Having wrapped up the Gospel of John and while waiting to start preaching through the next chosen book (Colossians) until our return in early November, Stan has been taking in-depth looks at foundational texts in our morning services.
These past few Sundays, he's done a deep dive into Romans 1:16,17: For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile. For in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed—a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.” ************************ As stated last month, we've begun presenting a five-week evangelistic series on Sunday evenings. This is an ambitious project for us as it involves teaching, testimonies, food, and discussion group activities. As you can see from the flyer, we've hosted two of the five sessions so far. We're happy to report that our Sunday Night Outreaches have gone better than expected! While we've seen ways to improve, we are delighted that each week we've had 3-4 non-church members come and participate. Please pray that God would open the eyes, ears, and hearts of those who come, that they might receive the truth and everlasting life. Also, pray especially for those who stated a desire to come but find themselves unable to at the last moment--the enemy of souls is hard at work!
 Sarah, EUS Intern from Denmark who indicated that they would like to continue with learning more. She and others were able to host a week of fun events coupled with good discussions for a small group of teenagers. The start of the new academic year (with double school shifts that switch monthly) complicates finding a sustainable, ongoing meeting time. Please pray for creative solutions to reach teenagers and for the teens to come to regular church services as well!
As early readers of this newsletter know, we've had a long (20+ years!) and beautiful relationship with believers from Denmark. Out of that, we were contacted by a Danish Church (letterhead above) earlier this year to explore a mutual relationship. They wrote:
Our reason for seeking a friendship-congregation is the need for mutual contact, inspiration, prayer and support and we think our churches could be such a partner for each other. Our motto is: “No church is so strong, that it cannot receive anything from others and no church that weak, that it hasn’t anything to share with others.”
After several email exchanges, we are looking forward to meeting and spending time with four representatives the last weekend of September. Please pray that God would use this time for mutual encouragement; for clear communication of desires, values, and commitments; and for wisdom in discerning next steps.
We are in final stages of cementing our Stateside visit. Along with the wedding and conference, we will be attending a memorial service of Vicki’s stepfather who recently passed away. Thus, we will not be able to visit as many churches as we had hoped. Please pray for us as we begin to wrap up things here (even as we remain busy with church life) and fill-in our stateside calendar. Pray, too, for smooth, uneventful travels with no delays or missed connections!
Join us in giving thanks for all the good things the Lord is doing! May His name be ever more glorified!
We so appreciate your earnest prayers, your sacrificial support, your quick notes and cards, and the blessing of working together for God's name to be exalted here in Montenegro.
One with you in Christ,
Stan and Vicki Surbatovich
Vicki's Snapshot: Visiting Milijan's Village
I’ve mentioned Milijan Simunović twice thus far in these snapshots—he was my language teacher, Stan’s fellow colleague at the university, and a regular (and vital!) attender of those early English Language Bible Studies. Because he was really quite influential in our lives during those first years, I’ve another snapshot or two to share.
Over time, we got to know Milijan and his family socially as well. Every summer he’d take his family out of sweltering Nikšić up to his childhood home in Piva and live there nestled in the mountains for a few weeks. We were blessed when he invited our family to join them for the day.
The trip involved a several hour car ride, including miles of dirt roads and rutted paths. Pre-cellphone and GPS, we had Milijan’s notes and hints to guide us: Follow the paved road, turn left at Plužine to follow the lake, and once you hit dirt roads keep going straight until you pass the army barracks then count the offshoots, you’ll need to take the second right. You’re almost to us by then.
We did fine on the paved roads. We did great at the lake—you really can’t miss it—you either turn right or left (or drive straight into the lake). We turned left. Then, with a guesstimate at distance, we followed along the road, me with my eyes peeled for the army barracks. As all signs of habitations faded and the mountains grew steeper, I began to wonder why they even had army barracks way out here. I concluded it must be because the Bosnian border was actually fairly close.
