M. received the news with terror. He was only 15 years old, but he was not surprised. Some of his friends had already been taken. Extremists would come for them and take them away to train and fight for their “cause.”
M. didn’t believe in their so-called cause, but neither had his friends. Why did they go with the soldiers? He knew they went because they had no choice.
People in far away lands would say that they should fight for their homes. He saw their posts on Facebook. But these people didn’t understand.
They could wait for the soldiers with a gun. Of course they could. And when the soldiers came, they could shoot one, and if they were lucky they might even shoot two before the rest of the soldiers blew their heads off. But that would not be the end. As a message to any other young people who might think they might do the same when they came for them, the extremist soldiers would then kill their whole families.
They were coming for M. in the morning. When they came, he would have only two choices: go with them, or refuse and watch his whole family die before his own life was taken by these merciless soldiers.
M. lay down in his bed for one last time. In the morning, no matter what happened, his life would never be the same. His childhood was over, and perhaps within 24 hours his life would be as well.
As darkness filled the room, he didn’t think he would possibly be able to sleep. He must have dozed off, however, because the next thing he knew somebody was nudging him in his bed. Had the soldiers come for him early?
Startled and nearly overwhelmed with fear, he looked up and saw the eyes of his uncle, H. His uncle put a finger to his lips and warned him to keep quiet. “Come with me,” he whispered.
And his uncle whisked him away in the night.
The soldiers came for him in the morning, but he wasn’t there. His family was spared, and now K and his uncle were refugees. They had a perilous journey ahead of them. The journey through mountains and sea was one that would claim many lives, but they knew they had no choice. If K’s family was going to have a chance, they had to be brave.
And this, my friends, is how refugees are made.
This is also one of the reasons why around 60 percent of the refugees in Europe are young males. Because M.’s story is not unique. It is one that has been repeated over and over, tens of thousands of times. As hard as it is for them to leave their homes, they have learned that their flight is their families’ only chance of survival.
In M.’s case, he eventually ended up at a refugee camp in Slavonski Brod, Croatia. Karen and I became good friends with him and his uncle as they were stranded in that camp, which was really more of a prison, for two months.
Then eventually they were released and moved to an asylum centre in Zagreb, where they are now living. They have freedom of movement within Croatia now, and they have started coming to the Nazarene church with us. They have recently announced that they now believe that Jesus is God, which is a huge step for someone coming from a Muslim background. The other day, Uncle H. sent me the lyrics of an Elvis Presley song that spoke deeply to his heart:
One pair of hands formed the mountains
One pair of hands formed the sea.
One pair of hands made the sun and the moon
Every bird, every flower, every tree.
One pair of hands formed the valleys, the oceans, the rivers, and the sand.
Those hands are so strong so when life goes wrong
Put your faith into one pair of hands.
One pair of hands heal the sick
One pair of hands raise the dead.
One pair of hands calmed the raging storm
and thousands of people were fed.
One pair of hands said I love you
and those hands were nailed to a tree.
Those hands are so strong so when life goes wrong
Put your faith into one pair of hands.
They were coming for him in the morning, but he was one of the lucky ones. He and his uncle escaped and came to Jesus in Croatia.
By Chris Lewis – Central Europe Refugee Response
