SHOULDER TO SHOULDER #127 ---- 6/19/00
Posted by: lifeunlimited <lifeunlimited@...>
As We fight The Good Fight
(A letter of Encouragement to People in
Vocational and Lay Ministry)
SHOULDER TO SHOULDER #127 ---- 6/19/00
TITLE: "Cameos and Clouds In The Balkans"
Dear Friend and Partner in Kingdom Ministry:
Today my body is tired, my mind is dull, ---- but my heart is full.
I feel as if I have just pushed back from a sumptuous feast and have
moved outside to my grandfather's big lounge chair in his shaded lawn to
take a thoroughly contented nap while the early Summer breeze soothes my
brow and blows away all annoying flies and mosquitoes.
I have feasted with 21 others for three weeks at the Lord's banquet table
in Bosnia and Croatia, and have recovered sufficiently to let my mind try
to take in all that has happened in this our latest mission to the
Balkans. It is more than I can absorb.
We were keenly aware of your prayer in our behalf. And, the Lord did far
above and beyond all we could ever ask or think. That, of course, is
what He specializes in. Thank you for praying. We faced many
challenges, opportunities, and obstacles, all far to great to have been
faced without a strong prayer support team undergirding us through
intercession.
And, as always, Jo Ann and I come back with a real mixture of emotions
and impressions. If you have spent most of your life involved in the
Church of western culture, and then have been exposed to the Church as it
exists in other parts of the world, you know what I'm going through.
Every trip intensifies the agitation and impatience I feel over the
lumbering lethargy and the wanton waste exhibited by the western Church
day by day. It has so much, and does so little.
At the same time, I recognize that our trips are made possible by
believers who do not fit that image, but, rather, are people of action
and sacrifice.
Then, of course, we carry all the pictures in our minds of what we have
seen and experienced. Such scenes are almost too sacred to describe. It
is as if we stood on holy ground ---- and watched God do what He does
best. Then, to think that He also invited us to follow along as He
worked is too much to comprehend.
If I were to sum the past three weeks up into simple concepts, I would do
so through faces and sunsets.
FACES AND SUNSETS:
Two weeks ago a portion of my letter entitled "Four Faces" was somehow
not transmitted to most readers. So, I am including it again, with some
additions.
Along the way God touches my heart deeply through the faces of people I
see on these trips. I know that behind each face there is a story.
Sometimes God lets me discover part of those stories. For example . . .
.
1. Teofil: He is a refugee from Kosovo living in Kakanj. In his early
40's, he and his family and another family live
in a small room about eight feet wide and fourteen feet long. Across from
the door at the end of the room is a small "kitchen" about four feet wide
and three feet deep. From there to the other end are a series of four
sets of bunk beds built on either side of a small seating area.
On the wall across from one of the sets of beds are about six or eight
10X17 pencil sketches of some of his family and others in the camp. They
are incredible! He has had no professional training, and yet detail and
proportion show the skill that would normally take a person years to
acquire. Before he leaves the refugee camp, he wants to sketch every one
of the 53 people living in that place.
Teofil smiles a very big smile ---- with almost no teeth (a common thing
in the Balkans). He beamed with pride when I showed my amazement at his
artistry. In an unthinking moment I told him I would like him to draw me
something that I could take home as a memento of our visit. He asked what
I would like, and I said "anything. Just anything."
The next day when the bus arrived, he was waiting. He had drawn me a
picture. In addition he had made copies of an earlier picture for the
team members to have. But, what got my attention was the personal picture
just for me. I was stunned when I saw it.
It was a pencil sketch, done in great detail, of the famous old bridge in
Mostar that once spanned the river dividing Muslim and Croat sectors of
town ---- the StariMost. The old bridge was one of the first things to be
destroyed during the early months of the war in Bosnia. Tragically, it
symbolized a greater rift in the community that is still yet to be
reconciled.
He could have never known that the very first book I ever read about the
Balkan conflict was "Miracle At Mostar". I was near tears when Teofil
gave me the picture. I will treasure it forever, and it will hang,
properly framed, in prominence in our family room with all the other
gifts we have been given over the years by these wonderful people.
2. Anja: We had been in Sarajevo only three days when we journeyed to
the Moj Blizni distribution center in Sokolivic' Kolonija not far from
the airport. Along the way we saw the yellow ribbons warning of land
mines, and watched heavily armored demolition experts resting from their
arduous and nerve racking work.
