To Africa and Back

Monday morning we experienced a unique adventure in our lives as we crossed the Mediterranean on a 35 minute ferry from the southern tip of Spain to Morocco on the continent of Africa. I hadn't thought that I would ever visit an Islamic country in Africa, but it didn't take me long to figure out that I really had arrived.

The first thing I noticed besides all the bribing being done at the border crossing was how the western style of clothing was quickly fading away. The further we travelled into Morocco, the fewer western style clothing we saw and the more typical Arab clothing we saw until we got to the place where we were definitely in the minority. It was interesting to see the range of clothing in the Islamic world as we don't often think of our own culture as having this range of clothing styles.

In our culture, we see the range of clothing from the Amish to what we would see as very immodest clothing. I suppose in the Islamic mindset, they have the same range although I must say I saw very little immodesty. For the first time in a long time, I had fewer clothes on than most people around me--that was quite a change! Perhaps the best way to express what we saw is to tell you what happened on our first evening there.

Our son, Christian, is five years old and has learned some about the Islamic world as we have prepared for this trip. I have tried to teach him that just because someone has a head dress on, doesn't mean that he/she is Muslim, but he can't seem to get that concept. Although it is fairly uncommon to see a person dressed in Arabic clothing in our area of North Carolina, once in a while when we are travelling, he spots someone dressed in this way, and usually lets me know.

Our first evening in Morocco, after our service, we went back to our apartment where we were staying and decided to take the whole family on a walk. The biggest reason for doing this was that it looked like an excellent opportunity to experience the Moroccan culture as it was the heart of Ramadan--a major Islamic holiday. The people had finished feasting and now the streets were full of celebrating throngs of people at about 11 at night and we wanted the kids to see what was going on.

We got out on the streets and all around us were throngs of Arabic speaking, long-robed wearing people. Everywhere around us were men in fez hats or other traditional male clothing such as long shirts, robes, and sandals. The women were dressed in a wider range of clothing from simple head scarves to complete burkas and gloves.

I know I felt a little uneasy myself as I was obviously ridiculously conspicuous with all twelve of us walking down the street of Morocco's holiest city in western wear, and all around us were these people of such a different race. However, I can only imagine how my little five year old felt as he experienced the night of spooky black burka-clad people walking by! To my amazement, we had only been out just a little while when all the sudden, he said with great excitement, "Mom, I see a Muslim!" I was so caught off guard by his obvious innocence in realizing that he had just seen a Muslim--thousands as a matter of fact--and he never realized that he was the only nonmuslim on the street! I quickly said "shhhh" as if hoping people wouldn't hear him, understand, and actually notice us! Oh, well, I guess the mind does quirky things when under stress!

Another very interesting thing we experienced was going into, the Medina. I had heard about the Medina of Fez before we got there and just thought it was a large flea market type place with lots of different products to buy. I assumed we would go there for a couple of hours, buy some souvenirs, and that would be it. I was very uniformed however, as to what the Medina is. As I quickly found out, the medina is not a flea market, but is actually the old city of Fes and is a cultural experience that can not be found anywhere else in the world. We travelled to the city walls, parked our van and walked in through the medina gate. Immediately we realized that we had just walked into another world. The medina is a modern day city that is still living back in medieval times. It is an area enclosed in old city walls encompassing about ten square miles of the city. No motor vehicles are allowed in the whole ten square mile area. People live, work, buy and sell in this enclosed area of the city as they did a long, long time ago. All around us were little shops, craftsmen, fruit stands, public baths (get a bath and massage for about 3 dollars), tanneries, schools and houses. This was no living history museum, but it could certainly qualify for it! We walked for hours in this medina as someone guided us through. All the information about the medina says not to go in without someone who knows the way as you will certainly get lost. Our contact there in Morocco actually lived in the Medina and guided us around. It would be almost certainly impossible for a newcomer to enter and not get lost as there are 7,000 little dark streets, alley ways and small roads, all jutting off in odd angles.

