Gypped <–

Gypped: To cheat or swindle.  To deprive another of something by fraud. 

Though I’ve used this word numerous times over the course of my life, I’ve never really thought about its origins.  Gypsies.  Romania’s primary depressed people group happens to be the Gypsy. Often living in overcrowded slums reminiscent of inner city “projects,” Gypsies frequently have multiple generations of families sharing the same dilapidated house. 

Gypsies have quite the reputation here in Romania.  They are known for
being liars, cheats and are generally hated by all.  I had the
opportunity to play some basketball with some local Romanians and they
were flabbergasted that I would “stoop so low” as to help Gypsies.  One
of my Romanian basketball teammates said, and I quote, “you’d be better
off to just hang them than to waste your time trying to help them.” 
Even our local ministry contacts for the most part become upset when
our primary contact Becky decides to use her donations to benefit the Gypsy communities.  The general atmosphere is that gypsies are hopeless drains on society and any humanitarian efforts are misguided and ultimately futile. 

Our Romanian Ministry here in Bucharest is threefold.  First, we live at an orphanage and pour into those living here with us at Casa Shalom.  Second, my team is responsible for an orphanage comprised of mentally and physically disabled females (called Jubilee).  Last but not least, much of our week is dedicated toward helping local gypsy communities through socializing, teaching, evangelizing and donating food and clothing. 

Although I was warned to not wear anything of value and to guard my pockets, I definitely thought the gypsy reputation was mostly hype.  I figured that with a little love, we’d all become good friends and I’d put the gypsy myth to rest once and for all. 

To appreciate the story, you should understand that I don’t speak any of the native languages (Romanian or the local gypsy dialect) and the locals don’t speak English.  Thus, my entire interaction with the kids is done via charades.  Additionally, our contacts are generally speaking with the adults, so those of us that opt to play with the kids are on our own. Also, I am a glutton for punishment and generally leave the really cute little kids for the girls and I choose the more obnoxious older boys to interact with. 

At first, we had a lot of fun running around and playing “try to catch the Brian.”  After seeing what happened to my buddy Dave when he got caught (a swift pummeling by little girls), I made sure to be sufficiently elusive.  At some point, the kids tired of trying to catch me and found a long, heavy rubber snake and switch the game to: lets beat the Americans with the snake whip.  A few welts later, I decided this game wasn’t very fun and after several compromises of me taking away the snake and giving it to one of the seemingly better behaved kids who promised not to share it with the bad kids, I realized the kids couldn’t be trusted.  I tried to take the snake away for awhile but the kids started throwing large rocks at me, so I basically fled the scene and gave the snake to an adult.  Having nannied teenage boys for a year, I had experienced plenty of disobedience, but I’ll admit Alex and Zach never tried to stone me. 

I returned to the scene later after everything had died down and it seemed like the kids had turned their attention to other misdeeds.  I saw an adult try to scold a child and the child punched the adult, kicked dirt at him, spit at him, then fled over a wall.  Good times.  At some point, a new 12 year old boy and his friends approached and we all introduced ourselves.  After some small talk, one of the boys gestured for me to come close so he could whisper something to me.  I obliged and was met with quite a surprise–a punch to the face.  Needless to say, i was caught off guard and not really sure how to respond.  I picked the kid up by his foot and hung him upside down for awhile, but I am pretty sure he enjoyed it and it was only encouraging him.  At some point, the kids decided to show that they did know some English, unfortunately it was only the phrase “moth** fu**er.”  So for the next 5 minutes, we got to listen to all the kids learn how to pronounce and exclaim this useful phrase as we just tried to lay low and wait for our contacts to return.

I can definitely understand where the gypsies get their reputation from. And frankly, I can see how the locals might think our efforts to love the gypsies are futile.  Our primary contact Becky (pictured below) has invited gypsies to her home for a meal and on numerous occasions had things stolen. 

But you know what, it doesn’t matter how difficult or undeserving someone might appear to be.  God has called us to love everyone.  Especially the least of these (Matt. 25).  I am going to turn the other cheek, even if all i accomplish is symmetrical bruising.  I am finally beginning to understand that its not always about the end result.  Its not about whether or not I can successfully change these people, or bring about salvation, or even a higher standard of living.  Sometimes my only role is to love them.  Even if its completely unrequited.  Especially if its completely unrequited. 

After all God loves them, even though He knows of their sin.  Well, God knows of my sin too, yet He’s gracious enough to forgive mine.  Why can’t I be gracious enough to overlook theirs.  Consider this my formal pledge to love these people God has placed before me as they are and not consider them a project.  Whether anything changes or not, even if I have to leave Romania in a stretcher, I will continue to love these little buggers in the same way Christ loves us–with undeserved grace.