Church-Planters of the Union of Baptist Churches in Serbia, part 1

I was blown away by the vision and urgency of our Serbian Baptist brothers and sisters to start new churches.  Astonishing commitments are being forged by the Holy Spirit in the lives of young couples to plant  Christ-honoring, gospel-centered churches in this nation.  The Union of Baptist Churches in Serbia will train and support couples sent by their home churches who sense God has called them to plant churches where there is no evangelical witness.  Seven new churches have started in the last couple of years, and they have a vision to start over a dozen more.  

When I asked Ondrej Franka, president of the Union of Baptist Churches in Serbia, what they mean by "support," he said that the sponsoring church must be willing to give $75 a month to the couple, and then the Union will give another $675 a month.  So, the couple gets a total of $750/month for 3 to 5 years, or longer if necessary, until the church can support its own pastor.  I had already heard that the average salary for employed people in Serbia is a about $475/month, so I thought this sounded pretty generous.  

But then Ondrej explained that this $750 is everything the couple receives.  Not only do they have to rent a place to live, and feed and clothe their family, but also must provide all the ministry expenses the church plant may have:  rent and utilities for a place to meet (house-churches typically don't go over well in that culture, but that's another blog), literature for distribution, travel expenses (gas is $8.00 a gallon), Bibles, children's ministry materials, etc.  

We talked with a couple in Paraćin who rent a 500-square-foot store-front that holds about 30 people for Sunday mornings.  It costs about $160 a month.  They're trying to get the two rooms above the storefront for children's ministry, but they just didn't have the funds, so they were asking God for help.  It would take about another $100 a month. Here are some pictures of this facility.  It's just the front part of this building.

They were just thrilled to be sharing the gospel, seeing souls get saved, and loving the community to which God has called them.  I was deeply convicted.

With so little, they do so much for the gospel and God's glory.  

With so much, what are we doing? 

Up to Rilski Monastir

The Rila Monastery, a couple hours south of Sofia, Bulgaria, is the heart of the Bulgarian Orthodox church.  It was founded in the middle of the 9th Century by St. John of Rila, an eremite monk ("eremite" means one who lives alone -- we get our word "hermit" from it) whose call from God focused on prayer, holiness, and spreading the gospel.  Though he lived alone for years at a time, his reputation for purity and prayer drew people to come to him.  This is how he shared Christ with them.  Before his death he had unintentionally attracted so many followers that a small monastery was founded, dedicated to his principles of holy living, intercessory prayer, and evangelism.

It is clear that in the intervening 1150 years, most of John's vision has been lost.  Though his testimony and instructions for prayer focus primarily on spreading the gospel through intercessory prayer and evangelistic service, this rich guide is neglected or openly scorned.  Today, the monks and leaders of Rila Monastery do not, in my estimation, share God's Word; instead, they hide it. They discourage members of the Orthodox church from reading Scripture, and they do not read it themselves.  They read only the prayer books and the liturgies of the church.  As you may have seen from some of the pix I previously posted on facebook, many of the doctrines depicted in the frescoes painted inside and outside the monastery chapel are not only extra-biblical, but patently anti-biblical.  Some blatant and horrifying examples are below.

The journey up the mountain to this spot was gorgeous, and the buildings and compound of the monastery are stunningly beautiful.  This is, however, a place we need to pray for, asking God to return His Word to a monastery that has neglected and suppressed it for centuries.

It makes me wonder how much like them we are.

Think about it.

The main chapel of the Rilski Monastir compound.

Looking into heaven, the New Jerusalem -- see the twelve gates -- with souls exiting purgatory waiting to get in.
Jesus (left) is depicted as a wimpy dude without a robe, while Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are robed and seated on clouds.
Meanwhile, giganto-Peter (i.e., the Orthodox church) stands outside, holding people back:  see how his left hand is turned back.

On the outside of the chapel, a series of frescoes depicts the "20 levels of purgatory" the monks teach.
This is the 20th and deepest level, reserved for those who leave the Bulgarian Orthodox church.

Really?  They have the nerve to depict Jehovah God with an image?

Sunday, September 30, 2012, in Bulgaria, part 2

It was a glorious day.  Perhaps you've already read part 1; but if not, you may wish to.  Go ahead.  I'll wait.

 . . .

 . . .

There, now you're up to speed.

The rest of the day made the morning, rich as it was, seem a bit impoverished by contrast.  After rather forgettable lunch at KFC inside the huge and very-American style Mall of Sofia, several of us got into the church van from Purva Baptistka Tsyrkva (PBT) of Sofia and rode with Pastor Teodor ("Teddy") Oprenov  about 100 miles or so southeast of Sofia to the town of Pazardjik.

On the drive, Pastor Teddy shared with me the story of the efforts of Bulgarian Baptists to recover from 45 years of communist oppression, as well as the brief history of the Pazardjik Baptist Church.  Just four years old, it has outgrown the home in which it began and only lately moved into a rented store-front location, a tiny spot of about 300 to 350 square feet.  He told us how the church has struggled, but now has several new people.  Six different men from PBT go to Pazardjik to preach on a rotating basis.  Three willing folks from the church lead the worship.  He expected a couple of down to be there.

