Every morning we begin our 30-minute trek across town to the grounds of a fortress along the banks of the Danube. Along the way a few local dogs join us seeking out an open hand or slower moving leg to rub against. Nearing our destination we walk alongside the walls of the fortress. A historical journey is portrayed through the range of stones and brick that complete the highest points of the fortress. We turn to our left as we walk past the pile of old furniture, bricks, thorn bushes, molded tiles, clothes, bottles of heroine, needles, bullet casings and all sorts of rubbish we removed over the past few weeks. Due to hours of scraping off decrepit paint the once salmon building of which we work is now a motley display of salmon, white, and gray paint. Once inside, we are greeted by the smells of clay, dirt, paint remover, mold, mildewed water and some unidentifiable smells of which we have yet to find the origin. We journey past the naturally lit entrance, and into the arched hallway that leads into the underground.
Originally created as a 10th century Venetian underground storage the rooms are built with high ceilings and the back hallways lead to tunnels, which lead to more tunnels, that likely lead to the castle, but have in recent years been gated off, filled with cobwebs and guarded by the spiders of horror stories. Developed to mimic the environment of a cave the underground creates a never faltering atmosphere of cold and moist.
Over the years the Underground has converted from its original purpose as a storage room, into an area for the communist party, to a disco, to a strip bar, to a location for the mafia, to a restaurant, and then left neglected and degenerating for years. In all these years it’s story has become known in the town. To the locals the Underground has become the place for parties, the place to bring your date when your looking for something more, the place to rebel or to hide.
As we scrape away paint, throw away needles, and clean off stains on walls and floors from a sorrowful past we begin to see the awakening. The work is tiring. There a days when you work for hours scrapping paint off of a single wall. There are moments when you pray that whatever just fell on your back is black mold and not a spider.
Yet, this place has begun a journey of reconciliation. As the hours and days pass we begin to feel a change. A change in smell, a change in appearance, a change in atmosphere because, as we scrape the walls and scrub the floors we are praying. Praying for those who have walked through these doors in the past to return seeking
something much greater than before. Praying that people will no longer come here to hide, but to be opened to life. Praying for this building to not be the end-all, but simply the beginning of a community of reconciliation. Praying for God to receive all the glory. Praying for the Underground to be a place the community is drawn to (it will also be a concert venue). Praying for this to be a building for the Church to meet, to pour into each other, and to send out. Praying that those who enter will be filled with the passion of the underground church, the passion of the upper room church, the passion of His Church!
Days pass and the land outside is transformed from a rubbish pile into a field awakened by the blooms of lavender, daisies, and the jovial play of puppies. The interior has begun its journey to a new story, a story of hope. Upon the faces of the community that has poured their time, energy and heart into this ministry there is joy.
We pick up our scraping tools, grab the shovels, brooms, crates, a single bucket of rubbish, and walk up the arched hallway leading out of the underground and into the sunlight for the last time. Our journey here has come to an end, but the work God has begun in this city through a generation of believers seeking to reconcile not only a building, but a nation has just entered spring.
REFLECTION:
Where has God called you to begin seeking reconciliation?
PRAYER:
Pray for the community here. Pray for strength as they face opposition. Pray for provision and joy.
