Trevor & Leah Sambrooks
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Note: There is a short DVD available produced by Trevor & Leah about their life and work in Bosnia. This can be borrowed for use at home, in homegroups, or any imaginative way you can think of! We hope this may help raise interest: and may encourage additional financial support! Please contact info@edbc.co.uk for details. |
By Debbie Meroff
Visitors rolling through the Bosnia-Herzegovina countryside are struck by stunning mountain vistas, rushing rivers and lush green valleys dotted with neat houses, gardens and haystacks. Strangers are also taken aback by the wounds of war: buildings reduced to ruins or pitted with bullets, the occasional skull-and-crossbone sign warning of unexploded landmines, and the disturbing frequency of cemeteries. Gravestones are instantly identifiable as Muslim, Catholic or Orthodox and to passers-by who stop for a closer look, it becomes obvious that the years 1992 to 1995 signalled a tragedy of staggering proportions. Much of the world has forgotten the killing fields of Bosnia after it followed Slovenia and Croatia’s lead and broke away from Yugoslavia. The explosion of hatred between Orthodox Serbs, Catholic Croats and Muslim-background Slavs left over 100,000 dead, a third of them women and children. But although the grass has grown over those 15-year-old graves, the hearts of survivors remain deeply scarred. A house—or country--divided against itself cannot stand. Yet the barriers between ethnic groups in Bosnia and Herzegovina are still very much in evidence. In a land only a third the size of England, Serbs have claimed their own autonomous region. In other towns and cities, Bosnians and Serbs tend to live on their own sides. And the government doesn’t just have one elected president but three—Bosniak, Serb and Croat—each rotating four-month terms through the year. Meanwhile, the country’s social and economic situation grows increasingly desperate. Factories that closed during the war have not reopened. A 40% unemployment rate—rising in some places to 70%-- means the government gets too little tax money to rebuild the infrastructure. Young people see no future and turn to drink and drugs. Pensioners struggle to survive on a pittance. For many residents, wood-burning stoves are the only option for heating homes. People are also spiritually impoverished. ‘There’s a definite sense that “my religion is my nationality,”’ explains OM Bosnia team member Trevor Sambrooks. ‘The words “Serb” and “Orthodox” are used interchangeably, as are “Croat” and “Catholic,” and “Bosnian” and “Muslim.” Although a person’s religion is part of his birthright, only a few are devout. However, a growing number are being influenced by Muslim missionaries from outside, and the offer of schools, mosques and other gifts donated by wealthy Muslim countries.’ Only about 25 evangelical fellowships exist in Bosnia. When OM began bringing in humanitarian aid in 1998, church planting became a priority. The first team lived in a 750-year-old Muslim-dominant town named Bihac in the northwest corner of the country, which has never had an evangelical church. The first locals to follow Jesus were baptised in a local river in 2001, and although several other men and women gradually came to faith the situation then seemed to stagnate. The team realised that attending formal services in a church building didn’t come naturally to people unfamiliar with Christianity, and decided in 2006 to move from a congregational model to house churches. Since then the number of believers has tripled from ten to thirty, and it has been gratifying to see new Christians using their own initiative to reach out to neighbours. One of the several house groups meets for prayer and Bible reading every day. Muslim-background believer Amir says he first met American team member Caroline Chesnutt when he was a fifteen-year-old student, eager to practice English. “Caroline prayed ten years for me,” he marvels. “Then I went to a Christian conference in Sarajevo, and what I heard was like an explosion. I was torn in two.” But today Amir is an enthusiastic follower of Christ, the only one in his family. ‘Church planting is like growing a flower on a rock,’ observes Estonian team member Jael Puusaag, who has persevered in Bihac for almost ten years. ‘The only thing that has kept me going is knowing it’s God’s will. But I agree with what another worker said: “I have only one candle. I’d rather let it shine where there’s total darkness than where there’s even a little light.”’ Most of Bosnia’s population are still unreached. Only about 1000 among 4.2 million have discovered a future and hope in Jesus Christ. Few new churches are being planted and most residents, like their government, live passively, unwilling to upset the status quo after surviving the horrors of war. Even believers are slow to see the need for a reconciliation ministry. Although churches cooperated with an OM-instigated “Pray for Bosnia” focus in 2008, subtle ethnic tensions within congregations still exist. And it doesn’t help that Baptist and Pentecostal churches don’t work together. For several years OM’s Sarajevo team concentrated on strengthening already-existing small fellowships. Then, in 2006, they felt the Lord leading them to start a new ministry in the unreached suburb of Dobrinja. This Muslim area is close to what was known as ‘sniper alley’ during the war, and was relentlessly pounded by Serbian forces entrenched in the circling mountains. With the blessing of the national church most of the OM team moved to Dobrinja to become part of the community. While no house groups have been established as yet, a twice-monthly Saturday night worship time attracts some interested families. In 2009 American couple Ed and Monica Siddle settled in the Muslim section of the old city of Mostar to work directly with the local church in discipleship, coaching and training of local pastors and leaders. Much of their ministry is centred around a purpose-built Bible School in Mostar that serves the whole country. Brazilian Field Leader Claudia Costa shares the view of many outside observers that Bosnia-Herzegovina will not make progress either spiritually or economically without reconciliation between its three main ethnic groups. Humanly speaking, such healing seems impossible. Only the God who knows all hearts can penetrate the barricades of bitterness. And, asserts Claudia, He will only exercise that power in answer to the concerted prayers of His people worldwide.