I don't claim to be a softie, but even I got a little shaken when I was standing in the street and saw a robed person approach the counter of a little shop right near where I was standing. I hadn't paid a lot of attention to where I was standing although I was standing taking pictures of the live chickens hanging out there. The customer approached the clerk and apparently requested a particular live chicken. I assumed that the customer would pick up the chicken and go home with his squawking purchase. However, before I could even turn my head to protect my sensitive feminine senses, the "clerk" plopped the chicken up on the counter and promptly pulled out his big knife and began sawing the chicken's head off before I realized what was happening and could turn my startled head. I have seen chickens butchered before, but I was totally unprepared for this and just never expected someone to start butchering a chicken right where you would normally see a cash register in my day and age. I mean, nice chickens are supposed to go into Walmart bags aren't they? Anyway, my sensitivities quickly adjusted again as I realized they were going to continue to prepare the chicken right there including singing it and defeathering it. I decided not to watch anymore as I never intended to see any part of it anyway and headed on to slightly better sites.

As we walked through the narrow streets, frequently, we would hear yelling and so we would squeeze up against the sides of the shops as a heavy donkey load of vegetables or market products would squeeze by.

We headed on down the street and soon came to the leather tanneries. Here, again, this was not a tidy museum experience in leather making. This was men sloshing around in hugs earthen tubs of liquids out under the baking African sun. Animal skins were hanging up, lots of smells were wafting around and inside we saw beautiful leather sandals, purses, jackets, etc.

In the middle of all these experiences, one thing was really bothering me. Here we were in the middle of a country that was listed in the top ten countries for persecution of Christians. Being a Christian in Morocco is a serious thing and there is no option on the national identity card for "Christian" on the space given for religion. It is forbidden to tell any Moroccan about Jesus. The churches that are there are for foreigners serving in Morocco only and the police have made that very clear. Morocco just threw out a group of missionaries not long before we got there, and although it is not technically against the law to become a Christian, they make it so unpleasant that the law doesn't matter at all. One person there told us the penalty was 20 years in prison.

Why did this bother me? It bothered me because when I walked into the English speaking churches, everything in me wanted to step outside and invite the throngs of people outside in. We were there during the holy month of Ramadan so in the evening, we would hear the call to prayer coming from the mosque and would see the throngs of mostly men heading for the mosque to pray before ending their fast for the day. They all came out a short time later while the voice from the mosque would continue to chant for a long time later over the loudspeaker. I wanted to stop them and let them know about the Way, the Truth, and the Life. It was a new experience for me to stand there and not be able to do a thing. It went totally against my nature to enter a gate to go into a church and know that those outside could not easily come in. Rick was speaking inside and a police was standing outside so it was not even an option to invite people in even if we had been able to speak their language. I'm not sure how it happened, but I do know that at one point in the evening, one Moroccan man did come into the service, so pray that God would satisfy his hunger for the truth and protect him from those who would try to hurt him. He must have been very hungry for God to come in as he did.

When you think of Morocco or hear about it on the news, remember to pray that God would make it possible for the people there to hear about the true way to heaven. One person who is working there with the people, told us that when the Moroccans can hear about God, the people are very responsive. He said that there is great responsiveness to the Gospel, and he was not the only one to tell us that. However, he said the problem is "when" they can hear the Gospel. There are so many hindrances for those who are there to tell it that it is extremely difficult for them to do it, but we met those who are spending their lives trying to tell as many as possible.

Another thing that I realized when I was there was the importance of meeting and sharing with the Moroccans and other Muslims who are living in both the Europe and the United States. They are moving to western countries in huge numbers, and if they can be reached, they can influence their own families as we never could. This was brought home to me twice on this trip.

