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Sunday, May 25. 2003: Some days it's easy to write an update. God is everwhere, and I just have to narrow down the thoughts to a paragraph or two. Other days I have to blast with dynamite to come up with something worthwhile to say. It's always my intention to encourage my friends who drop by to visit these journal entries. But today I just have be honest and say it's been really tough around here lately.

"Ministry is giving when you feel like keeping,

Praying for others when you need to be prayed for,

Feeding others when your own soul is hungry,

Living truth before people when you cannot see results,

Hurting with people when your own hurt cannot be spoken,

And being faithful when your flesh wants to turn and run." (Adina Goertzen)

I've felt all of this and more these past weeks. And it's further compounded by a sense of confusion and financial stress. Nine years ago when I left for the mission field I had an understanding with the Lord that I would go as long as He led the way and provided the money. But now that the dollar has dropped by 25% of its value against the Euro and the Bosnian Mark, I'm facing a financial crunch that's slowly draining my savings. Is it time to come home and work for awhile? I don't know. I do know that God has a plan, and that He'll make it clear.

This would be a great time to finish my CD, but even that's a problem since my mini-disc recorder - with the master recording inside - was stolen from my house about a month ago, probably by one of the "brothers" who needed some cash. (Thankfully I still have it backed-up on my computer).

Sometimes you just have to look up and laugh. I'm glad God is in control, and that He knows exactly what's going on. After church tonight I was hungry for chicken. The neighborhood market had some, but it was frozen, and it's too late to start cooking. But just as I began this update Aldin knocked on the door and offered me half a chicken that was left over from their family picnic. Thanks, Lord, for the gentle reminder. And thanks, my friends, for letting me unload.

Saturday, May 17, 2003: Things have been quiet in Sarajevo. With the warmer weather, the Iranians are restless to move on. It's illegal for them to stay in Bosnia. And it's illegal for them to cross the borders into neighboring Croatia or Serbia. Neither can they return to Iran where they were beaten, imprisoned, and persecuted. So they wait..... and pray. Their only viable option is to find money for a "smuggle man" who will take them into another more hopeful country. It's the church of Acts all over again, persecuted, driven out and scattered into the nations to build a kingdom that can't be inherited by flesh and blood.

Wednesday, May 14, 2003: Yesterday I taught the Iranians a study on prayer. Coming out of Islam, their concepts are quite different from our biblical understanding. Allah dominates all, and his followers are mere servant-slaves in a world ruled by fate. "What will be, will be... as Allah wills." Muslim prayers are mostly creedal reminders to the faithful that Allah alone is in charge. Man's significance is roughly the same as one of Caesar's household servants would have had in governing the Roman Empire.

But the Father of Jesus doesn't cling so tightly to his prerogative as the Almighty. He stoops to share his world with man, beginning with Adam's commission in the garden: "Take dominion..... fill the earth and subdue it...... rule over the fish... and the birds.... and over every living creature." And thus he honors man with purpose, dignity, and a trusting partnership in the affairs of history.

And then he gives us the awesome promise of prayer. Our sovereign Lord, who spoke galaxies into existence, chooses to patiently restrain his power until his children to pray. What infinite patience. And what a sobering thought, that history hinges on my prayers.

Wednesday, May 7, 2003: I'm back home in Sarajevo since Sunday afternoon, and goodness what a difference! The lightness I enjoyed last week faded into heaviness and spiritual drag even as my flight approached the Balkans. Whereas in Denmark it felt quite natural to be encouraged and optimistic, here in Bosnia it's a constant act of the will to maintain the same spirit of faith. Yet the local darkness is the very thing that holds me here in the city. My student friends, neighbors, and refugees haven't the luxury of scouting out better campsites. Their only option is to pitch their tent here in enemy-occupied territory until the Kingdom of God spreads it's branches over the Balkans!

Some of the Bosnians are saying Turkey's recent earthquake is Allah's punishment for their assistance to the US and her allies in Iraq. Punishment is inevitable in Islam, and for this reason few will ever admit guilt, fault, or even

responsibility. "To admit a mistake is to make two mistakes." Just one more building block in a culture of destruction.

On an encouraing note, the Iranians are pursuing Jesus like there's no tomorrow, and I had the pleasure last night of spending time with a bright young Bosnian believer who is dreaming of changing his country. (He's also preparing his character and his mind for the task!) Bojan is the very first university student I've met in four years who has a grasp on the power of Biblical truth to rebuild the broken foundations of Bosnia. And he's almost certainly the only evangelical student living in the university dormatories. I receive these small beginnings as a great encouragement from the Father's hand.

Thursday, May 1st, 2003: As it turns out, I'm not in Copenhagen at all. I'm in a rural village near Aarhus, with thatched-roof houses that reminds me of the "Shire" in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Hamlet's grave, ("To be, or not to be..."), is on a grassy knoll just up the road from the YWAM base that itself is a relfection of cozy warmth, beauty, and hospitality.

I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be at this moment than right here teaching these eager believers from Denmark, Germany, Holland, Russia, and the US. This is a Crossroads school with students a little older than the typical DTS students I usually teach. These have left their careers behind, or even waited until their last child left the nest before setting off on the YWAM adventure. It feels like I've come home to family, and I'm soaking up every moment of refreshment. Once again, God knew exactly what I needed.

Thurday, April 25, 2003: Muhammad moderated the Iranian Bible Study this afternoon. I wish you could have seen him in action. He invited the others to share scriptures that are important for spiritual growth. And when I walked into the room they were eagerly shouting out references and reading, (or quoting from memory), passages they had learned. Peter called out John 15:10 "If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father's commands and remain in his love." And Muhammad shot back, "Yes ! And the command of Jesus was to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. Matthew 22:37!" If these guys ever have the opportunity to return to Iran, there's no telling what God will do with them.

Even though I'm still not certain about my role with the various ministry teams here in the city, the one thing that is very clear to me is the call to relationships, and to teaching the younger ones around me. This afternoon when I asked David if he'd eaten anything, (he often doesn't), he replied, "No. But I need more than food to live. I want to study." So I suggested the option of doing both. He's like a sponge with God's word, and before we were finished, both Aldin and Samir were involved in the discussion as well.

Tuesday, April 15, 2003: Sunday morning was another milestone for evangelical believers in Bosnia. Churches from Sarajevo and the surrounding area gathered together in the auditorium of the Cultural Center for a joint service of worship, teaching, testimonies, and prayer. It was the second such service. The evangelical church in this country is still small enough that when believers come together, we can expect near 100% participation. And God always seems to bless that kind of unity with a sweet presence. The five hundred or so people present represent a ten-fold increase from the war years just a decade ago. It's interesting to think that I live in a country where a person could theoretically know the names of all the believers.

Friday evening's study on the Kingdom of God was a powerful encouragement to me. We spent two and a half hours together sharing a meal, looking at the Gospels, and piecing together what Jesus was trying to tell us about the Kingdom. How does it differ from the church? What is the "gospel of the Kingdom," and how does it differ from the "gospel of salvation"? How does the kingdom come, and where do we look to see it? I believe one of our biggest challenges is wrapped up in learning to see the Kingdom of God as not just a piece of the puzzle, but as the puzzle itself. It's heartening to me that the Holy Spirit is stirring these questions among a broad range of people here in the city. Evidently there's a God-plot afoot, and I want to be in the middle of the action.

Wednesday, April 9, 2003: I awakened this morning just after 3:00am with an uneasiness in my spirit. So many questions linger about my call here in Sarajevo as well as the general direction of my life. In spite of being back in the city for almost two months, now, it still feels like one of those those old suit jackets I tried to reclaim from my closet a few months ago. I'm not the same person I was ten years ago, and they bind and pinch in places I never noticed before.

The refugees are doing quite well, and my work with them has evolved into mostly informal times of discipleship and support with worship ministry, etc. I'm also spending more time developing musical skills with some of the young guys, seizing pedagogical moments with other Bosnian friends, studying and writing, attending prayer meetings, and generally spreading kingdom-seeds wherever I can. (Jesus often compared the Kingdom with seeds, and I'm just beginning to understand what He was talking about). I'm very excited to be launching a new dinner/discussion study this Friday night with a number of friends. Our topic, (predictably to my regular readers), will be Worldview, Truth, and the Kingdom of God. The Holy Spirit has been stirring our hearts lately to look beyond a church mentality with all its programs and ministries to a whole Kingdom lifestyle. In a couple of weeks I'll be teaching much of this same material at the Discipleship Training School in Copenhagen, Denmark. It's impossible for me to overstate what a passion this has become to me over the past several months. It has, in a very real sense, given me a framework for all that I've learned from Jesus over the past thirty years of my life.

