My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me? A Devotion about Bosnia

below: graves waiting to be filled with bodies exhumed from mass graves in Srebrenica

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” – Psalm 22:1

Where were you, Lord?

I am standing at the Potočari Memorial Cemetery in Srebrenica, Bosnia, a place where Serb nationalists murdered 8,000 Muslim men and boys during the Bosnian War. In front of me, behind me, all around me stretch row upon row of identical green tombstones. Each one bears a unique name and birth year, but all end with the date 1995. Stone slabs with a seemingly endless list of names carved in them surround me; the same last names appear over and over.

An older woman named Hatidža in a white veil runs her finger along one of the names. “This is my husband,” she says, through an interpreter. She points to two more names. “And these are my sons. I don’t know what happened to them. They have been missing for eleven years.” She pauses, and I can see the pain in her eyes, a pain like I have never known and cannot even imagine. “The best thing I can hope is that they did not suffer for too long.”

Dear Lord . . . how can something like this happen? How can there be such pure evil in the world? How can my fellow humans, created by You in Your image, act with such unmitigated and irrational hatred? You are all good, all powerful, all knowing -- so how can You let things like this occur? I know life isn’t supposed to be fair, God, but how come Hatidža has lost so much more than others, especially me?

I am sitting in the Peace Center in Kozarac, Bosnia, listening to a woman named Emsuda Mujagić speak. She tells us how her town was “ethnically cleansed” during the war, shares how she and her family, along with hundreds of others, were held in a concentration camp in the town of Tronoplje. She survived; many were not so lucky. She shows me a book full of names and some pictures, like a high school yearbook, except that every name in it is that of a missing person. I see an eighty-year-old man, a five-year-old boy, and a girl my age. I am overwhelmed. I stand outside, and I weep.

Where is the justice, Lord? People tell me You have a divine plan for everything – how can this be part of it? I know You are always there, even in the darkest times – but sometimes it is so hard to see where.

“The light shines on in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” – John 1:5

Where are you, Lord?

right: Emsuda with interpreter Vjeko at the war cemetery in Kozarac

Emsuda tells how she returned to her town to help heal the physical and emotional wounds of her community by opening the Peace Center and founding Through Hearts to Peace (Srcem do Mira), a women’s organization that helps widows and refugees and works for peace and understanding among Muslims, Croats, and Serbs. As Emsuda tells her story, she speaks about peace and forgiveness, about letting go of hatred and rising above the cycle of violence and revenge.

I know we are supposed to forgive others, Lord, but I don’t know how Emsuda does it. I have only just heard her story, and even as an outsider I am consumed with confusion, sorrow, horror, rage. I marvel at the light Emsuda brings in a world that seems too dark.

And then I see, Lord. I see an answer, because I see You. Dear Jesus, you said that when we do unto each other, we do unto You. I see you in Emsuda – in the love she shows her neighbors, I see the unconditional love You have for us; in the way she has brought her community back to life, I see a reflection of your glorious resurrection.

I know that God is in Bosnia now, just as He always has been. The darkness seemed overwhelming, but Light of the World shone through. The darkness may seem to triumph, but ultimately, the light is never defeated.

“There’s a calm upon the water, but down below

Oh, the anxious hearts are beating, will this peace ever hold? . . .

Still the memories are haunting, will they block the way?

What can bring us all together to start a brand new day?”

-- Larry Olsen, “May Love Rise Above”

Where will you be, Lord?

What comes next? I think of lyrics from a song written by Larry Olsen of Dakota Road, one of our Bosnia trip musicians. As the years pass and people try to live together once again, the darkness in Bosnia is lifting, and the light is gradually becoming brighter. But the process is painstakingly slow, and the results are uncertain. There is such a long way to go, and I fear that the country will plunge back into darkness.

The only thing I can do is pray:

Dear Lord, thank you for Your unfailing goodness, mercy, and love.

I pray especially for the people of Bosnia, that they find the healing and strength they need to live in peace and harmony.

Let me and all of your children see Your presence even when it is hard to find.

Help me to always remember that “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” (Psalm 46:1-3)

Let me see Your light in the world, and help me to be a vessel capable of sharing Your light with others.

In Jesus’ name I pray,

Amen.

the sun breaking over Srebrenica

All pictures copyright the author, July 2005