On the way over to Morocco, I decided to step out onto the deck of the ship with Paul and get some fresh air. I decided not to stand near the rail as the ship ride was not the smoothest ride I had ever taken (it was choppy enough for the kids to enjoy it without getting sick at least if we weren't on there too long!) I stood back against the wall of the ship and a young Muslim woman and her husband and baby also stood there beside me. Both of our babies were about the same age and communicated in their own baby language. However, I realized that unless the Gospel could be shared with this young family, no doubt our little boys would have drastically different futures.

One the way back, I saw even more clearly the opportunities that we miss when we fail to befriend Muslims in our own country. We boarded the ship to return to Spain late at night. Right before the ship left the port, I stepped out onto the deck to enjoy the ride. Just as the ship was preparing to leave, I noticed two people step out onto the darkened deck, and cross a chain to go past a "no access permitted point." I wondered what they were doing so I stood and watched them without making myself obvious. It was a young Muslim couple. They were nicely dressed and appeared to perhaps have on special clothing. She had on a beautiful long dark blue robe with gold trimming and he was standing nicely dressed beside her. They made a striking picture standing there, but I wondered what they were doing there at the very edge of the ship where they weren't supposed to be. In a moment, the young man lifted both his arms and began waving them slowly back and forth and just stood there doing that. I wondered what he was doing and I kept wondering as he just stood there slowly waving his arms back and forth at something in the distance. In a moment, though, I realized he was crying and his wife beside him was wiping her face on the edges of her head scarf. Then I realized they were telling someone goodbye so I looked toward the terminal, and I saw a fairly large group of people standing outside the terminal, and they were doing the same slow waving of the arms back at him. This was not a casual goodbye as they apparently were leaving their family in Africa. It went on for a long time as the young man kept slowly waving his arms and periodically putting both his hands to his mouth to blow solemn kisses to the people on shore. As the ship moved away, they continued to stand there and wave and cry until the people were gone from sight on the shore and someone came from the ship and asked them to move from the area. I realized very strongly how sorrowful this young couple was to be leaving and how likely it would be that someone with compassion and tact could befriend them in their home where they were going and have a lot of influence for God in their lives. I know now that I will be watching for Muslims in our area and making aggressive efforts to befriend them so that I can share what I was not able to do in their own country.

The Strange Moroccan Stoplight

This is the case of the strange Moroccan stoplight. We have been travelling in Europe for four months and during these last few weeks in Europe, we have had several meetings in southern Spain. On Sunday night, we travelled to Gibraltar and then the next morning we boarded a ferry for Morocco on the continent of Africa. Now, everyone else may not be as geographically challenged as I was, but I never realized until we were planning this trip, how close southern Spain is to the continent of Africa. After church on Sunday night in Gibraltar, we saw the lights of Africa in the distance, and when we got on the ferry, it was just a 40 minute ferry ride before we disembarked in a whole different world in Africa.

We knew all along that a trip into Africa, and into Morocco in particular, would possibly be both very challenging and very rewarding. Since Morocco is listed as one of the top ten countries for persecution of Christians, we already had a clue ahead of time of what they thought about us, so we were under no delusions, but now that we are back out of Morocco after three full and exciting days, I can honestly say that I am very glad to be out of Morocco, and I am very glad I went to Morocco. With all this said, perhaps you will more easily understand the case of the strange Moroccan stoplight.

During our time in Morocco, we noticed that their officers of the law seemed to hang around everywhere quite a bit, but they never seemed to pay much attention to us other than to take note of who was entering the church where Rick was speaking (it was supposed to be only foreigners--but one very brave Moroccan made it in toward the end of the meeting). We drove for three days in Morocco with Rick speaking in three different locations. During our time on the highways, we noticed that these vigilant officers would randomly appear on different sides of the highway quite unexpectedly and dutifully pull over apparently non-law abiding citizens. Nothing seemed to be out of order until we approached the capitol city of Rabat for the third and final time during our stay in Morocco. We were moving along with the traffic at about 45 miles per hour as everyone around us was when we noticed a stoplight up ahead. It was green as we approached so we dutifully prepared to proceed as we have done since the day we first learned how stop lights operate. This is where we learned about the oddities of Moroccan stoplights.... Just as we were ready to proceed through the intersection with the other cars in the other lanes beside us, the light suddenly and inexplicably turned red. We were shocked, but we were already entering the intersection and there was no way either we or the other vehicles could stop so we just sailed through. At that perfectly timed moment, the aforesaid vigilant officer was standing ready ahead of time to motion us to the side of the road.

