I'm not going to lie. I haven't really felt like blogging this month. It's not because nothing happened; that is certainly not true. It's more like… I wasn't inspired. Usually, I don't plan a blog. An idea pops into my head and BAM!!!, out comes a blog. This month, that simply hasn't happened.
Often, I blog about an event or a conversation. In the past, I could mostly understand the language and, therefore, knew most of what was going on. This month, not so. So, how do I tell about a month where, for the most part, I'm not sure what happened. Zsombor rarely translates more than we would need to know to pray unless someone is speaking directly to us.
So, I'll tell you about the tears…..
There was a day early on in the month when we stopped to see Zsombor's friend, Attila. Attila was described to us as a dangerous man. A man who had probably killed people. A man who was half raised in the woods and had served in the army. When we approached him, he was drunk. Very drunk.
Zsombor left us to venture into a house with Attila leaving the 6 of us alone with 4 other very drunk men. Things outside with us were definitely not going well when Zsombor emerged with Attila and began walking toward us.
When they got to us, Attila grasped my shoulders and began to speak very adamantly. Zsombor roughtly translated that God was changing Attila's life. Attila, a dangerous man, was standing in front of me with tears in his eyes. He was protecting me from the other drunk men and telling me how much God was changing his life.
On another day, we were in the center of Targu Mures praying over seemingly random people. As, I'm sure you've guessed, the Holy Spirit doesn't do random. The Holy Spirit does divine appointment. And that day I had 3.
Zsombor approached a man and began to speak to him, once again not translating hardly anything. Ever then, when he did translate, it wasn't always clear. At one point, the couple sitting on the same bench as the man got up, gave Zsombor an earful and left quite angrily. Zsombor looks to me and shrugs and he says, "They think we are Jehovah's Witnesses." It was all I could do not to laugh.
As we were preparing to pray, I called over Lynsey and Kristin and tried to explain the man's situation to them. It went something like this, "He has no family left and he has heart problems. And something happened to his cow… or his truck…. I'm not sure which." Before this day, I thought those to things would only be confused in a ridiculously awesome Brian Regan joke. But this was real life.
I began to pray and, in doing so, felt that I should put my hand on his chest above his heart. With my hand on his heart, I cried out to God. For healing. I prayed for the spiritual healing of his soul and I prayed for the physical healing of his heart.
When I looked at his face near the end of my prayer, he was crying. Simple and pure… tears. Now don't get confused. I'm not so good of a pray-er that people instantly burst into tears at the sound of my voice. No. The Holy Spirit had touched his heart. He knew that I words I spoke are true. That man knew that I was praying to the God of the universe and that all things are possible within his hands.
Before the day was over, I prayed over 2 other people and both cried.
Why do I tell the story of tears?
Because tears need no translation. They are pure and simple.
These tears were the work of the Holy Spirit.
The few around our village.
Timmi- Anita's sister