There's always something here that takes me by surprise. An aspect of culture. A comment. A product suddenly being available in a store. People's attitudes... As the weather has become warmer and spring has arrived, it's becoming increasingly easier to get out with Chloe for walks. As she's now toddling, she likes to walk when we go out, rather than ride in the wagon. Unfortunately, she is a little strong willed (no idea where she gets that from...) and does not always want to walk in the same direction as us. Last week it was warm enough to be out and about so we went for an excursion to run some errands and get some fresh air. Coming back, Chloe was walking on the reins and stopping every few steps to inspect some new and interesting item of rubbish or gravel etc. At this stage, she also decided that the hat she had been wearing, quite happily up til now, was bothering her and took it off. Just a few minutes later, an elderly lady approached walking in the opposite direction. She stopped to talk and basically told me that Chloe would get sick as it's cold out and she doesn't have a hat on, or gloves. And anyway, she's too little to be walking on her own. (This is the gist of it, as I didn't catch everything she said.) She ended with "You understand?!" It was more of a statement than a question, but as I hadn't fully, I said no. Her face darkened in anger as she thought I was a young person just taking the mickey out of an elder because she was telling me I was doing something wrong. I apologised and explained that I hadn't fully understood because I'm English and still learning her language. Her face instantly lightened and she smiled. You're from England? she asked. Followed by asking if I spoke German or Turkish. No, I said, just English and learning her language. She seemed surprised at this. Why would I learn her language? She went off with a smile on her face as I breathed a sigh of relief. Just the fact that I am making an effort to learn her language made all the difference to this conversation There really are two attitudes here when it comes to language learning. Positive and negative.
It's that time again... Visa renewal time! Every year there is something else to do, another hoop to jump through, some bit of paper work has changed, an extra test or one less. This is our fourth application process and the fourth time it has been different. One of the biggest hoops we have to jump through is to get a medical certificate stating that we are healthy and able to live and volunteer here. Year One...
Year Two...
Year Three...
Year Four...
Not to mention the differences involved with having a little one. She is supposed to have her own tests done. Year Three was the first year we had Chloe with us for renewing our visas. We went and got our medical paper work first which took about 20 minutes. Then we went upstairs to Paediatrics to find out what we would need to do to get Chloe's certificate of health. The nurse we spoke to went to ask another nurse... Come back at 2pm. OK. SO we went off to a friends house to feed and change Chloe and chill out for a bit as it was only around 11am. Arriving back at 2pm we are shown in to the Doctor's office. So, you've had all the necessary tests done then? What tests? We were told to come back at 2pm. Well, you need to get a stool sample, blood, ears tested, eyes tested, and various other things. Err... We weren't told about the tests, we were told to come back at 2pm. Ah... She's healthy? Yes. The Doctor proceeds to take a look down Chloe's throat and listen to her heart. He then calls in the nurse with the receipt book. She questions him about where the test results are. He tells her, and I quote, "shut up and write the paper", gives Chloe a clean bill of health and tells us to call him if we need anything and hands us his number. No tests required. Cost: 60km Year Four and things have changed again. This time, we had to do a bunch of tests and as long as our results are all fine, we can get
Chloe's for 20km and she doesn't have to have any tests done at all.
On our balcony it is 1.7°c
Where we now live is in an area of Dobrinja called C5. It is the only area of Dobrinja not served by city heat. We have enormous old fashioned night storage heaters. One in the living room, one in Chloe's room and one in our room. The nice thing about this kind of heat is that we can control it. The bad thing is that not only does it use a lot of electric, but the heaters are so old they are not very efficient. So, we have acclimatised to living in a cooler apartment. We just put an extra layer (or sometimes two) on and that's fine. Not long into the winter we began discovering lots of little "things" about our apartment... Several of the windows have gaps either between the panes and the frames or between the frames and the "window box" (I don't know what that is actually called...). Some of this was fixable by buying and installing weather strip. A kind of rubber tubing that is self-adhesive and goes round all the places where the window frames meet the "box". Then we siliconed around all the panes in their frames. But our front window has such a big gap from where it has warped that a big draft continued to invade us. So, I improvised a draft excluder... I used some left over material from our curtains, some bubble wrap and plastic bags as filler, and some drawing pins and string to hold it all in place. It looks a bit funny but at least it helps with the draft problem... And it matches the curtains!
This week we thought it was high time we bought a kettle. We had one previously that we bought over 2 years ago but it gave up the ghost somewhere around October last year. In the mean time, we've been making do with using our džezva each time we want to boil water. So, we had a look around, not wanting to spend too much but not wanting to buy the cheapest electrocution-friendly appliance. We came across a very nice looking kettle called "Lumina". A simple white contraption with a plate bottom inside rather than an exposed coil. Very good considering the hardness of the water here. It was a very reasonable 23KM too. Not the very cheapest but near the bottom of the range available. Well... We got it home, plugged it in and got a surprise... I guess the clue should have been in the name!
This year we have asked the Lord for a vehicle. For this to become a reality, not only do we have to raise the purchase amount, registration and insurance fees, our monthly financial support needs to increase too. At the close of 2009, we were short by over a month's support. Can you help?
For more information on how you can do this, click here.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 As you may know, different countries carry different cultures and traditions. Even in England, there is a diverse range throughout society. A large part of this diversity has to do with religion. Different religions, different faiths have different ways of doing the same thing. Last week we were reminded of how Muslims here carry out funerals. You might have experienced the "western version" before. A service of thanksgiving followed by a burial or cremation. Everyone sharing, celebrating, mourning together. For the Muslim community here, it is a little different. The men and women stay separate. They have their services at the same time but in separate rooms at the Mosque. Following this, the women return to the person's home where they continue their ceremony of mourning which includes chanting, singing and praying. The men go to the cemetery where the burial takes place then return to the person’s home. But that's not it, there is an official mourning process and period of time to be honoured. 7 days after the burial there is a second gathering for mourning. Everyone gets together to share food, stories and sadness. After a month the family get together and do similar, having a big meal, telling stories and visiting the grave. The tradition is then to visit the grave on the day of burial for the next five years, but typically the family will go every year.
