He said, “would you like to attend my church this evening? I just have to warn you, It’s held in a refugee camp.”
Our ears perked up and a simultaneous “YES” erupted from the small group of girls that formed Team Nani.
When I said yes, I had no idea of what that night would hold. In fact, I was a little scared.
Pastor Sinishe and a member of the refugee camp he holds his church at, came by and picked us up around 7 pm. I remember climbing into his compact car and thinking, “This isn’t gonna be just another church service”
And boy, was I right.
Before pulling into the area in which the service was held, we drove through what they called “Camp 1”. This camp held hundreds of small tattered shacks that served as homes for about 800 refugees mostly from Kosovo who escaped to Montenegro to find safety from war. As we drove through the camp, children would run out of their shacks and wave and jump in such a joyful manner. All I wanted to do was jump out of the car and greet them in the same way they greeted me. I wanted to give them all the love I could.
We drove through a large field filled with huge pot-holes and bumps and arrived at “Camp 2” where the service was held. I got out of the car and started to wait until the service would begin. It was getting pretty dark, so visibility was low, but in the distance, I saw a small group of children playing. I fought the urge to leave my group and join them and continued on with the conversation with my team.
But then, I felt it.
The same feeling that rushed in about a year ago while at an AIDS orphanage home in Thailand.
I felt a small hand tug at the end of my dress and little giggles behind me. About 5 minutes later I had four new best-friends. We jumped and danced and spun around in the dark field right smack in the middle of this refugee camp that, on the outside, looks like it is filled with sadness and brokenness, but all I felt was pure joy.
I turned around and my entire team had gone inside to the service, but my teammate, Cassandra, and I just couldn’t let those kids go. With the little English they spoke and the little Serbian I spoke, we asked for each other’s names. They would tell me theirs, then I would tell them my name was Bethany, each of their faces would light up and they would repeat, “BETHANY?!” A few of them ran and told their friends my name was Bethany and they too would run up, repeat my name and give me the biggest love-filled hug possible.
I am still unsure why they seemed to love my name so much, but I am assuming they have heard it from stories in the bible, like the town in which Lazarus was raised from the dead.
After about 10 minutes of trying to part ways with these sweet kids, Cassandra and I went into the small room that the service would be held.
Every minute of that service was filled with the sweet presence of God. From the constant cuddles with two young girls who braided my hair and held my hand every moment they got a chance, to the beautiful songs and many voices that lifted up praises to the Lord, I had to fight tears from streaming down my face the entire time.
This night is a night I will forever remember, not only because I got to play and dance and love on some really joyful kids, but because with each interaction I felt the love of The Father in such a powerful way. Each pair of eyes that looked into mine were a reminder of how much He truly does love us, unconditionally and unhindered.
This is how I want to live each day of my life, simply loving unhindered and unafraid.
Those kids reminded me of that. And for that, I am forever thankful.
