Nerfin' ain't easy, but it's necessary.

Have you ever tried to clarify the truth for someone only to make matters much, much worse? I do this a lot, usually by talking. But when we were in Serbia, my friend Eric and I took it to a whole new level.

We had it in our heads that the world view of the typical American is of a gun-toting cowboy, gangster, or rapper. We decided with a very ill-advised firmness that we would dispel these myths. We would show the world that Americans are not savages armed to the teeth and desperate for blood.

We proceeded by explaining that not all Americans own guns. It's allowed, but it is not required. Eric explained that he did not own a gun and did not feel the need to own a gun. I explained that I, too, felt perfectly safe without any firearms tucked beneath my pillow. And then I may have mentioned that my neighbor feels differently. I may have mentioned that he has, not one gun, but many... a locker full... pistols and rifles and shotguns... and a flak-jacket... and some swords. Anyway, I waved this off as being rather excessive and that few Americans see the need for such an arsenal. But then I also mentioned that, while unnecessary, guns are a lot of fun. A LOT of fun. I didn't go detail-crazy, but I did mention that my neighbor had been gracious enough to take me out a few times to the firing range. And then I reiterated that it was fun.

And in an attempt to keep "fun" at the forefront of the conversation, we brought up Nerf guns, which Eric and I find both necessary AND fun. They apparently don't have Nerf guns in Serbia, so we explained to the small crowd of very confused Serbs just what Nerf guns are and why everyone needs ten of them.

This is the picture we painted: Nerf guns are brightly-colored plastic toys that use compressed air to launch foam darts, sometimes tipped with suction cups, sometimes not, at children and animals.

This, I imagine, is what THEY imagined:


When, in actuality, THIS is what we were trying to describe:


Eric is actually one of the pastors at our church and he used part of this story in a sermon last Sunday and he postulated that the Serbs with whom we had spoken went back to their friends and told them, "It's so much worse than we thought."

I didn't bother explaining the art of modifying your Nerf guns so they can shoot over your house. That might have gotten us deported.

Thank you,
Matt Beers

More about English Camp...

I was in Serbia for fifteen days with almost no communication with my wife. In spite of that, it was incredible.

We were part of a group that put on an English camp just outside of a little town called Opovo, which is just north of Belgrade. Google Earth it if you really need to know. The camp was held at a Bible school which we affectionately referred to as the HUB (pronounced "Hoob"). It was a very cool place. The property had a high wall surrounding it (which I tried to climb once before realizing that gravity works in Eastern Europe just like it works in the States) and a big medieval-style gate which, instead of making me feel secure, made me wonder what would be trying to get in at night.

Anyway, there were about sixty people or so at the camp, a combination of "native-speakers" (foreigners whose first language is English), translators, students, and facility staff. We had quite a mix of nationalities, including Serbian, American, Irish, English, Hungarian, Romanian, and Australian. We even had one guy who lived in Portland, Oregon, was born in Canada, and whose parents were from the Philippines. He was kind of an over-achiever.

The students were amazing. They all spoke English at different skill levels so they were divided up into groups appropriate for them. Each class had a teacher (some had two), native-speaking helpers, and at least one translator.

It was evident from day one that this camp was more about relationships than it was about English. I think the students picked up on it right away, too, because they warmed up to us more like we were friends than teachers. We didn't make much effort ourselves to keep that teacher/student barrier intact. In our class, one of our first exercises was to stand in a circle, say our name and do a dance move. Then we went around the group and said everyone's name and did their dance move. We all looked ridiculous but that kind of became a theme that week. It should be noted that, during this name-learning exercise, I invented a dance move which is no doubt racing across Europe like wildfire. It's called "the walker." You'll know it when you see it in a club this time next year.

We did the typical camp stuff: games, skits, water balloons, less bathing than is probably reasonable. We also shared the Gospel with a bunch of amazing kids who don't hear a lot of encouraging news. These kids are encouraged, not to seek a meaningful relationship with God, but to go out and experience life (i.e., drink and do drugs and sleep around while they're still young enough to survive that kind of lifestyle). The kids were great. They didn't give us the kind of groaning and eye-rolling we had expected. Many of them were very interested and open. It was a humbling experience to be a part of something so cool.

There's lots more to share, but I wouldn't be doing it justice. It's an experience that I was blessed enough to be included in and I need to accept the fact that I can't copy and paste it into everyone else's brain, no matter how hard I try.

There are tons of pictures, though, some cool, some embarrassing. I'll post some over the next few weeks. Like this one:

This is me telling a story to Rachel and Erin, two of my American teammates, and Davor and Mirjana Janecic, two of our hosts. As you can see, none of them understands a word I'm saying.

Here's another:

This is me being popular. That good-looking guy creeping directly above my head is Eric, our team-leader.