Saturday, April 4, 2002: Years ago, when God first began to stir my heart towards missions, I thought He might be calling me to France. I read in those days that France Had 25,000 towns and villages without a single evangelical
Christian believer. So I'm particularly interested in the response of our erstwhile allies to the current world crisis. We scratch our heads and wonder how one third of the French population could side with Saddam Hussein and how the national loathing could sink so low as to desecrate the graves of American war heros who died defending France.

What many Americans don't know is that during the French revolution "Reason" was enthroned in Notre Dame cathedral as the new French deity. In 1793 they even renamed the hallowed sanctuary "The Temple of Reason." This was an outgrowth of the Enlightenment idea that man is perfectly able to navagate his own way into a glorious future without the help of God. "Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools..... " (Romans 1: 22) As a result, France now has more spiritist healers than all of its doctors, lawyers, and priests combined. Fifteen percent of its population take anti-depressants, (the highest in the world), and almost one half of its babies are born to single mothers. The Catholic church has identified France as a nation of "baptized pagans."

America never had the chupah to officially enthrone a new deity in National Cathedral. Instead, we American Christians simply barracaded ourselves in the churchs and turned over the rest of our culture to the same enlightenment thinkers and intellectual elites who led France into it's national apostacy. We checked out. And even though "In God we trust" remains our national motto, our schools, our courts, our media, and our government has very nearly slipped into our own new brand of paganism.

What does this have to do with Bosnia? Everything. Biblical Truth is the constitution of the Kingdom of God, and when we fail to support foundations of truth in the cultural spheres around us, society has no alternative but to slide into the abyss of darkness. Bosnia is already there. Iraq has arrived, and so has France. But Jesus calls us to make disciples of all nations. This means far more than simple bringing people into a saving relationship with Jesus. It means declaring the whole gospel of the Kingdom in every area of life.

Tuesday, April 1, 2003: Since the end of the Bosnian war eight thousand bodies have been laying in an abandoned salt mine near Tuzla awaiting identification. The victims were mostly civilian men who had been separated from their families, gunned down and buried in mass graves near Srbrenica - a designated UN "Safe Area" - near the end of the war. Yesterday the main road into Sarajevo was flooded with mourners who accompanied the first six hundred identified bodies one hundred or so miles on foot to their final resting place in the new memorial cemetary. It'll take years to perform the DNA tests necessary to close this chapter fully, but this seems to be a powerful beginning. One friend told me how moved he was by a deligation of Serbian young people who publicly repented and asked forgiveness for the atrocities on behalf of their country. It's this type of courageous humility that will ultimately bring healing and rest to Bosnia's spirit.

My week was full with a series of all-day meetings, informal times, and teachable opportunities with Bosnian friends. I'm encouraged to see some signs of long-dormant seed beginning to germinate within the hearts of a few of the young men I've been praying for over the past few years. The warmer weather seems to be bringing with it a new openness to the things of God. My computer crashed on Saturday, knocking me out of the info-loop until today. But, (praise the Lord!), the shop was able to repair the problem for $7.00. There are certain amenities to living in an economically depressed situation.

I can't seem to get away from the Kingdom of God. Everywhere I turn, both in the scriptures as well as in everyday life, I'm seeing the imperative to declare and teach the kingdom, a whole gospel of a whole way of life. In some ways I feel like I'm understanding for the first time what this life is all about. Riddle: The gospel is about Jesus dying for our sins, raising from the dead, conquering death and offering eternal life. Right? Then how is it possible that, three years before going to the cross, Jesus went about "preaching the gospel"? (Matt. 4:23, 9:23; Mark 1:14, 15; Luke 9:6, etc....) Evidently there's more to it than what we've been seeing.

Tuesday, March 25, 2003. The concert went very well, and it seemed to accomplish my purpose of refreshing the people and bringing glory to God. Sarajevo, (unlike Westernport), has it's share of world-class pianists who can dazzle the audiences. I only wanted to encourage them and let them feel God's heart. We had nearly ninety people in attendance, mostly friends and acquaintances who had heard about the evening by word of mouth. The obvious favorites of the people were the Slavic and Bosnian tunes, the ragtime, and the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Overall, I had a blast.

But the exhilaration of the evening was short-lived as I threw myself Saturday morning into the dolorous task of helping Lisa pack up to move. Her presence in the city has been such a constant source of inspiration, cheer, and support, that I'm really not sure what to expect when she goes.

The war continues to consume the thoughts and conversations of the Bosnian people. They've never liked President Bush, and many of them rail on him and lump him together with Saddam as an "evil" politician. Of course this is difficult for me to bear, and it leaves me praying often about how I can answer the steady questions in a spirit of love and humility. God hasn't called me to argue politics, but to lift up His love and truth to this hurting nation. The Iranians, on the other hand, continue to stand with us like troopers. "Mr Don, I sure you I am with America one-hundred percent!" says Mohammad.

Wednesday, March 19, 2003: Many Bosnians are fearful that the conflict with Iraq will touch-off a third world war. It's both amazing and alarming to me how quickly their gratitude towards America, (for intervening in their own war), has given way to Anti-American sentiment. Sunday night I found myself involved in another ludacrous conversation with a young friend who accuses the US of starting the war in Bosnia in order to gain control over the Balkans. And the maddening thing is that these lies are often fed by media propaganda and the folk-tales of the culture. It's a great example to me of how, when people embrace lies, we activate a demonic appetite for all kinds of nonsense. Never mind the facts, my friend's mind is made up. I emerged from the conversation exasperated and angry, wanting to go out into the street and shout, "Give Truth a chance!!" But only prayer can cut through so dark an atmosphere. If nothing else, my time in Sarajevo has taught me to treasure Truth, to "buy the truth, and sell it not." (Proverbs 23:23).

My concert is quickly approaching. My aim in this project is to glorify God with my gift, and to offer it as a vehicle for the Holy Spirit to move. I'm trusting God that my music will reach places in the heart that my words could never touch.

Wednesday, March 12, 2003: Remake is the latest "true'life" Bosnian film. Following the lead of last year's Oscar winning No Man's Land , it's filled with messages of betrayal, cyclical violence and national hopelessness. I've seen three of these films in the past year, and all three ended with scenes of double death/suicide. It's a national fascination evidenced by the audience's response to last night's viewing. Lisa and I sat in stunned silence following two hours of in-your-face concentration camps, torture, and violence. I had to look away from several scenes. But when the movie ended, and all the main characters had been blown up, the people around us simply got up from their seats and herded towards the entrance. One young man in front of us looked at his friend and shrugged his shoulders.

I was angry. Once again the enemy has slammed these people with a brilliantly produced message of hopelessness: "Things will never change." In fact, that's the whole idea behind the title, Remake.

I have to believe that someone, somewhere, during this past war was extending heroic hands of compassion and mercy. Why can't someone make a movie about them? Then that class of fifty or so grade school children who sat through last night's showing could walk away with seeds of hope rather than axes to grind in their young hearts.

I came home and unloaded my frustration to twenty year old Dzenan. "Where are the heros?" I asked. "Well there were a few of them around", he said. "But they assasinated one of them in Belgrade today." Serbian Prime Minister, Zoran �endic, made a courageous stand against war crimes and corruption and was killed yesterday by an angry criminal. One more nail was driven into the coffin of Balkan hope.

Hope is a gift bestowed exclusively by the Christian God. Islam offers fatalism: "What will be, will be - according to Allah's will." Buddhism and Hinduism promise endless cycles of reincarnation. And Materialistic Atheism has shown itself empty of promise. But the Father of Jesus offers a future and a hope. His world is moving towards an unshakable kingdom, a great wedding feast, and a heavenly city. Please pray with me that these dear people will receive the hope of the Gospel.

Monday, March 9, 2003: "I can't change the past, but I can change the future." This was Dejana's testimony at church last night. Such words are extrordinay in themself, but when they're spoken by a Bosnian young person in the midst of a nation of hopelessness, they're miraculous. This young lady had just finished her Discipleship Training School and outreach in Serbia, Macedonia, and Kosovo. Being from Bosnia, the simple act of sharing the love of God in these former Yugoslav republics was a courageous step. It necessitated an act of forgiveness towards her enemies and taking a step beyond to genuine compassion and love. But Jesus made it possible. My spirit leapt to hear someone who was "getting it."