Now with all the commotion of Moroccan roads going on around us, we quickly pulled over, but needless to say, we were a little stunned. Neither Rick or I ever run red lights, and we didn't see how such a thing could happen as a stoplight turning red instantly. The friendly officer came over and asked for Rick's license and chuckled merrily about how he didn't know if he could interpret it. Rick wasn't chuckling. Especially when the dutiful officer told him just a few chuckles later how much the fine would be. (that's a sentence fragment I know, but it gives the effect I want to express)...rules don't matter right now it appears.

Rick tried to explain, but the officer was unmoved--it was all our fault because we were going too fast. Just then, noticing what was happening a little clearer, I turned and looked where the officer had been standing, and saw his stoplight switching station. Now, I had learned earlier on in our stay in Morocco, that the government there has a very wonderful policy in effect in their country. That is, King Mohammed VI, Islam, Mohammed, and everything even remotely related to them, are and always will be perfect in every way and if you think otherwise and are smart enough to say so, they will arrange an extended visa and free lodging to go with it. (A Moroccan recently found this out when he noted in the newspaper that the King didn't seem to be healthy).

Now, we have prayed for a lot of free lodging on this trip, but considering the fact that our ferry was leaving later that evening, I decided that I didn't want to take advantage of their free lodging offer by opening my mouth to enlighten the officer to the criminality of his stoplight switching station, so I just started thinking some choice thoughts about this dutiful officer.

He saw that we weren't going to pay him this huge fine so he told us that we would have to pay this fine when we got to customs in a few hours. He took our customs paper so he could kindly arrange the details for us, and we proceeded on our way. I don't know all of God's reasons for sending us on this trip, but it seems that I am having a lot of practice in holding my tongue, so maybe I am going to need this practice later because I really wanted to say, "Wait a second before we go...my little boys back there in the van are really into gadgets and neat little inventions, and I'm wondering if you would be interested in just taking them over to your little light switching station and demonstrate how it works? I mean, if I have too, I could slip you a nice little sum--but you probably don't know what I mean by that, do you?"

We travelled on for a couple of hours to the customs office praying that God would either hinder the officer's message getting though or would work in some other way to accomplish His plan. When we got to customs, Rick went in to have his form stamped and the officer never even noticed that we had to pay this fine. We asked no questions and actually kept the form which I thought was supposed to be turned in. We'll put it in a nice little scrap book of Morocco to show how God is bigger than any of Satan's devices. This was just another example of how everything is really under God's control. We think we have a difficult situation, but all situations are the same to God. Nothing is big or small to Him because the word "problem" is not in his vocabulary. God has no problems--He only has perfect solutions to the situations we find ourselves in!

Random pictures

Now that we only have a few weeks left here in Europe, I thought I would post a few random pictures. Enjoy!

A visit to Pompeii

Have you ever wondered what happened in the story of Sodom and Gomorrha? I mean, have you ever imagined how the people responded and all the chaos that surrounded God's destruction of those cities? Well, if you want to get a real glimpse in to what those people must have experienced, visit Pompeii, Italy.

I had head about Pompeii and saw historical information about the destruction of Pompeii, but I was not prepared for what I saw when we visited Pompeii, last week.

