Hoku

Zemlja krva i meda, and an Ode to Skirko (conference was great, but you all know that)

Yeah, that's what they call it here. "The land of blood and honey." Fittiing, I suppose, for the ridiculous history, but I think it's even more fitting for the war taking place right now, that we are actively involved in. I want to share 2 experiences from this week, and I'll try to be brief (#helies), that I felt the blessing of both the blood and the honey, and their inseparability.

Experience 1

We found no success. Everywhere we turned we were shut out.  Two of our investigators on date have been impossible to reach and we have had to temporarily take them off of date, because this coming weekend won't happen. That was hard. Other internal struggles spiced the week up with just enough rage to keep me awake.  We had, in the words of President Rowe, "one of the best, if not the best, Zone Conference I have been to on my whole mission," and this was true. It was powerful and what set it apart was the Spirit that both attended and unified us.  It really isn't possible to describe the feeling felt there, as we grew together in love and strength, but by the end of the testimonies there simply was a thickness all around us that we knew to be the Spirit.  The highlight, from where I sat, when Elder Skirkovic stood and bore his testimony about this work. He hit us with power and with determination to keep up and redouble our efforts. All was usual with this 23 year old, former soldier in the New Zealand army in his testimony, until he was expressing his gratitude for each of us. As he listed some in particular, he turned to Elder Sheridan, and said how grateful he was for their days in Zagreb together, he laugh and said those were the best days of his life. And then there was a pause, and I looked from Elder Sheridan to the speaker, and saw some red in his eyes, and a choke in the New Zealand accent as he said, "We fought for the souls of men together. I'll never forget that."  

Something stirred in me, and not just because this great new friend of mine was talking to one of my best friends in the world, my first companion, but because of what it was that was the driving idea in that line. It was the fight that he was so grateful for, that brought this rock of a man to tears. And the fight TOGETHER.  Elder Sheridan and Elder Skirkovic, as far as I am aware of, did not have a single baptism while together in Zagreb. That says nothing of the reactivation's and lives changed by their work, the least of which was their own and each of us in the mission, but the point was in the power seen here in the STRUGGLE.

The lesson didn't end on Wednesday. Like Nephi of old, Elder Skirkovic lives what he preaches. "I will go an do," is followed by many chapters of doing in both of their lives. Aside from the mundane, which is spectacular in and of itself, I want to share the second experience, which speaks more of the blood from the struggle that brings this sweet honey I have already spoken of, and I hope any of you few readers have felt.

Experience 2

The following day was Thursday, which means English class and, immediately after, our "FHE activity" that we hold at the church for investigators, members, english students, whoever. It is a really good idea, not only for finding and teaching, but also because we have many members without a whole family, so this way they have family night too.  We usually have an activity/game bit and a lesson bit. This week was a very special one that we prepared for way ahead in advance. Not only did we create our own mini volleyball net for some modified indoor volleyball with a blow up beach ball, but the lesson we really worked for. If you've heard the story of the pushups and the donuts, that's what we employed.

I called Elder Skirkovic a while back when we were planning and asked him how many pushups he could do in sets of 10. He said he could probably do 250 or more. So we got everything set up, and everybody came into the chapel after the games. Due to our total people who came, the sets had to be upped to 15, so it was kind of sketchy as far as what was going to happen.  Vladan went to the front and opened the first box of donuts. He walked over to little Johan and said "Johan, do you want a donut?" not surprisingly, he did. So Vladan turned around to where Skirko was and asked him, "Chirko, will you do 15 pushups so that Johan can have a donut?" Skirko responded with the Serbian word for both "I will (do it)" and "I want to (do it)." And pushed them out nice and quick. Nana began with comments of "Oh, he's going to be HUGE by the end of this!" And such the conversation started a little light. As Vladan went down the rows, giving donuts one by one, he would ask each time, before giving the donut, "Chirko, will you do 15 pushups so Elder Lowis can have a donut?" "Hocu." "Chirko, will you do 15 pushups so Ceci can have a donut?" "Hocu." "Chirko, will you do 15 pushups so Ljilja can have a donut?" "Hocu."

As this process continued, Skirko began breathing heavier and heavier, and his sweat began flowing very freely.  The conversation left its levity and nonmember and member alike asked us to stop. Sometimes angrily one would say, (like only a Serbian would) "This is unhealthy!! Let him rest longer in between sets! No, not like this!" Vladan began to see his donuts refused. He would ask, "Srdan, do you want a donut?" "No, I don't," came the response. "Chirko, will you do 15 pushups so that Srdan can have a donut that he doesn't want to accept?" Without hesitation, now well over 200 pushups in, "Hocu," Chirko said in between breaths. Immediately my friend got on his hands and feet and began his labor of love. It took longer to complete, his arms shook violently and he would almost find himself stuck at the bottom at times. But he would never break his military form, never put a knee down or bend his waist. Always, he arose only to sink again in more payment. And always he returned to his place at Vladan's side, waiting to do 15 more.  As donut after donut was rejected, the voices became quieter until they all together ceased, and Nana would, with others, ask upon being offered a donut, "Can't I help him and do my own? He is so tired."  "No," Vladan would answer, "it must be this way. Only Skirko can pay for these donuts." Even our little angel, Johan, went to 'strengthen him' and did some strange 3 year old pushups next to Skirko while he was going.

Clearing 300 pushups in these 15 set payments, finally the last in the audience received their donut, though many were left uneaten. There wasn't a dry eye in the room when, off script, Vladan knelt by Skirko where he had just finished his last set, and asked, with much effort, "Chirko, will you do 15 pushups so that I can have a donut?" "Hocu," came the unfailing response. And, with a drive to struggle and finish what he promised me he would do, Chirko finished his last 15.

Vladan's testimony came strong and with much love for the Savior.

Then, still working out how to breathe right, Skirko bore the most powerful testimony of the Atonement that I have ever heard. During no part of the ordeal did this man weep, but during this testimony his eyes filled with that now familiar red, and his voice trembled with power and devotion. I won't write any more describing it, my words take away from the majesty of what we all saw and heard him say and do.

Then we watched "For God So Loved the World," and as that moving video wrapped up, and the Spirit had welded all of ours together, Vladan, that unscripted Serbian friend of mine, looked at me and said, "Elder Hixon, will you bear your testimony and close this meeting?" How could I refuse this final offer of the night, and yet how could I testify? I had done nothing, and we had just been hit with the wave that was Elder Skirkovic's testimony.  But I understood what Vladan was doing, so I replied "Hocu." So I stood, and in my broken Serbian bore a simple testimony of the Atonement. I told them that, while I had not participated in either the real Atonement or our object lesson of it, I was a witness, as were all present. And as a witness, I bore the responsibility to share my testimony with all and invite them to come and partake of this gift that has been so dearly and desperately paid for.

We closed. The week did not change by terms of success, and the small success we did have was nothing in comparison to the sweet honey we tasted as we struggled. As Skirko had time and again testified of and lived, we are here to testify, to fight for the souls of men together.  It doesn't matter so much what the results are, but that we fill our responsibility as witnesses, no matter the price. For no amount of our own sweat and blood can equal the amount of the same that this gift of honey was actually paid for.

I love you all, and I love this work. 
May we fight together.

Elder Hixon