Ever since I signed up for the race my Dad has told me that even if it is only one person whose life I am able to touch then it is all worth it. That it doesn’t matter if I go the entire 11 months without truly making an impact, if it’s just that last day then everything prior to that point would be worth it. That has always been in the back of my head and something I try to keep at the forefront of my mind when there are hard days where I feel like I am doing very little and not making a difference.
Going into Serbia I was a little nervous for numerous reasons. The first being that I just don’t really have a heart for Europe the way I do other parts of the world; particularly India and Africa. Second, doing mainly street evangelism terrified me. I’d never done anything close to that before and I was not really looking forward to it. In a way, though I was, simply because I know this is right where God wants me and because I signed up for the race wanting to be stretched and taken out of my comfort zone and to be made more like Christ.
The first night we went out into the city I was nervous. I kept asking God to guide me and lead me to the person He wanted me to talk to. After walking around with a few teammates for a couple hours and not feeling very connected or that I was doing much of anything I came across a painter. I stopped to look at his work and for some reason something pushed me to pursue a longer conversation with him. There was a church in one of his paintings so I used that as my cue to strike up more conversation with him. I asked him if he went to church and he said no. For some reason though I just felt like I needed to keep talking to him. Though it was only a few minutes right away I felt a connection and pull towards him. He immediately talked about his struggle with drinking and I could see the loneliness in his eyes. I left him knowing I would come back throughout the month to talk more with him.
After getting home though I was hit with emotion as my heart broke for him. I’ve known that kind of loneliness; I’ve known that struggle. For some reason this man touched me in a way that I wasn’t expecting.
Throughout the next 3 weeks I went to city center every few days to visit with him. I would see him during the day when he was sober and then at night after he had been drinking and he was a completely different person. He seemed so sad at night. Little by little I would bring up God and he would tell me that he didn’t really believe and it just wasn’t his thing. One particular visit we were talking about drinking and faith again and he told me that he feels better when he doesn’t drink and he felt comfort and peace when he did used to read the Bible. Hearing this brought some comfort to my heart knowing that he was at least aware of that. He has all the answers he needs, he just doesn’t know it yet.
I wish I could say that by the time I left Serbia my prayers were answered and he gave his life to Christ and everyone lived happily ever after, but that’s not the case. This is real life, not a Hollywood made ending.
I left Serbia much the way I came. Him, a struggling street artist depending on a substance to bring joy to his life and me, a naïve missionary still trying to find out where I belong in this world.
Though my wishes of being able to drastically change his life and have him see how wonderful Jesus is weren’t entirely granted I can leave that first month of the race with my head held high. I didn’t back down and shut out a month of ministry because I was uncomfortable with what God had in mind, but instead embraced it, seeking God and relying on Him to get me through. In return he blessed me with a man that touched my heart, whose life is one I can relate to and a reminder of how great God is for pulling me out of that darkness and knowing He is capable of doing the same for my dear friend.