Life. A precious gift. Something given without being asked for. Full of choices, decisions, highs, lows, experiences, adventures, laughter, tears. Last week our downstairs neighbour, Nermina, died. She was 74. Her body decided it was time to stop. Nermina was one of the first people we met when we moved in to our building. A sweet old lady. She was always ready for a little conversation even though she knew we didn't always understand everything she said, which was made a little more challenging by her lack of teeth! She was a dear lady with a serving heart. The residents of our building do not employ a janitor as is common practice in apartment blocks here, so she would clean the hallway. Not just outside her door. Not just the steps from the entrance to her door. She would clean it all. All three floors, all 6 flights of steps, the entry way, she would even sweep the path outside all the way to the road. We didn't know her well. Yet Nermina has left an impression on our lives. We would have loved to have spent time with her, got to know her better, shared stories over coffee. Life. We dither around, waiting, watching, wondering. How often do we seize the opportunities that present themselves instead of putting it off "til later". What if there is no later? Goodbye Nermina. Thanks for being a part of our journey.
Yesterday the ladies went out to lunch to celebrate and say goodbye to a missionary friend. She is leaving to move to another country and another assignment. She has been here for 5 years. Just a few weeks ago we went to the airport to say goodbye to a family who have been in this country for 13 years and in the Balkan region for 16 years. Saying goodbye is not an easy thing. But the life we live means that it is an all too common occurrence. You get to know people, open your lives and hearts to them, then at some point it's time to say goodbye. There have been a lot of goodbyes over the last three and a half years. It hasn't yet become easier. The "see you later" kind of goodbyes are more bearable than the "I guess this is it" kind. But still, it's a hard part of living here. What do you do about it? It would be easy to close one's self off. To not open up to anyone new for the fear of the dreaded and inevitable goodbye. But what kind of message does that give? What kind of witness is that? Is it better to let people in a little bit but not the whole way? Or to be yourself, open, vulnerable despite what you know will come to pass at some point? I think I'm learning about saying goodbye; to think about it in a different way. It's not the end of a friendship. But what they will take with them, and what you are left with is the fruit of the friendship you had, valued, nurtured, wove, tweaked, oiled and polished. The lessons learned, the laughter and tears shared, the food eaten, distances walked, buses taken; all that has an impact and leaves a mark. That is something not easily forgotten. People are constantly passing in and out of our lives. Do we seize each opportunity as it arises or do we shy away for fear of being hurt or hurting ourselves. This past week a new family joined our team. On Tuesday a dear dear friend will leave the country for good.
Well, it's official... Chloe is walking!!
On 6th November 2004 at East Dartmoor Baptist Church, Bovey Tracey, Trevor Stephen Sambrooks & Leah Ruth Reynolds did make their marriage
vows before God.
People think we're strange 'cause we don't let Chloe have Smoki (the equivalent of wotsits, they even do a chocolate covered version), we don't let her have salted pretzel sticks and she doesn't have Cokolino (a breakfast cereal for babies from 6 months) or fruit juice. When I say fruit juice, I don't mean natural 100% type juice, more like sugary imitation "fruit" flavour drinks. It's pretty normal here for kids to start with food young (anywhere from 4 months), and it's very chocolate orientated. Pretty much all the baby food available here is sweetened, or salted. We've looked for jars of vegetable baby food but have so far only found one kind, but with added salt. Most of the baby cereals have some kind of chocolate slant to them. It's not that the people here don't love their kids and want them to grow up healthy. We hear again and again: Why not let them have it? Why not let them enjoy it while they can? Who know's when they won't be able to any more? Who knows when the next war will be. It saddens me. The lack of hope. The expectation of another war in the not too distant future. It saddens me to see kids of 3 and 4 with rotting teeth. And it doesn't stop with the kids. Women would rather not have dinner and eat a piece of cake instead. People smoke because it's cheap, it's staves off hunger and it keeps weight down. Coffee and a cigarette: the breakfast of champions! In case you're wondering, Chloe didn't eat the chocolate covered banana thing. She clutched it lovingly all the way home, played with it a
bit when we arrived but discarded it without a thought when she spotted her beloved Roo.
I was recently chatting with a 5yr old missionary kid while we were travelling in the van to a friends house. Joella (very excited) - Did you know we came from America to tell people about God?!
Starts me chuckling even now...
Sat 7th Feb saw the start of a new work: a worship evening at the ministry centre. Our plan was simple; invite people, assuring them that it was not going to be a heavy sermon, but rather a night of enjoying the Lord’s presence and worshipping Him. This proved itself to be God’s work since more people came than we expected yet very few were the ones we invited; they were mostly invited by other local believers. God had softened the ground before us. There were long-time believers, new believers and seekers, but it was clear that all expected God to be present and moving amongst them. We were relieved to find the atmosphere was one of light-heartedness and expectancy as HE continued to work during the meeting. Throughout the evening there was open prayer and Bible reading between songs, and testimonies between sets of songs. We even had an impromptu and emotional testimonial outpouring from one of the local believers. All in all there were 25 people present and unexpectedly (for us at least) they all took part in singing and many prayed out loud, it wasn’t just left to the faithful few. The music, though not well practiced went very smoothly and people really took it upon themselves to get something out of the event by putting something of themselves in.
Chloe Ruth Sambrooks 04.11.08 6lb 5oz at 05:15am
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Who believes in the creation story? Yeah, that's right, science has proved that it couldn't possibly have happened the way the Bible tells it. Scientists tell you the whole thing is just a big fairy tale and anyone with an ounce of sense know the truth when they see it... Okay, now sit down now, boys and girls - it's story time! Shhhh.... Once upon a time, billions of years ago, there was nothing. Slowly, over millions of years, all the nothing came together in one place, (which was somehow outside of the nothing) making a great pressure. Suddenly, the nothing exploded and created something. That something is called hydrogen. This hydrogen eventually cooled down enough to condense and take form as solid rock, inert and lifeless. Water formed in the sky above the rock, nobody knows how because only the hydrogen existed and that formed the rock. The waters rained on the rock for, oh, let's say billions of years. Some of the rock broke down into minerals, and these minerals washed into a pool of water. Then one day some of these minerals mixed together and formed into a kind of goo in the pool of water. Then the goo became ALIVE. So anyway, this bit of living goo found something to eat and keep itself alive. Then, it found another bit of goo to mate with, and they had a whole bunch of little baby goos. Eventually - millions of years later - some of this goo grew up into all the plants and animals in the world around us. Everything that lives and breathes today came from that first bit of goo! Well, more time went on. Finally, some of this goo evolved, some of this goo evolved upwards and upwards, growing ever more advanced, bigger, stronger, smarter, until it became a kind of hairless ape with thumbs. And do you know who those apes are? That's right! They're YOU and ME! We are the Amazing Rock Apes! Now lie down and take a nap. Nope, I don't buy it. Do you? There isn't a single scientific reason to believe in evolution and there isn't a single scientific reason not to believe the Bible. Do you disbelieve until science proves that God did it, or believe until science proves that He didn't? I know which I'll go for, the one that'll last me until eternity.