After two long days of packing and labeling clothing, books, and other
supplies in the warehouse, and giving out over 300 pairs of glasses and
hundreds of sacks of groceries and hygiene supplies, it was nearly time
to leave.
As I walked out the door into the yard still filled with children and
adults, I saw Anja ---- and Mandy.
Anja, about eight, sat in an old chair, eyes downcast. Mandy was
crouched beside her. Anja was from Kosovo; Mandy, a member of our team,
was from Eldorado Springs, MO. Anja could hardly look anyone in the
eyes; Mandy couldn't take her eyes off of Anja. Anja sat with her hands
hidden in her pockets; Mandy kept one hand tenderly on Anja's arm.
Though neither said a word, I knew what was happening. Anja, filled with
uneasiness and fear, was experiencing something she didn't understand
---- love ---- love from a total stranger she didn't know. Mandy was
allowing her heart to BE torn from her own chest as God rushed His love
through her hand into the frail frame of this tiny Kosovar.
Anya's deep soft brown eyes revealed a hungry heart cautiously hoping for
comfort and love. Mandy's compassionate eyes penetrated deep into Anya's
innermost being with the words, "I love you so much!"
Through our translator I learned of Anja's story. She and her twin
brother lived with their grand parents in a tiny room down the street.
Four weeks earlier their mother had died, leaving them alone save for
their grand parents.
Then I understood Mandy's look ---- her touch ---- her captivity to a
little child. She knew what Anja felt ---- for Mandy's mother had also
died from cancer five years earlier.
Mandy's heart has been forever captured ---- by the heartache of a little
orphan, and by the love of God who wants to comfort her. Anja will be
forever loved by someone who understands ---- Mandy.
I hope Mandy can go back to Sarajevo. I hope Anja discovers Jesus as the
source of Mandy's love.
3. Branko: When I first saw him in a refugee camp, I was intimidated.
He had narrowed blue-gray eyes staring at me from sunken and hollow
features. His lean and stooped body and the smoldering cigarette
indicated a man of suffering, hardness, coldness, and hidden secrets.
I had to force myself to move toward him. Frankly, I wasn't interested in
sitting with him and his comrade while they sucked on those horrible
cigarettes that were filling the back of the room with rancid blue smoke.
Yet, I forced myself to go.
I'm glad I did.
I learned he was a writer. I commented about my interest in writing. Our
words were carefully measured with each other, ---- but easy, because he
spoke English well enough that we both knew what the other was saying.
As we talked, though he never laughed or smiled, he began to soften.
With other responsibilities to carry out that first day, I concluded our
conversation by thanking him for the privilege of getting acquainted with
him and being able to talk. I told him, from the bottom of my heart, just
how honored I was to have met him and that our visit was one of the
special moments of our trip. I would see him tomorrow, perhaps?
"Yes, perhaps."
The next day when our bus drove up, he was at the door waiting for us. He
immediately told me he must talk with me.
I was stunned from the content of our conversations, often interrupted
throughout the day. I learned he was a marked man by the Serbian
government because he knew facts about the murder of a prominent man in
Belgrade. In fact, he had previously lived in another European country
until they found where he was. He then fled back to Bosnia and is in
hiding in this particular refugee camp until he can relocate in another
country.
He has a story to tell, but he feels his days are numbered. As I gazed
compassionately into his softening blue eyes, I saw fear ----
hopelessness ---- fatalism ---- and also courage. Never have I wanted to
help a person so much as I did this man, Branko. He had become my
friend, and I longed to ease the pain and suffering. I didn't know what
to do.
I promised him I would always remember him, and that I would try in my
small way to make some type of contact with people who would want to hear
his story. I have no idea where to turn to do that.
I told him he would always be my friend, and I would never forget him,
then gave him twenty German Marks with which to buy prescription pain
medication to ease the suffering he endures daily from the torturing and
beating he incurred during interrogation before his escape.
Most importantly, however, I told him (He understands the historical
events of Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection) he should carefully read
the "Four Spiritual Law" booklet he had received, and that it wasn't
enough just to understand intellectually. I told him this was of utmost
importance in light of the danger he was in. I told him that he could
have a personal relationship with God through Jesus, and not just an
intellectual knowledge about Him.