Since returning last week, I've been trying to keep a low profile and spend the bulk of my time in relationships and conversations rather than meetings and activities. When the time comes for me to leave this place, I expect the most fructuous times will have been the personal moments of interaction with people. Alen, Ibro, Aldin, David, Peter, and others have been by to visit, and in each case I'm encouraged to see budding fruit. David is memorizing Bible verses, Alen is thinking deeply about his purpose, and Ibro is making mature choices. "This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain-- first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head." Mark 4:26-28 And in this quiet way, the Kingdom grows.

Wednesday, March 4, 2003: I have a hunch this past week will be remembered as a watershed experience in my life. And Alexander (not his real name), is to blame. Living in Belarus, the last real stronghold of Stalinism in the western world, this young man identifies himself as a "reformer," something that causes my heart to leap. While the rest of the former USSR has been busy extracting itself from Communism, Belarus is digging it's heels in. And in this place of darkness Alexander is making a lonesome stand for truth, calling the church, as well as the nation to sanity and repentence.

For years, we in the West have prayed for revival, not really having a clue of how to handle it when it came.
But history teaches us that true revival brings massive social change in every arena of life, including literature, government, justice, economics, morality, and education. My new ambition is to be, like Alexander, a reformer, both here in Bosnia as well as in America. Reformation reclaims what the enemy has ravished. It establishes - or reestablishes - freedom, truth, prosperity, and beauty as the norms of society. It cleanses a nation of insanity and deception, and rebuilds the ancient foundation stones of righteousness and justice. I'll never have the brilliant intellect of a Luther, a Calvin, or a Wesley, but I can use the simple gifts I have to bring reformation to the sphere of my own influence. Perhaps God has called each believer to do the same.

Bosnia continues to be a veritable wealth of possibility as I look at the darkness around me. Twice again we've been robbed. Last week they took the keyboard and the copy machine from the church, and this week one of our team members had another laptop stolen, bringing the total to eight. I could almost count on one hand the number of Bosnians that I really trust to tell me the truth. All of this grieves me deeply and threatens discouragement except that I'm able to see it as fertile soil for reformation.

Wednesday, February 26, 2003: Another Iranian was baptized yesterday. Ali is in his early twenties, and came to the refugee camp less than a year ago. We interviewed him about his faith yesterday, and he shared from Romans 3:20-21: "Therefore no one will be declared righteous..... by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin. But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify." He's got a big smile, lots of joy, and a heartfelt testimony of what Jesus is doing in his life. Another Iranian teenager is also ready for baptism on Sunday morning. This young man demostrated his sincerity by openly confessing his sins and seeking forgiveness from the people around him.

My spirit continues to be burdened for America. Tonight while I was walking I felt like the Lord spoke to me, "It's time for America to recognize that I am their only defense. Technology and manpower cannot adequately protect this country anymore." I only hope the Amercan church will recognize the imperative of prayer and intercession before something worse than 9/11 happens on our soil again. In the midst of all the fear and talk of war, I believe we have every reason to be hopeful so long as our hope is rightly placed in God.

Tomorrow I leave for the Central European YWAM conference in Slovakia. I'm praying that God will give me some very definite guidance and direction during the course of our time together there.

Saturday, February 22, 2003: I arrived back in Sarajevo yesterday afternoon and was met at the airport by a bevy of mostly Iranian friends. The return flight felt longer than usual, and I had lots of time to reflect and pray. For some reason I'm just not as anxious to return this time around.

Sarajevo is covered with snow, and my apartment was cold and quiet. Soon after moving in the first knock came to my door; a young boy asking for a money. I don't know if I'm ready for all of this to start again so soon. Aldin came later with lots of questions about America and Iraq. Since their own conflict, the Bosnian people are generally terrified at the prospect of a world war. And the media here is likely feeding their anxiety with a steady diet of misinformation and fear.

It's still too early to get a pulse on what's been happening in my absence. But I sense many changes in both the dynamics of the ministry as well as the attitudes of the Bosnian people. Time will tell if these are good signs. My prayer for now is that God will give me clarity for these next months, and that I'll have the grace I need to engage this culture again with faith and purpose.

Wednesday, February 12, 2003: I hope my friends who read these updates are taking seriously Paul's admonition to Timothy, "I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone--
for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. (1 Tim 2:1-2). If there has ever been a time in my memory when we have so desperately needed God's guidance and protection as a nation, it's surely now. I can't even imagine the responsibility our president carries in making the decisions he faces in these dark and confusing days. It's important for us to remember that this is conflict is preeminently spiritual at its root, a diabolical plan hatched by the prince of darkness to obliterate countless lives. And if we do not step into our responsibility as a praying people, then darkness will take the day in whatever form it chooses.

My passion for the kingdom of God continues to grow, and I find myself preaching every chance I get, even to dear friends, audiences of one who drop by to visit. It colors my thoughs, motivates my words, and steers my everyday actions and interactions with everything around me. I still marvel that the Western church has so thoroughly overlooked this one idea that formed the very center of gravity for all of Jesus' earthly ministry. While we have been busily praying "Bless me indeed" the kingdom lies in shameful neglect around our feet. Now, in this dark hour, we face the double emergency of an enemy at the gate, and our own culture suffocating in godlessness.

Monday, January 27, 2003: Once again I'm painfully late with an update. Since my last entry I celebrated my fiftieth birthday in the sheltering climate of old friendships from my home church, (Trinity EPC, Florence, South Carolina). It feels like my life is just getting started, and I've suddenly awakened on the far side of the mountain. More than ever I'm aware that my days are limited, and I have much to do before I'm ready to go home. I wish I could view my life like the young man's T shirt I saw at the mall: "Saved, sanctified, filled with the Holy Ghost, and ready to go." Such a life requires little responsibility beyond managing our sins, telling our friends about Jesus, and hanging on until the final hour. But American Christianity would recover so much of its guts, purpose, and adventure if we'd reeducate ourselves to the Biblical idea that we are, "Saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Spirit so that we can build the Kingdom." And then, when a kingdom-builder dies, what else would Jesus do with him but take him on home to heaven?

The Kingdom only begins when we share the Gospel with our neighbors. But it advances towards completion as God's believing children work to restore His maligned, yet beautiful image to everything around us. At fifty ripe-old years I can honestly say I'm not "ready to go" yet. It's not that I lack assurance, but rather that there's so much left to be done here in the shadowlands.

The past few weeks have opened wonderful doors of opportunity in schools, churches, radio interviews, and personal meetings. My love for youth ministry has been reignited, as well as my vision for using God's musical gifts in His service. It's a daily adventure. With only a three weeks left before I return to Sarajevo, I'm still committed to more regular updates. Thanks for the prayers!!

Saturday, January 11, 2002: Two weeks since my last update. I promise, it'll eventually get better. One of the things I love about being back in the States is the way people interact in public. I expect our tradition is rooted in two simple Biblical concepts: that man is created in God's image, (Genesis 1:26), and that the eye is the "window of the soul", (Luke 11:34). As people rooted in these Biblical traditions, we generally learn early to look others in the eye and to exchange greetings. It affirms our God-given dignity and eternal worth. I remember during my first months in Sarajevo being chastised by my new friends for speaking to strangers on the street. It's not proper, and the recommendation is to simply avoid eye contact by looking away to the distance or studying the street or the shoes of the other fellow. (I think it's for this reason that shoes seem to have a high priority for many Bosnians). Over the years I've given way to my host culture and learned that eye contact is not polite. But here in the states I love going into public because I find my worth affirmed by the simple eye contact and greetings of strangers. It's amazing to me that such a simple Biblical concept can affect so great a difference. Instead of the typical worn-down and worthless feeling I often bring back to my apartment in Sarajevo, I find myself walking lighter and feeling like someone of worth here in South Carolina. God's truth touches everything regardless how small, and always brings forth life

So far it's been a great visit with my old friends and church family here in Florence. Last night I had a blast leading worship and teaching the thirty or so young people in the local King's Kids troop. Their passion gives me great hope for the future of the church. They're so authentic and ready to be done with peripheral things and empty religion. I also found encouragement that at my age, by the grace of God, I could still speak with high schoolers and hold their attention.

Saturday, December 28, 2002: This is the first time in years that I've arrived in the states without a full plate of concert and ministry engagements to jump into. And it's been a welcome relief to be able to concentrate on people rather than events. My weariness seems to be no secret, and the time with friends and family he been deeply restorative.

Two days ago three Baptist Missionary doctors were murdered in Yeman. The gunmen testified that their actions brought them "closer to (their) God." And depending on which God we're speaking of, they could be right. But maybe this is a good opportunity to ask, Who is this God who hates so perfectly and decrees bloody justice upon sinners? Is this vengeful hater of "infidels" the same loving Father of Jesus who would rather die than to live apart from his sinful children? Every tree is known by its fruit, and in spite of what many would have us believe, there really is a vast gulf between the God of the gunmen and the God of our missionary brothers. And the divide between the two is a difference between life and death, blessing and cursing.