I'm feeling inspired to write today, it's been a discipline to actually sit down and do it. Normally, before I write, something happens that gives me an idea of what to write about and I'm all too happy to sit and type, but not this time. As I said I'm feeling inspired to write but this time the inspiration has no further direction. As I start this I have no idea where it's going or where it will end. Under these circumstances, it seems rather strange to be writing at all, let alone writing with the intent of sharing it with others. But the process itself is not completely unfamiliar to either Leah or myself: Two years ago we felt a strong call to serve on the mission field which we know from Jesus' words is "the world". This, seeming a rather large area for us to focus on, we asked the Lord to narrow the field down for us, we knew he would answer but we didn't know how or when. It seemed that he was leading us down a windy path on which we could not see too far forward around the bends. That being the case it would also be easy to loose sight of what was behind us, where we'd come from and all the places the Lord brought us through. Thinking over it now makes me want to celebrate the Lord's provision, both in giving us what we need while we're here and also in having provided us with a role in an exciting journey. On this journey he has given us opportunities to help others start exciting journeys of their own and awaken them to the reality of their part. I've heard it said that "life is like a movie to which you arrived 20 minutes late", you have no idea of the plot, direction and only a vague introduction to the key characters. Being someone who likes to hear and tell stories, I like this idea. It's a great thing to see when someone comes to realise that they can only see this movie once, those 20 minutes are gone, but the author and director knows the story and is offering a live commentary in your ear as events come up. But the director has a surprise in store for you, you're in this story too, not the star but you have a role which only you can play and a task for which if you don't find a way no one else will. In this explanation I find something, not just for people new to the idea of Christian life, but also for me: That live commentary never runs ahead of the picture. Sometimes the director starts explaining a topic that isn't showing yet so that we understand from his perspective when we see it, other times it is necessary to let it play out before explaining it. I think that's why he had me write in this manner, writing before I knew what I was writing about, it illustrates the point he is teaching me. Just because He isn't telling me everything I ask Him to, doesn't mean He isn't listening or doesn't care. He's with me every step of the way having gone before me and prepared me for it by the route we are taking now. He will ask me to do things I don't feel ready for as He has in the past, but trusting that He's been there first, I'll press on forward because He's brought me this far. It's important again to look back and see where we've been; not so we're sure we can find our way back, but so we're encouraged to march on. I have many questions about what will happen over the next few months and beyond and much is uncertain. But there is one thing that is certain...
Today, 16th May, I received my first death threat. *Jasko (*name changed), a man well known to the team in Dobrinja, came and told me that he has just finished a month in prison for mafia involvement. Now he needed money for lawyers, so he was extending his scheme of mafia protection to include the reading room. The deal was simple: I pay him a mere KM100 (€50) every month and he ensures that nothing happens to our place - I refuse to pay, he sends his boys in. He asked if I would pay or not, without saying yes or no I told him that God is my protection. I quoted "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God" (Psa 20:7) He gave me until 1700 to think further about it and left saying "I'll be waiting". This was a threat to the whole team, so I locked up and went to talk to them. I was fully confident that the Lord would handle this, but it seemed wise to have a corporate response. It was agreed that we would not give in to his demands for money, but, since the need was for a lawyer, that we could offer a non financial alternative such as legal aid through one of our contacts. I returned close to 1700 with Sean and encouraged Jasko to explain the situation to him in case my poor language had missed something. The problem remained. He absolutely refused the offer of legal help and stuck to a simple "yes or no", explaining again the consequences of non-payment. We wanted to be diplomatic and avoid a yes or no answer. We were going around in circles. His phone rang. Letting it ring he told us his boss wants to know if he got the money yet, "yes or no". We knew we could go no further, Sean said we should pray for God to provide an answer. Right there we put our hands on his shoulders and prayed for him. God helped me understand that Jasko was under pressure to do these things and that he wants to do what's right. We stood, half praying, half prophesying God's word and love over him. As we prayed God broke my heart and I began to weep. Jasko hugged me so tightly it was hard to breathe, he kissed my cheek and pressed his face against mine wiping my tears onto his face. His eyes were red and welled up, but he would not let himself cry. He hugged Sean and, with a completely changed countenance, told us that nothing bad would happen to us on his account. We invited him to pray but he wouldn't. We departed with Jesus' words: "You are not far from the Kingdom of God" (Mark 12:34) For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. (Eph 6:12) Praise God for his power in changing men's hearts, please pray with us for Jasko's heart. Thank Him for being strong in our weakness, and pray for us that we are able to continue to show God's love to Jasko despite the Spiritual darkness that surrounds him.
