Did I ever tell you about a friend of mine, Izmet Naziri? He burst into the seen last year having attended a prophetic prayer evening and became a Christian. Since then he’s been ‘that guy with the fire’ he’s on it bruv, telling everyone and anyone he could about Jesus. He opened his house to start a house church thing and even in the face of difficulties, threats and challenges the spirit of an evangelist was bubbling up in this guy.
Then comes a dark day – Today on our extinctive program we were gonna visit Izmet and the few families that have begun to except the truth of Jesus. The threats, the lack of employment and difficult times had obviously taken a toll on this solid soldier. Last week we went with him to the school with him to assess it for a potential kids program. He wasn’t quite himself! The frayed tethers of the simple difficulties of life were blowing in the wind, slowly unwinding. Then today, we planed to visit, encourage and uplift the small band on believers in Babaloce, the village that has chased out religion. But! We hear that Izmet has decided to quit! To give up! To turn away! Not only that, but as this guy was responsible for the entrance of Jesus he seems to have made it his job to send him out too. As we role up the village seems almost deserted. With the help of one, sound local we walk from house to house of those we’ve met on various occasions but are met, with closed doors. The warning call has been sounded, windows are closed and curtains are drawn. The road leads to the view of the perfect mountains. Under the shadow of greatness stands emptiness in a harrowing form. Izmet Nazire had become more than just a church goer to me, but a friend, we had shard many strange conversations in broken English and Albanian, we had travelled together shared food and drinks. We had prayed in his house and spoken the word of the living God over his life. Together with had pleaded the case of God over the city of Gjakova my mum and Dad had even been to his house. But today his door is well and truly closed. In the seemingly deserted streets and meet Hackie, even he, under the guise of having ‘visitors’ soon, didn’t seem to have time for the church, to pray or to simply talk.
This is a village that called the police on the Christians, and beat the Muslims into to hospital. This village seems to be trying its best to claim another life to its total. And this time it’s a friend of mine. My heart is heavy, my burden hard my eyes slowly filling and the thought of this incredible story of faith facing and undeserved, early exit. As we left we passed the house of this amazing man, his familiar sandals sit on the steps outside almost hinting that he had left something important behind.
But, I believe, this isn’t the end of the story; I believe with everything in me that there is another chapter to be told, a new tail to unfold and Greater things to come in this, harshest of environments. ‘’Are battle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers and principalities of darkness..’’ The battle is on for the lives of Izmet Naziri, Islam Naziri, Bekim, Hakie, Solomen and the people of Babaloc.
What can you do? Pray, as if it all depends on God. Coz it really does. It’s only Jesus, that will free this village!
Oh yeah, then just a quick trip to Slovan, the trailer village, that turned into 3 hours, with family after family of desperate, difficult, tragic circumstances. With nothing to offer but sweets and prayers we were armed for the vary job we were sent to do. To preach Jesus, to show kindness and to be love. What more can you do?
‘’...Lord, please! Teach us how to pray....!’’
Friday, 31 July 2009
Monday, 20 July 2009
Wot is beautiful?
So the other day I held a 3 month old baby, and as I twiddled her fingers and spoke the international language of baby to her i couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for this life. Born into situations that for some would be too much, into culture where to have just a little is to have enough, to be brought into an environment of different views on religion and how to live life. I prayed that this life, no matter where it ends up, that God would find her. I couldn’t help but look into her tiny eyes and see beauty.
This year I’ve learned how to see beauty in all manner of things, in high-rise block of flats overlooking the manor where drugs and crime run the streets, standing on the crown of Smyrna praying for rain in that city. I’ve found it in a personality, that unexpectedly took me by surprise, but with passion for life, enthusiasm and desire exploded into every situation good bad, happy and sad and I’ve learned how to see the beauty in that. In standing over Gjakova, all too aware of the desperate poverty surrounding me but calling out, joining with God and asking for a change, from peace hope and identity to be found. Some things are simply, just, beautiful.
In the eyes of a young life, just lots a family member but excited to eat well for a day. And in a beggar, who didn’t have to go hungry, who’s whole persona changed before our eyes. And iv seen it in humility, of people that love Jesus, that lavish that love on others that live as if the spreading of the word all rested on their shoulders, but who return at the end of the day to the same settings and situations of the very same people they are striving to help. And in the heart of someone’s story, a story of faith, of struggle of lose, of heart breaking situations of desperate times when the there seemed like there was no hope, and no way out, but then in holding on to the only hope that is ‘’...quite frankly, guaranteed..’’
