Earlier this week, we at Casa Shalom got a taste of the less than pleasant side of ministry. We got to go with our contact to another Gypsy Village not to far from our Bucharest residence, and we warned as we got there to put all of our belongings in the lockable van. As we turned into the neighborhood, and neared the house where we were to park, many of the gypsy people of the village began to run up to vans yelling, and chasing it as we drove on. Before we could even park a few were trying to open the back of the van to pull out the bags of clothes we brought, and we had to run to close them.
Getting out, we could tell that it wasn’t going to be our typical ministry day, and we had to stand around the vans, stopping them from getting in to steal things from the van which did not lock. Becky, thankfully was still brimming with the joy of the Lord, and encouraged us on, prompting us to get out the guitar and sing worship songs to them as we stood at the back of the vans blocking them from them.
Many of the faces of the adults were red cheeked from alcohol abuse, and one older woman in particular was incredibly drunk. They crowded around close, dirty and desperate, a true vision of the people that we were there to love on, and the poverty they were forced to live in. We sang on for a few songs, and then Becky got out her accordion, playing a few more songs for them.
Then we broke into different groups. Still close to the vans, a few of the girls went with Becky as some of the women came for prayer over themselves and their ailments, while others brought their children to them. It was powerful seeing the eagerness of these people to receive blessing and prayer from the Lord, unleashing the Holy Spirit over their lives.many of the boys brought life and joys to faces of the children as they played with them, chasing them around the yard, an filling it with the sound of laughter. Alicia, Falco, and I had the pleasure of some great conversation with a few of the young men there who spoke English. It was encouraging hearing their thank you’s for our presence, explaining the way that they were hated by the people of their country, and the fact that no one cared for them, and being able to tell them about the love of God, who had not forgotten them, and who cared for them far more than we ever could.
As we were conversing, a few of our people went with Becky to open up the van, and start handing out clothes. Before the handle could even be pulled, people began crowding frantically around them pushing closer and closer to the van, leaving little room for it to be opened. When finally the crowd had been pushed back enough to open the doors, another wave of craziness swept over them as they began shoving each other, desperately trying to get to the van and its contents. An old woman was shoved to the group as the crowd pressed even more tightly to the van, until finally the doors were shut and Becky told Colby to drive away, preventing further violence and chaos. We then all loaded into the other van, minus Lucas, who was in Colby’s.
Then as we were driving through the neighborhood to leave, the crowd of people came running down the street chasing us and running after our vans. As we turned a corner one of the boys caught up to the other van, yanking the back door open as Lucas jumped over the seats to get to it, but not before he stole a bag of clothes.
It was heart wrenching, seeing that despite being there to help and with the ability to do so, we weren’t able, and it rose an important paradox within my own heart. So much of me wanted to just leave the bags of clothes, leave them to their chaos, rewarding it with the physical help we had brought with us. But I realized how detrimental that was. As tangible as that help was, what was more important? What was more important was being the cultivators of love. What was more important was to be perpetrators of change to their violent hearts. What was most important was prayer over the climate that we had not only seen but had gotten a good taste of. My heart was broken for those people, and for the burden of decision over Becky in situations like these. I saw such a glimpse of how hard it must be for her, as she, here longer for than just one month, has to get to the heart of issues to bring change, not just meeting momentary needs.
Pray with me over the hearts of these people. Pray for freedom from the bondage of such violence, unbelief, and desperation. Pray with me for the acceptance of true salvation, and for the fostering of deeper relationships with them and Becky so that they may receive true discipleship. And please pray for Becky’s continued safety, as well as ours, as we continue to minister to a people most would prefer to stay away from.
