HOLLOW YEARS

Two children with much in common, gripped by a madman’s war. Both felt the separation from family as fathers, uncles and loved ones were drawn into fighting, while mother and child were left behind, sent away or renamed, refugee. For one, it would mean spending a week at a time in caves hiding from troops, but not without first escaping the execution of all of her childhood friends. As the military invaded her schools, the swastika replaced gold stars. For the other child, school was a distant memory, but still today, the swastika can be found on his city walls, reminders of the hatred and persecution still alive and well in his homeland. Several countries separate them. Decades divide them, but the synergy is undeniable. It is the stench of war and the hollow years that embody it, follow it and pervade those still caught in its stranglehold.

Commonalities such as separations of families either ripped apart or, worse, being faced with the impossible choice of choosing one over another existed. Then, even when the wars end, fathers sometimes don’t come back or, if they do, they may not be the same. They walk away. Unhealthy cycles begin, leaving families, communities, cities, countries in shambles. Hollow years and empty souls, witnesses of the worst of mankind leave them crushed under the heel of the goose-step march or deafening sounds of sniper fire blasts still ringing in their ears. These innocents have paid the price. They have watched the world come undone.

Is this just another war story, from a child’s perspective? No. The first of the two children is my mother, a child of Nazi Germany: the second is young Rados Jovanovic of Sarajevo, Bosnia. On weekends, Rados plays in the worship band of our partner church in Capljina. At 8 years old, Rados was old enough to remember the Bosnian war, a war, which continues to plague generations of people in BiH. A lyricist and musician, Rados began writing at a young age, journaling his thoughts about the unthinkable.

Always with a song in his head, he inspires me with the words from his youth, long stored away, a treasure. “Children of War,” the publication reads, with young Rados’ narrative among them. “I Hate War” he pens his words, the beginnings of lyrics one day?

There are many such stories in this region we have grown to love. The elders have seen both wars. Nazi occupation still looms where we stay, while addictions plague those who witnessed atrocities, found no mercy but knew desperation as their only friend. Economic, political and social tensions continue to riddle the classes.

But, glory is coming through our sisters and brothers who are moving into the streets. Our next team will come alongside the Evangelical church to mount park benches, adorned with scripture, to honor the departed and, hopefully, draw closer to the lost, the broken and unchurched. Please join us as we cry out to our Savior to fill these empty souls, forgive their hollow years, strengthen their weak, mend their hearts and the wounds of war, break down the walls of un-forgiveness and hatred and use our teams and partnership for His glory.

Merciful Jesus, Let your Word soon to be etched on benches around Capljina, hide in the hearts of all who will rest there, and dwell in them richly. Free them from the shackles of bondage, so they might come to know You and Your love. We know You had something else in mind when You created us in Your perfect image and entrusted us with Your creation. We’ve made a mess of things. But, we also believe Your plan is to be bring good, to be just, to love and to redeem the world you have created. Amen

"Hollow Years", by Rados Jovanovic ~ a Dream Theater rendition (click here)

I HATE WAR
By Rados Jovanovic
8 years old, Grade II

‘War means shooting, wounding, killing, theft, closed roads. During the war, there is not enough food, water electricity, gas and footwear. Families are separated; mothers and sons go away and leave their husbands and fathers. People are left without apartments and they become refugees.
I hate war. War prevents me from having a nice life – going to school on a regular basis, walking far away, going to the seaside, buying a bicycle . . . “

Excerpt taken from “The Corridor” magazine, Sarajevo Bosnia and Herzegovina, October 1994 II, no. 11, p. 11

PAINTING WITH LIVING WATER

Not a traditional coloring book kind of kid, my favorite childhood art genre definitely goes to the "paint with water" book. Do you remember it? With paintbrush in hand, a little Dixie cup of water and what resembled a run-of-the-mill crayola coloring pad, a simple black and white line drawing would transform before your very eyes with one brush stroke. Oh, the thrill to see what colors lie waiting for a drink from my well saturated paintbrush. I recall letting only a drop or two land at first just to catch a taste of what lie beneath. Pinks and purples would swirl with greens and yellows, often to an audience of one still unaware of what the final picture would reveal to me.