Emmanuel redeems everything He touches, and if there's ever a doubt about His willingness to bless, just do a quick comparison of the countries that celebrate the birth of Jesus with the ones who do not. In vain our lost Muslim brethren call on the name of Allah for a blessing that never comes while the Father of Jesus strews out his gifts in reckless abandon on all who call on His name.

Friday, December 20, 2002: Sometimes I go back and re-read these updates and find myself thinking, "Goodness..... what was bothering you when you wrote that ?" It seems like every time I return to the States I find myself thrown back into a perpetual lover's quarrel with the church. I can't get past the feeling that we're just not "getting it."

The Father opened up several great opportuities to talk with people along the way of my trek through Las Vegas and Utah. One was a young clerk at a gem shop who gave up on the church because of the bickering and backstabbing. Ivy had given her life to Christ, but in the absence of genuine love and Biblical teaching, she began investigating the New Age as a possibility for greater "reality." She was wondering if there might be more power in crystals than in the church. Aaron, my seatmate on the return flight home, was officially ostracized from his church because of the "sin" of growing a moustache. Another opportunity came with Christine, an airline employee who grew up in church, yet found it totally irrelevant to her college philosophy paper on Truth.

I love the church, and maybe that's why I consider it a part of my call to ask, "What's going on around here?" We should never be surprised when we miss the bull's eye from time to time, but maybe we should stop and assess if we're shooting at the same target Jesus placed before us. It takes neither a prophet nor a rocket scientist to see that the Gospel we're preaching in America is miles away from the glorious vision of the Kingdom of God that was the core message of Jesus' earthly ministry. It reminds me of the nursury rhyme, "Pussy cat, pussy cat where have you been?" "I've been to London to visit the queen." "Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?" "I frightened a little mouse under the chair." However, when the Son of man comes, will he find faith on the earth? (Luke 18:8)

Friday, December 13, 2002: Teaching in the Las Vegas Discipleship Training School has been a great pleasure. As always, it's the students who inspire me, the young people with passionate hearts and intellects engaged for the Kingdom of God. The city itself strikes me as a grand contradiction of sin and beauty. Last night my breath was taken away by the choreography of the the Ballagio fountains, a spectacle that shouted God's grandeur and grace. But just beyond were the casinos, the prostitutes, the empty-eyed dealers, and the wanton crowds looking for life in all the wrong places. Las Vegas leads the nation in suicide, divorce, high school dropouts, homicides against women, and gambling addictions. And that doesn't even take into account the 35,000 professional prostitutes in the city.

More and more I've come to believe that the church is to blame. In my thirty years as a believer I can recall hearing only a single message about the one thing that formed the passionate core of Jesus' teaching. Stanley Jones said that "the Kingdom is God's total answer to man's total need." It is the central theme of Jesus' entire ministry, and if you were to delete the parables, the teachings, and the illustrations of the Kingdom of God from the ministry of Christ, there would be little left. Yet it's rarely even mentioned from today's pulpits, and almost universally misunderstood among believers. This gaping hole in our worldview has left twentieth century Christians impotent, bored, and without direction. The fact that Jesus died to redeem us from our sins is only the glad beginning of the gospel. The rest has been practically lost in a morass of teaching on sin-management, legalism, and secondary issues. O Father, awaken us again to the glories of your kingdom.

Tomorrow I'll rent a car and drive to Zion National Park. That should give me a fresh glimpse of God's glory.

Friday, December 6, 2002: Home looked very good when I finally arrived on Sunday night. I really can't think of another place that surpasses the creative and restorative atmosphere of my basement room at Mom's house. So I've been taking full advantage of this time to rest, study, and catch up on my correspondence. Who knows? I might even get to work on my recording project. Everything is a blessing, even yesterday's snow, (which did need shoveling!) John Piper has said, "All aspects of the Christian life are war, and there will be no peace until Jesus comes. It is not possible to know what prayer is until we know that life is war." Coming off the spiritual battlefield of Sarajevo gives fresh perspective of the intensity and nature of the battle I've been in. Here in the US there's a different kind battle raging. But it's a more familiar warfare, and I'm used to the rules of engagement.

It's always a challenge to write these updates from American soil. Obviously I can't draw as much from the fodder of Bosnian life. But I'm committed to stay current with personal and cultural entries from the circumstance around me.

Saturday, November 30, 2002: Only a few hours to go, and I want to drop in one last update. Yesterday God gave me some much-needed encouragement. I had coffee with two of the young Bosnian men from my homegroup who really are allowing God to do a deep work in them. Both from drug backgrounds, one of them reminded me that "Sometimes you help people the most by not helping them." That's a lesson I'm still learning, and it doesn't come easily to someone with a gift of mercy. Later in the afternoon, after the Iranian home group's final time together, two of the men, (Amir and Ramin), surrendered to Jesus. We'd just finished a Bible study on Psalm 1, (which isn't exactly a Gospel presentation), and I felt prompted to ask if anyone wanted to pray to received Christ. First Amir, and then Ramin asked us to pray with them. From the sounds of it, most of our Iranian friends will be leaving the country in the next few weeks, so these guys will need lots of prayer covering. My other encouragement came when some shop clerks in town complimented my Bosnian. This doesn't happen very often, so I received it as a bonus blessing from the Lord.

I'll spend the remainder of today packing, cleaning, and saying goodbyes. If all goes according to plan, I'll be in the States for 80 days, and return to Sarajevo on February 18th.

Thursday, November 26, 2002: Thanksgiving is undoubtedly my favorite holiday of all. So simple, it defies even Hallmark and Madison Avenue to reinvent it. And it's one of only a few unique traditions that we Americans can point to and say, "This is where we come from, this is at the core of our national identity." I feel sad that all the world doesn't celebrate this holiday.

Among the things that I'm most grateful for today are my friends and supporters, dear treasures who pray for me, encourage me, and keep me afloat here in Sarajevo. They are some of my brightest gifts. And I'm grateful for the joyful commission of loving the people of Bosnia in Jesus' name. It's difficult to imagine a richer or more rewarding task than accompanying these dear ones on their pilgrimage towards Jesus. And finally I'm grateful for the Truth of God that not only sets us free, but redeems all of creation from the bondage of sin. If I haven't learned anything else these past four years, I've learned the value of Truth.

I'll leave for the States early Sunday morning. Hopefully I'll be able to squeeze in one more update before I depart.

Wednesday, November 20, 2002: Sarajevo often acts like an amplifier to my spirit. Whatever feelings, circumstances, or obstacles I happen to be facing seem to be intensified by the atmosphere of the city. Sunsets are more beautiful, frustrations run deeper, and simple tasks like mailing a letter take on a life of their own. Since my return on Sunday evening I seem to be hanging out at the edge of the charts emotionally. The blessing has been watching the Iranians come alive in the special services being held this week in Farsi (the language of Iran). From the beginning, communication has been a special challenge with them. At times I've given whole Bible Studies only to walk away wondering if anything I said had been properly translated or understood. But this week has been different. Ken Temple, (from Atlanta), has been teaching the basics of the faith in impeccable Farsi. It's been sheer joy to watch the light of revelation dawn in their eyes, and to hear them worship from the depths of their heart in their own language and music.

On the other end of the scale is the soul-torment of knowing I'll be gone from here in less than two weeks, and that I'll be leaving with so many unanswered questions about their future and mine. Last night our friends hosted us to a traditional Iranian meal at the refugee camp. These people who often have no food in their cupboards generously shared the little they had, and embellished it with an amazing portion of honor and joy. I'm grateful for these moments, these glimpses of heaven that show up at the door offering grace and peace.

Friday, November 15, 2002: Teaching DTS students continues to be one of my favorite assignments. The young people here at the Budapest school are from Hungary, Serbia, Bosnia, Netherlands, Romania, United States, Sweden, Canada, and Bulgaria. The teachings have focused on Biblical principles of beauty, truth, worldview, and the Kingdom of God. What an incredible blessing to be involved in these young lives as they open their hearts to understand the ways of God. Soon they'll be dispersing to do outreaches in India and the Balkans.

In the meantime, God has been busy refreshing by the fellowship of the believers here in Budapest. I'm looking forward to returning to Bosnia on Sunday afternoon.

