A Serbia Moment

I looked out this morning over a balcony, across an empty street to a squarish, red-roofed apartment building.  There were gouges in the earth that might have been old, healing-over bomb craters.  I caught myself scanning the flawless blue sky for storks; for just a moment I was in Serbia.  My heart is there now, that quickly.  My prayer for Eastern Europe is the same this day as always:

The people, the beautiful lost people of Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia, Macedonia, Hungary, Romania.  Lord, they are so precious, such a treasure that seems to slip from Your hand.  They deserve to know You and to speak Your name in praise.  They were created for worship; they will never be what they were meant to be without it.  Please continue fanning the flame that is beginning to burn there.  Bring down strongholds of lies and generational curses.  Bring the nations to Yourself for nourishment and comfort as an infant to its mother's breast.
 
 It is happening you know.  There are many small fires of Truth throughout the area, some only a spark, perhaps one family or even one person, but when these people are alight with the Gospel they burn with white-hot intensity.  The magic is that when you put someone dry, brittle, and dead near someone aflame with Christ, they will catch fire.

There are so many with the same story; abuse, neglect, drugs or drink, hopelessness, despondency, sometimes suicide attempts, desperation.  They have a driving hunger for food that satisfies.  Like that hungering infant, they don't know what the need is or what will fill it, but they recognize it when they taste it and they take it in joyfully.

Then they go to their friends and neighbors with a desire to share that is completely unfathomable to comfortable, prosperous American Christians.  They are starving people who have found bread, and they know they are living among people who are still starving, who still need bread. 

They are like miners lost in caverns.  When they find the light, the way out, they jump and dance and scream to their comrades still wandering in the dark:  "Light!  I've found light!  I've found the way out!  Come this way!  This is the way of rescue!"

I'm not really in Serbia this morning, of course.  The communist-looking squarish apartment building overlooking gouges that on cursory glance could be bomb damage?  That's a condo overlooking the sand traps of a golf course.  I am 5448 miles in space and seven hours in time away from Serbia but my heart is ever there, and I pray my Father allows me to return soon.  Often my thoughts echo the words of Paul to the Romans:

I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, since the news of your faith has become known everywhere.   I assure you that you are always in my prayers.  I am constantly asking Him that He will somehow make it possible for me now, at long last, to come to (you).  I am longing to see you.