Where do you see beauty? Do you stop to observe for long enough, do you thank God for these little (and sometimes massive, daily miracles of faith hope and peace standing out amongst a crooked and deprived generation with everything they are screaming Jesus into their environment and flooding the dark that surrounds’ them with blinding life giving light from the very author of the story.
Find something beautiful today. It’s not hard.
This year I’ve learned how to see beauty in all manner of things, in high-rise block of flats overlooking the manor where drugs and crime run the streets, standing on the crown of Smyrna praying for rain in that city. I’ve found it in a personality, that unexpectedly took me by surprise, but with passion for life, enthusiasm and desire exploded into every situation good bad, happy and sad and I’ve learned how to see the beauty in that. In standing over Gjakova, all too aware of the desperate poverty surrounding me but calling out, joining with God and asking for a change, from peace hope and identity to be found. Some things are simply, just, beautiful.
In the eyes of a young life, just lots a family member but excited to eat well for a day. And in a beggar, who didn’t have to go hungry, who’s whole persona changed before our eyes. And iv seen it in humility, of people that love Jesus, that lavish that love on others that live as if the spreading of the word all rested on their shoulders, but who return at the end of the day to the same settings and situations of the very same people they are striving to help. And in the heart of someone’s story, a story of faith, of struggle of lose, of heart breaking situations of desperate times when the there seemed like there was no hope, and no way out, but then in holding on to the only hope that is ‘’...quite frankly, guaranteed..’’
Where do you see beauty? Do you stop to observe for long enough, do you thank God for these little (and sometimes massive, daily miracles of faith hope and peace standing out amongst a crooked and deprived generation with everything they are screaming Jesus into their environment and flooding the dark that surrounds’ them with blinding life giving light from the very author of the story.
Find something beautiful today. It’s not hard.
Sunday, 19 July 2009
The word became flesh and rocked up into town
Right in the mist of it, dead in the thick of it, how many times did we talk bout this?
Right in the thick of it, hold up the mist of it. This, is, it!
So this year we talk a lot about prayer, about being the answer to your prayers, about being the hands and feet of Jesus. About turning up and being. We got excited about people that were out doing the stuff, living life on the edge and feeling alive. Echoes of Jackie Pullenges ‘’..if you wana see revival build your church in the gutter..’’ and the classic ‘’Some wanna live in the sound of church and chapel bell, but me, I wanna run a rescue shop in the very gates of hell’’.
Spurred on by the desire and passion of people to pray, we ventured out to the darken mhallah secvers? To take on an upfront full night of prayer. Armed with sleeping bags bibles and the knowledge that God can do Immeasurably more (well, simmo on the other hand was prepared for everything other than nuclear fall out with his SAS survival kit) we set up base, expecting to meet the boss, hear his plane and join with his cries for change in the forgotten end of town
In English this place is called Gypsy Street, named after a high ranking roma the population could be around 150 families. The tone of the place is set as we arrived and are greeted by an 11 year old boy sitting on the side of the road at 1130pm eating a bag of crisp. I got questions, with no answers, wot can we strange English boys do hear, can we make a difference? Will us staying up all night in any way be of any help to this community. In the natural, no! I’m sure a lot of folk stay up all night. But in the spiritual flipping heck yeah. ‘’..pray as if it all depends on God..’’ Right here, right now, it all depends on God, flicking through the pages remembering the promises. We join with the cries of Gods heart for his people called by his name to turn once again to the creator of all things. We thank God for the lives that have been changed by the relentless work of his soldiers on the ground and dare, slightly naturally sceptically, to ask for more. More than this, more than we can think or imagine or sometimes even understand. Some times without knowing the words to say I just find myself imagining wot could be!, if the tide turned, if this little street in this little known place caught the fire and was transformed. Do we dare believe for this, dare imagine the repercussions on this town this city this country. It’s hard in a place like this, when you look in the faces of the kids. You contemplate what they will become, how they will live the little prospects they have and the likely hood they are faced with in becoming a product of their environment.
And then, as dawn breaks and the daylight floods in, I see a rose. Growing strong out of the mix of concert, rubbish and dirt. Fully in bloom and beautiful and I’m touch that God can make something so sweet, so beautiful so strong out the rubbish, out of the grime, out of this place. We’ve be taught to find God in a culture. Today I saw God, in a flower and I’m amazed, again at how the same
God who made the universe, in this small part of his earth care’s enuff to shine a light hear, that there might be growth, that there might be beauty, that there might be life!
If you get some time, pray for Mahalla scevers (Gypsy street) pray the daylight would flood this place that darkness would be flushed out and that the kingdom would be firmly planted hear. Pray for Pepe and Driton, and the other Christians that live in this community. Pray for the relentless work of the church hear, that they wouldn’t get tired of doing good.