Friday, November 9, 2002: I'm in Budapest recovering from a cold, resting, and preparing to teach (with Lisa) in the DTS next week. Back in Bosnia, Ramadan began on Wendesday. It's a spiritually intense time as our Muslim neighbors fast during daylight hours and attend daily prayers. Ramadan is one of the five pillars of Islam, celebrating the month Mohammed received the Koran. We're spending additional time praying for our Muslim friends, asking God to give them a revelation of Jesus.

Monday, November 4, 2002: Several friends have written to say they're sensing frustration and weariness in my latest updates. One said, "Nice update. What's really going on?" I thought I was masking it better. But since you asked, I suppose there's no harm in admitting that am frustrated, and I do need prayer. I think it's a combination of the weariness of living day-in, day-out on a spiritual battlefield, being forever disappointed with myself and others, and being overwhelmed with needs around me. The thievery, the lack of honesty and the constant feeling of being used are all heavy burdens to carry. And heavier still is the way I keep falling into the same traps. Jesus sent his disciples out telling them to be as "wise as serpents, and innocent as doves." I, on the other hand, often feel like I have a sign across my forehead that says, "Tell me anything, and I'll believe it."

These things are exacerbated by the fact that for the first time in eight years of mission work I'm having to pull from my savings in order to stay afloat, while the people around me continue to beg for more help.

On a positive note, the city-wide prayer meeting this past Saturday drew almost sixty believers. It's a real step forward when people realize that they are not helpless against the situation in Bosnia. Jimmy has safely arrived in England and found a job after only three days. (He says he thinks he's in heaven!) The other refugees are still in the camps, though rumors continue to circulate about their closing. I'm actually more encouraged today than in the past several weeks. God is good, and all these pressures only drive us deeper into Him who is our only comfort and security. When I compare my life with missionaries from the past, I've got it made.

Wednesday, October 30, 2002: I'm sitting at my computer not knowing what to say. I wish mission work could be like tag-team wrestling. Certainly I'd be reaching for my partner's hand about now. Last update I wrote about the overwhelming needs here in Bosnia. But there's an "evil twin" in the mix as well: dishonesty. This morning I read on CNN that Russia- after thirty years - admitted to lying about the first dog sent into space. "Muttnick" really never lived for almost a week in his space capsule, but only for hours. Never mind.... a lie served their purpose better than the truth, so they deceived the world. This is the mentality we face every day here in Sarajevo. The atheistism of Communist thought left no room for a Divine Lawgiver, nor for absolute Truth. So the "truth" in this culture is simply whatever gets the job done. In many cases, people just don't know any better. Yet it hurts to be constantly disappointed by those you've trusted.

A few weeks ago when Samco was campaigning for a certain politician, I asked if he was an honest man. "Yes", he said, "Mostly. But not always." At least Samco was honest about his man. But the frightening thing is that honesty is very nearly a non-issue here. People just assume that nobody's telling the truth. The edges of darkness are more distant than we ever thought. But the power of the Gospel is more beautiful and precious than we ever imagined. Thankfully a few Bosnian believers are beginning to grasp the concept that Truth provides a firm foundation for the restoration of a nation.

Wednesday, October 23, 2002: Sometimes Bosnia feels like a black hole of need, a huge vacuum that sucks away resources, energy, and grace. This past week was overwhelming to the point of wanting to run away. From students who cannot afford textbooks, to refugees without shoes and medicine, to families without electricity and teenagers who haven't eaten, Sarajevo affords an atmosphere where a man can interact all day long without ever talking to a person without some kind of pressing personal need. And unfortunately I haven't yet learned the grace of dealing with it all. Sunday evening I very nearly crashed and burned after another frustrating day of feeling like it's never enough. The only thing that saved me was worship - getting into God's presence for His perspective and grace.

Monday we began offering daily Bible school classes for our church people. From 9:00 am until noon we're studying the Kingdom of God. Today I taught from Matthew 5-7, and tomorrow will speak on Biblical Worldview. The twenty-two students are eager, and even though it's required a lot of time and preparation, it's been a special joy for me to be in front of a classroom again.

Wednesday, October 16, 2002: Salmon, from Yemen, and Awni, from Palistine came to the Iranian service yesterday. They had lots of questions about Jesus, and weren't afriad to ask. David approached me afterwards and asked if I would pray with his friend, Reza, who was ready to trust Christ. Waiting in the back of the room we first questioned him and then explained the basics of the Gospel. Reza prayed and left meeting a new man. It's such a joy to watch the way God changes these people when they believe.

Five more dear refugee friends left the country yesterday in search of a new homeland: Farah and her daughters, Tina and Tehrani, Magid, and Nasser. I'll especially miss Nasser, who is such a devoted friend and wild-hearted believer. I'm beginning to think more about my upcoming visit to the states, how difficult it will be to leave these people knowing that many will scatter while I'm away. Rambod, (the first Iranian I baptised in my tub), called on from Sweden on Sunday night to say he was doing well, and still walking with Jesus. We've been distributing clothes and blankets to many who are needy, and of course food and medicine is always in demand.

Tuesday, October 8, 2002: It was a relatively quiet weekend, leaving me ample time to study and rest. Recently, in addition to my history project I've had an insatiable hunger for art. So I've been spending time letting God speak to me from the canvasses of great paintings. David Livingston said, "Missionaries ought to cultivate a taste for the beautiful. We are necessarily compelled to contemplate much moral impurity and degradation. We are often doomed to disappointment, becoming either callous or melancholy." I really can't think of a better way to describe myself this past week than "callous and melancholy." But the art, (along with prayer), has helped.

Yesterday I put on a tie, (this is newsworthy), and went with David to UNHCR to follow up on adoption possibilities. He, along with a number of the other refugees have a growing despondecy over the lack of progress in their situation. Many have been living in the refugee camps for a number of years now with no end in sight. I've also been alarmed of late to hear several speak of dying or suicide as the only way out. David confided recently, "Sometimes at night when I dream, I am somewhere else, in another country, in Iran, or with my family. And always when I wake up, I look around and I am still here." These dear people need our continued prayers.

Jimmy has made his way to the Netherlands, and Peter called this morning from Croatia. Bosnia held national elections over the weekend, and voted again along nationalistic (Muslim) lines. At least politically, little is changing, and the same divisions that brought the country to war are remaining in place.

Thursday, October 3, 2002: I suppose it's a good thing when I find myself too occupied with people and ministry to keep abreast of my updates. Even now it's difficult to know where to start: On Saturday and Tuesday we baptized Michael and Siomac (Iranians) in my bathtub. Peter left the country on Sunday after a warm send off from the refugee community. Monday night was an amazing recording session with a group of Roma who's vision is to pass out
evangelistic cassettes to their illiterate friends. Tuesday and Wednesday were filled with ministry meetings with the refugees, and in between times I've been working with David towards schooling and settling him into an adoptive home.

Our Baptist friends in the city are being threatened with expulsion since the government authorities have evidently caught wind of their summer Bible distribution project. Darkness forever opposes the light, and since Bosnia has been targeted to become the first official Islamic state in Europe, our efforts are tirelessly challenged by people and principalities. The big difference between our local friends and the Iranian refugees is that the refugees have had the advantage of living in an Islamic state. They consistently come looking for an alternative to the harsh suppression and legalism that has driven them from their homes. One testified this week, "When I read the Bible I saw the difference between the love of Jesus and the hostility of Mohammed." And to witness the change in their faces when they surrender to Christ is a heavenly endorsement of love and truth. Please continue to pray for this country, and for those who have been called to serve.

Thursday, September 26, 2002: I love the way people begin praying when I mention some need in these journal entries. Once again God has met me with the grace I was lacking in regard to feeling used and abused. I'm in a much better position today, and even though the situation hasn't changed significantly, my joy has returned. It's nice to be able to pass out blessings with a smile rather than a grumble! Our friends who fled the country last week have safely settled into refugee camps in Croatia. Alibaba, (The Iranian Army Captain), has already led another refugee to Jesus at his camp near Zagreb, and he's asking for Christian material to follow up. Nadia, from Iraq, confessed her faith in Jesus just before she left on Friday. "The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, which a man planted in his garden. It grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air perched in its branches." Luke 13:19

Today's Persian home group was a joy with six Iranian men and three teenage boys present. I wish my American friends could see the hunger these men have for the Word of God. Today we talked about gratefulness, faith, and obedience to God. We're also learning about listening prayer. So as we pray for man's needs, we listen to the Holy Spirit, and then quietly share whatever verses or insights God may give us. It's really rich to see them growing in their ability to hear God's voice.

