Sarajevo: a city without Christmas

“Always winter, never Christmas.” I downloaded this picture of Sarajevo from the internet.

This could be any place in Eastern Europe during the Cold War. The streets and buildings are brown and dirty. The surrounding mountains are topped in snow yet they trap in all the pollution from the city. These are the same mountains from where in the 1990s Serb guns lobbed shells down into the city, killing innocent civilians. Even though it is December now, there are no holiday lights, no piped in Bing Crosby, no Santa or manger displays, no glow on children’s faces. I am in Muslim Sarajevo, a city without Christmas.

Delvin and I entered one of the many coffee shops in town, each with its own décor and personality. This coffee shop was not well lit. In Bosnian, the name of the coffee shop meant “fire.” The air was blue from cigarette smoke. Music pulsated through the room. Delvin and I found the only available table. We sat down and I glanced to my left. There hidden behind a pillar was a table where a young couple was making out with such intensity as if they both were groping for a lost coin in each other’s throat. To my right flush on the wall was a big screen TV inside a plastic golden picture frame. I couldn’t decide if it looked cheap or if it was totally hip.

Delvin dispensed quickly with the small talk and our religious conversation began. Delvin is a tall lanky perpetual college student with a hearty laugh; he looks European and like an Alabama fraternity boy but is a devout Muslim. Delvin is easy to like. He has hung around the American guys in our mission to Sarajevo for about 5 years. We talked for over 2 hours about the differences between Christianity and Islam. Essentially, he believes that God can do anything He wants except take on a human body and die for our sins. He likes us as Americans but implies we are foolish for believing in Jesus Christ.

Delvin, on the left, with my good friend Scott Moffatt, from a picture this past summer.

“Do you believe,” Delvin asks me in great English, “that a man can live an evil life and then at age 80 ‘receive Christ’ and he will go to heaven? That isn’t fair!” “In some ways it may not be fair,” I countered and then I leaned forward and looked in Delvin’s eyes. “but its beautiful!” I let that hang in the air and said, “How can you have the audacity to think that you, rebellious, sinful man can stand alone before Almighty, Holy, Righteous God with only your good works and bribe Him to let you into heaven? Your god is too small and your idea of holiness is not nearly holy enough.”

Besides Delvin, there are some other great guys with whom I spent time during my recent visit to Sarajevo. Each of them I met previously (except Torkin) this past summer.

George: I feel a real connection with George. He is a new Christian with superb English. With George I love to laugh, tell stories and hang out. He is the sort of guy that would be a lot of fun on a road trip. George has a checkered past and we are trusting God to do a great work in his life. Yet between the need to work and school, it is a struggle for George to be consistent in a small group Bible study with our team in Sarajevo.

Achmed: He is also a new Christian and like George, struggles to find the time for Bible study between the demands of school and work. I met Achmed over lunch and he told me about how he grew up as an orphan. He said, “Hey this will be my first Christmas ever so please send me a Christmas card.” His perspective touched my heart. I told him, “Bro, if you ever want to visit America you know you’re gonna hafta change your name.”

George on the left, I am in the middle, Achmed on the right. He is holding the Bosnian translation of Josh McDowell’s “More Than a Carpentar.”

Booki (rhymes with “cookie”): Even though he is Bosnian by nationality, he grew up in Serbia, a common phenomenon that happens in this part of the world when country boundaries are drawn in a map room by politicians and military leaders. A gentle guy, yet with black hair parted in the middle and a mustache, he looked like someone who could have played bass in either Supertramp or Blue Oyster Cult. He learned English by watching movies and spoke with a slight Irish accent. He really wants to believe but has a hard time accepting the deity of Jesus Christ, as do most with Islamic backgrounds.

Booki, on the left, with his friend Silvio.

Torkin: On Wednesday night I spoke to a gathering of about 30 students and used movie clips to share and explain the gospel. Torkin began to heckle me from the audience. His beef was not with Christianity per se but with the idea of God in general. After sparing for about 10 minutes in front of the whole group, I said that he and I would talk afterward so I can continue my presentation. We did talk afterward and after 20 minutes he told me, “Oh, I believe there is a God; I just wanted to present the atheistic arguments.” Honestly, I didn’t know how to interpret those words. And I still don’t.

Torkin the Heckler

It was a privilege for me to have my daughter Liz with me. She missed several days of school and totally submerged herself into missionary life for a few days. She stayed with the college girls on the STINT team (STINT is a one year commitment), and accompanied them as they went grocery shopping at the outdoor market and met with Bosnian girls for evangelism and follow-up. Bosnia was a different environment for Liz as she experienced “rocky soil” where each conversion is hard-fought. She is used to the ripe harvest fields of Uganda, where she has spent her past 2 summers.

Liz (on the left) with the girls of this year’s STINT team in Sarajevo: Amy, Katie and Tiffany.

There is certainly part of my heart in Sarajevo. Like I reflected when I returned from there in June, there is a purity, a completeness, to entering these Balkan cities and sharing Christ. Often times these cities have fewer evangelicals than similarly-sized Middle Eastern cities.