This morning at church wot a humbling experience it was having prayed in this street to see 4 young girls from the community stand up and act out a little drama they had put together themselves about how good it is to read the bible, pray and worship the living God. They are coming to prayer together at 5pm tomorrow in out basement. Is this more than we can imaging? I think God has a lot more in store for this place, lets join him in seeing it come to be........
thanks
Right in the thick of it, hold up the mist of it. This, is, it!
So this year we talk a lot about prayer, about being the answer to your prayers, about being the hands and feet of Jesus. About turning up and being. We got excited about people that were out doing the stuff, living life on the edge and feeling alive. Echoes of Jackie Pullenges ‘’..if you wana see revival build your church in the gutter..’’ and the classic ‘’Some wanna live in the sound of church and chapel bell, but me, I wanna run a rescue shop in the very gates of hell’’.
Spurred on by the desire and passion of people to pray, we ventured out to the darken mhallah secvers? To take on an upfront full night of prayer. Armed with sleeping bags bibles and the knowledge that God can do Immeasurably more (well, simmo on the other hand was prepared for everything other than nuclear fall out with his SAS survival kit) we set up base, expecting to meet the boss, hear his plane and join with his cries for change in the forgotten end of town
In English this place is called Gypsy Street, named after a high ranking roma the population could be around 150 families. The tone of the place is set as we arrived and are greeted by an 11 year old boy sitting on the side of the road at 1130pm eating a bag of crisp. I got questions, with no answers, wot can we strange English boys do hear, can we make a difference? Will us staying up all night in any way be of any help to this community. In the natural, no! I’m sure a lot of folk stay up all night. But in the spiritual flipping heck yeah. ‘’..pray as if it all depends on God..’’ Right here, right now, it all depends on God, flicking through the pages remembering the promises. We join with the cries of Gods heart for his people called by his name to turn once again to the creator of all things. We thank God for the lives that have been changed by the relentless work of his soldiers on the ground and dare, slightly naturally sceptically, to ask for more. More than this, more than we can think or imagine or sometimes even understand. Some times without knowing the words to say I just find myself imagining wot could be!, if the tide turned, if this little street in this little known place caught the fire and was transformed. Do we dare believe for this, dare imagine the repercussions on this town this city this country. It’s hard in a place like this, when you look in the faces of the kids. You contemplate what they will become, how they will live the little prospects they have and the likely hood they are faced with in becoming a product of their environment.
And then, as dawn breaks and the daylight floods in, I see a rose. Growing strong out of the mix of concert, rubbish and dirt. Fully in bloom and beautiful and I’m touch that God can make something so sweet, so beautiful so strong out the rubbish, out of the grime, out of this place. We’ve be taught to find God in a culture. Today I saw God, in a flower and I’m amazed, again at how the same
God who made the universe, in this small part of his earth care’s enuff to shine a light hear, that there might be growth, that there might be beauty, that there might be life!If you get some time, pray for Mahalla scevers (Gypsy street) pray the daylight would flood this place that darkness would be flushed out and that the kingdom would be firmly planted hear. Pray for Pepe and Driton, and the other Christians that live in this community. Pray for the relentless work of the church hear, that they wouldn’t get tired of doing good.
This morning at church wot a humbling experience it was having prayed in this street to see 4 young girls from the community stand up and act out a little drama they had put together themselves about how good it is to read the bible, pray and worship the living God. They are coming to prayer together at 5pm tomorrow in out basement. Is this more than we can imaging? I think God has a lot more in store for this place, lets join him in seeing it come to be........
thanks
Monday, 13 July 2009
C'mon
A while back, I spoke to ‘The boss’ about prayer and what we had been experimenting with back home. How God had shown up as we prayed. How, God was meeting us, how he was moulding us and shaping us, and how we were had the privilege of once again walking in the garden in the heat of the afternoon with dad.
As time passed God himself built on the idea of prayer, of conversation with him. Before long we didn’t even have to push the point people seemed to be interested, intrigued even, in getting know dad once again.
But then, sometimes you think is it worth it, will it make a change. In the face of monumental poverty, in a place where the rich get richer and the ridiculously poor get shafted daily, wot difference will a few peoples feeble, faithless prayers make?
In comes the proverbial slap in the face.
