remember just one word from the prayer?”
His face went slack as he thought for a moment.
“No,”
Then he smiled and said, “I’m going to heaven.”
“Me too,” said Roger.
I forced a smile. “Yes, I know you are.”
I turned away from them and whispered softly to myself. My lips were barely moving.
“Please, tell me we didn’t do this.”
I asked Roger if anyone else had said the prayer. He pointed out three others, all of them mentally-challenged people who were in the food service education program.
I was so angry. Someone on the other team had manipulated these vulnerable people into saying a prayer, just so they could claim to have led people to the Lord. I had felt so guilty and ashamed that I hadn’t had their faith and persistence. I had worked so hard to put those feelings aside so that I could celebrate with them. But it was all a lie.
When the team gathered that evening I said nothing. I was the only one who knew what had happened. It probably would have been good to bring it up and talk about it, but I didn’t.
I was starting to feel a deep kind of sadness. A sadness that had little panicky undertones to it. It was the feeling of having your foundation shaken a little bit. It’s the feeling you get when something you’ve always accepted might not be true. It had never occurred to me that when the Church puts such high stock in converting people, things like this are bound to happen.
And it got me thinking about some other numbers I had heard reported over the years.
-----“35 saved last night at the revival. Praise the Lord.”
-----“14 souls saved at Vacation Bible School last week. Thank you, Jesus.”
-----"Our church baptized 150 people last year.”
It’s a question of numbers and time. If becoming a Christian is a thing that can happen in a single instant in time - in one prayer - then you have something that can be counted. And if something can be counted, we will count it. Because we like numbers.
Numbers look good on the church’s year-end report, though one wonders why a church would want or need such a report. But numbers are not good in any way that really matters.
For me this trip marked the beginning of some new ways of thinking. It wasn’t the last mission trip I went on. And there was a lot of deconstruction still ahead for me in the years to come. It was painful, but it was the beginning of my spiritual journey to find the place where authenticity and faith exist in harmony.
It is, I think, a journey with no end.
rlp
Bookmark/Search this post with:
Thanks
Gordon,
Thanks for sharing this expirience with us all. For many of us who grew up in evangelical circles this story was repeated on many occasions. I learned to play a game where everyone thought I was doing well and a good christian but I don't think I ever lead anyone in "the prayer".
Its a sad state of affairs that this stuff happens in our churches.
I was moved by young
I was moved by young Gordon's passion, his desire to evangelize despite his embarassment. Really, there's something heart warming about that.
I was also deeply disturbed by what the other team had done. Very sad.
Thank you, RLP, for sharing
Thank you, RLP, for sharing this part of your journey. I can only imagine that there are so many more earnest evangelicals who take the numbers path. And no, I don't think there's an end either.
Great story
Thanks for sharing it with us. I wish others who identify with Christ could be as honest and authentic as you are. Believe me, it is through meeting Christians like yourself that has allowed me to not write off the whole lot of them. Who have taught me that it's not the prayers we say but the love we show each other (and ourselves) that determine what's in our hearts. How come Christians say they are concerned with whether or not you have Jesus in your heart, but only seem to care about what you say, and not how you act?
OMG, OMG....
The subject line says it, over and over, as a frantic prayer, gabbling through my head for the last ten minutes.
The first thing that came to mind as I read, although in a far more horrific way and a different league, is the recent story of two mentally disabled women used as suicide bombers in a market. When that story first broke, I turned to my friend and said "Down's syndrome." For some reason, I just knew that two sweet, loving women were talked into doing someone appalling with promises of a reward to come. When my suspicions were confirmed later, I broke down and cried with my family.
I'm at work, but wish I were at home, because I'd be on my knees, rocking, crying, praying without words. Just this morning over breakfast I casually gave a statistic for the number of new members in my church. Just flipped it out there without a thought as to what it really meant. May God help me and open my eyes so I can avoid this thinking.
I may post more later, it's hard to reckon out any thoughts but horror right now. But Gordon, thank you for this. Thank you so much.
Soul scorecards
I was raised evangelical Christian and remember the angst you described. We were taught openly from the pulpits that God had a scorecard and how many souls we saved also determined our place in heaven.
It was all so competetive and heartless. I vaguely remember sticker posters in Sunday School where we tallied the souls saved each week in our class. We went door to door and as young as 6 years old it was my job to witness to the children in the home. It was absolutely awful! I remember feeling like I was violating the sacredness of their home. If they didn't attend OUR church then obviously there walk with God was in serious question. I felt like an intruder and the one who was "unclean". That's a heavy load for a little kid.
