Serbian Tradition and Taboo
Srđan fights the odds to proclaim Christ to his countrymen.
Photo by Tom Mills
12 . July . 2010
Challenging cultural norms, Chuki starts up a spiritual conversation with a fellow Serb.
When Srđan Milićević was in high school, Campus Crusade for Christ was blacklisted by authorities in Serbia.
Opposed by universities, media and the Serbian Orthodox Church, the ministry was forced to rename and reorganize its approach to evangelism.
That was 15 years ago.
Srđan, known as Chuki [CHOO-key], now works for the ministry. Recently airport police called him, asking questions regarding Armenian missionaries. They wanted an explanation for why the Armenians were entering Serbia. Chuki affably explained they were volunteers, there to talk with and pray for students. His Serbian endorsement (plus 2 additional phone calls) quieted the police’s concern; they let the Armenians in, no further questions.
Spiritually, things have changed in Serbia over the last 15 years. Often, Serbs still become offended or surprised at the mention of religion.
“It’s a bit taboo to talk about,” says Chas Bailey, an American who worked with Campus Crusade in Serbia for two years. “Religion in Serbia is wrapped in nationalism, war, government and strong family ties to the Orthodox Church.”
To some, ministry threatens tradition -- one of the few things that hasn’t changed. Through wars and political takeovers, the country’s name alone has changed 5 times in the last century. Its people have struggled to hold onto a sense of identity.
Chuki is innately connected with Serbian culture, yet counter-cultural by choosing to be a missionary in his homeland.
Growing up in the “ethnically pure” village of Čurug, where some trace their ancestries back hundreds of years, Chuki remembers feeling pressured to be well-behaved, academically successful and multi-talented.
Slightly smaller than South Carolina and bordering 8 Eastern European countries, Serbia has been on the mend from wars and ethnic strife from World War I through the 1990s.
Chuki was caught in his own private battle during high school, when he began a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. He says his parents threatened to throw him out of their home in response. Not one to go quietly, Chuki decided to attend Bible school and later even joined the staff of Campus Crusade for Christ, decisions that fall in stark contrast to norms imposed by family, friends and culture. Religion, Serbs believe, has its place.
Chuki knows his place. “Serbs are energetic. We are curious about new things and sometimes stubborn. We like to finish what we start,” he says. As a Serb, he has an advantage when requesting permissions for the ministry, acquiring access to campus or hosting events because he is familiar with how Serbians operate.
Cristina Enache, a staff member who moved from Romania 6 years ago to work with the team, knows it is important to understand Serbian culture. “Every culture has a rule, a rule that is only learned by living with the people,” she says.
Last spring, Chuki challenged cultural rules by initiating spiritual conversation with a stranger. The Serbian law student, Marija, stood off to the side, her body language indicating discomfort at being approached so abruptly.
After small talk, Chuki asked, “Do you believe in God?” Marija answered, “I believe there is a god in each of us. We make our own happiness. We decide our future.”
Chuki replied, “God for me is something different. Can I tell you about my experience?” Marija nodded and relaxed a bit as Chuki told her about himself, not religion -- about how Christ changed his life. Before saying goodbye, Chuki handed her a DVD about athletes who explain why they believe in God. Marija, moving closer, grabbed the DVD exclaiming, “Oh, yes! I understand. This is good.”
Serbs value media; Chuki works with several forms in Novi Sad, Serbia’s 2nd-largest city, located on the banks of the Danube River. Developing and monitoring the Serbian student evangelical website translated as “Student Corner” is one of Chuki’s weekly tasks.
He also devotes time to Vox magazine, a student resource used as a ministry tool on campus that helps start conversations with students about spiritual things. The magazine has been in print for more than 5 years and is widely read because of the many contributing authors, both students and free-lancers.
Wednesday nights in Novi Sad, Chuki can be found at SpeakUp café, a gathering designed for students. The forum connects art to life issues and the gospel, and spurs discussion. Sometimes a video is used to debate an issue, as when a music video of pop singer Anastacia was used to ask questions like, “Why is Anastacia singing about having a 2nd chance?”
“Every week, I have the opportunity to sit down and explain the gospel to someone,” says Chuki. However, when the subject turns to Jesus, rejection is common. “Serbs are about relationship,” says Chuki. “You have to take time to build trust. It’s a slow process.”
Talking with his good friend Nenad Radmanović at a restaurant a few minutes from 18-century Roman ruins, Chuki explains what the Bible says about God’s promises. During the summers, Campus Crusade hosts an English camp on the coast of Montenegro. Nenad attended the very first English camp in 2006, and later, after meeting with Chuki to hear more about God’s love and forgiveness, invited Christ into his life.
“Chuki is the only guy I can talk with about important things. There are no barriers, like when I talk to priests or religious people. I can talk to Chuki about anything,” says Nenad, between bites of traditional cucumber, tomato, onion and feta cheese salad.
Chuki sees many Christians become isolated after leaving the university. Like Nenad, graduates return to towns that have no Christian fellowship. Nenad values Chuki and their open and honest conversations. “Chuki challenges me to do the right thing or points me to the Bible for answers -- God’s answers,” says Nenad.
Although many students lose touch after their university days, Chuki defies the trend by remaining in contact with the graduates with whom he had significant relationships.
Even before he became a missionary, Chuki was bucking protocol to stay faithful to God. He served in the Serbian Army for a year, as every Serbian male must do for a 6 month minimum. Although he was forbidden to talk openly about God, Chuki loaned Christian books to his army friends.
The captain confiscated a favorite, along with Chuki’s other reading materials, but Chuki managed to hide a small New Testament in his helmet and would read it when alone.
Joining the ministry was an obvious career choice for Chuki, but a few years ago, after discouragement over little progress in ministry, he applied for a job elsewhere. After praying, Chuki felt God telling him, No, you’re not finished here yet. Chuki was working with a small team, and ministry was difficult.
“Ministry was discouraging because, at the time, I had no Christian community, no close friends,” says the 31-year-old. But he felt God saying, You are in the right place. Stay.
The task remains daunting. Chuki and his teammate, Cristina, are the only full-time staff members actively involved on a university campus. For the first time in years, they began this school year without the help of any short-term American missionaries. Chuki and Cristina trained 5 Serbian student leaders to reach out to peers.
Johanna Szakallas, a 19-year-old at the University of Novi Sad, is a student leader. Johanna has known Chuki for more than 2 years. “Chuki is like a brother to me,” Johanna says. “When I come to him with questions or concerns, he always has answers and points me to the Bible. He cares about helping students.”
By training and modeling ministry to student leaders, Chuki and Cristina are investing in the spiritual future of hundreds and, maybe one day, thousands of students across Serbia.
Sitting at a café by the River Sava on a humid, lazy night, Chuki laughs and chats with his friend Danijela Morković. Blasting from speakers high above the table is a popular song known by Serbia’s young people. Teasing him, Danijela says, “Oh, you don’t like this kind of music. You would much rather listen to Serbian folk music, like an old man!” They both laugh.
But in the way Chuki favors an unpopular tune, he is working full time to bring an unpopular name to a dark place: the name of Jesus.
“Chuki is one of the few people prepared to work the soil and bring in the harvest when winter ends,” says Jon Layton, an American staff member who has worked with the ministry. “A lot of people who labor in cold places don’t ever see fruit from their labor. I believe Chuki and the team in Serbia are about to see things happen.”
They’re ready.
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