A common complaint of Bosnians learning English is that we simply have too many words and they don't know which one to use! Am I "starving" "ravenous", "famished" or just plain "hungry"? It's the same with the words we use to describe our faith too, almost like we've made up our own little language which only Christians know:
England's history as a "Christian" country has had an effect on the words we use. Depending on whose history you choose to believe, Bosnia has between 600 and 800 years under Islamic rule. This too has had it's effect on language. One of the most disappointing results of this is that the definition of grace is severely diminished and there is no replacement word. Recently I was talking with a man who made an off-the-cuff remark: "God helps those who help themselves! " I've always considered this to be a man-centred phrase. Interestingly, the Bosnian way of saying it highlights this: "A man must help himself, then he is helped by God." It always intrigues me to find out how people came to know this phrase and what authority they let it have in their lives. In other words, how much a person uses this philosophy to explain aspects of his, and other people's lives. "God won't help them 'til they start to help themselves. " It might be a source of personal pride, bringing the fact of God's blessing down to the belief that "He blesses me because I deserve it; I help myself! " This philosophy speaks directly against what God reveals of himself in the concept of grace. Realising this is one thing, explaining it is quite another. The concept of grace is so far removed from Bosnian thinking that the words, and therefore definitions, for "grace" and "mercy" are the same, "milost". Due to the Islamic influence, this carries more of the idea of mercy than grace. Every chapter of the Koran is dedicated in the name of Allah the merciful: "Alaha Milostiv". Without a right understanding of grace, we miss the fact that God loves us just as we are and what's more, there's nothing we can do to make him love us more. The "God helps those... " mentality builds the case for selfishly helping oneself to earn God's favour, creating indifference to those in real need: "It's up to them to help themselves before they get help from God". Often, however, people who hold this view believe that a person goes to heaven by being a good person who helps others. Does God help those who help themselves? Yes, but in his grace, he helps those who cannot help themselves, he shows love to those who have no desire to know him and gives them the will to come to him for help. Realising this is one thing, explaining it is quite another.
I was feeling particularly blessed. The tangible sense of God's presence was still with me. I had been preaching, teaching and evangelising spontaneously in various places, for about fifteen hours. God gave me strength:
But now it was over, I was on the bus, returning home. God granted me the best sleep I had all month, on a bus! I was disturbed only for the passport control at the border and the break in which everyone has to get off the bus for 20 minutes. It was during these 20 minutes (about four hours into the journey) that I became aware of other people travelling with me. Before this it had just been me, God and the dreams I was having, and so it continued to be when I re-boarded until I arrived home. Upon arrival in Sarajevo, two young Japanese men realised that they had a problem. Because I had translated for them in the 20 minute break they decided to ask me for help. Their English was minimal, but better than their Bosnian. It was 7:00am when I outlined their problem to them:... ..."You are not at the main bus station where you expected to be, you are about 5 Kilometres from the edge of your map. You have mostly Serbian Dinars (not even the banks change them!), you can change your Euros at the bank, which opens in two hours at 9:00. It's raining." After calling Leah (at 7am!) to make sure the house was tidy, I invited them over, so they could at least be warm while they waited for the
bank. We cooked some coffee and talked a little about their travels and how they came to be in Bosnia. We realised that we could change their
Euros for them, then put them on a bus for town centre. This had the double benefit of saving them the wait for the banks and that the bus is
much cheaper than a taxi. We only had a 50 Mark note which was enough for them, but is a bit excessive to use for the 3.20 bus fare. As I lead
them to the bus stop I was praying about what to do with the Big Bank Note. As we neared the bus stop we found two 2 Mark coins next to each
other, right in the middle of the path. Perfect.
The morning air is mixed with the smoke from people's wood fires as they try to keep the subzero temperatures on the outside of their
houses. The bitter cold stings your nostrils as the smoky dampness bites the back of your throat. I'm heading in to town to get my residence
permit, I go in on the trolleybus: it goes from directly outside our flat and runs parallel to the tramlines. The building I need is on the
tram road so I walk through the park to get there. I meet a couple of gypsy kids. I've met them before and know them both by name. I said that
I wouldn't give them anything this time but when I come back from my meeting, in about half an hour, I'd take them both to the bakery. I often
do this: don't give straight away but make a promise, then come back later and keep the promise. It helps them to know that I'm not just
another person who gives but also one who keeps his word, which in turn gives weight to other things I talk to them about. I came back and
asked the girl where the bakery was: I had a vague idea but at 6 years old, she was loving every minute of the responsibility of having her own
personal foreigner. (Plus I speak like your average 4 year old, so she enjoyed "being older" than me too.) It was about a ten minute
walk so there was plenty of time to talk as I wanted to go back with her to make sure her brother got his food too (he didn't want to leave his
begging spot). Her: Where are you from? I thought about the likelihood of him even being in another country. Slim at best. On the way back we talked about her and what she wants to do when she grows up. It took her a long time to think about. In the meantime I joked that she would probably be a doctor on account of her being so much smarter than me, but no: she doesn't like blood! H: Instead I would be a teacher. She is allowed to go to school only a couple of
days a week. The rest of the time she's there in the park begging with her brother who is just a year older than her.
What is Christmas supposed to "feel" like? Trees and decorations appearing in the shops in early September. Frantic shopping ensues, got to find that perfect gift before 25th December. The hubbub of late night shopping, stocking the fridge and cupboards fill ready for a feast, turkey, wine, cracker popping. Christmas eve mass or church on Christmas morning. Hurry home to open presents, visit family, Queen's speech at three. Mince pies, Christmas pud, stockings full as the kids have been good. Don't you just love the "feeling" of Christmas? What is Christmas? We don't celebrate that. This is a New Year tree and a Father New Year hat. The Catholics, they have that tradition, yes in December, and then there's the Orthodox, Christmas for them is 7th January if I remember. Why is Christmas associated with snow? With robins and Santa, trees, lights and banter? Could you imagine it in a different season? Sunshine, eating out, it's still the same reason. What about living somewhere they don't believe the same, it's just another day, off to work, not time for a game. What if it was banned, not allowed, you couldn't celebrate? Christianity is illegal, if you're caught, there's only one fate.. It doesn't "feel" like Christmas. There's no big hype. No decorations or lights. Just another day. But what about Christmas? In a stable, in the "cold", surrounded by smelly animals, in a village, a poor couple saw and brought in to this world our Saviour, the King. It wasn't clean and sanitary, there was no heating or hot water. Everyday I live because of that one day. Who knows what the date really was, maybe it was in June. Is it right that we tie it down to just one day? Does it "feel" like Christmas to you?