For those who do not know, Pompeii was a city that sat directly under Mt. Vesuvius. It was known as a totally corrupted and erotic city. Even in those days, the godly people of that generation regarded Pompeii as a modern day Sodom. During the days of the first church, Pompeii was totally given to sensual living in the extreme and even today, there are some historical venues about Pompeii that require people that enter to be 18 or have written parental permission to enter the site. Obviously, we weren't interested at all in those sites, but the fact that the historical evidence for this city has to be guarded so carefully from innocent minds, speaks volumes about what the city was like.

Anyway, in the year 79 A.D, Mt. Vesuvius erupted and buried the city of Pompeii in a heavy layer of ash. Now you can go to the city and see remarkably preserved remains of a once great city. I went expecting to see a few buildings in ruins, but the significance of Pompeii is that basically the whole city was preserved. We walked across the city for four hours looking in houses, businesses, temples and stadiums and still we didn't see half of the city. Because the city was buried in ash, most things in the city are very similar to what they were on the day it was buried. We saw paintings on the walls of houses, beautifully tiled floors, cart ruts on the road, and graffiti that the inhabitants had scrawled on places around the city--again, some of it, obscene. Pompeii has one piece of graffiti that says "Sodom and Gomorrah" and no one has been able to discern if it was written before, during or after the eruption. Either way, it was apparently an appropriate description of the city.

The most grim part of it all was seeing the plaster casts of the people and animals trying to flee the city. One of the first archeologists to work with this city did future generations a service, by pouring plaster into the body-shaped cavities that were in the ash and preserving the actual figures of the people and animals. The people tried to escape as the city filled with ash and poisonous gas and their postures and positions are perfectly preserved in these casts as well as the positions of animals as they tried to escape. A fully harnessed mule was in one shop and both adults and children are preserved in the "garden of the fugitives."

Pompeii is an experience that I won't forget for a long time, and I sometimes wonder if this city wasn't preserved for a warning to future generations. Whether the destruction of Pompeii was a destructive act of God or a tragic natural occurrence may never be known, but the picture of this city starkly reminds me that we are leaving footprints on the sands of time and future generations will certainly judge us by what they see.

A Visit to the Colosseum

While we were in Rome, we were very privileged to visit the Colosseum. I had looked forward to going to the Colosseum because of the rich, historical heritage that it held. We were not disappointed in what we saw there. For one thing, we were prepared to pay a very significant amount to get into the colosseum because we really wanted to see it. Those of you who know Rick's frugality would be surprised at what he was going to pay to get in! The rule is that everyone pays full adult price unless you are under 18 AND a citizen of the European Union. Obviously we had a whole lot of people under the age of 18 with us, but being a citizen of the E.U was a different story. The kids can mimic some of the accents here fairly well, but when they asked us where we were from, we had to tell the truth. The man at the ticket counter said, "Oh, it's going to cost you a whole lot to come in here." Rick already knew that:( However, apparently God touched his heart because he said, "Let's just charge you for the two adults and you can come in!" Rick didn't argue and we walked in very quickly before they changed their minds!

The colosseum was a very special place because I had read in many books of the many, many Christians who had stood in the center of the Colosseum and cheerfully gave their lives for the Savior that they loved so much. I remember reading of young people who stood in the center of the Colosseum and sang beautiful songs as the lions were released to kill them. Now, we were standing where they had stood, and I must say that I felt very unworthy, but so privileged to see this sacred place. Now, there is a cross erected near where so many of the Christians gave their lives.

This was not the first time on this trip that we had seen places that had been such bastions of wickedness, but now the evil is gone and the symbols of Christ still stand. Isn't it amazing after so much wickedness took place in the Colosseum, and so much blood was shed because of the name of Christ, the central point of the whole colosseum is a cross?

Another example of this was when we visited Corinth in Greece. Corinth was one of the most degraded cities at the time of Paul, and I am sure that in all their vain glory, they thought that their statues and monuments to the gods would stand forever. Now, though, Corinth is about Paul and the ministry that he had. An insignificant man left his mark on that city with preaching a seemingly foolish message. It is encouraging to see that however strong evil seems to be, God and His Word will last forever!