Would you pray for Branko with me? I long for his safety, and for his
salvation more than you will ever know. I have received two desperate
notes from him since that visit several weeks ago.
4. Vesna: When we visited an unnamed refugee camp several weeks ago, we
met a pleasant and very pregnant
young woman in her mid to late 20's. I don't know if she's married,
divorced, single, or widowed. All I know is that her "space" in that
refugee camp consists of a storage closet about six feet wide and five
feet deep located under the stairway to the next floor.
Vesna has to walk up three concrete steps to her door, and then duck down
until she can carefully slip to her small bed tucked under the sloping
ceiling hiding the steps. There she can sit on the edge of her bed, and
reach her little stove near the head and a tiny cabinet resting atop a
one cubic foot refrigerator at the foot. She has a small window that
looks out onto a dingy and dirty walkway alongside the building.
In spite of her humiliating surroundings and living quarters, I never saw
her without a smile. In fact, when we arrived the first day, she was the
first to want us to see her "room". When I saw it, I wanted to weep; I
wanted to put my arm around her and tell her just how very much we cared.
Not knowing enough of the language, it was not possible.
Vesna exuded hope and contentment in her little surroundings. Most
westerners would have considered it a storage closet or a place for a dog
kennel. She thought of it as home.
When we left for the final time, Jo Ann gave her a big hug and, through
our translator, told her that she was to write us as soon as the baby was
born and tell us what she had and what she named the baby. Then Jo Ann
gave her money for the postage, paper, and envelope. Vesna promised to
write.
We hope to hear sometime in December or January that she had her new baby
are fine. Even more so, we hope to hear that she knows the Jesus written
about in the Four Spiritual Laws booklet we gave her in her own language.
5. Ladislav: Actually, I don't know why I give this man a name. I
saw him for less than one minute, and then he was gone. I never met him
or spoke to him, and have not seen him since. I doubt that I would
recognize him if I met him face to face.
Thursday evening our team had been down in the center in Sarajevo, as I
noted earlier, doing some street ministry and inviting young people to
the youth meeting we were conducting at the Kairos Center the following
night.
We had moved to the front steps of the Catholic Church ---- an
interesting thought ---- a group of evangelical believers singing Gospel
songs on the steps of the Catholic Church in a city that is 90% Muslim.
God has a great sense of humor, and unbelievable timing.
The team had done several funny skits that had the crowd roaring, and
then had concluded with a serious skit. From there they moved to the
steps where they sat down and began singing praise choruses. While many
people began to move away from the circle, a significant number stayed.
Then, from around the corner of the church building walked a man in his
mid to late 30's, apparently oblivious to what was going on. He walked
quickly up the steps behind our team, and grasped the huge iron latch on
the church's steel door.
It was locked.
It was as if he were frozen in time, as he realized he could not get in.
Then, without ever turning loose of the handle, he suddenly dropped to
his knees with a desperate "thud" that I could hear over the sound of the
music. Pausing a moment on his knees, he pressed his face against that
cold steel door.
As that young man knelt there for the longest time in a position of quiet
desperation, our team was singing, "Jesus, Lamb of God, worthy is Your
Name. Jesus, Lamb of God, worthy is Your Name!"
The contrast was arresting ---- it was like having cold water thrown
unexpectedly in your face. I stood there with my mouth open and my eyes
glued to the back of this man's head.
Then, in apparent abject despair, he slowly rose, and walked away into
the shadows.
I wondered ---- will he ever find the answer he is looking for in this
city? Most certainly he won't where he was looking. But, will someone be
available someday to help him find it?
6. A Final Face: In October of 1998 Jo Ann and I made our first visit
to Sarajevo. A series of uncanny and unexplainable events took place,
all unrelated, but all divinely connected.
Our first day there a brief afternoon thunderstorm moved through the
area, leaving its mark of rain everywhere. As I sat looking out the
window of the apartment where we were staying, I spotted it ---- a
brilliant huge rainbow spanning Sarajevo from side to side, from one
mountainside to another across the city. It was as if God was wrapping
His arms around a city He loved with all His heart.
A few days later, a friend, Jeff Floyd, shared with the missionaries
there a dream he had the previous night. Out of the darkness and shadows
of the bombed out ruins, men, women, and children walked. As they moved
away from the bleak back drop of death, they began to smile and laugh as
sunshine lighted their faces.
