Skopje is pronounced “scope-ya,” in English.  In Albanian, it is pronounced “shcoop,” like a person with a lisp might order a single serving of ice-cream.  The city is undergoing a face-lift and attractions are being added at a rapid pace.  More and more, the city center feels like a Las Vegas venue with a Roman theme.  Gigantic, cheaply made statues, gaudy venues with paper-thin facades, and “history-lite” plaques crowd the area near the bridges over the Vardar River.  Bronze-plated-blight dots every horizon, gigantic men ride gigantic horses, scholars and artists are depicted in brass, huge white globs with sharp edges sit atop marble facades.

Just a short walk up the river from the center is a place of quiet; an expansive park named Градскиот Парк (City Park).  It has plenty of shade and a tranquil feel.  Navigating Skopje, like navigating any city, is simple (if you know how to do it).  As the missionaries here have become more familiar with their surroundings, their guided tours of the city have greatly improved.

City Park is a venue I had not found during either of my first two visits here, and it is the kind of place, like the park at the top of the hill in Split, Croatia, that I will always seek out when the opportunity arises.  Sitting with Pastor Ervin and a young man named Agim, I was content.  Betuel, Nardi, Hektor and one of the pastors from Brazil played a version of “keep away” with six-or-so Macedonian young-men.  Pastor Jose took a nap on the lawn.  The women in the group sat together by the river; talking about what people talk about.

There was not a bit of strife; the only stirring came from an occassional, light and wonderful breeze.

I meet my friend Sajmir for coffee almost every morning at a bar-kafe near the International Church. We typically discuss the work, our families, our future plans and other worries.  Tuesday morning we found each-other for our ritual, expecting the day at work to be like most others; predictable, steady, exhausting and blessed.  Shortly after arriving on site, I was informed via a church functionary that I would not be needed, that there was “no work for you today.”  I am proud, and it is good for God to remind me from time to time that I really am not the necessary component of any plans of his.  

I had missed going on the mission to Macedonia so that I could work at the church.  Knowing, now, that I could choose my preference without neglecting any of my other commitments, I began working out how I might join the team in Skopje.  My fugon for Skopje left at 4PM and arrived at the Stacioni Autobuzit Shkup at 1AM Wednesday morning.  I am sitting in Betuel and Bianca’s living room as I compose this.

I enjoyed my last day of work with Sajmir. He had some concrete finishing to do at the church, and expects to be called away for work in Russia before I return.  Zoti e di.  Between going back and forth to the travel agent in Tirana, and getting home to pack my travel bags, I was able to harass Sajmir intermittently.  I am getting a sense for Albanian humor, and it is good know how to bring a smile to the face of a friend.  

A few years ago I came up with a joke about Seattle.  It goes Q. “What do Seattleites love to do the most when they aren’t complaining about the rain?”  A. “Complain about the sun.”  Weather-wise, today was one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen first-hand.  The sun shone through mostly clear, beautiful skies.  There was a bit of a breeze to keep us cool, and not a hint of rain.  On my way back home from the bus, I stopped to talk to five acquaintances of mine at a cafe.  “Koha shum e mir sot.”  I said.  “Shum e buker, po?” (Great weather today.  Very beautiful, yes?)

“Pak fresk,” (a bit too breezy) was the only reply I received in return.

We successfully took all of the tiegula down from the existing roof today.  I say successful because we did it without any fall-protection or safety gear of any kind.  The only tool I used was my framing hammer.  Each of the concrete embossed, asbestos tiles is about a 1.5 x .5 meters in size and weighs about forty pounds.  There was plenty of margin for error, but we kept to a slow and safe method.  I have always enjoyed demolishing structures.

Tomorrow we should begin erecting the steel.  We received engineered plans over the weekend, and so the specialists we’ve hired should have everything they need to proceed quickly and confidently.  I am using the word “should” because I have been in Albania for almost a year.