As we entered the town from the north, we passed Pazardjik Prison, built by the communist regime just after WW2 (and still operating, though torture is no longer used) for political and religious dissidents.  Almost all of the Baptist pastors in Bulgaria during the 1950s and 1960s spent time there, some up to 8 years, including Pastor Teddy's father.  It was chilling to drive by the walls just a few feet from the road, knowing that behind them, dozens of protestant pastors were tortured or starved to death; and yet, not a single Baptist pastor died while imprisoned.

The next substantial building we passed was a mosque.  Most of Bulgaria's Muslims (who make up about 10% of the population) live in the south, and Pazardjik is over one-third Muslim.

We arrived at the church just minutes before the 5:00 p.m. service was to start:  Pastor Teddy plus seven American church leaders and pastors.  When we walked in, there were only 4 empty seats.  Some folks moved, some stood, and some chairs were found.  It was packed.  Within minutes the service began.  Pastor Teddy assisted by playing guitar, and we sang a Bulgarian hymn plus three hymns that I've known since childhood:  "I Know Whom I Have Believed," "He Hideth My Soul," "My Jesus, I Love Thee," all in Bulgarian, of course.

We read several passages of Scripture, and each of the guests was given a chance to introduce himself and share remarks.  As I stood up to introduce myself, I looked again at the little congregation, mostly over 50, without a single child in attendance, and thought, "Lord, did I miss something?  I've got a message that end by saying, 'Your attitude toward Jesus can be measured by your attitude toward children.'  There are no children here at all."  But Pastor Teddy had told me, "Just share with us whatever the Lord lays on your heart," so I forged ahead.

As I spoke, Pastor Teddy stood just to my left.  It was hot.  It was close.  I couldn't see everyone, because some were seated behind a little partial wall that separated the "kitchen" from the "sanctuary."  Because Pastor Teddy was to my left, I could not see out the door, but others apparently could, because they kept looking out.  I wondered if my sermon was so bad, they were losing interest.

What I couldn't see was that about the time I was starting to tell them that their attitude toward children revealed their attitude toward Jesus, a little girl had walked up to the door and was looking in from time to time.  As I found out later, her grandma had invited her to come, but she forgot what time the service started, since she had never been there before.    As the message came to an end and we closed in prayer, someone invited her in.

You may reach your own conclusions, but I think God sent little Simona to Pazardjik Baptist Church at just the right time, when her arrival would illustrate the point of the message more clearly than any words I could speak.

I am praying for Simona and the Baptists in Pazardjik.  I hope you will too.

Simona

Sunday, September 30, 2012, in Bulgaria, part 1

It may take me a long time to integrate my experiences of Sunday, September 29 (was that really only yesterday?!) into my life, and I certainly won't be able to adequately encapsulate them in this blog, but here is a start to the first part of the day.

Along with my colleagues, I attended the 11:00 a.m. service at Purva Baptistka Tsyrkva ("First Baptist Church," formally called "Sofia Evangelical Baptist Church") in Sofia, Bulgaria.  (BTW, a note on pronunciation.  If you say "so-FEE-uh," it is a girl's name.  If you say "SO-fee-uh," it is the city.)  Here are five impressions.

First impression:  no parking.  Well, let me correct that.  The church, all 450 members, has 2 -- count them, TWO -- off-street parking spaces.  The new building, still under construction down the street, with 50,000 square feet on six floors, has six off-street parking spaces.

Second impression:  this church is alive with love.  Little kids, teens, 20's, 30's, every decade is represented up the most senior of members, and they all quite obviously love each other.  Who wouldn't want to be a part of this?

Third impression:  this place is tiny.  Two hundred seats are packed into about 2,000 square feet plus balcony.  The seats themselves are small, and spaced tightly together; my knees touched the seat in front of me, and my hips smooshed against the person next to me.  It was stuffy -- remember, there had already been a previous service, and it was 90 degrees outside -- but it was okay, because these people love being together.  There is no fellowship space, but they fellowship anyway.  There two toilets -- apparently most folks either go before they leave for worship, or they just hold it -- one of which is what we would call a real toilet, and the other of which is a "squatty potty."

Fourth impression:  nobody gripes.  Nobody.  I didn't hear the slightest hint of a grumbly tone.  I didn't see a frown.  Smiles.  Laughter.  Attentiveness.  Warm conversation before and after.  The most frequent phrase I heard was "Slava na Boga," which means "Praise the Lord."  (As an aside, you have to pray for me as I return home, because if I hear anyone at FBC, Sterling whine about "It's too hot," or "It's too cold," or "It's too loud," I may smack them.)  These people know it is God's church, not theirs, and so what they want and prefer doesn't matter as much as what God wills and commands.

Fifth impression:  this church is aligned with God's mission, which drives both vision -- they want to win their deeply hardened neighbors to Christ -- and patience -- they've been working on their new building for EIGHT years, and are not finished.  As Robin Stoops succinctly stated last night, this is not a church that has "found a mission statement," but rather "God's mission has found this church."

