I gave two things up for the season of Lent, and the details of that are between God and myself. As a reminder of what I was giving up, I decided not to shave my face during that time. Every time I looked in the mirror and saw my beard, I was reminded of my short-term vows. Since Good Friday, I have contemplated shaving many times. Having a beard is a mixed bag, and I have never been patient enough to keep my beard for very long. Dardajan recently told me that because of my beard, I was probably more approachable to Muslims, which I found to be an interesting if not entirely implausible notion. I experienced a miracle today, and because of it I have decided to keep my beard for the foreseeable future.
Today I took an early bus from Sauk into Tirana. A few stops into the journey, a boy got on the bus, followed by his father; a tall man with a circular, knit cap, ten inches of black beard hanging from his chin, and a gray, long-sleeved garment that reached to his knees. He looked at me, and I nodded and smiled. I saw a Muslim brother, which is precisely what he saw. As we rode the rest of the way I kept thinking “how can I show him kindness in the name of Jesus?” And then the ride was done, and I was exiting the bus.
On the bus from the center to Zogu I Zi, I took some notes on my I-pod. They read “If I am seeking after God, and there is only one God, then I am seeking after the, one, god. And if a Muslim is seeking after God, and there is only one God, then he is seeking after the same god; the one god. If we are both seeking after the same god, does that not make us companions? We are travelers seeking the same, holy city; that is, the city named Salvation. Have I been there? Has he?” I continued to think about this man throughout the day.
Later on, after the evening service at the International Church, I spoke with Cleon about it. I said “I wanted to pull my cross out, just to have it on the outside of my shirt, so that he could see I was a Christian. I wanted him to see that I was a Christian, and that I loved him; that in my mind and in God’s mind we are brothers. It is interesting to think that he and I are seeking after,”… “the same God,” Cleon said, finishing my thought in agreement. I was certain that I would be better prepared the next time.
As I boarded my conveyance to go home from church, I stepped through the door closest to the back of the bus. As I did I came upon the same man, and the same boy. “O Zotri,” I said smiling. He remembered me too. We stood at the back of the bus together in silence, his son sneeking as many long glances at me as he felt was safe. Again, I wanted to begin a conversation of blessing for this man. I do not speak the language here, and it would not have been a natural conversation in any case. As we came to his stop, and he went to unload all of the things he had brought with him on the bus, he did not have the hands to carry it all. As I helped him get his last items safely off the bus he said “falamenderit.” “Zoti te bekoft,” I replied. I could see in my reflection in the window as I rode away that my cross was showing, that I had blessed this stranger in the name of Jesus through my actions alone. God had worked through all of my shortcomings to bless a Muslim man through me. I am more honored than I can say.
albaniacalling 