Don’t F%*@ Your Opportunity
to Know Jesus – Part 1
Local Hungarian Festival
Today is going to be a good day, I say to myself. I don’t
know why, but I’m feeling an extra dose of excitement this afternoon. Maybe it was that sick ’80’s dance
party we had last night…dancing always does seem to jumpstart my energy
level. It’s beautiful for
our last day of ministry in the city.
The sun is out warming my face giving me that perfect sensation of the
cool air and warm sun juxtaposed upon my skin.
1980’s Dance Party at our house with special guest appearance from Team Powerhouse
It’s flyers today, for the Hillsong Hungarian cover band
playing tonight…it’s nice having an excuse to talk to people. In my
especially giddy mood I’m even more bold than usual. Any young person I lay my eyes on, I give a friendly smile
and an invite to the concert.
I
meet the typical assortment of interesting characters: Some sweet Romanian Christians, a group
of perhaps affluent Gypsies just leaving a funeral, many of which are
atheist. Then a pair strikes my
attention walking towards me. One
has longer curly hair, earrings, grungy clothes, the other has a buzz cut,
super baggy jeans, lip ring…A wave of insecurity washes over me.
I don’t particularly feel interested in
being mocked today. But quickly,
my self-conscious thoughts are silenced by the Holy Spirit, and the urge to
give them a flyer. And then, the
excitement begins…
Our new friend Zozo, a passionate follower of Christ reaching out to his Gypsy village
Kenny, John and I exchange handshakes and greetings. They seem strangely eager to meet this
American passing out flyers for a Christian concert. Without much hesitation they invite me for a beer at a local
spot called G-Pub. I can’t pass up
an opportunity like this, so with the word we are off.
I am informed they must take care of
some “business” real quick, and then head on to the pub. We turn down an alley and stop near an
open door with a window advertising the “Sugar Spice.” John then informs me excitedly, “You
can legally buy drugs here!”
Hmmm…I think to myself.
What have I gotten myself into?
Kenny walks out of the door holding a small square spice-looking package.
“Want a line?” He
offers. I politely decline.
Then John speaks up,
“You can’t offer him a line! He’s
a Christian! Come on man.”
“I’m a Christian too, who gives a f%*@,”
Kenny quickly retorts.
Nervously, I laugh to myself and we continue on the journey.
We begin walking the familiar path of the town center
towards the mall. On the sidewalk
are a few local police. John
cracks a joke about the “5-O” and again a few nerves start climbing up my
spine, as I know my new “friends” have some not-so-innocent “spices” on
them. As we inch closer to the
police, they turn and grab Kenny by the arm.
My heart sinks.
“Oh my gosh, who am I
with? Are these well-known drug
dealers? Am I guilty by
association? ”
All these
thoughts race through my head as they take the three of us into the
neighboring alley. One cop speaks
to Kenny separately, while the other entertains John and I. I can tell John is speaking up for me,
trying to explain I’m not really with them and not to bother me.
“I wonder what a Romanian Jail looks
like,” I wonder to myself as the two converse in Romanian.
I’m asked for my identification…I have none. But the cop seems friendlier at this
point. Kenny and the other cop
seem to be in a bit more heated conversation, but he’s not in handcuffs at
this point so that’s a good sign.
Finally, the cop pulls out his citation book, writes Kenny a ticket and
we are back on the road.
Playing with the bear at the Targu Mures zoo
Apparently, Kenny had thrown his cigarette on the ground, evidently
a fineable and detestable offense on the streets of Targu Mures. Worthy of a 300 Lei (about $100)
ticket. Crisis averted thankfully, and we laugh and they curse about the absurdity and incredulity of the
experience. Not to be deterred
however, we find ourselves at the entrance of the G-Pub in a few minutes.
The G-Pub is a really cool place. Textured stone walls encase the sprawling structure. There is an open courtyard, completely
empty at 3 in the afternoon. Trees
and vines cover the stones in an extremely welcoming and relaxed fashion.
Only one person greets us as we enter, an
old friend, Chris. We take a seat
next to the bar and they quickly order us, Ursus, “King of Romanian beers.”
Then without hesitation, they open their newly acquired packet and begin to
make three finely groomed lines.
Again, my heart stops.
This is the first time I’ve actually seen this serious of a drug. I watch as Chris rolls up a 1 Lei bill
and each man takes his turn with the fine powder.
Oh dear Lord, what am I doing here? I need you.