I found painting with water better than coloring with crayons. Why? I think it was because of the mystery and the lack of control. I, the simple vessel, will not predetermine the beauty that will result. Someone else has done that for me. With crayons, it is all about me and my own creativity. Painting with water is different. There is someone else in the picture, but not physically there. Someone bigger than me decided how this masterpiece will turn out. I have been given only instructions to follow, and if I am obedient to those, something beautiful will evolve. Sometimes that happens with crayons, but often it doesn't. Many times, with crayons, pencils or chalk, it just isn't quite as wonderful as you pictured it in your head. Not as stunning.

I think when we live our life by the example of Christ, when we let our light shine, when we love, show kindness and care, we bring out the God colors in others. Like a tiny paintbrush in God's hand, dipped into the living water that is Jesus, He uses us to change the black and white worlds of those we touch into technicolor masterpieces beyond which were ever imaginable. The secret of course is always remembering who is the painter and who is the brush. Without the water, our picture is but a line drawing, and without a constant return to the well, we cannot keep our brush saturated to complete the predetermined work at the Master's hand.

I think about this as we embark upon mission season for NPCC once again, with four new trips to Capljina, Bosnia. Our first group leaves in two days for a prayer/connections trip. We will have a work team and a youth trip this summer and end with another prayer team in the fall. Our major focus this year will be outreach. Indeed, painting with living water! As we start and end this season in prayer, let us remember to return to His word daily, pray continually, anoint these teams often, and never, ever forget those we touch are God's masterpiece. We only hold the paintbrush. Our returning to Him and His word will supply the living water, so that we might bring out the God-colors as we lead others to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

In His humble service,
Kathy

"Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven."
Matthew 5:14-16 (The Message)

LIGHT FROM WITHIN

It has been awhile since my last post. I find blogging much like journaling. Sometimes, like wildfires needing a fire-stop, the inspirations come to me. I feel very much in a place of seeking and wonder. Questions fill my mind at every turn, provoked by thoughts, memories or fresh, new experiences. Lately, however, I am more wanderer than wonderer. Seeking again the light I seem to have lost. Desert. Discouragement. Personal Circumstance. Suppressed emotion. Global crises. Like stormy clouds suddenly blotting out the intensity of sunshine, darkness prevails, as I stand disoriented and confused. How did I get here? This is life on every level, whether dealing with personal setbacks, community challenges or matters of global proportions and catastrophic consequence. Yet, as Christians, we hang tight to hope. Hope in a sovereign God, merciful and faithful, the One who is omniscient and omnipotent. Knowing where we have been and where we are going, we place our trust, our Faith in Him. Trust? Faith? "The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see." (Hebrews 11:1, The Msg)

But we have seen it! Henri Nouwen writes, it is because we have known intimately the presence of the Light, that we seek it with such fervor. It is why, in these trough times, we seek it all the more -- when circumstances of this world inhibit God's plan for us and subvert our spiritual walk. When the Enemy pounces to distract us, to instill doubts, trying to extinguish the Light, a light we so easily forget is radiating from within us! Like the candle fading to a peaceful glow, its wick no longer visible as it burns deep inside the unique and special creation, we find our Light and our Light is God in us!

I look to my friends in Bosnia as role models, as over-comers. I acknowledge their unwavering faith. I recall their praises to our King not only for what He has done, for each life given to Christ, for every outreach to the addicted, the least, the lost the broken, where hearts and minds have opened, but also for what He is going to do, for all there is left to do. Because of their faith in a God of promises, a God who is the "I am," not One of circumstance but a faithful Father who is who He claims, I am reminded of His sovereignty, His mercy, His love. With my heart afire, I know, then, He is guiding me into the warm glow of the Light inside of me through His "Whispers in the Dark" . . .