The college came to life earlier than usual this morning.  The students started their daily preparations at around 5AM.  Our delegation to Macedonia needed to be ready to leave with Pastor Jose from Instituti this morning.  Departures like this one tend to be venues of excitement.  I came to the common area to pray with the five who are leaving from the school to spend five days with our missionaries in Skopje.  We asked for safe travel, a blessed time of fellowship, and a restorative time for the people of Skopje.  Hana, Nardi, Etmira, Hektor and Neda each bring unique blessings with them.

After the group left, I came to my room to read a little more in the Book of Acts.  Pastor Scott encouraged me to read over this text, and so I am.  Chapter two concludes this way “And the Lord was adding to their number day by day those who were being saved.” (NASV)  My hope for this team is that the Lord will add to their number; that they will be encouraged by the way God is moving through this time, and that they will each perceive God’s specific role for them in the fruition of His divine plan.  May God bless you this day, and reveal these things to you also.  I love you.

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.

One of the traditions of the Christian Faith is to entreat God though spoken requests or pleading, to command that something happen through the power of God, or simply to have conversations with the Creator of all things.  Each of us does this in their own way; some in silence, some through memorized chants, some through indiscernible utterances, and others through curses.  As it is the Christian belief that God is present in every place at every time, we might say that all thoughts and spoken words are, ultimately, prayers.

The mission to Kosovo/ Montenegro took place primarily in two cities: Mitrovica, and Ulcinj.  Both cities have nearby hills which offer vantages both beautiful and in some way humbling.  When I look at an entire city and think to pray over it, I think “where do I begin?  How can my prayers be of any use?  Does God not know the things I would ask of Him already?  Does God need my prayers to realize where health is lacking?”

Prayer is a discipline like any other.  Spending time with loved ones, getting exercise, eating for life, talking to strangers, service in secret, laughter, reading the Bible, and getting enough rest are all important parts of the life God wants for us.  Prayer, like all of the others, is important no matter how we feel, no matter what we would rather do.  I would encourage any friend of mine to pray for their city.  As you pray, listen to what it is you are asking for.  God’s answer to your prayer might begin with your own realization of what it is you feel is lacking, where you would most like to see God move.  As you listen to yourself, listen to God and be a part of the solution you are seeking.  If it is for a friendlier city: be more friendly, if it is for a city with less pollution: drive less and purchase fewer plastics, if it is for a city free from hunger: cook six extra plates of food on Saturdays and hand them out to the homeless people you would otherwise walk past.

My prayer for Mitrovica is that it would be a bright example of the healing power of Jesus.  I pray that people will look at the city and say “I never would have thought that that city would be free of the bonds of hatred, that Serbians and Albanians would live out of love for each other.  Mitrovica was a dark spot on our planet, but look at it now.  It is a place where people come to study the nature of true, miraculous reconciliation.”  Please pray with me.

Missions are a vital part of the Church movement in the Balkans.  Until 1991, missionaries were under the same restrictions here as they are in places like modern day China, or Iran.  Christianity had to be practiced in secret, or not at all.  The Protestant Church in Albania is the result of the work of God through missionaries from places like South Korea, Finland, the United States, Brazil, England and others.  With its roots in missions, it is no surprise that the Albanian Christian Church has started to send out missionaries of its own to surrounding nations; much like the church in El Salvador, which currently has missionaries living and working in over 30 countries.

The Bible School in Sauk has had “Missions Week” for the past few years.  This year it sent or is sending teams to Turkey, Kosovo/ Montenegro, and Macedonia.  I was able to go as part of the Kosovo/ Montenegro delegation under Pastor Gezim from Durres.  Gezim has been a source of encouragement for me since I first came to Albania.  He is kind and very intelligent, with a rare aptitude for connecting with and leading people.  His daughter Alta joined us on the trip.  She will do great things for God.

I need only to look at what Gezim has accomplished for God to know what one man is capable of.  Among his greatest achievements has been his part in the awakening of the Italian Church for missions outside of Italy.  I would love to read a book about Gezim; to know how he thinks, to see as he sees for a moment.  Our team was an international delegation; 6 Albanians, 5 Italians, a Brazilian and an American.  Gezim was at home with any and all of us; he has a true genius for people.  When you visit Albania, come to Durres and sit in on one of his services.  I know you will grow to love him, as I have.

