Tonight was a perfect example of how God often uses some the simplest events to illustrate some of the most glorious Gospel truths. Though I obviously don’t want to overanalyze every one of my simple experiences and twist it to illustrate a spiritual truth—for this would be both tiring and cliché—I would much rather err on the side over-analysis than spiritual unawareness. I would rather mistakenly attribute to the divine artistry of God some events that are in reality mundane and spiritually insignificant than, in my skepticism, attribute to coincidence what really does belong to God.
After all, it is not out of God’s character to use incredibly simple illustrations to illustrate mind-blowing spiritual truths. Scripture is saturated with examples. What does God use to illustrate the Christ-exalting, spirit-led process of sanctification? A tree and its fruit (Matthew 7:17-18). What does God use to illustrate the amount of faith we need to perform mighty miracles? A mustard seed (Matthew 13:31). The more I recognize and accept God’s use of the ordinary to explain the extra-ordinary, the more I thank him for weaving Gospel examples into my daily experiences. With this recognition, the richness and enjoyment of life has increased tenfold.
Tonight, Rachel, Taryn, our translator Tavi, and I drove deep into a poor gypsy community to do a short children’s ministry. Though there had been a few gypsies attending our church recently, tonight marked (as I understood it) the first time our ministry contacts had ever attempted a gypsy-only ministry event. In this part of Romania, gypsies are often the victims of deep racism, so we saw it as essential to embrace them.
As we drove into the community, young children and their parents surrounded our car, and we all became incredibly nervous. God had certainly shoved us far past our comfort zones. When we got out of the car, it definitely seemed as if we were unwelcome there. Though there were many children, they stared nervously at us and their parents and older siblings, though not nervous, seemed to be skeptical of our presence there.
Before we said a word, Tavi told us he needed to have a word with the crowd. He spent five minutes explaining to them in Romanian that we were not there to hand them anything material and that we had nothing to offer them but love. I was reminded of Acts 3:6, when Peter told the people, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give to you.” This initially angered many of the parents, and more than half of them grabbed their children’s hands to slowly escort them back home. It seemed as if the Biblical idea of “silver or gold I do not have” held no weight in the present situation.
Slightly depressed, but determined to give our best effort to those who stayed, we put our game faces on and started to sing a song with the children. They smiled, laughed, and participated enthusiastically, but that was not what caught my eye. Rather, my attention was fixed on those who had left. As we sang, the most beautiful thing happened: one by one, they turned around and walked slowly back to us, the demeanors on their faces radically different than they had been just minutes earlier. Quite quickly, a crowd assembled around us that were even larger than the one we had originally.
We continued with more songs, games, and Bible teachings. Gradually, parents even let go of their children’s hands and urged them to participate—then some of the parents started to participate themselves! Every one of our prior tensions was completely forgotten in a sea of laughter and song. Before we left, we all hugged and exchanged high fives and fist-bumps. Two young gypsy children even tried to grab my elbow and take me back to their home. It was hard to say goodbye. When Tavi asked them if they would want us (or other people from Hope Church) to come back, the answer was a resounding yes.
It was a beautiful picture to step back and gaze upon in that it was a perfectly relevant illustration of the satisfaction of Christ through love. The only thing that motivated the gypsies to flock to us was the impression that we would give them material handouts—a clear illustration of why much of the world pursues Jesus: for his “stuff”. When we told them we had nothing to offer but love and fellowship, many people initially left—a clear illustration of the disappointment that comes from pursuing Jesus for his stuff. When the people walking away noticed the joy of those who stayed, they came back—a perfect illustration of the supremacy of Christ-like love and the noticeable testimony it creates. The final result was a joyful crowd, larger than ever before, who had nothing in common but the celebration of Jesus—a clear illustration of the satisfaction to be found in Christ—a satisfaction that dwarves the longing for material items.
I thank God for using this Gypsy community to teach me more than they will ever know they taught me.
