Glasnost Sketches by Richard Heald

Published: May 11th, 2007

A week ago I had no idea really where, why or what I was heading into, going on our Easter Mission to Skopje.  Now, sitting in clean and clinical Zurich airport, having flown in across the Balkans’ forbidding and vicious looking mountain ranges and then the too-tidy, too-sweet Swiss fields and houses, my head and heart are full.  Full of a ravaged, bruised, scarred and broken place that has shown me another way to live, a glimpse of God’s gutsy compassion, a welcome from these people way beyond their means, a joy and pleasure far above anything that the circumstance could permit, and a determination and refusal to be bound which tells loudly of a live and vibrant faith.  It’s been six days that have changed me.

We have spent almost a week with the guys and girls of Glasnost church in Skopje, Macedonia.  We’ve shared a little bit of their lives, heard their stories that look in on a hard and tempered experience, and witnessed a real and necessary faith.  There has been a lot of fun – so much fun and smiling and laughter and teasing:  quick wits and quicker eyes to look out for one another and to be close to one another.  We’ve eaten and chatted and sat around waiting;  we’ve tramped and toured the city, seen the good bits, the ‘best’ bits, and some of the worse bits – maybe, on another day, the very worst.  We’ve watched some football, had the music on, shared toast and tea, and let Mimi and Evan run rings around us too.

We climbed a mountain, found a way out from the city to a dusty hillside, through thorn and rock, up steep slope and through whipping wind to a huge, overbearing and yet ambivalent cross up there.  And there we’ve prayed, out across hills and snowy mountains and that strange, drawn and racked city.  And we’ve been out, too, to Shutka, the biggest gypsy suburb in the world, a place of poverty, of hovel, of almost indescribable squalor – here in Europe, aren’t we? – and seen smiles and suspicion and danced with the happiest children you might come across in years.  To Ohrid too, a stunning, ancient town, a cradle of early Christianity, set on a lake that echoes Galilee, where there is a real hope to see God build something new.

We’ve been welcomed too, did I say?  We have been taken at face value, made a part of this family:  not questioned or guardedly hedged around, but accepted and then - gradually, gravely - embraced with hands and arms and hearts that would have quite likely cause to pull away and ask to be left alone.  They don’t have to want to be with us, or even need for any more potentially patronising sympathy – they’ve seen and heard it all before, without a doubt – but that they were happy we were there, and willing to be with us and stay that way, has been very clear and very genuine.

And we’ve prayed together too – in dark night and long-drawn day, alone, in pairs, informally and in completely reverent awe as well.  There’ve been times of simple, uncluttered quiet, gentle strumming, candles being lit, low whispered talk, in several tongues, and out-loud laughter.  And we’ve come together too, drawn in, decided that there’s stuff to do, felt God be there and known He wasn’t to be missed.  We’ve prayed with one another, let God lead and show His way, explain what needed to be done and watched Him breathe and come very close.
 

Next Page: A City Bordering on the Surreal, A Community Unbowed 

Richard Heald is a restless disciple, inquisitive of people & places, honoured to be Stephanie’s husband and father to Joshua, Dominie, Aidan & Felix.  An Architect, currently designing a new airport for Abu Dhabi, he restores old houses & sailing boats, plays flute and enjoys Mercedes-Benz.  Richard is based out of Surrey, England but lives and works around the world.  He supports 24-7 Prayer and the Guildford Boiler Room. 

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