Jeff Adams

The weary pallor of communism hung over Croatia like dust over an unused room when I was last here twenty years ago. Not much had changed since World War II. This was then part of Yugoslavia, a horrible, ill-fitted border conceived by self-serving politicians and fenced around an odd collection of Slavic peoples divided by religion and tradition and at odds with each other for centuries. The air was oppressively pregnant with war.

Hope beamed from a little Baptist church made up of a few good families in the small town of Puscine on the outskirts of Varazdin. At the core of this little group was a young entrepreneur named Batko and his wife Karmen. They had big faith in a big God that they could light an inextinguishable light in the depressing gloom. By God’s providence we had made contact with them and a few from our church had visited personally.

Their immediate vision was to construct an attractive church on a corner as a testimony to God’s power. KCBT gave several thousand dollars to get them over the hump and finish the building. Their gratefulness was genuine and I was invited to speak at the dedication. A group of us had flow into Munich and driven through Austria to get here. I remember the hospitality of Bratko and Karmen along with their families and a wonderful outside meal we shared together with the church.

Not long following our visit, horrible war broke out, many thousands were killed and refugees poured over this area desperate for help. Through the war years we lost most contact with the church. Bratko went on to establish several successful businesses and faithfully plow resources back into ministry and touch the lives of people. Just a few months ago Jeff Cox was accompanying some friends from anther church and they were in this area in a totally unrelated ministry when he providentially stumbled across our old friends. You can imagine my surprise when he texted me a cell phone photo of the plaque we gave them at the dedication that is still on the wall.

It’s one thing to go on a one week mission trip and say that God really blessed. I’m not sure sometimes what that really means. It’s something else to look back over twenty years and see lasting fruit from the investment of time and resource. That’s what we have discovered here. This church has not only grown, they have begun other churches. Not far away is a beautiful facility that houses a Baptist high school that has gained the confidence of both government and community. Most Baptist churches in Croatia are small, and the facility also has a large auditorium where smaller churches can come together for special occasions. Bratko’s influence has grown alongside his business and faith endeavors. Karmen has a flourishing ministry among Roma (Gypsy) children.

Tomorrow morning I will speak again at Puscine Baptist Church in celebration of twenty years of friendship. I’ll give them another plaque from us and pray that God will make the next twenty years even more fruitful than the first. Croatia is different today. We sped down a fabulous autobahn this morning flying past scenery that could pass for the United States with big box stores and gas/convenience stores dotting the way.

Reba by ancestoral house

On a side note, Reba C and Donna B are traveling with me. Reba is a proud Croatian/American whose mother’s family hails from the Strawberry Hill neighborhood in Kansas City. She was so excited to be for the first time in her ancestor’s homeland. She had the name of the village her great,

Reba and Long-lost uncle, cousin, neighbor?

great grandparents were from and their surname. Within minutes after arriving yesterday evening, she and Bratko were on the Internet and located the village only an hour and half from here.

Today, we set out early for the village, finding it on the very top of a high hill outside of Zagreb. Twenty eight families once lived in the village, but only 21 inhabitants remain. Upon hearing the family name, an old lady began an animated account of the family’s history in the village and told us that the first wooden house on the right is where they lived, though it has been empty now for many years. I wished I could have known exactly what she was feeling as we came to the house where her great-great grandparents probably lived.

As you worship today (Sunday) at KCBT, remember that what you are doing has purpose. Our visit here is but one example of making a difference in a mixed up world. Your faithful, giving, service and prayer DO count!

Middle-of-Nowhere

Occasionally I get the impression that some of you think I just jet around the world and get picked up by a limo at the airport that rushes me to the nearest five-star hotel. Let me see if I can change that perspective just a smidgeon. At 0600hrs this morning I met Reba and Donna in the lobby of our (very nice but not five-star) hotel to begin our journey from Budapest to Puscine, Croatia. Here are some highlights of the day.

