Albania is a mysterious land of stark contrasts—hot and cold, dry and wet, new and old. Mercedes sedans and donkey carts share the roads. Isolation from the outside world during communism froze Albania in time. Then the fall of communism in the early 90s left Albanians scrambling to find their place in the world.

Albanian culture also can be a puzzling dichotomy—a rigid traditional code of behavior and the warmest, most generous hospitality one could imagine. It also includes the frightening practice of blood feuds between families. Lord Byron described Albanians thusly in Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage:

Fierce are Albania’s children, yet they lack
Not virtues, were those virtues more mature.
Where is the foe that ever saw their back?
Who can so well the toil of war endure?
Their native fastnesses not more secure
Than they in doubtful time of troublous need:
Their wrath how deadly! But their friendship sure,
When Gratitude or Valour bids them bleed
Unshaken rushing on where’er their chief may lead.

Pray that, when they accept the lordship of Christ, they will follow Him “where’er their chief may lead.”

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