Before teams took off for their ministry contacts for the month, our leadership team was looking for a place to stay for that weekend. It just so happened that one of the teams' contacts had a house in Sofia where the 5 of us could spend the weekend alone, free of distractions. We asked the lady at the front desk where we were staying about the address we were given for the house. She told us that we couldn't go there. She called the place a gypsy ghetto, and said it was very dangerous and the kids would throw rocks at us if we walked down the street there.
After checking the place out, we decided to chance it since it was a free place to stay. The neighborhood didn't look the greatest, but the house we stayed in felt much like a little cottage within the "ghetto" around us. Some of the homes could be described as shacks, but a few others were similar to big, yet poorly maintained and rundown, American homes. The streets weren't the cleanest, and as we walked one day, the water in the drainage canal suddenly turned red like I imagine happened in Moses' day. Turns out, they had just slaughtered a sheep and allowed the blood to flow into to drainage water. For the most part, it did feel like a slum.
So, the kids stoned us. At about dusk one day, my friend, Jake, looked through the window and saw a kid with a soccer ball. Jake then suggested we go play with him. Jeremy agreed with Jake, and I decided if they were in that I'd go along. After making a couple of turns down the dirt streets, we found a kid with a ball and started playing with him. Soon enough it seemed like all the kids from the whole neighborhood were around the three of us playing and telling us all the English they knew.
I met a girl named Natka and her friend Bobbie. They were the ones who stoned me–they hugged me. Somehow I hoped to make a cool analogy that turned "stoned" into "hugged" but that's not happening. These girls were precious, and after going back the following night, I felt like I new them like little sisters. They never actually threw rocks at us.
It made me wonder what areas back home I wouldn't go to because I think they're unsafe while in reality my next little sister is there. Is it my prejudice or perception, or are there areas where I have a legitimate excuse to not share the gospel?
That's an easy one, so I'll answer it. I do have prejudice, and no, I have no excuse.