It's been a hard journey to where I am and has taken me quite a long time to forgive many "Christians". Sometimes I still call myself a "Friend of Jesus" instead of a Christian. Learning to find God in them has been the greatest struggle of my Christian walk.
Thanks for sharing this with us.
in peace.
A Confession...
Gordon,
Your piece struck a strong chord with me. Here is my most painful confession: I have proclaimed the gospel with a bullhorn. Not a figurative bullhorn but a real one. Nothing says "love" quite like a personal public address system. "Please tell me we didn't do this" is a phrase that I have uttered on more than one occasion. Thank you for sharing your words.
Oh, we could probably fill a
Oh, we could probably fill a whole separate blog with "True Evangelical Confessions: Outrageous Ways I Have Tried To Make People Want Join My Religion, Many of Which I Knew Better Than to Try Even at the Time."
Mine? Performing a musical set in a suburban high school based loosely on something that would appear in a John Waters film . . . at a rec center in inner city Houston, for mostly Catholic non-English speakers. FTW!
Best comeback at after-musical discussion: "So, Victor, do you know Jesus?" "Yeah, miss. I know Jesus. He my cousin!"
-sarita
Actually, this makes me want
Actually, this makes me want to strike up conversations instead of telling them to fuck off. Not because there's much chance (okay, ANY chance) of my becoming a tally figure, but because apparently there are human beings in there.
I've been mulling this since
I've been mulling this since I read it. How do you think someone uninterested in accepting Jesus Christ as his personal savior can most productively interact with someone interested in saving him?
Be honest and hope for
Be honest and hope for honesty in return. It's really the only formula for relationships. Works in most situations, I've found. And if you can't find the real person in there, shake the dust off your feet and move on.
Honesty. Never thought of
Honesty.
Never thought of that.
Keith, It's all about
Keith,
It's all about relationship and respect for basic human dignity. And sharing cups of very good hot tea.
Tea and dignity
Maybe so.
On the other hand, it's kind of funny that in this scenario, the non-Christian is the one who has to turn the other cheek and show the proselytizer what dignity means.
Me too
I was a part of this sort of manipulation also. It horrifies me. Such responsibility was placed on your shoulders that other people would be going to hell if YOU didn't tell them. Then it was there responsibility whether or not they responded.
I remember that feeling of discomfort, followed by guilt because you were questioning what was normal for the others.
oh dear rlp...uw's a tough
oh dear rlp...uw's a tough crowd and still is. hope we didn't scare you too badly.
looking forward to the rest of this series. i bought your book in october and loved it.
David Fitch
I think you would be interested in a book called The Great Giveaway by David Fitch. It is an excellent read and talks alot about the things you are hitting on here.
Hang in the buddy. Don't deconstruct to much, take it slow and easy.
Y'know, when I read this I
Y'know, when I read this I was reminded of Tolstoy's story about the three hermits.
I've been on the receiving end of that kind of evangelization, and it sucks, since there's a group of those types who don't consider me Christian. I really do try to extricate myself with a polite "no thanks," though.
Oh, Lord!
I understand the reactions of the Wisconsin college crowd. In 1976, when I was a freshman at Southern Illinois University, an evangelical preacher (who was also, I believe, somewhat mentally unbalanced) arrived on campus with a cadre of his adherants. He wasn't part of any specific "church". I believe he got his "calling" while eating at a local Burger King and just dived into evangelizing all on his own.
He was a bit odd, to say the least.
The day I became aware of him, I was riding my bike across campus and kept having earnest young people in very conservative clothes stopping me and offering me small paperback bibles. As I'm Catholic and had two copies of my own bible, I politely declined each time. (At the end of the day, I had to donate nine little bibles to a local used book store that had been tossed into my bike basket from a distance by the more enthusiastic adherants.)
Finally, crossing the bridge from the dormitory area to the classroom campus area, I discovered the "preacher" himself, perched in a tree at the far end of the bridge, declaiming his beliefs from a bullhorn. As I grew closer, I found out that his beliefs were mainly a list of who was going to hell (HE wasn't, that he was sure of). (Please note that at this time, I had a brother who was an agnostic and a sister who was Buddist, along with one niece who was Baptist)
It seemed that all Mormons were going to hell. And all Baptists. And all Unitarians. And all Muslims. And all Jews. And all Agnostics. And all Buddhists. And all feminists. And all...
