“Gypsies are an afflicted society, no matter what we think. They have been given an identity from society that is not Love, and we need to restore their identity in Christ.”
These words fell off the lips of one of the Racers I’m working with this month as we prayed in preparation for the work God would bring to us for the day. It’s a society that honestly most Americans wouldn’t know how to approach, because we never hear of them. Aside from childhood imaginations from them holding magic balls, it wasn’t until the Race and a good friend from Florida who made me aware of these people that exists across the world in Eastern Europe. And for many times I’ve heard from the people that live here about the “problem” of them, about how they are unruly.
Everywhere you go, you’ll find a society that is ignored or forgotten. In American there is still the forgotten society of the Native American population that we have acted like they don’t exist in ignorance. And these people who have migrated centuries ago and have now spread through Europe and mixed with Europeans, these people once during World War II were facing genocide as Germans would kill them on sight.
In the last couple of days our teams have gone to the small villages of these people that most societies in all their comfort wouldn’t go near. First let me say, yes there are a lot of issues within the people group themselves, as we all have some, that will either break your heart with compassion or make you angry. But we aren’t called to be the latter. Describing the lives of gypsys (Roms are the official names to Romania) is like describing ministry to the Native American reservations I’ve gone on; you really can’t understand unless you go yourself. Though we call them gypsys, it would be an insult to say that to them.
There are four levels of them that I was told by a fellow Romanian in the village we stay. The first, those who are really poor and steal and lie. Second level, those who are poor and don’t steal, but still can’t be trusted. Third level, those who try to fit into society and detach themselves from the stigma of their people, but the world is too afraid to accept them after immediately seeing their skin color. Last, those who are really rich (a few) and show it off with much jewelry and dress. One of the hardest things to imagine is that teenage girls as young as twelve or younger can be kidnapped by men and be forced to marry someone and become pregnant at the age of thirteen.
So two days ago here I walked through the cornfields of a small town in Romania on my way to be a part of a Rom funeral for someone I had no idea, and though it was weird in circumstance it was an opportunity to speak hope. It was definitely an experience to remember as to how they honored their dead and a reminder of the fragility of life. As we got off our bus we left the houses that were huge and very modern and went not even a half a mile past them to see another society that lives in the backyard of the higher class.
We were among the poorest of the poor here in Romania, houses resembled to me so much of what Africa was with the mud walls. Did I really think Eastern Europe couldn’t possibly have this? Yet I walked back into the poor societies of our world in a more developed country. One room mudded wall shacks and I even saw beside the road a home that was of sticks that had no walls and a tarp that covered covering over like a canopy two beds and small belongings. This was the home they had there was a boy laying in bed during the chilly day and I’m sure the temperature is freezing at night. That was a home? I couldn’t believe it. Pots and pans on the outside and some small type of fire place with barely stable shelter.
From the homes to the people. Little kids run up to you with hands that have a dark dirty red tint on the palms. They smile like nothing else in the world is better to do as they come up to you like they’ve not ever experienced a hug before. Little Luringi became a little friend of mine holding my hand as we walked. They love getting their photos taken, but I believe they love just being loved more. The elderly are just as kid at heart as the little ones are. Men wear coats with large black hats and the women wear bright dresses with a head covering everywhere. As you walk the main streets of the city it’s not hard a time to spot them wearing the bright clothes and the darker skin color that makes them look so beautiful. The oldest man and down in age are the leaders of the local village and society.
The hardest part when in the village where the funeral was is seeing the teenage girls all around the village area. Many of them who looked at least the age of twelve or thirteen were pregnant. One stood to my left and I asked one of my translators what her name was and she said Alexandra, and then I found out she was thirteen and having her first child on the way. There’s pretty much no choice for the girls here and so you’ll find many that look so young finding out what mother life is like already. No future dreams, careers, ambitions, indivduality; just a short life of freedom before you become a mom and support the kids and the husband of someone possibly much older than you. Then you notice in the village that there’s hardly any teenage boys, only really small boys and older men. Statistics are good, but they’ll never compare to putting a face with a name: tangibility. It becomes a hard picture to grasp.
(Alexandra, thirteen and pregnant)
When we left and went to our second village where we had done a worship service for a room full of Roms and shared the gospel, I saw a glimmer of hope for the glory of God in them. We were late getting there from a funeral that went longer than expected only to find out upon arrival that they had already been waiting an hour and half for us. There they were hungry for the word of God and wanted to see salvation of our God.
And so for both services the love of God for all peoples and the grace He gave through Christ was preached; at a funeral and at a make shift worship service. How do you really describe a society like this? A society of kids that have moms as young as thirteen, one that has no favor amongst most people of the country, and live on the outskirts of cities just feel a part of them and to be separated enough?

I look at these people and all I see is Love. Little children who by sheer miracles see a God bigger than the problems surrounding them and smile like they don’t even know what prejudice is to them.
An identity has been distorted, one that needs to be saved. And I know that it would be easy for me to look and judge, but I also know that my own sins were enough to condemn me to the death I deserved. Thank you God for grace and love, compassion that you gave me and compassion that shall overflow to others; even the societies the world looks down upon and maybe us in prejudice.