August of last year I visited Mitrovica with Pastor Kurt.  At that time I felt called to go and to serve there, to help in the healing work of Jesus Christ in the mending of that city.  I wanted to participate in the reconciliation of people there; first to God, and then to one another.  When Jesus summarizes the Law and the Prophets, he makes the loving of the neighbor as you love yourself the second thing.  If we love God with everything we are, perhaps the loving of the neighbor is a natural byproduct. (I have been meditating on this lately)  Shortly after returning from Mitrovica I was told all of the reasons why I would not be able to serve there.  Out of respect for those God has placed over me, and in accord with a conviction that I need to follow a path of greater obedience to authority in general, I let it go.

About two weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, I attended an evening service at ICF Tirana.  International Christian Fellowship is a unique church with a club-like ambiance and the most modern of music.  As we worshiped, I found myself with my journal in my hand, taking down notes for the work in Mitrovica.  In my mind’s eye I could see people standing on the bridge there, holding candles, praying and singing to God for the healing of that place.  I decided to reopen the conversation with my superiors.

Two days after Easter I had a meeting with Kurt and Stephanie.  Again, there were a host of reasons given why it would not work for me to serve there.  As we discussed things, and as I allowed them to walk themselves through the logistics of my being a part of God’s work there, the reasons began to fall away.  The hurdles started looking more like stepping stones; stairs along a clear and healthy path.  By the end of our conversation, we had a game plan; at least enough to get a list of “next questions” together for the journey ahead.

Is Mitrovica the place where God will have me in His will for a long time?  Or is it, also, like a stepping stone along a much longer path?  Mitrovica holds one of the keys to my destiny and for the destiny of this place.  Praise God.

The construction site can be a place of great fulfillment, or a place of emptiness; it can be a venue which inspires either dread or a palpable, positive anticipation.  I have worked on both kinds of construction sites.  When I was 18, I was hired by an asphalt repair company for a summer: dread.  When I was in my early 20’s, I worked offshore in the oil fields of the Gulf of Mexico for a year-and-a-half: palpable, positive anticipation.  I am happy to say that the work-site in Tirana  has a crew of workers who enjoy the work, and the way they feel at work.  

Friday and Saturday we tore out an existing walkway and replaced it with a walk which will serve better as an entrance to the magazin addition we are remodeling.  We have engineered the walk so that the water from it will flow into our new drain system, which will take some of the load off of the existing drain system.  Everyone seems happy with the progress, and so am I.  Progress in Albania tends to feel slow, but I am an Amerikan; my gauge is calibrated for a different kind of living.  

After work today, Sajmir and I went for a walk which ended with me in the Qender (Center) of Albania’s capital.  Days more beautiful than this one are very few.  

According to the interweb, Tirana has had about seven more inches of rainfall so far this year than Seattle has.  My shoes know this, as all of my shortcuts too and from the bus stop in Sauk leave me walking in mud-covered këpucët.  You can always spot a tourist in Seattle just by looking for the person using an umbrella.  Here in Albania it seems like everyone has an umbrella.  The citizens use their cadra to guard against any precipitation more severe than a light fog.

From 11AM to 4PM yesterday, working outside was like being inside a soap-free car was.  The eves of most buildings do not have gutters, and tarpaulins are as rare and precious in Albania as five-gallon buckets are.  Today, however, God smiled on Tirana in the form of light clouds, mild heat, and a bit of sunshine; it was glorious.  The three brothers: Alban, Mustafa, Mosi, and I worked to prepare for the next bit of concrete; a 1.5 x 4 meter walkway which will end at the entrance to the bottom floor of our new building.  

I was able to get my head around my communication troubles with one of the guys today.  In his mind, he cannot understand me, and so he doesn’t try.  And in my mind, he does not want to understand me, and so I don’t try either.  Communication is possible when there is an agreement between both parties that an interchange is possible and also important.  He and I just need to agree to work more diligently at respecting the other enough to try.