And my feeble whispered faithless prayer, Evokes a thunderous, resounding, bone shaking "Amen!"From Countless Angels, from heroes of the faith, from Christ himself and He is the original dreamer The ultimate winner, Guaranteed
Tonight after a day of continuous nonstop prayer, in which every slot was filled and every person turned up for, on time! (If you know anything about Kosova culture you will be laying on the floor in amazement at right now) People simply discovered what it was to spend a little time with Dad, to see how he was, to be reminded of love, grace, peace and to be empowered envisioned and inspired. Polished off by a 3 hour communal corporate prayer bonanza I couldn’t help but smile, not coz I wanted to big myself up and admire what the west had done for this church, not coz the prayer room looked nice and pretty and not coz i wanted to look kool in front of my pals, (although all these things did briefly cross my mind, sorry God, really) But in the amazement of the chorus of angels, shouting screaming, cheering AMEN AMEN and AMEN to the simple prayers of humble servants, arm’s linked in unity calling for a change, for a turn of the tide for a beaten broken, pain ridden generation to know what it is to love and be loved. It is as simple as that.
In the well versed words of Jon Freeman/Pete Greg/the wired stuffed puppet things on the corsa adverts.
C'MON
As time passed God himself built on the idea of prayer, of conversation with him. Before long we didn’t even have to push the point people seemed to be interested, intrigued even, in getting know dad once again.
But then, sometimes you think is it worth it, will it make a change. In the face of monumental poverty, in a place where the rich get richer and the ridiculously poor get shafted daily, wot difference will a few peoples feeble, faithless prayers make?
In comes the proverbial slap in the face.
And my feeble whispered faithless prayer, Evokes a thunderous, resounding, bone shaking "Amen!"From Countless Angels, from heroes of the faith, from Christ himself and He is the original dreamer The ultimate winner, Guaranteed
Tonight after a day of continuous nonstop prayer, in which every slot was filled and every person turned up for, on time! (If you know anything about Kosova culture you will be laying on the floor in amazement at right now) People simply discovered what it was to spend a little time with Dad, to see how he was, to be reminded of love, grace, peace and to be empowered envisioned and inspired. Polished off by a 3 hour communal corporate prayer bonanza I couldn’t help but smile, not coz I wanted to big myself up and admire what the west had done for this church, not coz the prayer room looked nice and pretty and not coz i wanted to look kool in front of my pals, (although all these things did briefly cross my mind, sorry God, really) But in the amazement of the chorus of angels, shouting screaming, cheering AMEN AMEN and AMEN to the simple prayers of humble servants, arm’s linked in unity calling for a change, for a turn of the tide for a beaten broken, pain ridden generation to know what it is to love and be loved. It is as simple as that.
In the well versed words of Jon Freeman/Pete Greg/the wired stuffed puppet things on the corsa adverts.
C'MON
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Yep
Today I went for a run at 6 o’clock (in the morning) with some folks from the church. Yep, that’s wot I said!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Don’t look back in anger!
So I’m rolling down the transit road in Gjakova, in a 17 year old ford fiesta. The relentless sun is beating down and for some reason oasis is playing. ‘’Don’t look back in anger..’’ I can’t help but think, as I’m driving to buy a birthday cake ordered that morning how norm this seems. How, although I can’t really converse on any deep meaningful levels with folks and I keep learning newer and stranger parts of the culture. That buying a birthday cake on a Tuesday afternoon is simply life?
I often wonder how I’ll look back at this time, did I put enuff in, did I try as hard as I could, did I really listen to God or did I indeed, squeeze it like a proverbial lemon?
Well I don’t know and I’m sure that I’ll have good memories, I’m sure that God is in this somewhere, although at times it’s hard to see, but I guess the immortal words of Noel Gallagher will remain the same. ‘’Don’t look back in anger..’’
I often wonder how I’ll look back at this time, did I put enuff in, did I try as hard as I could, did I really listen to God or did I indeed, squeeze it like a proverbial lemon?
Well I don’t know and I’m sure that I’ll have good memories, I’m sure that God is in this somewhere, although at times it’s hard to see, but I guess the immortal words of Noel Gallagher will remain the same. ‘’Don’t look back in anger..’’
Friday, 3 July 2009
' If you want to win this world for Christ - you are going to have to sit in the smoking section
Well..... your guest writer for the day is ..... me ....petersjohn. Steve is busy preparing his stuff for the youth meeting tonight. It promises to be a blast ..music...drama...and the gospel. I'm allowed to attend (Feta ... local oldest man in church goes..so ..why not me?)
So far I'm catching the flavour of Steve's impressions of his stay here. I have to say he's quite perceptive (but those of you who've been here will probably have gathered that from previous blogs)
The usual leadership trait when we visit is to eat, talk, drink, talk, meet, talk , walk, talk and sleep. Then on Sunday morning we are asked to talk again. But it's good to talk. So far with Steve the conversation has been about stuff here but also about incarnational church. Why? Because we are both reading books about it. Me ... 'The Shaping of Things to Come' Steve... 'Organic church.'
