A little over two months ago I was sitting in the sanctuary of Hope Church in Draganesti-Olt, Romania, our ministry host for September. Every morning we would have a squad-wide prayer session about different people, places and ministries. One morning the topic of prayer was a small country between Serbia and Albania called Kosova. This was the first time I had ever even heard of that country. We were told how the nation was 96% Muslim and how there were less than 1500 Christians in the country as a whole. Me and my friend Alexis paired up and spent that morning session praying over this newly-independent country (Kosova earned their independence in 2007); asking for light to be shown to the huge majority of Muslims who lived there, and for the Lord to send more believers there to carry that out.
One month after that, we received our ministry assignments for the month of November, where we would be heading to Macedonia. I was informed that while three of our teams would, in fact, be headed to the country intended on our route, the other three (including Alexis’ team and mine) would be going somewhere else. The three remaining teams would be doing ministry in Kosova for the month, the place that the two of us prayed over together two months prior, having no idea that we ourselves would be the one’s fulfilling our prayer to have more believers sent to that country.
As it turns out, if the Lord is going to orchestrate so much to get you to a place, He’s going to show up and do things through you when you get there. From the first day I arrived in Kosova, I was blown away by the people and the country as a whole. Going into this month, I was terrified honestly. The prospect of going into a predominately Muslim country still recovering from a major war that was still raging when I was 8 years old, painted the picture of a very dark hopeless place that I was walking into. But nothing could be further from the truth. I expected a country of war torn and bitter people, closed off to anything foreign. Instead, we were met by a warm population of people who love their macchiatos (Kosova owns the title of having “The World’s Best Macchiato”) and who speak fondly of Americans, partially because Bill Clinton is a national hero (this is not a joke, he had an integral part in ending the oppression of Kosovars by the Serbs). The country is in a process of rejuvenation, and while there are some kinks to be worked out, the place exudes hopefulness and a newfound freedom. And the citizens represent that sentiment so well. They’ve been possibly the most welcoming group of people I’ve experienced so far.
Our hosts were Americans who had been here since the wars ended in 2000. In that time they’ve built connections all across the country and exposed huge numbers of Kosovars, be that directly through evangelism or simply through the way they live their life. Walking alongside them this month, our duties included teaching elementary school children about water sanitation and hygiene, reorganizing the library at their local high school, and helping our hosts with soccer camps every Saturday.
I have never experienced such a connection with a people or a place as rapidly as I did in Kosova. Within the first week, I felt so much empathy for the things these people have experienced and the strife the country has endured. I don’t want to keep you here for hours so I would simply recommend that you do some research on the history of Kosova, it will be eye-opening I promise. In my time in Kosova, I had the opportunity to hear the stories of the locals, Christians and non-believers alike. It broke my heart hearing stories of the war, as it’s not extremely uncommon to meet someone who saw a family membered killed or beaten by the invading forces. I spent many hours at coffeeshops, hearing what it’s like to become a Christian in Kosova; many times it boils down to the choice between being a believer and being welcome in your own family.
I’m so thankful for the time I had in Kosova. It’s a wonderful place, full of incredible human beings. But as I’m sitting here writing this, there really aren’t words to describe everything I learned and took from my time there. In those 25 days I experienced a lot. I got schooled by twelve year olds in soccer. I organized more books than I would ever like to do again. I got to know the men on my squad more than I had in the prior three months combined. I learned that overseas missions isn’t a 5-year contract, but a lifelong commitment. My eyes were opened to the fact that there a lots of hurting people out there who I’m not even aware exist yet. And I learned that it’s not our duty to repair every broken heart and heal every open wound that there is on the face of this earth, but to pick one little sliver of this blue planet, go to work, and let The Father do the rest.
