The Weight of Sin

Many people, upon entering Kosova, describe this weight, this overwhelming heaviness that simply comes from merely entering the country. It has also been said repeatedly that Kosova is a m'ssionary graveyard. Having been here nearly three years, I've come to find both are indeed true. There's a lot of conjecture and speculation from outsiders and even more from those that call this place home (even if only temporarily). Many blame it on the religious set up here, the lack of governmental structure, the history of war and religious oppression... I'm not going to discredit any one of those things- they are very real and must be faced daily for each one of us that lives here. However, I'd like to produce an additional item as one of the highest, most oppressive issues at hand: that of sexual sin. 

The biggest way it reveals itself is seen on the streets. Each girl is devoured and stripped bare by nearly every male pair of eyes around. Being a girl myself, I've experienced this hundreds of times. The best way to express it would be that I feel like I've become some sort of weak, helpless prey upon exiting my door. An unfeeling, non-relational object that is merely here to be consumed. (On top of this persecution for merely being a woman, I also battle on a daily basis that of being a foreigner. Instead of a face, men see a dollar sign; instead of a heart, a passport.) And the funniest part of it all is that I dress super modest compared to all the other women surrounding me. I shouldn't be of interest to the men here. However, the sickness of this nation, especially in regards to the men, goes deep.

Some simple facts: Porn here is a way of life. Young boys are usually exposed to it before they even reach double digits. Normally the father introduces their sons to this; thus perpetuating the cycle. Coffee bars and sports centers have nightly showings of explicit, pornographic films. It is a community-wide event. What is done in private and filled with shame and secretiveness in the West is done with pride and openness here. And it fits. The religion in this country casts the women down. Men are taught from birth that women are around to produce babies and serve them. Small boys are given the authority to boss their mothers around, like a spoiled, bratty prince. So, why not use and abuse them as the object they are?

There are a number of brothels in my city. We've not yet found an "in" into working in those places and reaching the women there. But I've encountered some interesting situations. The man in the house I lived in for a month when I first arrived here would just disappear each night. Initially I'd ask the mother where he was. She never had a clue, and was surprised I was asking. Men go about as they please; no accountability. Perhaps even egged on deeper by the other men they spend time with. Any why not, in their religion, it matters not how many wives you have... You can always be on the look out, testing the newer, fresher waters. I can't tell you how revolting and horrific it is to walk down the street, forget where you are, smile at an older man leaning on his cane, with nary a tooth in his head...and then he turns his eyes on you and tears into your soul as he gazes at you like you're a piece of meat. The disease is vast, widespread, and absolutely paralyzing to any real growth and development that will take place here.

And one of the saddest parts of the whole thing to me is this: the women and girls are absolutely clueless! I can't rightly express my shock of finding out a dear friend of mine, that has been in the church and that sort of community for nearly a decade and a half, honestly didn't know that any of this existed. How can none of them know, you may think? I second that! They dress so lucratively to fit the part of being bait, catching they eye, ensnaring the desired attention. How can they not be aware? The reality is that they've been blinded. Blinded by a mother that dressed them up like a tramp when they were 6 years old. A mother that taught them their one aim in life was to marry, and marry well- whatever the cost. A father that turned away and said nothing as his daughter began to dress like the prostitute he'd just visited. And a whole slew of other graphic parts of this culture (and numerous others) that I won't take the time to write about. Truly they don't even know...

So, the question facing me, my colleagues, and countless others: How do you penetrate into such a society and social system with the gospel? Any surface issue addressed has no weight unless this one is hit on and hit hard. But how to touch on something so deep, so personal, so ingrained to the very nature of each person here? They play their role, whether they're aware of it or not... 

The truth of all this is that I honestly don't know. Three years here, and I'm still as clueless as the day I began. The only thing I possess of any worth is prayer. Prayer at the foot of the cross. Prayer with tears and brokenness. Prayer that goes beyond words. Prayer, simply knowing that He knows, He loves, He sees, He cares. He's at work, with grace and love, even when I can't see or feel it. And then leaving it there- with Him- and walking out my door in His strength to combat the stares, the harsh words, and taunts with love...His love.

Please join me in this battle through prayer!