This month we have had the privilege of
participating in a homeless ministry that involves singing worship songs and
serving food to the hungry in a couple of different metro stations. This ministry has been my favorite this
month and has been something I’ve wanted to do for quite some time, even back
in the States.
Usually when we first arrive, Paul Kim, a
Korean pastor living in Budapest, gives a brief sermon over a microphone. And usually I stand there next to him
just staring at all the people hurriedly passing by. I can’t understand what he’s saying, so it gives me plenty
of time to observe, which is what I do best. J
There are people, young and old, tall
and short, rich and poor rushing in every direction to their various
destinations, but many of them share something in common. They all have a certain darkness in
their eyes, something I can’t really describe, but I’m pretty sure I’d call it loneliness.
It’s fascinating to watch the different
reactions we get from all these folks who happen to cross our path.
Many will point and snicker.
Some will look
then keep walking then look back
again.
Others stand
against the wall across from us, arms folded and an intrigued look on their faces.
We tend to receive quite a few blank
stares, with a rare smile thrown in every now and again.
So as I watch these precious souls going
about their daily business, all I can do is pray silently.
Pray
that the words they are hearing will break through their self-imposed walls,
and dissolve the hardened exterior of their hearts.
Pray that the
Holy Spirit somehow awakens them to their unique design and purpose.
Even as I serve up scalding-hot soup that
burns my fingers through the thin plastic bowls, I just keep praying. I keep believing that my God is also the God of
Hungary. He’s the God who created
each and every citizen of this bustling metropolis. He knows them inside and out, and all He desires is a
relationship with them. If only
they would open their darkened eyes and see…
