Soiled Saints

It’s 8 a.m.  The sun is once again out.  I’m struck with a weird conviction, at least weird for 8 a.m. on my mom’s birthday.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!   When I’m able to see the beauty of the land, with its multiple shades of green and different textures, I’m reminded again of the creativity of God.  God has made a very beautiful world….one which I’ve been given stewardship over.  Now, don’t write me off because I just went “green.”  I’m not a tree-hugger.  I just think that I need to be very careful of stewarding this gift that God has given all of us.  To be blunt:  I’m not good at it and I need to be better.

Due to my…..handicap…..there are things around the camp that I’m not able to do, such as pulling roof tiles, digging post holes, or standing still.  Okay, just kidding about the standing still.  However, there is one job that I can maybe do…

Scything!!  What is scything?  Picture the Grim Reaper.  Remember his weapon?  That’s a scythe.  We had a lot of tall grass/weeds to get down to help the camp be ready for summer season.

“This is it,” I muttered, “finally something I can actually do!”  I was ready to jump in with both feet and get scythe-y with it. 

And then it happens.

The one thing I was hoping wouldn’t happen.

My heart starts to act up.  I’m fluttering.

Before I left, I was given clearance to begin running again.  Now, I’m no long distance runner, but the ability to at least do this gives me some solace.  That is until my heart started to flutter about thirty seconds in.  Now, “flutter” is not a technical term, that’s my term.  I would beat, and then it would seem like my heart needed to beat more than the pacemaker would allow it.  It’s a strange feeling.  The first time it happened, my heart kept fluttering and beating somewhat heavy all day long.  So, like a complete numb-skull, I did it again twice more before leaving.  And each time, the effect wore off quicker and quicker. 

But with a heavy weapon that strikes fear in the hearts of weeds everywhere, I don’t want to take that chance of over-fluttering.  So with a heavy heart (bah-dum-dum-crash!!) I turn over my lethal weapon to a teenager who is more equipped to do the job…since his heart actually beats right.  I confess a level of frustration I’ve rarely felt ever in my life at this point.

“Why am I here?  I can’t even do a job like scything.  I’m worthless to this trip, and to this group of people, much less to you God!”  I’m praying…..err…..whining to God.  And at that moment….I hear the sound of my “salvation.”

If you know my history, you know that my father has woken me up brutally early on Saturdays to take care of our lawn.  When we lived in Kingwood (1983-1997), there were many a Saturday when I either wanted to watch wrestling (which came on at 9 a.m.) or sleep in (due to staying up late on Friday).  And Dad would have none of either excuse.

“Time to get up.  That yard isn’t going to cut itself,” Dad would say.  Saturday after Saturday, I would mow and weed eat the yard, muttering why couldn’t God make grass that would always stay the same length.  Even though I hated mowing during my teenage/young adult years, I can honestly say that after Dad, Nelly, and Kristina moved to Charlotte in 1997, I began to miss mowing.

I’ve actually mowed the grass at my parents’ house in Charlotte more than once, and strangely…..I actually began to enjoy it!  I never would have thought I would say that, but it’s there in print, in front of the whole www universe.

That sound I hear is the sound of a lawn mower.

And I politely ask the guy mowing if I can take over due to my heart condition.  He graciously allows me to do so, and I’m happier than Angelina Jolie’s lip surgeon when the bill comes in. 

I’m mowing, while others are sanding, repairing, and roofing.  This is great.  Finally usefulness!!

My feelings of usefulness go away faster than a one hit wonder band’s time at the top.  Halfway through my first mow-row, my heart flutters again. 

At this point, many swear words are entering my thought process.  I don’t say any of them.  But I confess….they are there.  Why can’t I do anything without my heart getting in the way?  And I mean that in a physical and spiritual sense?  Why does my heart so often betray me?  Especially now?

Either I’m too stubborn to care, or too tenacious to give up (second choice is my preferred choice), and I keep going.  I’ll stop long enough to get the flutter under control, but I’m determined to do something that’s of worth.  In fact, I actually obtain a very nice farmer’s tan!!

It’s 3 p.m.  We head to the Moscenica church to pass out tracts that are targeted at showing Christ through soccer/football.  Keaton and I encounter a few dogs and a weird rooster that keeps our interest, and before long are back at the church getting ready for the modified training.  While I’m not opposed to passing out tracts, I wonder though:  How effective is this going to be?  Shouldn’t I try to spend time with these people before shoving something down their throats?  Wouldn’t they be more receptive if I didn’t dive-bomb something in their mailbox? 

It’s 6 p.m.  Darko lives in a house on the church property and is a retired barber.  He offers to give a haircut and a shave, and I take him up on it.  He shaves me with a straight razor, which scars….whoops…scares me a little.  He is a gracious man who will not take any money from me, telling me that it is his honor to cut my hair!  Now, if my haircutter lady said that…she may get more of a tipJ!!  (I tip her well, so put your fears at ease.)

Tim and I launch into the training.  Tim talks about Bible study and I mention accountability…..or the process by which people help others keep enjoying God and checking up on them in their journey with Christ.  I’m not sure if it’s relief or what, but I think that the time goes well.  People are trained, and even our core group sits in to observe.

It’s 8:15 p.m. and we are in downtown Sisak at another ice cream café.  I lap it up like a dog to water on a Houston summer day.  While their ice cream is good….really good….I don’t think I’m going to cede the title of best ever to them I’ve decided.

It’s 10:30 p.m. and I’m tired.  Today is nearly tomorrow, and I’m ready to face whatever.  God is good to me. 