We have been praying lately for our team leader; that her paperwork for her residence permit will come through soon so she is able to stay in the country. It is supposed to take a month to process these papers, but so far it has taken three. In order to get the permit you must submit a pile of papers about an inch thick or more depending on where you are from. The system is a little strange to us foreigners who do things differently. For example: an applicant must submit a birth certificate, that’s not too abnormal until you read that it should not be older than six months. Bosnians renew their birth certificates every year, only the newer ones are valid for the residence permit. This sort of bureaucracy is frustrating and annoying, but it is not the dangerous type to which I am referring. It is only a part of a system which sets up the attitude that the most important thing in life is to have the right papers! The level to which this attitude is taken has disgusted me this week: My good friend took his pregnant neighbour to hospital when she felt that it was time she was going to give birth. On arrival at the hospital the doctor told her that she did not have valid identification papers so they would assume she is a gypsy or an illegal immigrant, who has no right to medical assistance. After a long argument with the doctor, my friend managed to convince him that this lady was not an illegal immigrant or a gypsy. My friend had to stay in the waiting room as men are not allowed on the maternity ward. The doctor took the lady to a bare upstairs room, the white tiled walls and floor clearly showing the filthy conditions of the place. This is the maternity ward for those who don’t have the right papers. There was another woman there about ten feet away, there were no partitions there, no curtains, just a room with two pregnant women who would imminently give birth. They were in that room for five hours, no doctors came, no medicines were administered for pain, no initial check-up had been made, nobody had a clue how close the women were to actually giving birth. During those five hours the other woman did give birth, her baby fell onto the floor and died right there in the hospital. Her husband who had gone to get a lawyer when he found out that they had sent her to the “upper room” said that at the very least they could have allowed him a chance to try and deliver the baby himself. The doctor told him that he had not filled in the paperwork to be allowed to do that, and besides, we have the dignity of the other women to consider!! In another incident in the last two weeks, a friend’s landlady (54 years old) had a minor stroke, the resulting fall caused her to hit her head as well. She has all the correct paperwork anyone could ever want. In and out of consciousness as she was taken into hospital, she was left in a corridor “on the waiting list” without even a check-up let alone the necessary meds. She slipped into a coma and when the doctor finally came to examine her he said she had a 5% chance of living through the night. She lived but the doctor then said she only has a 5% chance of living if she is given oxygen. Surprised that after waiting for a long time there was no one bringing the oxygen, her husband and my friend spoke to every passing doctor they saw to find out what was happening. Finally one told them that because she has such a slim chance of surviving they can not be held responsible for potentially wasting hospital resources and that they were welcome to try at another hospital. So taking the sick lady with them they went to two other hospitals. She died there, without an oxygen mask, in a room where oxygen was being used on a casualty with better chances of survival.
Since I came to know Christ I have loved the story of David and Goliath. It so characterises many things that we face in our daily lives. I like to think about things in terms of the giants I will face each day with the help of the almighty God who accompanies me into the battlefield. It’s an extraordinary scene; the hoards of the Philistine army gathered together, leering at the army of Israel, who just quake in their sandals. The extraordinary detail of the size and strength of Goliath and how he carries such extraordinarily large weapons. And as if that wasn’t enough to top the extraordinary chart; a small boy steps up, without the protection of armour and without a sword, proceeds to puncture and lop off the lanky loser’s head using a simple slingshot and the giant’s own sword. But there’s another aspect of it that I’m coming into a greater awareness of these days, and it flies in the face of the hype and extraordinariness of it all. It is the quieter story of how God uses the utterly normal and everyday things to win extraordinary battles. David’s purpose on the battlefield was not to fight a big battle and win the day for his king and country, it was simply to take his brothers their packed lunch. David was no stranger to having his life endangered, in fact it happened many times, he had killed lions and bears purely for coming too close to his sheep. Once David had convinced the king that it would be no problem for him, the king offered him the best armour he had. David, honoured though he was, turned it down having first tried it on. Why? The armour (OK it was too big for a start) was something out of the ordinary for David. His occupation required him to take such risks without armour. I have a feeling that even if it had fitted him well, he would not have worn it after all. Then there were the five small stones and the slingshot. Why did David pick up five stones? Was this a lack of faith? Did he not believe that God could do it with just one stone? I believe that David took five stones because that’s what he always did. Lion, bear, Philistine warrior, same difference! God was using the ordinary routine of David’s everyday job to bring about the extraordinary victory over the oppressive nation. So He does with us, our jobs and routines are to be carried out to the glory of God with equal passion as our praises are carried to his throne when we sing. Have you been bored by the ordinary things recently? Be encouraged they are the gateway to the extraordinary.
How much is eighty fening actually worth?
What about when you’re stood at the checkout with only 10KM, the total comes to 10.80KM. How much is eighty fening now?
Isn’t it so easy to forget that God is interested in all the small things, not just the big, “major” ones. That eighty fening meant an awful
lot to Him, not just to me. Yesterday we went to the bank. Whether it’s eighty fening at the shops, someone opening a door just when you need it, a kind lady at the bank, a parking space in the right spot. God is in all the small things. He uses the small things for His Glory. The past few weeks, our team has been meeting daily for prayer, first thing in the morning. The past four days, I have arrived at the entrance to the building at exactly the same time as an elderly lady has been leaving. She has the most beautiful smile, and thinks it quite funny that we keep meeting this way. This morning we laughed as she jokingly asked if she would be letting me in everyday. I think God smiles too. This is another example of a small thing that could grow in to something else, in God’s time, for God’s Glory. It’s so easy to miss out on God’s blessings when we overlook the small things. Time goes, we get caught up in busyness and forget to say thank you. So, Thank You God for all the small things.
Recently, someone asked me: “What is your favourite thing about Bosnia?” I began to think about this enormous question, having never really thought about it before. I like the fact that at the end of our street is a little prodavnica (shop) where we can buy fresh fruit and veg, milk, snacks, coffee, all
sorts of things.
I like that we seem the same people each day as we go about our daily lives.
