Life could hardly be described as easy right now. The process that God uses to reveal the beauty in each one of us can be very painful, and I’m right in the middle of that pain. Yet nonetheless, life is amazing even though I don’t always see it. I know that through every bit of pain is the understanding that my desire to love Christ above all else is coming that much closer. And beyond that, there is still joy in what I can see every day! Almost two weeks ago, we landed in the beautiful mountainous country of Guatemala and climbed a volcano to see molten lava coming out of it just a few meters away from our feet! Now after driving sixteen hours through the lush green volcanos of Guatemala, we are in the jungle of tropical southern Mexico for another awesome month of ministry and transformation! But before we head into another adventure, I want to share an amazing story from last month during a three-day adventure into Bosnia.
During my freshman year of high school in 1995, my Dad left with the Army for Bosnia during the Bosnian War. My heart was still too closed and I was probably really too young to understand the full impact of him leaving and not knowing when or if he would ever come back. Dad returned 9 months later with a few stories, pictures, and video of the country. Yet until recently, the only thing I could remember of Bosnia was a picture of a disco club riddled with bullet holes and stories the media portrayed of a country filled with ethnic cleansing and land mines. And so for me, it was amazing to be able to head into the country almost fifteen years later to see why my Dad served with the military. And maybe even have the chance to share Christ with a land that has so often seen war.
This past month, much of our ministry was focused in the modern resort town of Split, Croatia. A few parts of the city alluded to Croatia’s former history as part of Yugoslavia. And if you probed just a bit under the surface, you could find a dislike if not hate towards Serbia. Yet the city felt and looked almost like any place in the United States. But just thirty miles to the north lies the border to Bosnia. I’ve wanted to enter the country ever since I found out it was originally proposed on our World Race route, even though the route was later changed away from Bosnia.
Aaron and I did have the opportunity to share Jesus in Bosnia, though! With just a few days remaining before departing for Central America, we boarded a bus on an amazing adventure towards Gornji Vakuf, one of the towns heavily shelled during the Croat-Bosniak war that started in 1992. With nothing but a loaf of bread, a fleece, some water, and a tarp in my backpack, our bus dropped us off in the northern end of the Lašva Valley in the town of Donji Vakuf, 30 km north of where I wanted to be. We walked away from the bus station praying and asking God to guide our footsteps, guiding us to people to share with and possibly a local Christian to make contact with. And after about a half hour we decided to try to hitchhike to Gornji Vakuf. Just a few minutes later after putting our thumbs out, we jumped in a VW with a former sniper during the war offering to take us the entire way!
Arriving in Gornji Vakuf, we offered our sniper-driver a half loaf of bread, and got out to begin surveying the town. We soon found an internet café to make contact with the rest of our team back in Split and also the only two people we’d ever meet in Bosnia that could speak English. Aaron stayed to spend time reading and praying, and I went off to explore and pray over the town. I found beautiful mountains in the distance, many buildings that still betrayed the heavy shelling of the war, and tons of buildings and houses that were being rebuilt all over the city.
In the hills surrounding the villages, older men and women struggled to carry groceries up the hill, and many houses were left uninhabited to decay. Ignorant of whether or not the rumored land mine problem was real, I tried to stick to developed trails and roads but found an orchard with a beautiful view of the city below. I felt compelled to just pray for the people below, asking God to bring life to the city. During our entire time in the Lašva Valley, we consistently found hopelessness among both the old and young. Although the town had religion – Islam followed by Catholicism were the predominant faiths in town – alcohol seemed to be a drug of choice to numb the pain of deadness.