Well, at this point, I had reached the base of the tree. Fending off, as best I could, the bible-pushers, I peered up into the tree and finally, when he paused for breath, shouted out, "What about the Catholics?"
"ALL Catholics are going straight to hell!" he responded. "Particularly the Pope!"
"Thank you!" I told him. "I was beginning to fear I wouldn't see my family in the afterlife! By the way, I'll say hi to Mother Theresa for you!"
And then I went on to class.
By the way, as a wee, small Catholic schoolchild in a parochial school, we used to raise money for foreign orphanages. In return for our money, we used to get to "name" the newborns we were sponsoring. Or, as we called it on the playground, we got to buy pagan babies.
And we'd name them. I recall it seemed to be mostly a contest to see who could come up with the more horrible name possible for these poor kids in South America or Africa or wherever. "Ethel" was quite a popular girl's name for some reason. And "Wilbur" graced a few of the boys, as well.
I think if we're ever invaded by another country, and the person responsible has a wildly unlikely name like Ethel or Wilbur...we may deserve the attack, or at least my class would.
Strange things are done in the name of the Lord. Thankfully, He has a sense of humor. We need to hold onto ours as well.
Ha, good response to the
Ha, good response to the preacher in a tree. I've seen people trying to evangelize like that, and the universal response is negative. In the history of the world I doubt anyone has responded to a bullhorn wielding zealot.
The Disillusionment Chronicles 3
All of us have similar experiences don't we? I mean it's a bean counting thing, and a I'm right, you're wrong thing.
Thanks for sharing this and opening up some discussion, maybe it will help us to find a loving path and a way to be more humble.
These last three entries
These last three entries about disillusionment have been very meaningful to me. Keep them coming, please.
So the disturbing thing
So the disturbing thing about your experience is how in all your innocence you were still so one minded, officious and sweetly judgmental. I am a Christian living/working with a UU community. I am continually reminded how Christians can bulldoze over other faiths and cultures and never even notice. God forgive me for what I don’t’ even know I have done.
At least from what you could see no one was hurt. And I have to say that when faced with the reality of 5 mentally challenged people knowing they were going to heaven you didn’t argue with them about whether they really knew what that meant. You, even in your youth, recognized that it was more important to respect their humanity than argue theology or the validity of their “conversion.” Perhaps this was the moment when their understanding of their salvation was made real. When it was recognized outside the realm of hype and pressure.
And perhaps your understanding of what your salvation meant began in that moment also. For you are right, I think, it is a journey with no end, but perhaps with a beginning.
For me the horrific nature of this story is the way in which Christianity does not respect the journey that is other.
The real thing about this story is that the experience of salvation for those two young men you spoke with was no less real or valid than yours. It was not the efficacy of your work that made or didn’t make someone understand God’s love. It was Gods grace at work. We are just extremely imperfect vessels for that Grace. That id both a blessing and a curse.
A 'must' read
Gordon, if you've not already read "The Poisonwood Bible" by Barbara Kingsolver, I highly recommend it to you. There are many similarities to your experience.
Yep, read it when it came
Yep, read it when it came out.
Thanks...
No matter how much my church tries to deny it, it's always about "numbers". Very sad.
Gordon, you're always reminding me that each of us has the love of God available, but also that never-ending, and sometimes painful, spiritual journey.
I think the church needs
I think the church needs numbers so it can justify its budgets and buildings or somehow convince themselves that Christ is at work.
Jesus seemed to want to be hidden whereas the people wanted to use him for their own gain.
becky
True gutpuncher of a story, rlp.
Thanks for sharing, and I'm greatly looking forward to the next installment.
I miss you!
Dear Satchel Pooch,
I miss you!
rev mommy
yet another tale
Oh Gordon, i am really waiting for the next installment. I remember stumbling across the preacher's story at a time when i was in deep confusion and it soothed me that i wasn't the only who did earnestly want to believe, but can't take the bible as the literal truth, but yet can't, can't, can't let it go.
I came from a pretty unhappy family background, father was virulently anti-Christian (the whole works) for a variety of reasons and an alcoholic to boot, mother converted to Christianity during the crazy years of marriage---which didn't help but worsen my father's antipathy to christianity. Brought up by various family members as a child---life was pretty much a series of farewells, never really got rooted anywhere, but the point is, i was brought up for 2 years as a toddler by family members who were christians.