The next night, missionary Debbie Harrison had a dream of seeing children
rising out of the ground in front of the ministry center where they
worked in Stup, not too far from the airport. As they came out, they
began to laugh and play ---- and their faces began to shine in the
sunlight.
The day before we were to leave the city, Duane took us on a tour of the
city. Part of that drive took us to a high mountain overlooking the city
of Sarajevo from the east. We drove onto the parking lot that just three
years before had been the site of tanks and howitzers belonging to the
Yugoslav National Army, used to rain fire, terror, destruction, and death
down on the city.
The day was dismal and gray, skies cloudy from horizon to horizon with no
evidence of sunlight anywhere.
As Jo Ann and I stepped out of the car onto the parking lot, just as our
feet literally touched the ground, the clouds suddenly began to break up
---- and the hidden sun began to thrust brilliant rays of its light upon
sector after sector of the city, like powerful spotlights cursing the
darkness and declaring light for the city.
Jo Ann took a picture of that scene. God spoke to my heart powerfully
that day that it was in His heart to bring hope and healing to Sarajevo.
So clear and insistent was that impression that Jo Ann and I sent large
copies of that picture to all the missionaries in Sarajevo, accompanied
by a written review of the above events and the words to the two songs,
"Shine, Jesus, Shine" and "Song For The Nations".
Now, I'm not one who lives his life looking for dreams and visions, but
the timing and similarities of those experiences by different people is
certainly intriguing.
So, how does that pertain to this past trip?
Three weeks ago we arrived back in Sarajevo on a Friday night. Saturday
afternoon, from the bathroom window I saw it again ---- the rays of hope
breaking through the clouds. That same evening one of the most brilliant
sunsets I have ever seen spoke the same thing.
Four more times during the two weeks we were there, the sun broke through
in powerful streaks of hope, illuminating certain portions of the city.
I had seen the face of God in my spirit ---- and He was saying, "The Son
will Shine On Sarajevo."
That was enough for me.
I know it will happen. I want to be there when it does.
7. Faces Here: You may not have been with us in Sarajevo and seen the
faces I saw. But you have seen some. Maybe they live across the street
or next door. Maybe you saw one on the bus or train.
Wherever you have been, I can assure you that you gazed into the face of
a needy person ---- a person looking for hope, for love ---- for God.
Did you see it in their eyes?
Were you able to show them His love? Were you able to tell them that you
care? And that He cares more? The opportunity was there. Did you seize
it?
SOMETHING TO PRAY ABOUT:
Over the years I have known of various ministries using an evangelistic
web site as a meals of sharing the Gospel over the Internet. Upon our
return Thursday night from Bosnia, God has put an urging in my spirit to
do something just like that for the people of the Balkans. My thought is
to have the text in English, Serbo-Croatian, and German.
Would you pray about that with me? All I need is another project, but I
do believe this could have a major impact. The thing that sparked the
idea was my encounter with the journalist two weeks ago. I received an
e-mail from him shortly after our visit, and it dawned on me just how
easy it would be to get the Gospel message out through a "secular
looking" web site that was devoted to evangelizing the lost and edifying
the believers.
Let me have your thoughts on this. I'm very serious about it, and this
is a major burden on my heart right now. I need to hear from God very
clearly.
FINALLY:
I must thank my E-mail service provider, Glen Stewart with welovegod.org.
When I am on these trips, Glen must post my letters. He administers and
monitors such newsletters for more than 100 ministries around the world
---- at no cost to any of us. Thanks, Glen, for your incredible service
to the Body of Christ. What would we ever do without you?
My friend, your comments and words of encouragement are so appreciated.
Thanks for lifting me during this trip as I battled long days and short
nights filled with weariness in the midst of ministry. I read every
comment sent, and I highly value each one.
Have a great week, my friend.
And ---- don't forget . . . . . . look into their faces.
In His Bond,
Bob Tolliver ---- (Rom 1:11-12)
Copyright June, 2000. All rights reserved.
We would love to hear from you ---- prayer requests, insights, etc. Feel
free to drop us a note at <[email protected]>.
If this letter has blessed you and you know of someone else who needs to
be encouraged, feel free to forward it in its entirety to all such people
you know.
If you would like a list of past issues which you could receive upon
request, just let us know. Write <[email protected]>.
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Hang in there! I'm with you!
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