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"I'm standing in the choir balcony of an Orthodox church in Sabac, Serbia. I'm su rrounded by stunning beauty.

The church is covered from floor to ceiling with ex quisite art. The air swells with beautiful strains of a capella choral music pun ctuated by solemn chants. My senses are overwhelmed by the many colors, scents, sounds, lights. "As I look out over the many Serbians kissing the painting of St. Peter and St. Paul, crossing themselves, and dutifully partaking of the Eucharist, my heart is strangely touched. What must God see in these churches, where so many seek Him with such sincerity and solemnity? They know not of the joy of salvation or the peace of abiding in Christ's love. All they know is the art and sense which acco sts them again and again, the set round of ceremonies, and the endless search fo r that which they know not. "What must God see when He looks upon His children throughout the world, so much like these, trapped in Satan's delusions? "What must God see?" These words were penned as I stood on the far-right side of the choir balcony in the back of the main Orthodox church in Sabac. To my left stood the choir dress ed in their every-day Serbian clothes. At the front of the balcony stood a middl e-aged woman, passionately directing the choir from behind a small electric orga n which she used to give the choir each song's beginning tones. Besides the huma n voice, this was the only instrument "used" in the service. This Orthodox choir director, Snezana (Snay-shaw-na, being translated, "Snow Whi te"), was the reason we had the privilege of enjoying such a unique perspective of the Orthodox service. ---------Several days earlier, as we were walking back to our accomidations, we noticed t he Orthodox church, sitting proudly behind an ornate iron fence, its doors open, flooding the courtyard with golden light. We crept into the church quietly, timidly, almost fearfully. The archetecture de manded such. The small brick entry gave way suddenly to a large, imposing room, its cathedral ceiling towering three stories above the cold, tile floor. At the front of this room stood an exquisitely detailed wall resymbling a golden lattic e composed of a myriad intricate designs which embraced dozens of images of the saints. Though not as brightly colored, the walls and ceilings had been lavished with ju st as much, if not more, art then had the front pseudo-wall. At least twenty lar ge murals beautified the inside of the stone edifice, containing an eclectic mix of Bible stories ranging from Creation, to the Garden of Eden, to Peter walking on the water, separated by more intricate designs and paintings of various sain ts. This is where we met Snezana. She walked in on us as we were gazing around the c hurch. Snezana is a tall, slender women with short hair, a Serbian accent, and a n ever-cheerful demeanor. "Would you like me to tell you about the church?" she inquired as she trotted in briskly, not waiting to be introduced. Quickly, she began explaining all about the church, the artists who had contribu ted to its decoration, and even some of the legends that surrounded the icons an d relics in the church. As she talked, Mrs. Popovski leaned over and whispered, "Nathan, do you have a g

and to the right is hel l. Popovski. and then reverent. It is for them we are working. We sang ral. When the choir sings bad.its about hel l. Snezana continued talking. you can come up into the balcony and hear us sing." "We would love to do that!" replied Mrs. "And p erhaps then we can tell you about what we are doing here in Sabac!" "Yes. "I would be honored to have you come listen to the choir. and the music. beautiful. "May we give thi s to you? It actually talks about what you were just telling us -.low tract?" "All I have is 'Two Eternities. stone Amazed at the turn of conversation." She gestured towards a protruding loft at the rear of the church." "Hell!" Snezana chuckled and took the tract. Popovski extended the little tract in Snezana's direction. One senior class . she cold. . but we trust that the seeds God planted will produce a harvest in His perfect timing." As she lifted her head slightly. "I direct the choir up t here. These people need Jesus. the daughter of one of our members died suddenly. I point to the left. I quickly reached my hand back into my camer a bag. "But we to be sad. These people are why we are here. one of the v ery first Serbians who we invited to our meetings. at her fune do not have spoke. far away from school. its cover adorned with a picture of two roads leading to heaven and hell. "Recently. and they know that that is whe re they will go if they sing bad!" She chuckled at her own wit. to this better place of which she spoke. and handed it to Mrs. "If you come on Sunday at nine. at least in a small way. To the left is heaven. And something else happened that Sunday at the Orthodox church. retrieved the tract.'" I replied appologetically after fumbling with my camera bag. She hasen't come yet." Snezana repeated the invitation." Snezana's countenance grew serious. "There are two paintings above the loft. God has shown us. ---------We did return to the Orthodox church that Sunday at nine. caught a vision. because we know that she went to a better place. But more important than that. "Thank you so much for the in vitation!" Mrs. we were able to reach out to Snezana. that would be wonderful!" agreed Snezana. The service was awing . "What must God see?" Perhaps. Popovski. She seemed to be looking past us. Popovski enthusiastically. seeks to debunk the myth of an ever-burning hell. I returned my attention to Snezana's energetic oratory. past the walls. This tract. "We will definitely try to come!" replied Mrs.