Dear Romanians

Last Sunday I took the 00:45 bus from Belgrade to Skopje.  I could have taken the evening to sleep in a bed.  Since it was only going to be time lost, I decided to trade comfort for more time with colleagues.  My bus arrived at 9AM and, of course, before I could complete the dialing of Betuel’s phone number, he was within sight, walking towards me.  One blessing leads to the next.  I have never been so convinced of God’s goodness as I am in this time.  For the first time in my life I expect tomorrow to be better than today, and every today is a wonderful orchestration of favor.

I felt welcomed and appreciated in Serbia.  Many people, all of whom were strangers, treated me with respect and deference; going far out of their way to see to my well-being and care.  The Balkans might soon become known for its hospitality towards Americans.  A Romanian missions team had joined my friends in Skopje while I was up north.  I was taken into the group like a lost brother, or a late-coming member of the Romanian church.  Betuel and Bianca’s visitors were kind, open-hearted, happy, humorous, gentle, outgoing and warm.  The Romanians seemed to have a sense for how to be in accord with a stranger among them.

Betuel, the obvious leader of the five missionaries in Skopje, is 23 years old.  He is sensible and mature, steady and level-headed, serious, driven, generous, and smart.  Bianca, his wife, is a great complement to him.  She has many of the same characteristics, but seems to have a stronger work ethic.  The three of us sat to discuss the mission to Macedonia’s capital city; they were curious to hear my observations.  I must have spoken for some 20 minutes uninterrupted.  It was not until afterward that I realized how much I had said, and that neither person had tried to interject.  I have come to expect correction of my own thoughts as I speak them.  I was honored by their focus on my thoughts, by their vigilant silence.  I hope to be a better listener, and I have seen how it is done.