Saturday, September 21, 2002: Haris and (Big) Alen have come by this evening to "bless" my apartment with a good, thorough cleaning. So while they vacuum, dust, and wipe, I'm able to write a short update. Their timing is perfect, since the past several week's endless requests for financial aid, (and being stolen from to boot), have left me feeling quite used and overwhelmed. People here seem to think that all Americans are loaded, like rich uncles doling out unlimited cash to whichever family member can most successully schmooze him. I'd quickly add that I'm very grateful to the Lord for what I do have, and that it's a great joy to share with others - until the handouts begin to obscure the relationship. I expect the Father must feel the same way when His "long-lost" sons and daughters show up at the door soliciting a quick miracle to keep their heads above water, and then to be on their way again. But tonight I'm blessed. My two brothers have reminded me that relationship outweighs gold, and that there are some who really are paying attention to the Spirit of Christ.

I've spoken with Jimmy twice since yesterday. He walked for 23 days into Slovenia, surviving on corn. Now he needs $300.00 US to complete his journey to England. Many thanks to those who prayed for his safety. Eight other refugees, (three adults and five children), were supposed to leave the country today. The adventure continues.

Tuesday, September 17, 2002: After several days with an intestinal virus, I rejoined the human race again on Sunday. (No worries... Mom, I had plenty of visitors and attention while I was down). Yesterday Lisa and I went to visit the Breza Refugee Camp. It was the first time for this facility. A flood of eager Kosovar children met us at the camp gate situated on a lonesome hill at the outskirts of town. But the bulk of our time was spent in the "Non-Yugoslav" barracks visiting our Iranian friends and hearing their stories. The UNHCR is trying to close this camp, and everyone is wondering where they'll be in a month's time. Only one of the men has been promised refugee protection, leaving the rest with difficult decisions about returning to Iran, fleeing to another country, or trying to scratch out a living in Bosnia. After listening to the challenges of daily life and the multiple fears they face, I could only assure them with a few words about how God has not forgotten them, and that He will use these hardships to fashion them into the people He wants them to be. Easy words for a comfortable American to utter.

Peter's request sent a chill over me, "Mr Don..... please pray for us. You are so close to God." I quickly set the record straight: NO, Peter, it is you and your humble friends who are nearest the bosom of the Almighty. For He dwells in a high and holy place, but also with the contrite and lowly of spirit. (Is. 57:15) In the third century when the Roman Emperor Gallienus demanded St Lawrence to surrender the treasury of the church, Lawrence went out and gathered
the poor and dispossessed believers together and presented them to the emperor. "These", he said, "Are the treasure of the church." (Lawrence was consequently burned at the stake in 258 AD). Our treasury may soon be scattered to the four winds, but they will never be out of God's watchful eye, nor far from His heart.

Wednesday, September 11, 2002: Iraqis and Iranians are bitter enemies. They fought a six year war during the eighties that left one million dead and another 1.7 million wounded. And of course everybody knows that both groups hate the Americans. That's why I'm constantly blown away by our fellowship here in Sarajevo. Waiting in the car yesterday, I found myself with Nadgi, Muhammed, Madgid, Tina, and Michael: three Iranians, two Iraqis, and an American. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize the potential for violence scrunched together into one small car. But the atmosphere, instead, was one of tenderness, care, and respect. I paused amid the conversation to consciously settle into the holiness of the moment: six friends of Jesus brought together in this unlikely place to share our laughter, our struggles, and our tears.

A year ago Jimmy's peace plan involved the US bombing Afghanistan with one million Bibles and chocolate bars. I smiled patronizingly at my friend's naivety. But really who knows what it might have accomplished? I for one, am not smart enough to sort out the nuances of foreign policy. But I find myself wondering a year later just exactly what
progress we, the church, have made in leading the Muslim world out of its darkness into faith in Christ. I recently heard Loren Cunningham, (one of the world's leading authorities on missions), say that there are currently only one thousand Christian missionaries serving the Muslim world of one billion people. If this is so, (and I belive it is), then the guns must roar, snuffing out the lives of countless Jimmys, and Nassers, and Mohammeds, and Peters. But I must believe there is a better way. Abraham Lincoln said, "Do I not destroy my enemy when I make him my friend?" "Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?" Isaiah 6:8

One year ago the United States and the Christian west was given a wake-up call. I wonder today if we haven't rolled over in the bed of our complacency and hit the snooze button.

Thursday, September 5, 2002: Several days ago Peter came by carrying the weight of the refugee camp on his shoulders. One year ago he was the only believer at the Breza camp, but now, largely due to his witness, there are over fourty! Two thirds of them are Kosovars, and the rest are Iranians, except for Dr Osman, a Palistinian Jew. Peter takes a fair amount of persecution and threats from the more radical Muslims, but he just shrugs it off and continues to trust Jesus to protect him. We received word several days ago that Jimmy has been separated from the rest of his companions who were trying to cross the border into Croatia. The four others have made it safely to Zagreb, where they can turn themselves over to the immigration police for protection and shelter. But Jimmy is still out there, somewhere on his own. (Please pray.)

The church is doing well in spite of a number of "issues" that our team has been facing the past several weeks. God continues to use imperfect people to build His kingdom, while at the same time requiring us to be honest about weaknesses and sin. Honesty is not one of the strong points of this culture, and it's obviously frightening to the Bosnians when such things are talked about. But it's a direct hit to the ways of darkness that have held this country in its grip for so long.

Saturday, August 31, 2002: Three time, now, foreign governments and organizations have invested the necessary capital to rebuild Sarajevo's Maternity Hospital, and each time the money has been embezzled or stolen. This is just one more example of how Bosnia is trying to rebuild itself, in the words of one local journalist, "on foundations of rotten wood." The hospital was destroyed during the four-year siege of the city. It had the misfortune of sitting on a knoll near the front lines. Every day the Serbian army pummeled the hospital, deliberately targeting the (mostly Muslim) mothers and newborn babies within. Daily radio broadcasts announced the talley of deliveries alongside the number fatalities until finally the casualties overtook the births. Lots of people would argue that things have improved since then. They no longer massacre babies in Sarajevo. But the same gutted conscience that murders babies is the very same conscience that steals the money to reconstruct the maternity hospital, regardless of whether it's in the heart of a Serb soldier or a Bosnian politician. Any culture without ethics is doomed to self-destruct. Bosnia's only hope forever remains the Gospel of Jesus Christ. No other worldview offers the tools necessary to rebuild such a fractured society.

Thursday, August 28, 2002: One of the things I find encouraging about this website "ministry" is the way I'm able to see God at work as the result of my friends praying for me. Since mentioning my need for solitude in my last entry, God has very graciously given me some rich times alone. The seasons are changing here. Soon the outdoor cafes will close, and everything will move indoors with the smoke and annoying techno music. And a season is changing in my soul as well: more "indoor time" in my heart-relationship with the Father. Jesus often compared his kingdom to farming, seeds, planting and harvest. I find there's a great need in mission work to patiently honor the seasons while God silently nurtures the seeds.

No word from Jimmy and Ali yet. Hopefully the silence means they're still working their way towards the next border. In the meantime, I miss his visits. The neighborhood boys, (Aldin, Zuti, Adis, & Samco), will return to school on Monday. They're pestering me for one last field trip to the swimming hole at Krajvica. David is coming by most days to work on his studies. He's a great student.

Saturday, August 24, 200: I smile now when I think how I used to make journal entries about not "feeling" like a missionary. Ever since I took up the Iranian cause I just haven't had time to notice. Now my need is for balance. It occurred to me this morning that along with being an gameroom, classroom, youth hostel, music studio, launderette, cinema, and fast food shop, my apartment has also recently become an internet cafe. It's a joy to share what I have with so many young people, but the one thing I lack is solitude and time apart. It just doesn't work to put it all off until I can crash and burn at the coast.

The Iranians are still wanting to study the work of the Holy Spirit. I can't imagine how it must feel for to emerge from the parched legalism of Islam to a living relationship with a God who lives within. After our study times together, they're always anxious for prayer. And it blesses me to see the way they're beginning to expect God to speak to us as we pray. More and more I'm becoming convinced that most of our problems would fade into the background if we honestly cultivated the discipline of listening prayer.

Wednesday, August 21, 2002: My time at the coast was so good I decided to extend it by two days. Every time I go to the Croatian coast I come away wondering why the world knows so little about it. With Greek and Roman ruins, medieval cities, towering mountains, secluded islands and crystal waters, it's everything and more than most people could want in a vacation spot. And as an added bonus, God enlarged my blessing by giving me time with two friends, Nikola and Isaiah, who each challenged me towards Jesus in their own way.