And then there's this:

Marko and Dragisa. I was forced to kill them both.

Anyway, that's what's up.

Thank you,
Matt Beers

It's hard to say what I mean...

I've been home from Serbia for a little more than a week and I still can't shake this feeling that part of me is still there. I'm having a very hard time processing everything that happened and an even harder time putting the events into words so that my friends and family can understand it all.

This is why I haven't posted anything in a very long time.

I guess the best I can do is isolate the common denominators and talk about them for a while. I'll begin with the differences between Serbia and the States.

1. In the States everyone drives with "lawsuit" hovering in the back of their minds. In Serbia, if they hit something, they'll be kilometers away before anyone notices. The pedals in the cars seem to operate by analog. On and off. Go and stop. There is no acceleration and deceleration. There is only moving quickly and stopping abruptly.

2. The food in the States is garbage. Even the healthy stuff has been in a package for six months before it reaches a consumer. In Serbia, if you're eating fried chicken, it was probably still alive while the table was being set. What we call "organic" here in the States, Serbs would call "vegetables." Even the stuff they buy in the market comes from someone's garden. (And if you have information stating otherwise, please keep it to yourself. This is MY fairyland and I'm very happy here.)

One of the AMAZING meals we had while in Serbia. There were vegetables somewhere on the table, too, but I didn't notice them until much, much later.


3. In the States, cheap toilet paper is basically a translucent film which fails to act as a significant barrier and leaves you feeling like you kinda want to cut off your fingers. If you use cheap toilet paper in Serbia you may bleed if you aren't careful. It's dangerous stuff. Very rasp-like.

4. In the States, when you meet someone for the first time with whom you will be staying, they are polite, cordial, usually a little guarded. In Serbia, this is not so. The people are instantly likable. Lovable, even. They love to laugh and sing and dance and eat and they don't waste time beating around the bush. If you're fat, they have no problem pointing it out. The same rule applies for baldness and talkativeness, I've found. But they are also just as quick to point out good qualities.

I must end this post. One of my children needs me. I will post more later about the trip itself and what we did and how we were changed. Stay tuned.

Thank you,
Matt Beers

2 days

Today and tomorrow will be devoted almost exclusively to packing and spending time with Betsy and the kids. I leave on Wednesday. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little anxious. I'm not anxious about things going wrong. I'm just antsy to get started.

So, I've got all of my packing to do. Five t-shirts, three button-up shirts (I won't call them dress-shirts because they aren't very dressy), two pair of shorts, two pair of pants, socks, unders, shoes, pajammers, a hooded sweatshirt, toiletries, various items related to the mission trip, things to eat, read, and do on the plane, various gifts for the host families that we'll be staying with, and an assortment of Nerf guns, hunting knives, and Star Wars paraphernalia. Well, probably not the last three things. I need to keep my luggage underweight, after all.

Anyway, I'm not taking my laptop and, as I'll be very, incredibly busy over the next two days, this will probably be my last post until I return on July 15th.

Thank you,
Matt Beers

Loads and loads of ado...

I just spent the day at the Children's Museum in Indianapolis. It's pretty cool. It's being destroyed by dinosaurs, but there are handrails everywhere, so it's still safe for kids.

I leave for Serbia in four days. I'm a little nervous. I shouldn't be, but I am. I'm not really worried about the actual trip. I know it's under control. I'm just worried that I'll forget to pack something. Like enough underwear.

I originally wanted to pack super-light. Five shirts, some pants and shorts, unders and socks, a toothbrush, maybe. But now I'm taking a bunch of books (fifty or so) to give as gifts. With fifty books in your luggage there's no point in trying to pack light. So now I have to lug around a full-sized suitcase, a carry-on, and a personal item. Granted, once I leave the books in Serbia I'll be able to pack the carry-on inside the suitcase, but still. It's gonna be a pain. Maybe I can pack super, SUPER light and the books can share the suitcase with two shirts and a sock. Serbia IS in Europe. Maybe a more liberal wardrobe will be totally accepted there. I'll see what I can do.

Thank you,
Matt Beers

We were called on purpose.

We had a super-long Serbia team meeting this evening. We had a lot of fun and we laughed a lot, but we found out that the group we're teaching (originally thought to be around 15 students) is being combined with another, much larger group. We are now planning for 65 students.

My initial response was to freak out a little. But then I remembered that I'm serving God. God doesn't say, "Hey, I've got this ditch I want you to jump over. Surprise! It's the Grand Canyon! See ya later, sucker." He's never asked me to do anything that He didn't already have figured out. For whatever reason, our little team (which I learned tonight, and with much joy, is plagued by political incorrectness, mischievous sarcasm, and general orneriness) was chosen for this job. There isn't a weakness among us that God doesn't know about and no strength that is enough without Him.

We're golden.

Thank you,
Matt Beers