The Bible College in Sauk, where I keep an apartment, opened and held its first classes in 2003. Originally it was established to bring higher education to Albanian church leaders in Tirana and surrounding cities. What is has since become is a place where people with a passion for serving God, an aptitude for leadership and a clear calling to ministry can come and be strengthened. When I first moved here I was blessed to be surrounded by the students of this school 24 hours a day. The school fosters and builds on the passionate fire within its student body; fanning the flames with Christian direction, teaching, and encouragement.
Last spring there were six graduates of the two year program here. Of the six, four of the students have gone on to serve in the city of Gjakova. Gjakova is a city in southern Kosovo, near the border with Albania. The 1990s were a time when the rights of ethnic Albanians of this region were taken away almost entirely. Serbian police and military were allowed and even encouraged to mistreat the Albanian population of Kosovo. It was the hope of Milosevic to push Albanians out of the province of Kosovo long enough for records of their rightful claims to property and holdings to be destroyed; in order that their holdings could be redistributed amongst Ethnic Serbians. The people of Gjakova suffered greatly during this time.
One of our most recent Bible School graduates was one of the young men who had to flee the violence of that time. I have written briefly about Astrit in past posts, but it would not be possible to say too much about the man he is. Astrit is a peacemaker, a man of God, a man of courage, integrity, forgiveness, joy and strength. He and his wife Emily are now pastoring the Evangelical Church in Gjakova full time. They are precisely the type of couple God intends to be leading the way on the frontier of Christian outreach to the wounded fray of our modern world.
We accompanied them to a woman’s house near their church. Mrs. Qerkezi was widowed during the conflict in 1999. A few days after NATO began its bombing campaign against Milosevic’s forces, 11 members of her family were seized and taken away in a military vehicle. Only two of these men’s bodies have been found, the other nine are presumed dead. Zonja Qerkezi has kept the family home as it was. It now acts as a museum to the lost. Her sadness and grief are things which only God can comprehend. I could offer no words of comfort save the thought that our God is just, that His love for her is unwavering. Sometimes it is difficult to know what might enrage us the most; the initial orders to kill unarmed civilians, the carrying out of the crimes, or the utter lack of discipline to the criminals responsible. Or are we called now to feel something other than rage? Are we called to feel love instead?
In the wake of this disastrous chapter in the Gjakova story are the men and women of Kosovo. The young people who only a few months ago were learning the basics of Christian teaching are now leading the way toward reconciliation in a land still spongy-wet from the blood of the innocent. Kosovo is in the hands of God’s disciples. For them the future is full of promise, no matter how steeped in hatred is the past.
albaniacalling 