Passage through Belgrade Airport is easy and Andy is waiting, cheerful as ever. As we weave our way out of the airport, a helicopter buzzes insistently overhead and policemen fuss around the airport's main entrance - an important politician is flying out tonight.

Heading out of Belgrade, we cross one of many bridges mended after the bombardment in 1999. We feel the strange sensation of bumping over the join. High above us a fighter roars into the night sky on afterburner.

In the villages we negotiate the narrow streets past the cottages and smallholdings, admiring the brand new traffic lights on the way. My hosts are Sladjan and Jaroslava, both graduates of the School and now working on staff. We make friends over a simple meal and a dictionary and Jaroslava issues me with a pair of checked slippers for my stay. Many Serbian houses keep a big basket of them by the door to welcome the visitor.

At the early morning prayer meeting the singing is wonderful, accompanied by several guitars and bongos. Boro leads the study on Psalm 43 but feels compelled to share another verse too. It is Joshua 1 v. 8 -9 and has always been a special marker from God for me. It would seem that I really am meant to be here!

At the end of the prayer meeting, Elenka, a student in 1999 and now a member of staff, remembers me. She is delighted to hear that one of her paintings now hangs on my office wall.

After lunch I walk around the village in the brilliant sunshine. The old cottages, with their crumbling paint in pastel shades, are a delight. My (very old) camera attracts many stares from local Schoolchildren.

Back home, I make an unsuccessful attempt to find the World Service on short wave radio. Instead, I find English radio from Tirana, Radio Kuwait and 'Voice of America'.

In the afternoon we visit Boro and his wife Snezana's (Snow White!) home. It consists of three rooms on the side of a bigger house - into which they are squeezed, along with their toddler and teenage daughter. They have made great sacrifices to come here and do so, again, as they share some of their tiny resources of food and drink with us.

At night, nine of us squeeze into the jeep and bounce along unlit country roads to a nearby village. The students sing and share their testimonies at an evangelistic rally and Andy preaches. The church itself is a stark contrast to their vivacity. Their final song is followed by an old hymn led on the vibrato organ. One of the students is from the next village and we stop off at his parents' house for tea, pizza and much laughter on the way home. Ivica delights us all with his impression of the rough 'Balkan man' and our host shows us round his home-made greenhouse, where he has grown 95 pepper plants this year.

On the way home we dodge into a field and douse the lights on the jeep - enabling us to surprise the students in the car that was following us from behind!

Later, one of the students bares his soul and we pray together. He is grateful to God for his time at the School and longs to serve Him in Bosnia. However, first he must return home for a while. We pray for strength as he looks to God for the future.

This evening translator, Ira, and her boyfriend join us at the house. This makes for an evening of multi-lingual fun - Serbian, Macedonian, Slovak, English and a bit of Bulgarian thrown in for good measure!

In the classroom, role play on guidance makes for some riotous learning, as we discuss ways of 'getting the message across'. It is Silvjia's birthday today and the sunshine comes out on her face when she is presented with a birthday cake over lunch.

Outside the sun is shining too, as a wedding party makes its way through the village into the mayor's office for the ceremony. Meanwhile, a wizened old lady taps past us with a stick, bent over under the weight of her bags.

Later, over fizzy drinks and sickly banana cake, I chat to one of this year's students. She is a former School teacher who found it hard to speak English after the experiences of 1999. Now, however, she is glad to practice it. Vlasto, a student from the class of '99, comes across to greet me and to enquire about the children's health. Last time we met, he told me that he would 'see me in heaven'. We are both glad not to have waited that long!

Whilst I wait, I chat to my two translators for the day. There is Srdjan, nicknamed Chuky after his home village, who is one of this year's students. There is also Mariana, who lives in the village only at weekends and studies graphic design in Belgrade during the week. My heart melts as the door opens and Pista ambles in. We hug and I clasp his face in my hands. It is so good to see him!

We pull into the drive at Pista and Gizy's little home and Gizy is waiting. She admits that she, too, has felt like "a child on Christmas night" waiting for this day. On the way to church she explains that for many weeks she was unable to walk and that I am the first visitor she has been able to welcome to their home this year. What a privilege! I confess that last time I saw her, in poor health even then, I was unsure that I would ever see her again. Earlier this year she slipped into a coma, unable to move, swallow or see. In the midst of that time she could see the silhouettes of people standing around the bed and knew that it was the people far and near who were praying for her. When she came out of the coma the doctors asked why she had been smiling when she was so ill. 'Because there were people around me', she explained. Life is still not easy. Her right hand is very weak and she has to take a cocktail of drugs every day to keep her alive. However, she is grateful for the healing she has received. When some in the church chided her for being so busy this week she explained 'this is a joy for me to do, because Richard's coming is a family visit'. I am humbled to be so loved.

