I woke up at 7am with another "thump". My head hitting the metal rod of the bunk again – same each day. Guess that's what happens when you are sleeping in a six person bunk with three inches of air space separating you from your upstairs neighbor. Needless to say, I'm pretty sure I got up on the wrong side of the bed.
I didn't feel like going to ministry. I wanted to stay in bed, catch up on reading, waste time on Facebook, and have the house to myself.
(yes, those days happen no matter where you live or what you're doing…)
But the 8 passenger van to Corabia (a quaint little town an hour south of Dragonesti) was not leaving without me. So I got my bag together, downed a cup of Nescafe's finest, and hid my tired eyes behind my Ray Bans.
Putting a smile on my face, I said a quick prayer:
"Lord, please make something out of this day. I'm exhausted."
I can't say it was the most convincing prayer I've ever said, but deep in my heart I really did mean it. I didn't know what it would look for that prayer to be answered – but I was ready and willing to let the Lord show up and surprise me!
The van ride was the first answer to that prayer – the sun streaming on my face, our driver's classic 90's Celine Dion tape lulling me to sleep, and the cool breeze coming from the slightly opened window. Just what I needed to recharge and prepare for the day ahead.
We arrived in Corabia at about 10am and met up with our hosts for the day. This family of four re-located to Corabia back in September to plant a church – to share the gospel in a predominantly Eastern Orthodox area.
(one of the most interesting aspects of ministry here in Romania has been learning about the religious divisions between the orthodox church and the "repenters": those who are part of the evangelical church. Many difficulties arise because the orthodox church will threaten people if they associate with repenters – they spread lies about the church's motives and beliefs. Oftentimes we have come across those who are simply too afraid to talk with us or let us pray for them.)
That being said, when I heard that our day would consist of walking around the community handing out gospel pamphlets I was not jumping out of my seat to pick up my stack.
I was willing to participate and ready to help – but I can't say the concept was something I was familiar or even comfortable with.
God was kicking me out of my comfort zone. and I needed it.
As people paired up and groups dispersed I ended up in a "group" that consisted of me and a translator. Hmm, interesting how that tends to happen…
I said another small prayer in my head as we left the house:
"God, please just soften the hearts of those we are going to meet. Let them to open to receiving your perfect love. Amen"
As we walked the streets we made our way to a man who was tilling the soil on his small plot of land. As he saw us approaching I noticed him slowly relocate his labor and position himself right by the fence. He looked like a man with a story and was ready to share.
He spoke of his years working on a ship on the Danube River. His broken family. The rituals of the orthodox faith. But in all of this, he was not open to truly accepting the love of Jesus Christ. He did not want prayer. But he politely accepting the gospel tract and smiled as we walked by.
The was no miraculous healing, no instantaneous conversion story. But there was a soft heart and a sense of openness – just what I had prayed for.
We continued to make our way through the small residential street passing out the pamphlets to those who crossed our paths. There were are few who were interested enough to stop and ask questions, but for the most part we were met with little interaction.
Normally this kind of ministry (and the lack of response) would have discouraged me, but instead I felt like something bigger was going on. I wanted to know more about what we were doing. When we got back to the car I started talking with our contact, Cornelia. We talked back and forth a little bit about ministry, family, our stories of how we came to know the Lord. But as she sat there with me, mindlessly making a tiny bouquet of grass and flowers, she said something that has stayed with me for weeks now.
"It isn't always easy working for the Lord. We don't have a lot of money or a big house. We are just getting things off the ground here in Corabia, but we are so thankful when you guys come – even for the day. It opens doors for us in the community. Even after you are gone, the people we pass on the streets will stop and smile or say hello because they have seen us walking around with you, the Americans. Maybe they will start coming to church one day."
A very simple statement that just stuck in my head…
My thoughts lingered on this as we shared a delicious lunch of potatoes, rice, and coffee before heading back out into town for the afternoon.
First stop was to a small corner market to visit a young girl (about my age). I shared a little bit about who I was and why I was in her store handing her a Romanian Bible. We weren't able to talk for more than 2 or 3 minutes since she had customers waiting to pay for their coffee and pastries, but as we said goodbye she thanked us for her very first Bible and told us how excited she was to start reading God's Word.
Further down the street was a large gypsy apartment building – perhaps some of the most impoverished conditions I had seen so far on the race. As I approached the building my eye was caught by a little girl sitting in the dirt by herself. I walked right over, sat down on the only patch of grass I could find, and said hello in Romanian. She looked up and grinned ear to ear as she handed my a small broken tea cup filled with muddy water.
We sat there for a few minutes before we were joined by a crowd of her friends – all wanting to join in on making muddy grass soup, dressing old barbie dolls, and playing clapping games in a circle.
Almost no words were spoken, but I haven't had as much fun with a kid ever. These little girls were some of the kindest, most playful, and beautiful children I've ever had the pleasure of being around. As we said goodbye I looked them each in the eye, told them God loved them and kissed them on their head.
The van ride back to Dragonesti was the perfect time to recap the events of the day in my head. With my head leaned against the window as we passed by the countryside my mind went back to what Cornelia had said earlier that morning and I started thinking…
Some days I might just be wandering around giving out pamphlets, handing someone their very first Bible, or playing in the mud.
I am not always going to be there for the "big" moments. The miraculous healing or instantaneous conversion. But that doesn't make my work any less meaningful, in fact it makes it that much more important. I never know when my smile or words are going to stir someone's heart. A work that may not begin until long after I am gone. My work, no matter what it is, makes a difference.
God has a huge plan for each person I meet. I am lucky to be a small part of it – even for a day. I don't really need to know much more beyond that.
