Don’t F%*# Up Your Opportunity to Know Jesus – Part 3

Once the concert ended, we wandered back down the
cobblestone streets in the warm dim glow of the streetlights.  We convinced a few more World Racers to join
us, as well as some other friends we met in the city who attended to the
concert.  I begin looking for Chuck, I can’t
wait to find out what happened in his heart. 
But he is noticeably absent. 
Kenny informs me that Chuck decided not to come and to go home instead.  Once again, I incredulously smile at God’s power.  Praise to Him overflows my mind.  Chuck knew what he would do at the pub, he
couldn’t go there.  The Holy Spirit’s
conviction moved him to go home! 

Shot of Targu Mures at night on the way to G-Pub

We arrive at the pub in high spirits, and I can’t wait for
more great conversation.  It’s Saturday
night, so the place is packed.  A low
roar of conversation fills the eclectic walls of art, while I try to
distinguish the several accents separating themselves from the clatter.  We sit down at a table far too small for the
crowd that came, but we make due. 
Everyone breaks off into pairs of conversations.  One of our other friends joining us is Tekla,
a journalist in the city.  We met her a
few weeks earlier, and she wanted to write a story about our adventures. 

The mildly alarming and noticeably signless entrance to “G-Pub”

Tekla
pulls out her recorder and begins firing questions at me.  I’m fully entrenched in my element.  My heart beats faster, my speech quickens,
joy rushes to my face as I communicate the greatness of God.  I feel so alive as story after story rolls
off my tongue, while the inexpressible joy of Christ overcomes my senses and
consciousness.  The conversation floods
with the Holy Spirit as Christ is exalted for all He has done.  Tekla’s stunned face says it all.  She is overwhelmed by the greatness of God
and His transformative power.  The story
will run in the secular city newspaper, and now the whole city will read the
stories of God’s goodness.  She promises
to send me the story when she finishes, as well as promising to keep in
touch.  Before she leaves she reminds us
over and over how thankful she is that God granted us this divine
appointment.  I smile, secretly thinking
the same thing.

Our friend Tekla in the middle and Annika on the right

I
move ends of the table to catch up with Kenny. 
His face is abnormally gloomy. 
Without even asking, he explains.

“My parents just kicked me out of the house.  I have no place to go.â€� 

For the first time, his eyes give away the
weakness and brokenness he has been hiding for too long.  In this moment of vulnerability, he pours out
his heart to me.  His Father is a German
who still aligns himself to the Nazi party. 
He is a prideful aggressive man with little to no expressible love
towards his son.  Fighting back tears,
Kenny tells me he grew up alone.  No real
care from his parents, he’s been on his own for most of his life. 

Friendly old man in our village

The End

Jamming out on my guitar in the city