A mighty fortress is our God

A Bulwark never failing

Our helper he amidst the flood

Of mortal ill prevailing

Let goods and kindred go

This mortal life also

The body they may kill

God's Word abideth still

His kingdom is forever!

When in Athens...

Tomorrow we are leaving Greece, but we have enjoyed our time in this Biblical country. We started out in Thessalonica and continued on to Athens. Yesterday was a full day of services here and we spent the evening at the Acropolis. Our little Paul didn't preach on Mars Hill like the Apostle Paul, but he did enjoy the view! Tomorrow we head for Corinth and Rome and tonight we work at an Iranian Refugee Feeding Center (our instructions are to not wear any American flag logos--wonder why?)

Ministry in Albania

Today we are in Albania. I never thought that we would get to visit Albania, but God has graciously opened the door, and here we are. Albania is one of the most interesting countries that we have visited. Probably most people know that under communism, Albania was one of the most closed countries that there was. As one person put it, Albania under communism was a sister to North Korea today. Now that it has been open for almost 20 years, it is still a very third world country, and quite interesting to visit.

We came to Albania from Macedonia. When we crossed the border into Albania, it was on a lonely border crossing high on a mountain. We approached the border and were greeted by friendly Albanian border guards. After they finished practicing their English with us, chatting about our huge family size and stamping our passports, we crossed into Albania. We usually like to exchange money right away when we cross into a country so this time, Rick decided to go into the official bank right there at the customs office. He stepped into the dingy "bank" with broken windows and looked around but there was no one to be seen so an official led him into another room where a bank teller was asleep on a sofa. He woke him up so we could exchange money. Rick asked what the exchange rate was for Albanian money versus the U.S. dollar. He said that he didn't know but he thought it was 1,000 to 1. Then a few seconds later, he changed his mind and said, "No, I think it's 100 to 1." Considering that was such a big difference in money, Rick thanked him and went on our way without changing money! Later we found out that it is about 90 to 1.

As we crossed the border into Albania we immediately began descending deep into a balley. The road was a very winding road deep into the valley. It looked very similar to descending into the grand canyon. One of the first things we noticed was that we had just dropped off into a different world as we descended into the valley. Immediately we saw countless numbers of circular bunkers all over the place. These bunkers were built to withstand heavy bombing and they are literally everywhere over the countryside. Lots of places there are more bunkers than there are houses. When we entered the main town that we were staying in, between each building in town, there was a bomb shelter built into the ground with a little chimney sticking up. The pastor here told us that the dictator built 600,000 bunkers and I can believe it by just how many we have seen.

There are literally miles and miles of terraced mountains that the people were required to dig out to make way for the communist fruit farms. Last night on our way to a church in an outlying town, I had a hard time imagining the amount of work (slavery) that was required of the people to literally use hand tools and terrace the mountains in order to plant these huge fruit farms. When communism finally fell, the people were so angry over the slavery that had been subjected to that they destroyed these fruit farms--also causing great hunger for themselves. Now there are just terraced hill sides left with very few trees or else very young trees growing randomly. Another reason that their mountain sides are without old growth vegetation is because when communism fell, the western countries (most notably Italy--a neighbor), came in and cleared the forests of old growth trees and gave the people almost nothing for the trees. For example, the Albanians who were unbelievably poor after years under a despotic communist leader, were given about five dollars for an old growth oak tree. Five dollars was a huge amount to them, but it seems terribly wrong for them to have been cheated just because they didn't know the value of the trees. Now they have beautiful mountains that have almost no trees.

