I’m lying down in my bed, it’s almost 11:00 PM shamelessly writing an Instagram post and talking to my teammate. I overheard a song wafting through the open window of our room on the 4th floor of the hostel. I sit up in bed as the lyrics register within my head. It’s Phil Wickham’s “You’re beautiful.” We bound down the four flights and out the front door to see not our squad mates playing and singing but new faces wearing Irish green “Jesus Loves Romania” t-shirts. I see one of my squadmates singing along with their parents in the open cobblestone courtyard of Bucharest.
We find out they are a short term mission group from a Northern Ireland Baptist church here to do street evangelism. They had originally been standing outside of the “massage” business down the street but had been asked to move because they were disturbing the customers at the restaurant.
While we were there we saw it as an opportunity to support them in their ministry and talk with anyone who wandered up to listen as well.
As I was standing with a teammate talking to a woman – who was told by someone once that she was naive and there was a lot of evil in the world – a man came up to us, slightly intoxicated, and tried to hit on us by telling us we were pretty and asked if any of us were single. I responded with a not so convincing “no, sorry” but that didn’t seem to deter him. My teammate oh so gracefully motions the woman she is talking to away from the man and leaves me alone with him. (This story doesn’t use real names and is a brief overview because as it was almost 11:30 PM I was tired and don’t remember the full convo). He tells me he is originally from Romania but he’s been living in the UK and his accent is so good because he hits on so many girls at the bars. We exchange names and make small talk. Half the time it seemed like he was wondering why he was still standing there talking to me but for some reason he still lingered. He gathered that I was Christian, or I tell him, and then he tells me he is agnostic.
He told me a short bit of his story and it goes like this:
“I know Jesus. I was raised Orthodox, but then someone in my family got cancer and died. If Jesus exists and allowed something like that to happen, than he is a prick, and I don’t want to follow a prick.”
I think I stood there and stared blankly back at him for a minute – I hope that didn’t really happen, but it felt like it did. Either way I was pretty thrown off. I mean, these stories are pretty common, so you’d think I’d have a prepared rehearsed response that would make him drop to his knees and repent. However I just stood there. I know I mustered some words of encouragement like, “That’s valid, but He still knows who you are and wants to pursue you.”
When he first approached us my initial reaction was to too quickly dismiss him and continue listening to the woman. What an awful reaction! Though knowing he had been drinking I still, by God’s will, desired to hear him out for what he had to say. I stood there and received this guy’s anger and bitterness towards Jesus, and I felt an army building up within me ready to defend Him. I bit my tongue seeing only more destruction that would happen from my words. (To be honest, I really thought about giving him a hug, but I thought that might send the wrong message considering the circumstances.) Though our conversation didn’t last long, I did still get to listen to his story. I pray that my actions and the words I did get in cycled throughout his head during the night. I have to remember that I have been in his shoes before, and instead of persecution I received mercy. Even simple words and interactions the Lord can use, and I trust in that. Should I have a prepared response? Maybe. But then again no two people are alike.