I returned early Tuesday morning and after a few hours of sleep I hauled myself to the Iranian service. While I was away, Alibaba, a former captain in the Iranian army, (and serious Muslim), received baptism. He and Jimmy came later in the evening to catch me up on their plans on making yet another attempt at fleeing the country. Even as I write, they're making their way towards the border. I feel like I'm beginning to take these things more in stride these days, and can do little more than pray with them and trust them to God's care. This morning I began helping David (age 15) with his studies. He's heartbroken he'll be missing another year of school in the refugee camp, (five years altogether), and I feel God is prompting me to invest in teaching him English, history, Bible, and Music. He's an eager student, and I'm excited to help. It's now 8:00 pm. Peter, Farshod, Aldin and Adis have just left. Only one more to go, and I'll be alone in my apartment again for the first time since yesterday afternoon. It's been a crazy day, but since my break at the coast I feel immeasurably more ready for the challenge.

Friday, August 9, 2002: I tried all day to get out of town, but there's just too much happening. Peter and Jimmy
were caught by the Croatian authorities and - thanks to a merciful judge - were returned to Bosnia. They arrived back in town even needier than ever. But ultimately the experience seems to have been good for them. After trusting God and having their way blocked, they both seem to be embracing the idea that this is where they belong for now.

In the meantime, God seems to be orchestrating a mini-vacation for me at the coast, meeting up with several friends at various points. I'll attempt to sneak out of town again in the morning. Tonight I had dinner with Muslim neighbors, and then met Nasser and David in town for coffee. Nasser continues to delay his return to Iran until he feels fully prepared. He's a breath of fresh air to me as one of only a few people I know who ask nothing from me, and actually pick up the check when we meet together. He constantly expresses his gratitude to God and demonstrates it by his generosity. Tonight he explained to me that his name means Nazarite, "Like Jesus," he says, "Thanks to God that he loves me so much to give me this name."

Thursday, August 8, 2002: Church camp is over for another year. Our happy mix of Bosnians, Croats, Serbs, Roma, and Iranians presented a curious picture to our neighbor campers scattered in the park. Seldom, if ever, do such groups associate, and certainly they never camp together. But we played, and worshipped, worked and laughed together as one happy family. And when the skies dumped buckets on us, we huddled together and sang under the tarps. David and Mustafa talked late into the night with our Muslim neighbors, sharing their testimonies in the face of heckles and ridicule.

For all practical purposes, my summer activities are over now except for some much-anticipated
rest at the coast. It's been a full and fruitful summer, but very draining as well. Tonight I'm thinking about fifteen year old David (inset). This Iranian teenager was abandoned by his parents several years ago and left at the refugee camp where - through Jimmy and others - he heard about Jesus. Now he awaits an adoptive family, his only hope of escaping the camp before adulthood. He's bright, (in spite of a five year absence of education), cheerful, and servant-hearted. Like a sponge, he's soaking up English, learning to play guitar and tin whistle, and memorizing scriptures. If anyone out there is interested in taking an Iranian son into the family, please let me know. This young man is a jewell, and he'll be a blessing wherever he goes.

Sunday, August 4, 2002: Last night I said goodbyes to my two closest Iranian friends, Jimmy, and Peter, (in photo). No longer welcome in this country, they're setting out in search of a friendlier place where they'll be able to find asylum, work, and a chance at normal existence. After taking a bus to northern Bosnia, they'll hike through the mountains across borders and eventually turn themselves in to the emmigration police in a Western European country. On their way out the door they asked to have my American friends pray for them. Both of these men are evangelists and leaders in the two refugee camps. Please pray as well that God will raise up others to step into their place of ministry. peter

Today after seeing our Dance Outreach off at the bus station, I'll go to Lake Borachko to join 100 others from our church for five days of camping together. Last year our church camp was a huge success, giving people the opportunity to live and play together in community. And it serves the added purpose of providing a holiday for those who cannot otherwise afford one. Ten of our Iranian friends are joining us, too, and they're very excited to be able to get away from the refugee camp for a few days.

Tuesday, July 30, 2002: "Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but much increase comes by the strength of an ox." (Prov. 14:4) Returning to Sarajevo felt like walking into a stinky manger. And it's all because of my dear Iranian friends whose troubles seem to grow like Jack's fabled beanstalk. God was gracious to give me a few day's break, but my return was greeted with a fresh list of needs and problems that only Jesus can sort out. There's nothing tidy about ministering to these refugees, but like a messy manger, the rewards are precious.

One of the foundational teachings of our YWAM Discipleship Training Schools is the concept of "ministering in the opposite spirit." St. Francis spoke of it eloquently in his famous prayer, "Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace: Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith........" In an area of the world that plays host to so much darkness and death, I've been seeing the power of God's Spirit to undo the forces of sin, first at the SOZO Festival in Hungary, and now again with the dance team on the streets of Sarajevo. As the twin darknesses of Islam and Communism have stifled freedom, creativity, and joy, the Father of Jesus is busy pouring Himself out in artistic expression, dance, and music. Again tonight, crowds gathered in spite of the rain to watch our dancers perform. And in their eyes you could see, (if you looked closely), an awakening of hope.

Tuesday, July23, 2002: Five Kossovar refugees came to Jesus at the Iranian service this afternoon! It was amazing. I was feeling frazzled, weak, and ill-prepared, and with five language groups and ages ranging from two to fifty, the service was full of distractions and confusion. But when I gave the invitation, Daut, Erdjan, Fiklija, Mevljan, and Vahida, (all from Muslim backgrounds), stood to their feet and came forward for prayer. It was an incredible moment of grace. Please pray that these new brothers and sisters would be encouraged and strengthened in the days to come. peter

As a result of the war and the scores of concentration camps scattered in the countryside, there are as many as many as 600,000 victims of rape and torture among Bosnia's three million people. This means that when I walk through the streets about one in five people I pass could tell their own story of demonic humiliation and torment. They hide it well, stuffing it into secret recesses of their soul where it will ferment into depression, fear, and bitterness. Perhaps one day they'll reach out to touch the hem of the garment of the Man from Galilee.

He was sighted on the "walking street" this past weekend when our outreach team from YWAM, Montana danced to his heartbeat; outrageous songs of freedom and joy. As hundreds of passing people gathered to watch the choreography of grace, I was busy reflecting on the contrast before me: the Lord of the Dance peddling life to a broken and hopeless audience. "I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black; It's hard to dance with the devil on your back. They buried my body, and they thought I'd gone. But I am the dance and I still go on." First a person hears the music, then he begins to tap his foot to the rhythm. And finally, at the invitation of the Lord of life, he ventures onto the dance floor.

Early tomorrow morning we'll be traveling with a small group of friends to the SOZO International Arts Festival in Baja, Hungary. I'll be taking "Little" Alen, (a young believer), and Aldin, (a Muslim). The five day festival, featuring Christian artists and musicians from all over, will draw young people from Central and Eastern Europe for a taste of Heaven's creativity. I'll post pictures of the festival and our dance team when I return on Sunday.

Wednesday, July 17, 2002: Jimmy just stopped by to report that the police are threatening to deport him back to Iran. It's common knowledge that Christian converts are often persecuted or martyred in Iran, a fact that should automatically qualify him as a refugee. But Muslim case workers at the UN continue to deny the persecution and refuse him refugee status. So his only viable option is to flee the country illegally; Find a "smuggle man" and cross the border into Europe where refugees are more protected. At one time I would have adamantly opposed such a decision, but the truth is, it's illegal for him to stay, and it's illegal for him to go. So what's the difference? Just before he walked out the door, he asked me for help. I never expected mission work to involve such complicated questions. There's no doubt in my mind that God wants to make a way for this brother, but I'm wrestling tonight with the role I may be asked to play, (most likely only a financial one). The Muslims have offered their help if he'll deny his faith in Jesus. And indeed, if he wasn't a Christian, the problem would cease to exist. But what is it that we, his Christian family can do? He seems to have only a matter of days left to decide.

Our summer outreach officially ends tomorrow morning, and two hours later we'll go to the airport to greet another team from YWAM, Montana. This new team will spend the next month ministering on the streets through dance. We're all excited about the possibilities God will unfold.

Wednesday, July 10, 2002: God continues to give wonderful growth to the church. New visitors arrive each week including neighbors we've befriended through our coffee bar ministry. (Bosnians can't resist a cup of coffee.) But as Martin Luther said, "Where God would build a church, the devil builds a chapel." Even as God adds to our fellowship

there are many situations of conflict and sin arising that require much wisdom and grace. We're still a young body and learning to handle these things as we go.