And that was the best time of my childhood. when i was forcibly brought home to a mad home, the only things that kept me alive and stopped me from killing myself were the good memories of the wonderful family members who were also christians--my father in his posessiveness and alcohol-fuelled madness refused to allow me contact with those sane family members as well as the real fear of going to hell. My father would rip my bible everytime he caught me reading it, but that made me even more determined, child as i was to hang onto it, simply because in my childlike perception, i didn't want to be as hate-filled and messed up as he was.
my parents divorced when I barely cross the threshold into adolescence---it was a relief in some ways---I stayed with those christian family members. But new problems arose. They were and are still lovely, but see, I was brought to a charismatic church, (tongues, slain by the spirit, the works), and that was when the problem begun. Like you, I was a natural born skeptic. It wasn't the animals on noah's ark that did it, it was the number of hours of bible study I did on my own. Why are there contradictions in the bible? It seemed to me, as an adolescent the more I studied the bible the more I saw internal contradictions. And then another problem arose.... The problem of interpretation. How can anyone guarantee they had the right interpretation? I mean, the baptists, the methodists, and the catholics, and now the charismatics who swear they all had the divine truth of God... Who has it anyway? Let's not even mention Islam and other monotheistic religions.
Bringing these questions to my then church was like having my hand and later, face, slapped. Hard. First they were patient, later it became a lot of charges that the devil was playing with my mind and I needed to be prayed over..have you ever seen exorcism of evil spirits by charismatic/pentecostals? Pretty scary, especially when you are a frightened, lost, bright, confused and hurting adolescent. They weren't evil; they just tried to help me the way they knew, which was that my mind must have been possessed by the devil. And so I went through deep cycles of misery trying to do the charismatic thing for years, and yes, converting people... Like you, but secretly tormented for years, and not daring to leave church as the family members who took over care for me ---they like your parents, were good and kind people----were heavily involved in church. Besides, there were always threats that I wasn't listening to the holy spirit, so what could a really messed up, terrified adolescent do?
By university, I decided I had enough and walked out of church. It wasn't easy, it hurt me to do that (it was some sort of home after the madness of my own family), and even the grief I caused my mother who I asked why I wanted to put everything we did to leave my father to vain by walking out of church.
I left for many years, but couldn't, just couldn't resist returning, but this time only visiting non-charismatic/pentecostal churches.
Why do I return? I guess at several points of my childhood and adolescence, the kindest people who really gave me real and normal love were Christians. They really believed it. And y'know, I can't resist portions of the bible---yes, Gordon, I read you on the way we throw bits of the bible in the furnace but never mind about that till later---which talks about love, compassion, loving our neighbour as ourselves, micah 6:8, proverbs, psalms (though I admit I don't like the apostle paul very much!). What I love about Christianity, at least my vision of it, is the very real meaningfulness it can give to every little act of kindness, that there's more to life than grabbing everything just for myself, and whilst we all know the bloody history of the church, there have been magnificent and noble acts which many of us rise to because we believe we want to be like Christ.
Am I making sense? In fact, over the past few years, as I cautiously returned to church (whilst carefully avoiding the aforementioned charismatic/pentecostals!), it was a prayer of wanting to do my best and wanting to be like Christ that set my day. It was what impelled me to try and give as much as I could, emotionally and to the best of my intellectual abilities.
Of late, however, it's been yet another downward swing... I vaccillate between doubt and I don't know about faith, but moments when I can switch off the confusion and despair that christianity isn't real. The swing occurs because I am studying the social sciences (sociology/critical theory/anthropolog/psychology)... And the more I read of cultural differences in practices, it's hard not to let the doubts creep in, and to somehow become more estranged from the 'bibical truths'. If God really loves us, why is He so inaccessible? If the goodnews of the bible is so real, why, why only give it to one culture? Don't' the rest matter? Studying other cultures almost reawakens fears and makes connections of pagan origins in the bible with others as well. The flood story, and all, you should know, having been in seminary, that the elements of that story are similar to many other middle eastern religions anyway...
And yet, like you, I want meaning. And I respond to the beauty which has marked so much of Christianity for me even as I acknowledge the ugliness---I share a similar discomfort with fundamentalism with you---and most of all, I guess, in part, my turmultous life has meant that the much of christianity is woven into my life history and the way I make sense of life.
I cannot walk away.
Thank you for listening. I have posted this online, as I found, when I was grieving years ago (in one of many faith-doubt cycle) that reading similar stories online helped me to go on. Nonetheless, if you feel this isn't appropriate and will confuse some other poor soul, please take it off though i would love hearing from you, either by my email or through this blog comment section!
P.
