Before Romania, the only things I knew about Gypsies were things I’d learned from the Esmeralda, Borat and that Zac Brown Band song. I had no idea we’d spend our month visiting and praying for Gypsy families every day.
Romania was cold. It snowed a lot before we arrived, but that wouldn’t stop us. On a normal day, we’d usually ride a bus from our little Hungarian village 20 or 30 minutes to where the Gypsies lived. There we’d meet with men, women and children who would invite Pastor Zsombor and us into their homes to talk, pray and read the Bible. To our surprise, the Gypsies were much more receptive to the Gospel than the Romanians or Hungarians in the area. Each day we’d play with the children, bring them chocolate, sing songs, throw snowballs and go sledding. We’d pray with the men and women who were sick, hurting and out of work. We’d bring whatever they needed- batteries, light bulbs, bread, or Bibles.
Our walk to a Gypsy village Typical Gypsy home
One man who we prayed for every day was named Albi. He and his wife Irenka were in their early 70’s and loved to have us in their home. Their home was a 12’x8’ shack with a bed, table, wooden bench and wood burning stove. We couldn’t understand a single word, but we could sing with them and laugh together and they always wanted us to pray over them before we left.
Irenka and Albi
Albi was really sick and had been for some time. Through hand motions and facial expressions it was clear that he was ready to go and she didn’t want him to die. We were always torn when we prayed because we didn’t know if we should pray for a miraculous healing or for the Lord to take him, so we’d just pray that the Lord’s will would be done, especially since they had both trusted Jesus Christ with their lives.
For almost one month we’d ride the bus to Old Albi’s village, walk a mile through the snow to his little shack where we’d since songs and take pictures of him and pray over him and his wife. We were scheduled to leave Romania on March 6th and on March 2nd Pastor Zsombor called me and told me that Old Albi had passed away. We had been there two days before and prayed for him one last time.
Hugging Irenka two days before Albi passed away
I don’t know why, but I was stunned by the news. I really didn’t think he would die while we were still there. I was sad for Irenka, yet relieved that Albi wasn’t suffering anymore. Later that day, Pastor Zsombor asked me if I would help him with the eulogy in two days. I’d never said anything at a funeral before and now I was going to preach at a Gypsy funeral in Romania. Seriously?
I was at a loss for words. Over 70 years of life, full of family and friends and I was chosen for this task. What would I say? What passage would I read? What would Albi want? God, why on Earth did you send me to this tiny Gypsy village in the middle of nowhere to build a relationship with this man only to take him away days before we’re to leave?
Two days later, I got my answer. Pastor Zsombor told me that funerals were usually when the community was most open to the Gospel. When we arrived to Albi’s house for the funeral, over 150 friends, family and neighbors had arrived to pay their respects and listen to what we had to say. OK God, I see what you’re doing here. I thought it was about Albi and in reality this was our chance to share the Gospel with over 100 Gypsies lost and searching for hope.
I read Romans 8:18-30. I spoke about the future glory that awaits us and that Albi was currently experiencing. I shared about Jesus, grace, the cross and how He works all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to His purpose. It was a surreal experience.
After we spoke, they closed the casket and Pastor Zsombor led the funeral procession up the snow-covered hillside to gravesite. After a few songs and another prayer and many tears, Albi was lowered into the ground. The rawness of it all struck me as the men began shoveling dirt onto his casket. With each thud of the dirt, his wife wailed and inched closer to the grave, until she almost fell in. Some of our girls held her back and hugged her tightly. It was more than I could bear and I lost it. I had just prayed with him and hugged him less than 48 hours ago and now he was in the ground. That was just a shell however. I knew that his Gypsy soul was resting with Jesus in a new body- perfect and free of pain. No more wandering or leaving, Albi was finally home.