• We rolled our luggage about 5 minutes down the hill from hotel to metro stop and joined early morning commuters in traversing the city to arrive at the train station on the opposite side of the city. We had stuck our heads into the station the previous afternoon so we wouldn’t be surprised and know just where to go. Carry our luggage up and down several flights of stairs we finally arrived and surveyed the board to find our train and determine what platform from which to board.
• Uh, oh! I can’t find our train. Looking to my right I see an information booth and set out to find the information I needed. We had taken a slightly different route to reduce the number of connections we would have to make. That’s when the lady in the info booth looked at the schedule we printed out and noticed just about the same time I did – we are at the wrong train station! There are three main stations in Budapest and the one we are to depart from is only a metro stop past our hotel in the opposite direction! Happy we left enough time for unexpected problems, we immediately start to make our way back down to the metro and across the city to the other side – the one we just left.
• Rushing up stairs and escalators, I discover that I can find our train on the board of this station either. With just minutes before our train is to depart, I make way to the person at the info booth only to discover that our train has been cancelled due to repairs on the track. The next train leaves shortly … from the station we just left.
• Once again we bravely make our way across the city on the metro system for the third time without time for so much as a cup of coffee. Up and down stairs and escalators, around and over fellow commuters and we get to the main hall. This time we see the train listed and a platform number. We head that way, stop and I watch the bags while the ladies go off in search of take-away coffee.
• While they are gone, I am watching people with bags roll right by me and disappearing around the corner. That’s when I discover that the platform we thought to be ours is not. It’s around the corner. Waving at the ladies to hurry, we bundle our things and head out toward the train, now ready to depart at any second. No time to think about, we jump on to the first second class car and look for a seat. Dona’s arms have now ceased to work. Hurriedly before the train pulls out we work to get all the bags up the steps. The cabin is full, but we finally see some seats together.
• We accommodate out luggage the best we can, take off our jackets, sit down and get settled. Suddenly, a stern-faced elderly lady is informing us that we are in her reserved seats. No, my Hungarian is no better than it was yesterday. I just got the message. We then find out that everyone seemed to have reservations except us. Remember, we had not originally planned to be on this train that turned out to be an Intercity Express with reserved seats.
• Herding our stuff toward the open space that connects two cars, we settle down for the hour-and-a-half part of our first leg – standing. After a bit, a very nice lady suggests we find space in the dining car. Great suggestion!
• After about an hour and half trip we come to the stop where we are to change trains. Being a couple of minutes late we run down the platform toward our next train that is ready to depart at any second.
• After two or three hours we come to our next change spot, right on the Hungarian/Croatian border. Here we have about a half hour layover, as the train we were on pulls out and we discover we are officially in the middle of nowhere. Leaving the ladies with the luggage I explore the WWII vintage train station, looking for Steve McQueen, Tom Cruise or someone, but to avail. I do find a schedule that confirms the time of our next train and gives me the platform number of the two to choose from.
• About ten minutes before scheduled departure, an ancient, graffiti-laden train slowly pulls in. We watch as border control agents clear the train and then motion for us to board. We are the only passengers. An agent takes my passport as I board. He looks very carefully at my strange collection of seals, stamps and other paraphernalia. He calls a superior on his cell phone and I can tell he’s trying to explain some of what he sees. Finally, he comes into the cabin, returns my passport and then goes through the same motions with the ladies. Next, a Croatian customs official appears and asks if we have anything to declare. Finally, a Croatian agent comes by and stamps our passports. Agents outnumber passengers about 3 to 1.
• We’re off to Croatia! At the second stop we switch trains one final time and are a bit relieved to see other passengers, although they are all students coming home from school and some are getting off at each little stop.
• Varazdin! We get off the train and there id Bratko. After all these years I still recognize him and he us (not hard to pick three Americans out of the crowd.

OK, that’s about all the adventure I can handle for one day. I’ll fill you in on what we discovered here in Varazdin/Puscine later.