Thank you
For sharing -- I don't think anyone will mind. I'm glad you are here.
Thanks RLP--I was raised
Thanks RLP--I was raised that same way, though I managed to never get talked into doing the public humiliation method that you describe.
In a sense, I'm glad you went--it was awful and embarrassing and traumatic, but the rest of us have gained immensely from the person it helped shape you to be. :)
Been there, done that
Except we did cold calls at people's houses and asked the question, "If you were to die tonight, would you go to heaven or hell?"
By the time I was in college, I was "on the other side" -- everytime I was witnessed to I would say "Sure!" and then invite the person witnessing to come to the Satan Worship we were holding in the rec hall that night. I'm sure I'll burn for that.
Thankfully, this stage didn't last too long. THEN I joined the BSU. I got put down as an "Ex-Satan Worshipper." They didn't seem to understand sarcasm. Ah, well.
yup
i love the question "have you heard of jesus?"
"yeah", i'd reply, "i can talk jesus out your ass."
you'd look at me in astonishment and probably walk away quickly.
Thank you so much for
Thank you so much for sharing your story. I, too, was heavily involved in BSU in college. I even knew Shawn Shannon when she was on staff at Stephen F. Austin State University, and I, too, have a great deal of respect for her intelligence and compassion.
My story is so much like yours, it is uncanny. Feeling guilty for being a bad "witness," feeling guilty about my lifestyle, feeling that somehow, all the things the church was telling me to do were just not right.
Today I don't attend church. For a while I was agnostic, but I've come back to believing there is a God, but perhaps not so much like the one portrayed to me when I was growing up. And I've come to realize that my spiritual journey - how I choose to live my life - is my own responsibility. And if that is true for me, then it's true for everyone else. No more guilt. :-)
Transmit Infrared Signals
Transmit Infrared Signals Through Walls schematics Transmit Infrared Signals Through Walls Blood Ties tv show Blood Ties Нужен ли руль компьютеру? схема схема subtitles Journeyman Состояние банковской системы России после кризиса 17 августа 1998 года реферат Состояние банковской системы России после кризиса 17 августа 1998 года курсова робота Глобальні проблеми забезпечення життєдіяльності та якості життя людини what are mortgage points УМЗЧ повышенной мощности (для дискотеки) схема УМЗЧ повышенной мощности (для дискотеки) Прибор для проверки и востановления кинескопов схема Прибор для проверки и востановления кинескопов курсова робота Основні тенденції та напрями розвитку літератури кінця ХІХ початку ХХ століття. Вплив філософських вчень на розвиток літератури реферат курсова робота українські реферати Західна драматургія реферат Західна драматургія Два микроконтроллерных регулятора мощности схема Photocell Amplifiers circuit circuits схема Подключение звуковой карты к телефонной линии LED Traffic Lights circuit circuits Національна економіка Національна економіка реферат курсовая работа Смутное время в России Стерео усилитель мощности (2х22) на ИМС TDA1555 (TDA1558) схема схема Устройство полной защиты ламп освещения схема Спиноза Барух Audio-video switch Audio-video switch schematics Анализ доходов, рентабельности, прибыли производственного предприятия в условиях рыночных отношений курсовая работа Doctor Strange subtitles Doctor Strange movie Cash movie subtitles Cash movie Философские взгляды Больцмана в свете полемики по проблемам физики кон. ХIХ – нач. ХХ веков українські реферати Технологія навчання іншомовного матеріалу Naked Gun 2ТН: The Smell of Fear, The movie subtitles Naked Gun 2ТН: The Smell of Fear, The курсовая работа реферат Seinfeld subtitles subtitles Учения Конфуция о государстве los angeles pet adoption Истоки и корни народа русского реферат Истоки и корни народа русского Педагогічна діяльність М.В.Ломоносова українські реферати Последние события в Афганистане: причины и возможные последствия реферат реферат курсова робота реферат Возникновение механической картины мира реферат українські реферати Nonlinear Operational Amplifier circuit Nonlinear Operational Amplifier Carpoolers season 1 subtitles Carpoolers Life on Mars (UK) tv show Life on Mars (UK) tv show subtitles Философия веданты реферат Клемент Еттлі Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix movie Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix Значение бухгалтерского учета в реализации с/х продукции реферат курсовая работа Lost subtitles Эмпедокл Альберт Камю реферат курсова робота Организация делопроизводства в XV-XVII века реферат курсовая работа subtitles ReGenesis tv show subtitles sunterspace
Post new comment