It is wonderful to see the church in its new home - an old restored German house. When we arrive, Pista shows us around, including pointing out the 'bedrooms' (which turn out to be bathrooms!). In the main room, someone stokes the wood-burning stove in the middle of the room, whilst Pista sets off to start the worship. As the service gets under way, I look around at the faces of those whom God has saved in this city. We have prayed for these people! As the song 'My Jesus' reaches its crescendo, Gizy breaks with Serbian tradition and stands to sing. She explains afterwards that she is so thrilled that God has healed her legs that she doesn't really mind about tradition!

After a pot of delicious Hungarian goulash which Pista has made, we chat for hours over Turkish coffee and cake. Pista's vision is as great as ever and he wants to see many more in the town reached with the Gospel. In the courtyard of the new church he would like to build a playground for the town's children and an open-air stage. Together we watch the video of greetings from Teddington and Pista and Gizy explain how our gifts have always arrived on time and have made life so much easier. They still treasure the fact that they were 'adopted' by Teddington when they first graduated and that the partnership has gone on. When it comes to the time to pray together, the three of us, and at least one of the translators, weep as we do so. Life has been so hard for them but God has been so good.

Last stop of the day is a surprise birthday party for a church member. Pista takes his oldest guitar - the one he fished out of the River Danube - and provides musical entertainment. As the coffee flows and the creamy cake is passed around, Gizy nods with a smile at those in the room. 'All these people are fruit', she confides. Thank God. We make two attempts to drive back to the School, as Pista forgets his wallet on the first. Their tiny car wheezes along the back roads as we talk and laugh together. Parting is hard, as I step out of the car in the village. We hug and I assure them that they are loved and remembered by so many in Teddington. With a final goodbye we hope that the next parting will not last three years!

Not surprisingly today's session on sex and marriage brings a flood of questions in the classroom, as well as some more sensitive ones in the break. These people are keen to learn and keen to do the right thing too. Ivica lightens the atmosphere by asking what he should do about the old man who says that his beard is a stumbling block and should be shaved off. All seem pleased with my response that he should shave half of it off to keep the complainant happy half of the time!

Over breakfast I make the mistake of asking which colours I need to make the Serbian flag. This causes an argument about whether the Serbian or the Yugoslav flag is meant, whether to take any account of Montenegro and whether it wouldn't be better to use the Croatian flag anyway! The students agree, with much laughter, that this is a demonstration of the Balkan problem in miniature!

After a busy day teaching, I interview Ira who has been working as my translator. I ask for her views on translation for my studies into the parallels between preaching and translation. After this, a student has asked to meet with me. His heart is in church planting and he wants to talk about some of the possibilities and challenges which it presents. He is grateful for the opportunity to pray together and will continue to pray about it during his forthcoming nine months of military service.

As I head home with my purchase, an owl swoops low over my head out of the dark trees.

Outside, there is a drizzle of cold rain as I walk past the amusingly named "Dim" boutique on my way home.

In our final session, we compile a reply to the Apostle Paul to test what we have learned from his letter. The students rise to this challenge with enthusiasm and humour and produce the letter in the panel (right).

At the close of the session, Jan, from a nearby village, gives a vote of thanks for the practical teaching and presents me with a gift from the students. On their behalf, he wishes the family and me a happy Christmas.

Tonight, four of us squeeze into a 26 year-old Renault 4 and head off for a town near the border with Hungary and Croatia. Jan, a local fireman, is driving and students Chuky and Ivana are squeezed into the back. On the way, we have to negotiate unlit hairpin bends and a bridge only partly mended since 1999.

When we arrive, the service is in full swing with people sitting on plastic garden chairs and the song numbers stuck on the wall on a sheet of paper. Our old School chairs have to be brought in from the yard and cleaned off. They are too cold to sit on, so someone folds an old curtain over them for us.

With the next meeting due to start in ten minutes, we scream into town to eat a burger in a nearby bar. My companions warn me not to let my English voice be heard in case the bill is doubled! Afterwards, I speak at the high School students' meeting. At first they are shy but we soon find ourselves in a deep discussion on the power of holy ambition. We pray for each other and talk on over drinks.

Time to go; and we head off into the countryside, sharing testimonies in broken English and translated Serbian as we go. It's hard to tell where we are in the darkness. When someone asks Jan, the driver, where we are, he answers (not very hopefully), 'Vojvodina' - a vast province of Serbia!

On entering the village, we stop at Jan's house where he fetches me two huge bags of paprika made from the peppers he has grown and dried. They will appear in dishes on many English tables!

Outside the house, we pray together before we part. After a full night and a full ten days, it is time to give thanks and head our separate ways.

-Soli Deo Gloria-

See also: A Serbian Diary 2004

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