The public transport is good, regular and very affordable which definitely helps with getting around as Sarajevo is pretty big. We have a nice apartment, in a nice area. We are close to the Office, we are close to the bus stop, we are living in our area of ministry. It’s not too far to be able to get out in to some of the nearby countryside, to walk up a mountain, or go climb on a crag, sit by a river with a local source. The countryside here is vast, largely untouched, (partly due to mines remaining from the war), it is lush, beautiful, the mountains are many, rugged, inviting yet forbidding. These are all or simple, earthy things that one could probably find in a lot of places. Obviously, we are blessed with all these things , particularly as we live in a developing country ravaged by war only 13 years ago. However, even though physical war ended in 1995, spiritual warfare is very much in full flow. There is a heaviness settled over Bosnia. You
feel it lift when you leave, even just over the boarder in to Croatia, and you feel it again settle when you return.
Religion is such a controversial thing here. It is tied to identity, as in National Identity.
An example of the confusion, to help explain this a little better:-
Amra – Josh is your brother right Rob?
Amra is an educated lady in her mid-thirties., brought up in a once wealthy family (prior to the war).
Just a week or so ago. Claudia, our team leader, had a dream, she was only half asleep, half awake. In her dream there was a man on a bus, she was praying, she was
casting out demons. There was another person on the bus, she was praying for them too, for protection. She tried to rise from her bed but she
was paralysed and could not move. She prayed to God “who is this person?” She could not see whose face it was.
On both the bus and the tram was one particular man. I have never seen this man before. I do not know if I will again. This man was not “normal”. He was not in his right mind. He was talking out loud to no one, (as far as I could tell as I didn’t understand what he was saying), he began to look at people and direct his comments towards them. While waiting at the tram stop, he was pacing up and down shouting commands and pointing, almost like an army officer would in a drill. Again, on the tram, the same as on the bus. Some of what he said was directed at me with him looking me right in the eye. This man was possessed. By what, I do not know. I only know that it was not of God and that this man knew that I am of God. Bosnia is a beautiful country. However, it is a hard place to live.
I wonder, if someone asked you “What’s your favourite thing about England?”
“Multiply and fill the earth” was one of the first commandments God gave to Adam & Eve. One which is repeated several times throughout the Old Testament. I wonder if they really had any idea of that scale of that command considering they had no clue as to the size of the earth. Being 24,902.55 miles in circumference and 7926.41 miles in diameter, the world is a pretty big place. Or is it…?? In 1522, a group lead by Juan Sebastian Elcano completed the first recorded circumnavigation of the globe, returning to Seville after travelling for 3 years and 1 month. In 1819, the first steam ship to cross the atlantic, the side-wheeler “Savannah”, did so in 29 days and 4 hours. In 1924, the first recorded aerial circumnavigation was completed by the US Army using a propeller plane “Douglas World Cruiser”. They completed their journey in 175 days. (just under 6 months) 5 years later, using a zeppelin airship, a German by the name of Hugo Ekner completed his circumnavigation in only 21 days. Today, you can travel around the world in a matters of hours, let alone days, months and years.
Who would have thought it? There I am, sat in a café with the ladies group drinking coffee, sharing and praying together. I’m wearing my chudleigh rock centre t-shirt. Why not! A lady approaches me, almost hesitantly. She’s not another gypsy asking for money, but instead a well dressed, well kept looking women, with husband in tow. Lady - “Excuse me, but have you ever been to chudleigh?”
The world got a little smaller. Last time we went to Mostar for bible school, we went by bus as we always do. A chap a few seats back heard us speaking English and asked a
question about the journey. He was from Georgia, USA and a believer.
The world got a little smaller. A few Thursdays ago we were at some friends for a meal. A family of four and a single lass, Mackenzie from America
“What?! British Joe?!” Turns out he briefed the team she was on and accompanied them in to North Africa. The world got a little smaller. Perhaps it should be:
I could go on to say “where is home?”... Perhaps that is for another day. “For this world is not our home.” Hebrews 13:14a
I (Trev) got back from the 7 day youth camp on Mon 9th July. It was a tiring, challenging, refreshing, energising, rewarding and fruitful time; strange, how the most physically draining times are often when your spiritual passion and strength are stirred up the most. It really is the case that Christ is the strongest when we are at our weakest! I was helping a South African group to carry out some adventure sports and team building activities. Our theme was “I want more”, and each day we narrowed it down a little: “I want more from myself”, I want more in my relationships, and so on until the last day, we got to “I want more of God in my life”. We started with the prayer of Jabez and, each night heard about the lives of some of the heroes of faith from Hebrews 11. We challenged the young people to explore the fact that God has a plan for their lives and that they should begin to discover how to walk in God’s ways in their lives. All of the speeches were given by Nationals so the message was fluent and connected with the heart language of the young people, all the workers and helpers continued to follow up the message in small groups or one-to-one. So I hardly spoke English all week. Between set up at 0600, prayer at 0700, activities all day, then bible message and follow up/fellowship til gone 2300 there was very little time to relax and take stock of the wonders God was doing in the hearts of these young people. But one thing He did stands out above the others: Two young guys, who became believers at the camp, came up to me shyly and asked me to pray for them. I asked a few questions to try to find out the specifics of their request and to encourage them to join in praying. (This is important because in the main religions here it is seen as the religious leader’s responsibility to have the faith, everyone else just tries to follow what they say.) I placed my hands on their shoulders and in nervous, broken Bosnian started to pray the Father’s blessing on their lives. They immediately put their arms around each other, and me and drew us into a tight embrace. The three of us stood on the outer edge of the glow from the campfire, our bowed heads touching, our arms firmly around the other’s shoulders. We just stood and uttered short encouragements, requests, thanks and blessings over each other. There was a quiet, but strong joy and hope in that small group. From the outside of the group another guy “Kris” (name changed), crouched and squeezed in between the other two in the holy huddle and stood in the middle of us. Kris was a tall, skinny, but solid 17 year old from Zenica (North of Sarajevo). He stood there and said nothing, later he told me “I just wanted to stand in a place where God was”. Without a second thought all three of us began praying for him, again using short (no more than ten word) prayers. He wept, sunk to the his knees and thanked the Lord. About an hour after we finished praying he came again and found me by the campfire. He wanted to say how much he had been blessed: he had not been able to cry for over six years. He is a part of a gang in Zenica and, through disagreements with other gangs he had been hospitalised several times and, for solace he befriended alcohol at age 12, it seemed remarkably good for dulling the pain after a fight. His father is also a violent alcoholic. Kris had hardened his heart so much to physical pain and spiritual darkness that even last year, at the most painful time in his life so far, he didn’t let out a sound: There had been an ongoing dispute between his gang and a rival gang for a few weeks. On this day Kris’s father had been particularly bad too. In an attempt to block it all out he got drunk and began walking aimlessly near the “border” of the other gang’s territory. He was set about by three guys with baseball bats, who broke both his legs, his left arm and three ribs. A friend watching, scared, from an upstairs window said he took the beating like a machine unable to feel pain. A year on, reflecting over his teen years, Kris said “that wasn’t the scary thing; anyone can get drunk and not feel pain”. He told me that the worst thing was that afterwards, in the quiet, lonely places, away from family and the gang, he was still not able to cry even though he desperately wanted to let it all out. That night, when we prayed, he understood that God is with him in a real and personal way. Kris has heard the Gospel before, but it had always been something abstract and detached from reality. “How does a gang member like me live with what the man in church says is good?” “What difference does it make to broken bones?” “How should I react when my brother gets put in hospital by the same guys that beat me?” (his brother is 8) I didn’t have the answers to these questions, but God, with a beautiful, real mystery brought this young man’s heart to a deep peace, and he wept tears of Joy for nearly an hour.
