I have never ever had so many police stop me in the same day for the same reason! Each and every one of these guys wanted the same thing. They wanted to hitchhike with us! In the last 12-13 years that I have been roaming the more exotic locations of the Slavic world, I have encountered any number of wild and unheard of reasons for the police to stop me. I have been stopped for having dirt on the license plate, I have been fined for not having a sticker on my car, I have paid brides and tickets out the wazoo for years and years. But this was the ultimate, and I did not even have to pay a fine. Several times now at the borders, a Serbian Customs agent has asked me to take a friend or co-worker to the next city or farther. Of course I always feel like the implied message is, take them or be stuck at this border crossing for the next week! So when someone with a gun asks you to give someone else a lift, you generally do. At least I always have.
Brenda and I led the worship at the church service on Sunday morning and then we headed out for Croatia, to the Evangelical Theological Seminary where I teach a number of times each year, and where 14 or so of our future Macedonian church leaders are studying. To get to Croatia, you have to navigate Serbia. I always and carefully obey each and every traffic law in Serbia. America bombed their country for 88 days. This is not a place I want to be stopped by a man or woman who has a gun and authority and who might have lost a brother or father as a result of the bombing we inflicted on these people who have been nothing other than our allies for the last 50 years (don't even get me started into the whole politic thing). I have never been stopped by a police officer in Serbia nor did I ever want to be stopped period.
Well I got stopped yesterday. Three times! The first guy stops me . . . and I think "Oh crap" (in a holy way of course), and I roll down my window and say "good day" and he says "good day". Then he asks me if I will take his fellow officer, a young lady, to the next town. I point out to him that my car is already full, and that there really isn't any place for the officer to sit. He agreed and let me go. (Huge Relief) But we traveled less than 2 kilometers when we were stopped again and this time it was a whole GROUP of policemen! Basically we had the same identical conversation, and then again at the next stop.
This morning as I was watching the sun rise, it occurred to me that a number of things had happened the day before that could have turned out quite differently. Number one was that none of these police officers knew we were Americans. Our car plates are Macedonia, and we drive a very typical Macedonian car, not a big fancy one like lots of foreigners do. Number two, we spoke Macedonian and so it obviously never occurred to them to ask and see our passports. Number three, our car was really full (of gifts primarily for the students here from their families).
I then realized that there are several important spiritual lessons I could learn from this whole process. The first being that when my car (emotions, life, ministry, heart) is full of God, there is no place for satan to sit. (I am not saying that Serbian police officers are satan or evil in any way, just drawing an analogy). This is the most important lesson for me, because like every other person, I like to flirt with the edges. But honestly, if I think of satan as a Serbian Police officer with a gun, rather than this . . . for the most part likeable fellow who has made a few mistakes and is on the outs with God at the moment, I believe I will pay attention far more to who may be riding in my car.
The other lesson I think I can take away is a bit more complicated, but no less critical: that while my spiritual passport may say that I belong to the Kingdom of God, I have been given the tools to appear like anyone I choose . . . e.g. I can appear to be Macedonian, although I am not. This can be used for good or evil and I need to be careful that my motives are right and that my actions are right. I often use these skills to hang out with the most non-christian folks you can imagine, and as long as I am missional with these tools, that is OK. But to use them only in order to disguise my true passport country is perhaps a sin.
2 comments:
OK, I'm going to go "movie-talk" on you for a minute here. This very closely relates to what I'm trying to get my son to think through as we watch "The Incredibles" - a whole family of superheroes who must pose as ordinary people and hide their gifts in order to blend in, rather like missionaries in some ways. This can be necessary at times as you've pointed out (being wise as serpents), or it can be a denial of our true selves. I think I will share your story with my son as we talk about this further. I'm trying to dialogue with him about what it means to be a Christian in a non-Christian world, and how best to strategically let our light shine and allow others to see the "superpower" within us.
I would say the most important thing I understand as of late is that none of my relationships make sense outside of my relationship to Christ. He is the setting that makes every one of them valuable and good, and full of potential.
It is actually more than that...God is shaping my identity to fit the people who need me to be a vessel, primarily among former addicts and alcoholics, or their family members. Two very significant things happened at a recovery meeting last Friday. One was that a man who had sensed my fear and loathing of him in the past gave me a huge bear hug. I think we both knew those emotions were gone. Then the Holy Spirit moved me to speak out my grief, and in the past I'd rather have my tongue torn out than appear weak or cry in public. Among people that in the past I would have felt nothing but discomfort around I felt total acceptance.
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