It’s 7:30 a.m. and the sun is out.  That is encouraging after feeling like I’m in Seattle, Washington (where it rains 300 days out of the year.  Ironically, Seattle has had a high rate of suicide….maybe the Carpenters were right…rainy days and Mondays always get me down?)  We went to church in Moscenica (Mo-shan-eat-su).  I saw this verse on their screen projector (yes, they have projectors and power point!)

“Preusti Jahvi putave svaje u njega se uzdaj I on ce sui voditi”  Psalam 37:5

I know….that verse struck me too.  I suspect you have the same reaction I’m having while reading it:  That verse is undeniably hard to understand and that we need an easier-to-read translation.

How’s this:  “Commit your way to the Lord, trust in Him and He will act.”  Psalm 37:5

This verse, on this screen at this time can only be explained as a God-ordained happening.  Calling this a coincidence is a slap in the face of God’s sovereignty. 

The church is probably small by American standards, but larger in Croatian standards.  Today, I’ve counted nearly 60 people here.  I’m struck by the age discrepancy.  There are either very old people, or very young people.  There are not a lot of Baby Boomers here. 

They sing in Croatian, and some of the songs I know from hearing them in the states.  They do sing loud.  I wish we in the states would sing that loud.  Taylor lead our American team as they sang two worship songs in English, which maybe five people understood.  But even though they didn’t understand the language, I see them nodding with respect.  We have two preachers today, Vlad and Pero (pronounced like the Spanish word Perro).

Vlad is working in Bosnian outreach, and has a massive plan for August.  Please pray for their efforts.  He speaks on Peter in 2 Peter and how Peter reminded people of the basic elements of the faith to prepare them for his departure.  He stated that if we don’t love Jesus we won’t love others.

Pero is 75, and speaks both Croatian and English.  He is speaking from John 15:1-10.  He states that we as Christians will bear fruit to God’s glory, but in order to bear that fruit, we must undergo discipline at times as well.  I speak with Pero after service.  He is a charismatic (personality not doctrine) man who is quite winsome.  I want to be more like him….because he is like Christ.

It’s noon.  We firm up some plans and could have a modified leadership camp with Timi, Sergei, and a few others.  While this is not what I had hoped….it’s the first time all trip that I can see a ray of sunlight.  I’m encouraged. 

We then head to their version of Super Wal-Mart called InterSPAR.  This is a huge store, actually bigger than a Super WM, with nearly anything you can think of including cars and motor scooters for sale.  We shop for a while, and I buy a Croatian soccer shirt.  Their logo is primarily a red and white checkerboard, which is quite useful, as you can use the shirt for either a tablecloth at a picnic, or a checkers board when you need one in a pinch. 

It’s 3 p.m.  We are at Ratt-man’s, which is a popular ice cream spot in Sisak.  I’ve been pre-told that once a person has Ratt-man’s ice cream, they are ruined for anything else in the states.  On Friday we had someone else’s ice cream, and as I stated, I was going to have to get some more ….for research purposes of course.  So, I greedily had two scoops of Ratt-man.  I have to tell you…..his ice cream definitely makes my top five.  But to give him the title of best in the world?  I’m not so sure I’m ready to concede that to him, especially when we live 100 miles from Blue BellJ!!  As we eat ice cream, the clouds begin to cover us….and within minutes, it’s raining again.

It’s 4 p.m.  We are going to the hospital to see Stefan again.  People are wondering who the big celebrity is that is warranting this much attention.  He seems happy to see us, yet tired.  Well, I guess I would be too if I was undergoing tests, and was missing my family and opportunities that I had waited six months to see happen.

We leave Stefan to go to his parents’ house.  You know about Svetjlana.  Now meet Bronko.  Bronko doesn’t know Christ.  In fact, until last year, Bronko was an agnostic.  But after people prayed fervently for him during a cancer operation and his subsequent healing, he “had to acknowledge that there is a God.”  While he hasn’t crossed the line of faith, Bronko is closer now that before.  We are at their apartment/flat that Stefan shares with Bronko, Svetjlana, and Manuela, Stefan’s 15 year old sister. 

We watch a DVD of the history of Croatia before the soccer/football match featuring Croatia against Austria.  The EuroCup is a big deal, much bigger than anything we have in the states save the Super Bowl.  Again the hospitality of Croatians is so much better than what I find in the states mostly.  Svetjlana fixes pancake/crepes for everyone and insists that we all have some. 

I go into Stefan’s room and check my email.  It’s my first chance since arriving and it’s good to connect with the outside world.  As I’m checking mail, I receive word that we are going to for sure have a modified leadership camp at Mosceniza.  So, it’s back on…..just not at all like I thought.

It’s 6:30 p.m.  We leave the friendly confines to go to church in Petrinja (pa-treen-ah).  Guess who’s preaching? 

Nope, not me.  That’s next week.

It’s Pero again!!  He sees us and “regretfully” informs us that the message he’ll be preaching is the same one from this morning.  We are not too worried.  I’m glad to see him again.  Their church is small, maybe 20 people, but like the service this morning, they sing their lungs out…………and they too have a video projector!!!

Pero asks Taylor to sing, and he does on the spot with no translator.  Much like this morning, the people, even though not understanding a lot, seem to understand that Taylor is singing to God and are very respectful of his efforts. 

It’s 10 p.m.  I’m worn out.  I’m heading to bed soon.  What a roller coaster of a weekend and week so far.  Well….game on tomorrow.