Serbia ‘23
Northern Serbia, November 2023.
In the summer of 2023 the Lord reignited a fiery passion for missions in both our hearts. We looked for a short term trip to test the waters to explore what He was saying.
I headed with two friends to a small town in Northern Serbia to volunteer in a male refugee camp with Operation Mobilization. I had never seen living conditions like those those the refugees living in. It was a wild culture shock, and a much needed wake up call to what life is like for many of those not safe in the comfort of the western word.
Refugee Camp
It is no exaggeration to say that this trip dramatically impacted me. There seems to be in every conversation since, a before and after Serbia context. I went with almost no expectation of connecting with the refugees, I had presumed that the language barrier would be too large. And I had almost no idea of the culture of the Balkans. It was all very exciting when we landed, thrust into the busyness of post communist Belgrade.
Meeting the refugees at the camp, was very different to anything I had experienced. We had Google Translate on our phones, and quickly found that the refugees at the camp knew exactly how to use this to talk with us. And they were so kind. That’s what struck me the most. They were humbled by this whole ordeal.
I think prior to going, I had presumed that most refugees were just looking to get better jobs in a foreign nation. And for some that’s true, but the more I chatted with the men at the camp, the more I realised that the majority of people are escaping war.
They would show me photos or videos of their homes being bombed, and in the next moment photos of their family smiling, sitting in the midst of a war zone. It was a bizarre and humbling contradiction.
Ministry
The first day someone gave me a guitar to play. And I was stunned to realise that almost no body there had seen a guitar played in person. Most refugees were from Syria, Afghanistan, Iran etc. I was encouraged to find that they were fascinated by how we in the west play music. And they’d show me some rhythms and melodies from their own countries. It was this connection, that first helped me build some relationship with a few of the guys.
We were given the loan of a PA system, from a local Methodist church. A lovely vicar, who even though I explained the equipment would likely be scratched and possibly broken, insisted that he didn’t care - this was for God’s work, he said! Take it! Amazing. The first afternoon, we set up the PA and started singing some of our Western worship songs. The guys were energised. We realised that the more upbeat music gave them space to dance, and enjoy life for a second - amidst the rather brutal living conditions they lived and slept in.
Hilariously, we found that the only Western song they knew was ‘My Heart Will Go On’, the theme from Titanic by Celine Dion. As we sang it for the first time to them, there were tears in their eyes as they Face-timed their wives and partners. A brief moment of connection for them, thousands of miles from home, not knowing when or if they would see each other again. It was an honour to serve them in that way.
Wild Moments
I think the wildest moment, was on the last night. We sung some songs, and handed the mic over to one of the guys from Afghanistan, who I’d built some connection with. He started singing beautifully, a call a response style song with the other fifty or so refugee men. And then, all of a sudden I lost my sense of peace. India the leader for our trip there in Sid, an amazing missionary who we learnt a lot from, broke through the crowd and told us very clearly that we needed to stop what was happening.
“This is Islamic worship, you have to stop this”.
But how do you stop fifty or so guys from worshipping Allah? Do you stop them? Many questions, but I knew my peace had left and this was going in a different direction. I turned to the man, tapped my watch and said “I’m really sorry, time is up I have to take back the mic”. He graciously gave me the mic, and then almost immediately this strong sense of anger rose up out of the crowd.
They started shouting, jeering, it was like the beginnings of small riot was forming. So I stood there, looking at them - this bunch of guys who I’d been building real relationship with the last week, who were now yelling to my face, about three feet in front of me. I stood there, and decided the best thing to do was sing “There is power, in the name of Jesus, to break every chain”. And thankfully, immediately all the bunch of guys causing the craziness - left the tent. And there was around ten or so guys left, who stayed listening to the worship. Right at the end, they granted me permission to pray for them. It was beautiful, watching the Holy Spirit bring peace to them as I prayed. I was able to give them some Bible resources, and am still in touch with a few of those guys today.
A Train Ride That Changed Our Life
We took an early train ride to the capital of Belgrade, I remember standing on the platform and taking a photo of the train and there was a military solider standing in the picture. He came over and gruffly took the phone from me, and I decided to pose for a photo with a friend so I could defuse the situation. Haha! But I got my phone back, so its all good!
I put my earphones to listen to some worship, as we sat the open fields of the Balkans zipped by. Flat ground stretching out for miles, as the sun rose gradually. Then all of a sudden, the Lord spoke so crystal clear. In a paraphrase, this is what I remember Him saying “You have waited for years, and now you’re finally here. War has broken up the hard ground of the Balkans, and revival is coming to Ukraine.”
I was caught totally off guard. I wept for a good long while, as the Lord reconfirmed our call to missions. It was a stepping stone laid in front of me. Ukraine.
For a good few hours after that encounter with the Lord on the train in Serbia, the word Ukraine was imprinted on my mind and heart. I could not, and did not want to get away from it. I had no idea why. As I stepped off the train in tears, the Operation Mobilzation team gently asked if I was alright. ‘I’m going to Ukraine’ I told them. Although I had no idea how.
I returned to the UK, after just one week, deeply impacted by my time there.