"Olt County is like a graveyard for missionaries — if you don't have a community, you will not make it."
Eight years ago, Raul Costea moved his family from Northern Romania to Olt County, the least reached county in Romania. 0.2% of the people who live in these villages are Christians — dark magic, pagan religions, and Orthodox churches overrule any modern understandings.
He certainly didn't make any friends when he showed up. The chief of police and the orthodox priest both came to his home to tell him that he and his Gospel were unwelcome — he was physically beaten and socially ostracized because he was a Repenter.
"Stay away from the Repenters," people were told. "They'll steal your money."
"They'll kidnap your children and chop them up for food."
"They'll give the teenagers candies laced with drugs. Don't be around them!"
Lies spread. People refused to be associated with the Repenters. But Raul stayed. Then God showed up and reached some of the people of Draganesti, and the light of a single person grew into the steady glow of a team, a team ready and committed to God's vision for a dark, unreached village.
Three years ago, they started to build a church on the main street of the village. God moved mountains and the Repenters were allowed to build where even the Orthodox church was not welcome. Teams have come in from all over the world to work on different parts of the building over the years. A team from Texas laid the foundation. A team from South Carolina put in the bathrooms. My team was the finishing detail, painting and scrubbing floors and doors and moving chairs and washing walls, all in preparation for the Grand Opening Event on Sunday, 25 September 2012.
Raul and his team of missionaries were at the church all day and most of the night on Saturday in preparation. People came in from all over Romania, the UK, the Netherlands, and the US; Raul ran around the building with a thousand different things on his plate, trying to get everything right.
To be honest, I was a little bit apprehensive.
After passing out over 5,000 invitations (stuffing them into ancient looking gates in empty, haunted-looking villages) over the past two weeks and after all of the build up and the excitement and expectations of the missionaries, I couldn't help but be nervous that everyone would be a little bit disappointed. The communities here are so cold and closed to anything new or foreign. I had no idea what Sunday was going to look like, so I just prayed that God would fill everyone with peace and the confidence that God's word will not return to Him empty, despite what things look like from our perspective.
But then God showed up and moved a few more mountains. And even from our earthly perspective, we got a sneak peak into a little bit of what Heaven is going to be like.
The church overflowed. There were no more chairs to bring up from the basement. There was no room in the sanctuary for our teams — we were kicked out to make more room for the people who were coming in off the streets.
People heard the Gospel for the first time and a community was reached in a brand new way on Sunday. This day was three years in the making, and it was worth every moment of the wait.
And Raul? I don't think Raul was disappointed with how God moved on Sunday.
Keep Raul and Hope Baptist Church in your prayers. The grand opening may be over, but the ministry potential just exploded — this missionary graveyard is brimming with passion and life, and Jesus has only just begun with Draganesti-Olt.
Photo Credit: Brianna Danese