The Jesus film was shown in Bihać three nights in a row 27th, 28th & 29th June. The team managed to get permission to show it in the local cinema. They had two showings each evening at 6pm and 8pm. After spending 3 days prior to the event handing out over 10,000 fliers to individual homes in the town, the team were exhausted from the intense heat, being on their feet all day and the varying responses they received. They praying that God would fill the cinema. Around 275 people came to watch the film! Of those who filled out response cards, 31 said they'd like a personal visit to follow up, 24 said they had accepted Jesus! Praise God! Each person who attended went away with a printed gospel of Luke. Bihać is around 95% Muslim. We have a team of five working there along with two summer interns. This is where the OM work in Bosnia began almost 9 years ago. Please pray for this team, for the people they are reaching with the message of our Beautiful Saviour and Lord, Jesus Christ.
Trev left on Monday (2nd) morning to help at a "youth" camp run by the Evangelical church of Bosnia & Hercegovina. He'll be gone until sometime on Monday 9th July. The camps are held next to a lake called Boračko which is about an hour and a half's drive away from where we live here in Sarajevo. When they say "youth" here, they mean from age 18-30! Not teenagers as we originally thought! Yesterday (tuesday) he was helping to run a canyon scramble session. This meant that he spent most of his day shoulder deep in freezing water "spotting" to make sure people didn't slip and fall as they climbed. Speaking to him last night, he was on his way to get a hot chocolate to help warm back up. Please pray for his health and safety during his time at the camp and that he will make some lasting friendships. This time will also be good for his language as it will all be in Bosnian. Pray for understanding and patience both for him and for the Bosnians he is with.
While sitting on a bus the other day, I wasn’t sure if that particular number on my ticket was my assigned seat or if I could just sit anywhere. If it was my assigned seat, I would have to move before the conductor came round to check. Mustering my courage and gathering my broken Bosnian, I turned to the young woman in the seat behind and asked the question that had been
bothering me. She replied that she was pretty sure it didn’t matter as there weren’t very many people on the bus.
Here we are, back in Mostar for another two weeks of bible school. We had a safe journey here, and to make things a little more interesting, the Lord sent one of His "Little Coincidences" our way! Sitting two rows back from us was a young American guy, who just happened to be a Christian called Christian who had been to bible school in
the States, seemed very interested in our work and what we're doing here. We invited him to join us for coffee when we reached Mostar and met
Ed & Monica (from the Bihac' Team). It turns out that not only is Christian from the same area in the States as Monica, but we all have
mutual friends serving elsewhere on the mission field! Great news for him, as he hasn't been in contact with that friend for 4 years. We had a
great time fellowshipping, and met together in the evening to share a meal and a walk around the beautiful old city.
We will be back in Sarajevo just for the weekend with Ed & Monica, they'll be staying with us and we plan to show them around a little bit on Saturday. We'll be returning to Mostar on Sunday evening ready for classes to start at 10am Monday morning.
So, last night we were just sat, watching a film, not making any noise, the sound was low, ………. There’s a ring on the door bell. Nezira, our lady downstairs is at the door shouting at us for banging again!! We tried to explain to her that it wasn’t us, we were sat watching a film, we even showed her the movie but she was not convinced. She shouted a lot and then left. A few minutes later, we too heard banging, not from our flat but from somewhere else. Trev went downstairs to talk to Nezira, so that she could see it wasn’t him as he was stood on her doorstep while the banging was happening. As he was trying to reason with her, some of the Kids from the next flat came out. They said, Well of course there’s banging, someone on the first floor is putting in a new bathroom. To this news, Nezira’s attitude changed completely. She was profusely apologetic and insisted we come down for coffee which we did. We spent about an hour or so just drinking coffee and chatting with her. As we prepared to leave, Trev asked, would it be ok if we prayed with her. She thought this was a fine idea, so, in broken Bosnian with a few add-ins from Nezira, we prayed with her. She is from a Muslim background but claims that she is a communist and therefore atheist (who believes that God and Allah are the same). Please continue to pray for her as she has some very confused ideas about God. Also, please pray for us, that we would find ways to build on the foundations that have already been laid, that we would fully trust God’s guidance in this.
Hello, Sorry it’s been a while, we’ve been busy and aren’t very good at remembering that we have this groovy page to jot about our news.
We had a really blessed and rejuvenating time. We were able to spend time on two days swimming in the sea which was a real treat. Bosnia
only has 20Km of coastline and you wouldn’t want to swim there! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