We bumped along the dirt road for a while, and then Stan turned to ask me “So, is this the second offshoot after the barracks?” Startled, I answered, “No, we haven’t even come to the barracks yet.”
Stan: “Yes, we did.”
Me: “No, I’ve been watching and we haven’t.”
Stan: “Didn’t you see that little building way back there?”
Me: “You mean that outhouse kind of thing? I did notice it because I
wondered what an outhouse was doing on the side of the road.”
Stan: “That wasn’t an outhouse! That was the guard house!” (Suddenly 'guard house'='army barracks'!)
Having just lived on a Navy Base in Port Hueneme CA, in my mind “Army Barracks” conveyed walled compound, flags flying, guards, and apartment-sized buildings as living quarters.
I simply had no idea that “Army Barrack” meant “outhouse-like building” on the side of a semi-deserted road.
We had to backtrack all the way to the “army barracks” in order to be sure we took the proper side road. It seems funny now but the tension was palpable then. Continuing on, I carefully counted the offshoots, and with a huge sigh of relief minutes later, we turned into the small plot of flat ground in front of Milijan’s childhood home, only an hour late.
A true mountain village home, it had two stories, although from the front, where we entered, it looked like a one-story home. The actual first floor was accessible only from the other side because it was built into the side of the mountain. That lower floor was where the animals sheltered in the old days. The “floor of human habitation” was two small rooms. We entered into the combo cooking/dining/living area. The second room, opening off the first—no space wasted with hallways— was the sleeping/getting dressed area. The outhouse was a hundred feet out from the front door.
The house with Milijan and CS enjoying mountain village life
Our visit was like a step back in time. There was no running water. To get water, family members trekked daily with bottles and buckets a half kilometer down the hill.
Water conservation California-style (eg. you can only water your grass on even or odd days of the week, depending on address) was a far cry from the realities where every drop was precious.
I was impressed with the set-up for washing hands to be used when finishing up outdoor work or outhouse calls. A few feet from the door, an upside down bottle with spigot was attached to the outside wall. With a turn of the spigot, water dripped out. There was also a bar of soap hanging in a bit of hosiery tied to the contraption. This soap-bar-in-a-hose kept it off the ground, easily accessible, and dryable in between usage. What a brilliant solution!
Like every other no-running-water home, there are two big plastic bowls to act as sinks when doing the dishes. One bowl, water heated, to wash the dishes. The other, left room-temperature, to rinse. But when finished, the rinse water would become the next meal’s wash water. Two for one.
As a book lover, I immediately noticed the small row of books housed on the shelf near the window which looked like they’d be right at home in an antique book shop; in fact, these were antique books. Small, hard-bound classics, whether leather or not, I can’t say but I imagine they were. I couldn’t read them, of course, between the tiny Cyrillic print and the language barrier. But, in my mind’s eye, I could see Milijan’s family tucked in this mountain hamlet, gathered around the table on a winter’s night, lamps lit, listening to the classic stories being read aloud. When one book was finished, the next began. And when all were finished, back to the first; a wonderful cycle of hearing them over and over again through the years. Those books were lifelong companions, bosom friends.
Although we were an hour late in coming, with the long summer days and short nights, Stan and Milijan decided to take the kids on a hike to a nearby lake. Mrs. S and I stayed behind with our baby girls.
I was so glad/relieved Stan took the kids—these were storybook mountains ala Heidi, with steep mountains, not cliffs, but long, long slopes of grass and thickets. I kept imagining the boys goofing off and rolling, rolling, rolling, down, down, down. We ladies sat outside, seemingly on the edge of the world, overlooking majestic beauty and chatted a bit—we were limited by my small pool of Serbian vocabulary and her even smaller well of English. But no matter. Sitting side by side, nursing our daughters, looking out over the breathtaking expanse, no words were needed. We smiled and were happy, enjoying God’s abundant blessings.
Two families enjoying a mountain meal together
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