"No
You'll never be alone
When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars
Hear my whispers in the dark
No
You'll never be alone
When darkness comes you know I'm never far
Hear my whispers in the dark"
© skillet

Still in One Peace,
Kathy

MAKE A JOYFUL NOISE

All eyes and hearts are on Haiti. Following a cataclysmic earthquake of unprecedented proportions, the world stands in complete dismay. How could this happen with scalpel-like precision to the poorest, most needy country on this entire earth? It is incomprehensible. We look and then look away. We don't want to understand it. There is no explanation. Almost more impossible to understand, as the first night befell the people of Haiti . . . as utter darkness consumed this country now riddled with a new form of gloom . . . was not the silence of the streets devoid of traffic, or the cities devoid of electrical noise, was perhaps an unexpected sound, as unexpected as the quake itself. Anyone having experienced the quiet following a natural disaster knows too well the deafening quiet of a land robbed of the sound of life beating. The sound of nothingness is almost surreal. Thoughts race through your mind. Does anybody know we are here? Does anyone know what has happened to us? Does anybody know our suffering? Thoughts will soon turn to the only One who always does. And, the silence will fill with singing.

Singing! A joyful noise? In the dark of night, less than a day after loved ones were ripped from the arms of our fellow man? The media reports confirmed it. "The Lord will save us" became the battle cry of the Haitian people and song filled their hearts. Amazing grace in the face of utter disaster, unconscionable fear, grief seemingly too great to overcome . . . a people paralyzed, save for their ability to sing.

This is a country on the mat. Like the paralytic in Capernaum, they cry out making a beautiful noise, waiting to be lowered through what is left of some makeshift straw, mud and tile roof down to the floor at the foot of our Savior, Jesus. Over $300,000,000 has been raised in relief effort. Rescue agencies, teams and militaries have been mobilized as a world stands by watching the miracle begin to take place. It gives me pause to be reminded, again, about our humanity and compassion for our fellow man. More importantly, however, I stand amazed at the magnitude of faith of a nation choosing praise over sorrow, anger or self-pity.

I have seen this strength of human spirit first hand in every visit to the ECC in Bosnia. Fifteen years after the ethnic cleansing of the Bosnian War, the faithful continue to gather and make a joyful noise. Still, they hope and pray for complete recovery of a country torn apart by war, hatred, persecution, ignorance and intolerance. As Muslim terrorist groups move into the Northeast (see side bar article), the faithful sing out to their Savior. Deliver us! You are mighty, God. You are sovereign. Nothing will challenge their belief in an all knowing, all seeing God who will not forsake his children.

This, too, is a country on the mat. Whether for a moment or for a decade or two, it is all but a vapor in time from God's perspective. He has a plan. He will never leave you and will never let the righteous fall. He is faithful. To witness these truths, this kind of faith, lived out by those who have the most reason to question is most humbling and strengthens my own walk.

Psalm 100 is one of my favorite psalms. It is a psalm of thanksgiving, inviting us, reminding us to be thankful to God. He is a God of mercy. I thank God for those who reveal His truths to me in such relevant ways, and pray continually for their deliverance.

"Make a joyful shout to the LORD, all you lands!
Serve the LORD with gladness;
Come before His presence with singing."

Psalm 100:1-2

Make a Joyful Noise!

Grateful,
Kathy

THREE YEAR ITCH

Army brat! No matter how old I get, how many New Year's Eves or birthdays I celebrate, I find I am still, to a great degree, the precocious kid living the nomadic life of the child of a military man. From Oklahoma, to Germany, to Texas, California and back again to the place I "call" home, San Antonio. Then, my father retired, my mother passed away, and the family imploded. Nothing but shrapnel remained. So began a journey that mirrored the life I had been leading - a hopscotch of hunkering down in temporary quarters for the next 15 years, trying to avoid the rocks and obstacles along the way. Always on the run, I never seemed to establish roots anywhere for more than 3 years at a time. It wasn't until adulthood that I recognized this Pavlovian response nothing more than the "Three Year Itch," the sense that a move was on the horizon, an inner preparation I must have made as a child to ready myself, to mentally and emotionally prepare for the next relocation.

I'm quite certain I owe my love of travel to living the military lifestyle. I'm sure it is in part why I count down my next trip to Bosnia. I can't explain my affection for this country. It is a "calling," they say. I do feel it in this regard, as if something long dead or asleep inside of me awakened when I first visited. With every visit, I feel as if I have finally found my true home. This past year, I have had visions of my family relocating to Bosnia and living the missionary life which, until now, has only been a dream, not yet something we have felt affirmed through prayer or called out in our quiet time with God.