It was a profound experience.  The children's sermon was deep with content and fifteen minutes long.  The children heard and heard and heard again the gospel.  There was a baby dedication.  There was engaging, lively worship.  The sermon, preached by ABCUSA Director of International Ministries Reid Trulson, would have been a normal length except that it was translated by lead Pastor Teodor Oprenov.  The service ended at a little about 1:00; and after the closing song was done, nobody rushed out.  We were in a hurry, so we got away about 1:20, and there were still about 80 or 90 folks just standing around chatting.

And that was just the start of the day.  More in part 2.  Some pictures are below.

The children's sermon: counter-clockwise from the top left of the card,  1600,66,39,27,40,5,4,3,2,1.

Amazed by God's Vision

Current home of First Baptist Church, Sofia.  The name above the entrance is "Christian Baptist Church."

Murals in progress in main room of the youth and children's area.

The sanctuary from a corner of the balcony.

Looking up at the balcony of the sanctuary.

I am amazed.

Today we worked in the new and as-yet unfinished building of Sofia Baptist Church, or Purva Baptistka Tsyrkva, priming the walls of about 8 rooms on the fifth floor of six..  Currently this church meets in two services on Sundays in a cramped, over-used, over-worked building that is beyond its last legs.  Three staff members share an office about the size of a walk-in closet.  The first picture is of that building.

Yet this  church and staff, led my Dimitri Oprenov, possess a gospel-driven vitality and God-sized vision that amaze.  For eight years they have been working on a building a block down the street from their current facility that will seat many hundreds, host ministries of every imaginable kind, and serve as a beacon of gospel light for much of central Sofia.  They hope to be in the building by Easter.  The pictures above give an idea of the size of this facility, which, though it seems immense compared to the current facility, is small compared to the church's vision.

Please keep this church in your prayers as they seek to reach out to an unbelieving society.  Pray that the power of the gospel will pierce the post-communist darkness that pervades the nation.

Reboot the Airplane . . . and Our Hearts

So, here we are at the Frankfurt Airport, waiting for our final flight to Sofia, Bulgaria.  Some of us were questioning the wisdom of having a four-hour layover in Frankfurt, but now it’s feeling pretty good, after our 2.5 hour delay waiting in the airplane as we sat at the terminal at O’Hare.  Seems that the FAA’s ACARS system (I’m going to look up that acronym) down for a while, which meant that all planes flying overseas could not upload their flight data.  I messaged that to my daughter Laura, and she replied,”21^st Century problem – they have to reboot the airplane.” 

Aaaannndd . . . we’ve just been told that our flight out Frankfurt is also delayed.  So, we’re   three for three in delays.  Denver to Chicago was delayed 1 hour; Chicago to Frankfurt was delayed two-and-a-half hours; Frankfurt to Sofia, who knows?  The plane we’re supposed to leave out of here on has not arrived yet.  (Later edit:  We departed from Frankfurt 90 minutes late for a VERY bumpy flight to Sofia!)

Apparently, we’re already being taught some lessons, if we care to take them:  how to be patient with technology, for example, especially those technologies to which we have become accustomed or on which we have come to depend.  Could we worship on Sunday morning if the power went out?  It might stretch our capabilities.  It also would raise the question: “What, in fact, are we worshiping?  Is it the music?  Or are we truly worshiping Almighty God?"  Maybe we need to reboot our hearts!

Но иде час, и сега е, когато истинските поклонници ще се покланят на Отца с дух и истина; защото такива иска Отец да бъдат поклонниците Му.  Бог е дух; и ония, които Му се покланят, с дух и истина трябва да се покланят. John 4:23-24 in Bulgarian

Words and Stuff

My seat mates on the Chicago to Frankfurt were young German couple returning from a vacation in California and Las Vegas.  As I tried to speak German with them I realized how quickly I had forgotten what I had brushed up on just a few years ago during a family vacation in Germany.  Struggling and stumbling through old language pathways in a brain apparently stiffened with its added burden of years, I wondered how in the world I am going to make myself understood in Bulgaria and Serbia.  I don’t want only to be heard through an interpreter.  I want to convey my love for my Bulgarian and Serbian brothers personally, directly, not, so to speak, second-hand – or should that be “second mouth”?

So once again, I find myself retreating to God’s Word.  I will be able to open my Bible to passages that speak not only God’s love my mine, and then ask my brothers and sisters to open their Bibles to the same passage, then simply add what Paul wrote to the church in Philippi, “It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace;” which they can then read in Bulgarian, “И право е да мисля това за всички вас, понеже ви имам на сърце, тъй като вие всички сте съучастници с мене в благодатта,” or Serbian, “Kao što je pravo da ja ovo mislim za sve vas, jer vas imam u srcu u okovima svojima i u odgovoru i potvrđivanju jevanđelja.”

Should we not always go to God’s Word; and not only when we have no other language in common?  For in His Word alone is life.