Most of our time here in Albania we are spending at a church and christian radio station in one of the most beautiful area of Albania. If you look on a map and see the eastern border of Albania, you will see a very large lake. We are at the southern end of the lake, not too far from Greece. As we have travelled to churches at night, it has been some of the most beautiful scenery that I have ever seen. There are towering mountains with this very large lake below surrounded by the cities of both Albania and Macedonia. Last night, Christian, our four year old stated it very well. He was sitting behind me in the van as we descended the mountain toward the lake. The sun was setting and the lights of the city were beautiful. He said, "Mom, this is a nice view." I said that it was. A few seconds later, he said, "This is a nice view (and then with his characteristic North Carolina drawl, he said with great emphasis, 'MAN!'"

During our time here in Albania, we have enjoyed the beautiful Mediterranean temperature and lifestyle. Last night we went out late after church with the pastor and his wife. We walked along the beach here in perfect cool weather and ate outside at a little restaurant along the shore of the lake. We had typical mediterranean food of meat, cheese and salad. The restaurant is owned by a neighbor to the pastor. Years ago when the pastor came here, he was preaching on the street when the owner of this restaurant hurled a rock at him. He thanked him for throwing the rock and later the two became neighbors. The man is still not overly friendly, but the pastor thought it would be a nice gesture to take our family to his restaurant and give him some business. This man was jailed a while back for human trafficking so it's not like he is your model business man, but the food was delicious. This picture is Paul with the wife of the human trafficker. I was sitting very close by...Then tonight we enjoyed pizza also near the beach. We ate inside, but the restaurant was had large open windows where we could here the albanian music outside. The music is live and you can walk along the beach from restaurant to restaurant (almost all outdoor seating) and see people playing accordians, or singing opera or playing other instruments.

Albania still has many physical needs that we take for granted. The city we are in tonight is only one of two cities that has water all day every day. The rest of the country has it when it comes on. Electricity can be sporadic. It has only gone off once since we have been here, so that's probably doing pretty well. As many third world countries are, environmental carefulness does not seem to exist. I have been appalled to see how much litter and garbage is left sitting around, especially in the rivers and streams. There seems to be a mentality here that they lived so many years with a dictator telling them what to do so now they don't want anyone to tell them what to do. I can understand how they would get that mind set, but it seems a no littering law couldn't hurt much! Wages and prices are also still quite low here. Today the six men in our family got haircuts for a grand total of nine dollars! A man who does manual labor here makes ten dollars a day and today we were told that a "pricey" hotel in this city goes for twenty dollars a night.

Albania is a beautiful country in spite of all the difficulties they have endured. Today we drove just a few miles and had a picnic at what used to be the private park of the former dictator. It is a beautiful park with waterways and swans and nice walkways. As with most of Albania, it needs a lot of maintenance and repair, but it was a beautiful place to walk around in (don't fall through the foot bridges over the river--repairs desperately needed here).

We passed out tracts at the gypsy market on Saturday. Many received the tracts cheerfully, several asked us for them, and several threw them on the ground or tore them up. Overall I think the reception was quite good considering that a big percentage of the people that were given the tracts were muslim.

Our time here in Albania has been one of the most rewarding of our whole time here in Europe, and we are so thankful that the Lord allowed us to come. The people here appreciate being able to hear the Gospel and they are enjoying their freedom. Two stories that we heard here made us realize the depth of slavery they had here just a few years ago and made us rejoice with them that those days are past for them. One man here complained about the lack of concrete available for building his house. He made the comment that the government had plenty of concrete to make all the bunkers they were making so they should have enough for him to build his house. He received TEN YEARS in prison for his lack of appreciation to the communist Albanian government. Another man made a similar complaint when he saw Macedonia from a distance and commented about how much greener it looked over there. He also received a harsh penalty.

Now the church is growing as the former regime very successfully destroyed practically all churches and religion. Most of the believers here are young people and seem very sincere. The church we are staying in has a Christian radio station that broadcasts over a large part of Albania as well as Macedonia. They are now playing Rick's program also so we are glad about that! Their antenna is made from some strong pipes welded together, and we are sleeping in one of their studios which is soundproof by being covered with cardboard egg cartons!