The thoughts of moving should have been my first clue. Surely, I could see the pattern. How many years have we been in our "new" house, which we bought to be closer to school and church? After some quiet time in the mountains last weekend, completely unplugged from computers, cell phones, and television, it occurred to me. We moved into our home three years ago! Once again, I have been bitten, by the "Three Year Itch." How blind! How the world interferes with our ability to see what is so clearly in front of us. How technology and the noise in our heads separate us from hearing God's voice.

We sat in a cozy cabin barely warm enough, save for the fire-making skills of my husband, Mike. Outside the air was frigid atop the mountain, so close to the plentiful stars we could almost touch Orion's belt. The full moon provided the only illumination to light our path, while the brisk winter breeze whistled through the temperate rain forest. It is there we all realized our lives have been out of balance. We needed more of this. Our New Year's resolution came not in looking forward, but in looking back. Were we on the right path at all? If not, why make a resolution to continue going forward? We needed to go back to where we lost our way, before making unrealistic promises to ourselves about moving forward.

For me, this exercise took the form of realizing we were not a family Bosnia bound for good. Maybe someday, but for the right reasons. In response to God's call to serve, not some age old call fulfilled long ago by my father as he served our country.

I wondered why I had not heard God's answer to my prayers about taking a giant step towards Bosnia. Yet, while I was looking for a voice coming from a cloud, He sent me a whistle through a rain forest instead. There was no burning bush, but a crackling, fire blazing brightly. I had not lost my hearing, nor my vision. I had only lost my perspective, which time in reflection with God restored.

I wish all of you a Happy New Year, hoping you will take the time to reflect on 2009, before setting expectations for 2010.

And, as always, I hope you will keep the Evangelical Church, in Capljina in your prayers, specifically, the following requests:

* Their Sick - Gara (Zlata Mehic) suffers from Sclera Derma and suffers terribly from this disease. Her medication no longer offers much relief. Rajka Koprivnjak is also very sick and is not getting relief from medication either. Please pray for these precious women and the health of the congregation in general.

* Their Small groups - Pray for this time spent together, that God will reveal Himself, and hearts will be ready to receive with a bigger desire to know and be fully known by Him.

* Their Youth - Their is now a youth group meeting regularly. Please pray for those who attend - for the Holy Spirit to lead, wisdom for Pastor Bernard and Mick, for the hungry hearts, hearts after Him, for His guidance.

* The 5 Plus program - This is a program for the children, not just in the church, but in the community as well. Please pray for Nada, the Pastor's wife who heads the program, for strength from above, encouragement, and freedom to continue to dream, and share the vision. Pray for the team, for strength, open eyes and willingness to serve and give their time. Pray for the children and parents that will come. Pray this might be a seed from which their own relationship with Jesus Christ might grow.

* The Pastor and his family- Please pray for Pastor Bernard - for fruitful meetings and for God's guidance; for strength and good health. Please pray for His wisdom in leading people into the knowledge of our Jesus and that he himself will continue to draw closer to Him. Pray for him to have ears to hear God clearly and words to speak His truth, that God might "give him the words and help him to speak", particularly with those who seek his counsel. Let those who are in his presence know unequivocally that he has been in God's. Pray for, Nada, his wife, for her health, for his children and for their protection.

* Their Workers - Matthew 9:37 says, "There are many people to harvest but only a few workers to help harvest them." Pray for the workers, for their strength and wisdom in setting priorities, for opportunities from above to share the "Good news." And as the scripture says, pray for more workers.

Thank you in advance!

Happy New Year,
Kathy

FIVE GOLDEN RINGS

We're counting down the 12 days of Christmas. Today is the day we are celebrating "five golden rings," the gift of the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible written by Moses, the Torah. We're well on our way to the two turtle doves, the gifts of the Old and New Testaments and, finally, on Christmas Day, the Partridge in a Pear Tree, the ultimate gift, a Savior, born to give His life for us nailed to a tree. Despite Relient K's clever and catchy rendition of this favorite Christmas Carol, this traditional song is rich with meaning intended to teach young children about the whole of the Christian Faith.

It gives me pause to think of the many inventive ways we create to bring the essence of Christianity and Christ alive to our toddlers and tykes, through song, or selflessness, outpourings of generousity, Christ-like expressions of good cheer and service. And, lest we forget Saint Nick, the greatest metaphor for selfless giving of undeserved, unmerited gifts. Grace personified in childlike fantasy, complete with flying reindeer. A man who can circumvent the globe in a single night with the same love for all, yet no one has ever been able to see him. Still with a child's innocence, there exists an undeniable belief he exists.

