Today my mom mysteriously woke up at 4am. I suppose now I know why.
When I returned to my room during a break, I saw that she was active on Facebook Messenger…unusual. Not thinking of the time difference, I immediately video chatted her. While we caught up, she expressed her curiosity about evangelism abroad and asked me if I had seen anyone come to Christ during my trip thus far.
As I explained to her that we rarely get to see the fruit of our labor in just a few weeks, a certain memory stuck out. I shared with her about how my time in Bosnia, volunteering with the Refugees, really impacted me.
I explained how I was able to utilize my gifts, in a sea of non-english speaking men, by speaking German to one of the few men that could translate for me. As I spoke to my new Afghani friend, he would translate for my Moroccan friend in French, who in turn would translate it to Persian to my friend from Iran, who would finally translate it into what I believe was Urdu for my Pakistani friends.
All of these men had found themselves in at a train station in Sarajevo, having come from different nations, people groups, and sects of Islam. Each man had his respective group of friends behind him, listening, intrigued by me and curious as to why I was there, every cold and rainy night.
Many of them had a beef with one another, if not some long-standing, historical feud or hatred that had been passed down through generations. Now violence, politics, and intolerance had forced them to flee their homes, bringing all of us together in this place. Men who despised each other set aside their differences to talk to this tall, red-haired, American girl.
Night after night, I returned to help the volunteers distribute food and blankets to the refugees and listen to their stories. I met two Christians that fled due to persecution. One man had watched his entire family get slaughtered before him. Many had careers and homes that were destroyed and they had nowhere to go. All of them were afraid and exhausted.
When fights would break out or someone pulled out a knife, they would pull me aside and protect me. If it got dark they would escort me to the train and wait with me until I got on. During meals they would make others go to the back of the line to respect me. They would joke around with me, were patient with me as we tried to communicate, and even generous, giving me an apple or orange when there was enough to go around.
I finally understood what it means to be set apart––what a significant impact the love of Christ can make. It sounds cliché, but I believe they have made a larger impact on my life than I might have made in theirs. Maybe the Western world has left a stubborn stain on their impression of Christianity––maybe I am the only positive Christian influence they ever encounter.
“To be honest, I will likely never know,” I told my mom. As these words left my mouth, I got a message from one of the men I had met in Sarajevo. For months he had been trying to get to Germany. After many attempts, rejections, beatings, and other hardships, he was overjoyed to inform me that he had finally made it into Germany!
“With your prayers,” he concluded. At this point, I found myself quite overwhelmed, as tears began to well up in my eyes and my throat tightened. It was all worth it…if only for this one man! Sometimes we do get to see fruit, even if only in glimpses.
“Now I know why I woke up so early,” my mother remarked. “because that is a story worthy of a blog.” Mother knows best…
“And so I will show my greatness and my holiness, and I will make myself known in the sight of many nations. Then they will know that I am the Lord.”
Ezekiel 38:23, NIV
“Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”
Matthew 5:15-16, NIV