On the ground and in practice we went a restaurant 'Old Hani' a kind of coach house in the Old Town. We arrived to the sound of a wedding in the other half of Old Hani (Hani means 'eat'). Kosovans do like a party - a loud one. We sat down at around 7.30pm hardly anyone there. Good food and wine (Russell please note) conversed, sorted out the future for the church in Gjacove then as wewere about to go (9.30) the locals turned out in force. Life is about two /three hours later than in the UK.
We paid the bill - whilst I muttered a complaint to Steve about the guy on the next table and his smoking going, it seemed, totally in my direction. As we were about leave, his two guests arrived (wife and neice) and he proceeded to invite us over for a drink! Duly humbled (me) we accepted and I had a water (honest!) and Steve a coffee. The guy spoke a smattering of English whilst Steve took his opportunity to practice his Albanian.
At this point I have to comment that Steve does take every opportunity to practice his Albanian despite that fact that most people here want to practice their English on him!
So .... we conversed..or Steve did. With the racket from the wedding I couldn't hear the guy clearly and just nodded(an age thing) Steve charmingly engaged the two ladies who overwhelmed him with kindness about his grasp of the language (that.. I think was a motherly smotherly thing)
We got into the explanation that we were here from a church in the UK. they said 'what sort?' - locally that would usually be either Catholic or orthodox. The wife who is a hairdresser and nominal Catholic said she had a couple of saints in the shop (pictures). We are now all one - religiously of course.
At this point the conversation wrapped up as their dinner arrived and we decided to take our leave after exchanging the usual extensive farewells (and phone numbers) plus Steve invited them to a church party.
As we headed home on foot we discussed the meeting which was clearly 'incarnational' and for us 'not just hearing but doing' The title above sums it up really. Being a Christian - incarnationally speaking to quote Leonard Sweet (in Steve's book) 'If the church isn't willing to get its hands (or lungs) dirty it won't have a hearing'
Jesus came sacrificially to serve, love and win the lost through building a relationship with us.
So far I'm catching the flavour of Steve's impressions of his stay here. I have to say he's quite perceptive (but those of you who've been here will probably have gathered that from previous blogs)
The usual leadership trait when we visit is to eat, talk, drink, talk, meet, talk , walk, talk and sleep. Then on Sunday morning we are asked to talk again. But it's good to talk. So far with Steve the conversation has been about stuff here but also about incarnational church. Why? Because we are both reading books about it. Me ... 'The Shaping of Things to Come' Steve... 'Organic church.'
On the ground and in practice we went a restaurant 'Old Hani' a kind of coach house in the Old Town. We arrived to the sound of a wedding in the other half of Old Hani (Hani means 'eat'). Kosovans do like a party - a loud one. We sat down at around 7.30pm hardly anyone there. Good food and wine (Russell please note) conversed, sorted out the future for the church in Gjacove then as wewere about to go (9.30) the locals turned out in force. Life is about two /three hours later than in the UK.
We paid the bill - whilst I muttered a complaint to Steve about the guy on the next table and his smoking going, it seemed, totally in my direction. As we were about leave, his two guests arrived (wife and neice) and he proceeded to invite us over for a drink! Duly humbled (me) we accepted and I had a water (honest!) and Steve a coffee. The guy spoke a smattering of English whilst Steve took his opportunity to practice his Albanian.
At this point I have to comment that Steve does take every opportunity to practice his Albanian despite that fact that most people here want to practice their English on him!
So .... we conversed..or Steve did. With the racket from the wedding I couldn't hear the guy clearly and just nodded(an age thing) Steve charmingly engaged the two ladies who overwhelmed him with kindness about his grasp of the language (that.. I think was a motherly smotherly thing)
We got into the explanation that we were here from a church in the UK. they said 'what sort?' - locally that would usually be either Catholic or orthodox. The wife who is a hairdresser and nominal Catholic said she had a couple of saints in the shop (pictures). We are now all one - religiously of course.
At this point the conversation wrapped up as their dinner arrived and we decided to take our leave after exchanging the usual extensive farewells (and phone numbers) plus Steve invited them to a church party.
As we headed home on foot we discussed the meeting which was clearly 'incarnational' and for us 'not just hearing but doing' The title above sums it up really. Being a Christian - incarnationally speaking to quote Leonard Sweet (in Steve's book) 'If the church isn't willing to get its hands (or lungs) dirty it won't have a hearing'
Jesus came sacrificially to serve, love and win the lost through building a relationship with us.
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