I recall the day we explained the Santa metaphor to our own son. There were no tears. There was no disappointment. He was humbled, however. To know that his parents loved him enough to carry on this charade until he would be able to grasp the full meaning of the metaphor. To fully comprehend this holiday was and has always been completely about Jesus, His gifts to us. Giving gifts and receiving them took on a whole new meaning from that point on.

I'm reminded of this as each year we try to remember others abroad. Like "Santa" and his flying reindeer can circumvent the world in one single night giving, graciously, freely, lovingly as God so loved the world, He gave us his son. There are organizations like Samaritan's Purse, Heifer, Int'l, World Vision and local charities through which gifts can be given in someone's honor. The emphasis no longer on receiving, but on giving as God gave.

Today I received word from our friends in Bosnia, Mick and Ali Holstead, who run the youth center, Novi Most (new bridge)http://www.theholsteads.org/, in Capljina. I was encouraged to hear the news that Capljina, too, is involved with Samaritan's purse and gathered 3000 boxes to be delivered! The outreach in Capljina has obviously soared to great heights. More extraordinary to me is they actually helped deliver them! Our shoeboxes travel across the world. Those at Novi Most have the benefit of being able to see the fruit of their labor manifest in the faces of the children who will receive these selfless gifts.

Throughout the update, I read another youth has come to Christ. Praise God! And, the center, as well as the church, continues to experience favorable reception. One more for the kingdom as we celebrate the gift of "five golden rings." Just in time for Christmas. And to think Moses was quite sure God had chosen the wrong man for the job. Let us all be grateful for the "five golden rings" this day, and perhaps, even tongue tied, we might share our faith with someone or give of ourselves this Christmas expecting nothing in return but to show the love of a Savior.

"Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.”

Exodus 4:12

Merry Christmas,
Kathy

TEARS FROM HEAVEN

It's raining in Atlanta today. It's raining in Capljina as well. I used to love the rain, especially walking in the summer showers on the beach in Florida. Hurricane Andrew changed that. An unwelcome drenching on the outside only served as a reminder of how helpless I felt on the inside. Much the way I feel now.

There are hundreds of reasons it is raining on twos sides of the world today, Georgia and Bosnia. Our climates are similar, seasons a mirror of each other. Still, the dreary, damp and darkness once again paints a bleak, but relevant, picture capturing the essence of hearts broken globally over the loss of a sister, our "Sestra" in Christ, Marica Vega, who went to be with the Lord last night.

I choose to believe the droplets falling from the Heavens, though reminders of our sadness and loss, are the tears wept by Jesus at His great gain - a reunion with his precious, humble servant and most obedient, loving daughter. The disciple, John, could not mention his own name and Jesus' in the same sentence referring to himself only as "the one Jesus loves." It is true of us all. I can picture in my mind's eye as Jesus opens wide His wings, while Marica is now able to run, in her crocks, to Jehovah Rapha who has healed her, the one Jesus loves, of all afflictions and envelopes her now with the warmest embrace. Their tears are different, however. They are tears of joy! Marica is with Our Savior. She has all we could ever want for her. And, still we, and especially her dear husband Andrija, are left wanting . . . for us. More time, with someone dearly loved who gave without exception, who lived as Christ asked, who leaves behind a legacy, a life, we want to emulate. There is never enough time to spend with one such as this, only time to be grateful for the privilege to have known her and apply to our lives the lessons and images she left emblazzened on our hearts.

The Bible says:

1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecc 3:1-8

Marica has lived through it all. Nothing broke her spirit, and God fulfilled his promise. His love endures forever, through it all. So, let us weep and let us mourn for “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Mt 5:4), but let us not forget to laugh and dance. Rejoice! Our sestra is in the arms of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I'm quite sure she is smiling her incredible smile with the light beaming down on her face, praising and laughing and dancing with us. She will never leave us. She is a part of us. It rains today, but tomorrow there will be sunshine, and I will think of the light emanating from Marica's face.

Goodbye for now, my sweet Sestra!
Volim te,
Kathy