Some readers have asked for an update on specific friends. Jimmy has been disengaged the past two months, preoccuped with his own pain and the hopelessness of his situation. Ibro has been distracted by art academy and a new circle of "artistic" friends. Elvir, too, has been isolated with difficult issues. But in each case I'm seeing God at work. "Little" Alen is growing spiritually as well as physically. I'll soon have to find a new adjective for him.

Friday, July 5, 2002: I wasn't prepared when twelve Iranians turned up at my apartment for home group on Thursday afternoon. There's not enough space inside, so we took the meeting to the deck, spread out blankets and peter

sat "Persian-style" on the floor. Scrapping my study, we decided to tackle their questions instead. "How do you know if you're filled with the Holy Spirit?" "Why isn't God answering my prayers?" "Why is it a shame, (in 1 Corinthians chapter eleven), for men to have long hair?" I breathed out some frantic prayers and jumped in feet-first. I have to say it feels unusual to have such respect from any group. Iranians have a deep sense of honor, and as a missionary, they hang onto my words with great authority. Too much, in my opinion, to suit me. But God's Spirit was there, and He gently walked us through the questions. It was a perfect day with cloud cover and a gentle breeze. And a deep sense of gratitude swept over me as I shared the moment with these friends.

Wednesday, July 3, 2002: Monday night we took the Iranians and Bosnians to see The Count of Monte Cristo. The twin themes of rvengeance and the justice of God are deep seated concerns in the Bosnians and Iranians respectively. It sparked some great discussion later. Afterwards we all walked to the center of town to hear the Sarajevo Symphony's outdoor Vienna concert. It was a revelation to me, (after talking with my Iranian friends), that Muslim nations do not have symphony orchestras. In fact the only music they can legally listen to is the Qu'ran set to music. In the case of Iran, the symphony was disbanded thirty years ago when the Shah was deposed and the radicals took over. So you can imagine what a treat it was for these dear people to hear strains of Strauss wafting through the nighttime air. It never ceases to amaze me how completely the enemy is committed to the destruction of anything of beauty, truth, or justice the bears the image of God.

Friday, June 28, 2002: My life as a missionary is almost certainly not as adventurous as it may sound to my readers. I pick and choose the topics I write about and purposefully neglect the mundane out of respect for time. Some days are adventures. Others are taken up with meetings, study, updating my webpage, or simply hanging out with people. I write this not as an apology, but as a clarification. Jesus brings meaning into the commonplace no less then he does with the thrills and adventure. "Whether you eat, or drink, or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God." (1 Cor. 10:31)

Yesterday I met again with my former Muslim friend. He's delayed his return so he can study God's word, and we're investing the time into "crash discipleship." I asked a few questions to be sure he understands the life of the Spirit. "Holy Spirit speak to me in my heart." He says. And the law? "It cannot save me." "God send Jesus. He die on cross. His blood cover my sin." This man was the equivalent of a mafioso in his own country, and he's not afraid to die for his faith. I'm confident that if he lives, his testimony will reach many. He loves much because he's been forgiven much.

Jesus Christ redeemed our lives to be adventure stories. How could they be anything else with God himself at the wheel? In the words of Dorothy Sayer, "The people responsible for the crucifixion of Jesus never accused Him of being a bore - on the contrary, they thought him too dynamic to be safe. It has been left for later generations to muffle up that shattering personality and surround Him with a yawning ho-hum atmosphere of tedium. We have efficiently trimmed the claws of the Lion of Judah, certified Him 'meek and mild,' and recommended Him as a fitting household pet for pale curates and pious old ladies. To those who knew him, however, He in no way suggested a milk and water person; they objected to Him as a dangerous firebrand. True, He was tender to the unfortunate, patient with the honest inquiries, and humble before Heaven; but he insulted respectable clergymen by calling the hypocrites.... He went to parties in disreputible company and was looked upon as a drunkard and a glutton.... He assaulted indignant tradesmen and threw them and their belongings out of the temple..... He showed no proper deference for wealth or social position..... and He asked disagreeable searching questions that could not be answered by rule of thumb. He was emphatically not a dull man in His human lifetime.

Monday, June 24, 2002: One of my most poignant moments this week was during my last meeting with a friend, a former Muslim, who was about to return to his country. Recently baptized, he intimated that if he were caught carrying a Bible across the border he would be imprisoned or executed. (He's already spent twelve years in prison before coming to Bosnia as a refugee). So he's been spending his time devouring the Word, reading on the tram and weeping at God's goodness towards him. We reviewed together some of the most important things to remember: God's love, listening to His voice, prayer, gratefulness, and obedience. I reminded him that the early Christians had no Bibles, nor could they have read them if they'd found one. God is with Him, and the Holy Spirit indwells him. That is enough. Once at home, he will begin the dangerous task of searching for a secret fellowship of believers, and perhaps even a Bible of his own.

Yesterday morning Peter brought another friend by my apartment for baptism. A pharmicist by vocation, this brother too had been imprisoned, (in Iran), for an article he'd published in a journal. Now emmigrating to a new country, he wanted to be baptized first. I believe God is bringing in these "firstfruits" as future missionaries who will share the good news with their Islamic kinsmen throughout the world. It is our only hope, and our only reasonable answer to the militant hatred we read about in the daily newspaper.

Thursday, June 20, 2002: I felt like I was speaking to a gathering of the United Nations at Tuesday's refugee camp ministry. My message, "The Treasure in the Field," was translated first into Persian, then into Bosnian, and finally into Albanian. It was a new place for us, and the conditions were cramped and suffocating. But I noticed the refugees didn't complain much. They're used to the same conditions in the camps. Until I started working with displaced persons I never thought about the fact that Jesus and his family were refugees in Egypt when they fled from King Herod. It's a powerful concept to share with these dear people, (mostly Muslim, or former Muslims), that God himself has experienced their misery firsthand as a refugee in the world that He created. The most difficult time for me is always at the end of the meeting when people come with their needs for medicine, shoes, etc. Our little ministry has no funding beyond our own pocket money and tithes, and to sort through such overwhelming needs for the most pressing ones is an excrutiating task. There's so much I'd like to tell about these people, but to post it here, or to mention their names could in some cases endanger of their lives. The fact that they are refugees in Bosnia is already a testimony that they are fleeing persecution and oppression in their homelands.

This week we said goodbye to one who is being deported back to his home country, a place where Christian converts are often murdered or executed. Since the birth of Christianity there have been an estimated seventy million martyrs for the faith, and forty-five million of them have died during the last one hundred years. (Some of the first were the one million or so Armenian Christians who were forced into the Syrian deserts to be massacred by the Turks during the WWl). Befriending these people has given these statistics human face.

Monday, June 17, 2002: Yesterday we had a baptism service at the river. Ten Bosnians, one Roma, and three Iranians left their old lives buried beneath the water of the Milacka River. The high point for me was when Muhammed read from Romans 5:8-10 "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us..... for if, when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!" Just a few days ago Muhammed told me that
reading the Koran used to make him sad, but when he reads the Bible it makes him happy. "Good news" will do that. peter

On Friday we took one of our visiting music teams to the Refugee camp for a concert of fifties and sixties music. We were denied admission, but someone suggested having the concert in an orchard a kilometer or so above the camp. So there they were, a group of professional Nashville Musicians in the middle of nowhere, singing Simon and Garfunkle to a field of Middle Eastern refugees while the cows wandered past. A couple of neighborhood children chanced upon us, and I couldn't help but chuckle at what must have been running through their minds at that moment. God never tires of serendipidous blessings.

Thursday, June 13, 2002: Judging by our refugee ministry there are many Muslims who are hungry for something more than the empty legalism of Islam. Along with the Iranians, we 're having Iraqis and even Palistinians coming to hear the gospel at our Tuesday afternoon meetings. These are people who, for the most part have lived in nations governed by Islamic law. Oppressed and backward, none of these nations enjoy democracy. Modern Democracy finds it's roots in the idea of man's sinfulness. "Power currupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." In other words, if one man is given all the power, he will almost surely become corrupted. Therefore a system of checks and balances must be in place to insure governments against tyrants. Islam, on the other hand, teaches that man is born "good" and only becomes a sinner when he converts to another religion. Therefore, if the nation is purely Islamic, and governed by Islamic laws, a utopian society is possible. Each of our friends in the refugee camp has a story to tell about the utopian societies they've fled. I heard recently that statistically there is only about one missionary for every one million Muslims in the world. (That is - one missionary reaching out to the Muslim people). Where is the church in all of this? I'm afraid it's because of the church's failure to reach these dear people with the love of Jesus that we are facing the horrifying possibility of a violent confrontation with worldwide Islam. Let's pray that God will give us another chance to do the work with love and not missiles.

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