Speaking at Church

My gut clenches, sweat beads on my upper lip, my mind races is twelve different directions, my mouth goes dry, and my hands shake—why?  Because I’m speaking at my church this evening.  And it’s not because anybody has twisted my arm—I want to do this.  When I’m in the US, I want to speak as often as possible to anyone who will listen about Europe as a mission field.  But I’ve always had a fear of public speaking, and even though it usually goes really well, and the audience is very sympathetic and supportive, that fear is lurking just out of sight, ready to make my voice crack or make me forget what I was going to say.

Fear of speaking in public is one of the most common fears around.  Most of us would rather face a roaring lion, armed with nothing but a Twinkie than speak in front of an audience.  But like I said, I want to do this.  Facing-down this fear is the measure of how strong my calling is for Europe.  If I didn’t do this, I would feel like I had abandoned my calling.

Europe is the forgotten mission field.  A professor of foreign missions at Abilene Christian University told me that he asks his students at the beginning of the semester what is the mission field with the most need.  They invariably answer Africa.  Then after he has demonstrated to them that Africa is far more Christian than Europe, he will ask them again, and many times the answer is still Africa.  The economic need tugs at their heartstrings, even though Europe is in far worse need spiritually.  Operation World calls Europe by far the “most secular, least Christian” continent on earth (pg. 79).  Europe also has the most un-reached people groups of any region in the whole world—including the Middle East.  Africa is now sending missionaries to Europe.

• Slavery – Human trafficking is epidemic in Europe because the relaxed borders have made it easier to transport people from Eastern Europe (primarily Ukraine, Czech Republic, Moldova, and Romania) to Western Europe (Italy, France, Spain, the Netherlands, and Germany).
• Poverty – People think of Europe as a rich peoples’ playground.  And it’s true that rich people do vacation in Europe, but the average European makes far less money than the average American, and lives a simpler life.  Furthermore, the third world exists throughout Europe at the edge of every city: in gypsy camps of staggering poverty.  The gypsy children live in shockingly unsanitary conditions.  Many gypsy children are denied an education due to their nomadic family life.  Gypsy children are expected to bring money back to the patriarchs, the grandparents.  They beg, steal, or work as prostitutes to bring money back to the family, and if they fail to bring back money or to bring back enough money, they are beaten.  Sometimes their legs are broken and set in crazy ways that will turn your stomach.  Sometimes their legs are cut off—giving them more sympathetic appeal.   Many gypsy children are sold to sex traffickers or organ traffickers.
• Homelessness – Homelessness is a huge problem.  Budapest has an estimated 30,000 homeless people.  I saw lots of homeless people when I was there, and the homeless of Budapest are unlike homeless people I’ve ever seen anywhere else.  There are so many of them that they have simply lost all hope.  They don’t even ask for money, they just curl up in doorways and in the subway entrances.  (This is all recounted in my book, Look, Listen, Love.)
• Suicide – Suicide is rampant throughout Europe, especially in the current economic climate.  Fourteen of the top twenty countries with the highest suicide rates are in Europe.  Switzerland legalized suicide in 1941, and under Swiss law, you do not have to have a lethal diagnosis to ask for physician-assisted suicide; you don’t even have to be Swiss!  That means that if someone is depressed and wants to end their life, they can go to Switzerland, which is conveniently in the middle of the continent, and pay a doctor to help them kill themselves, and they don’t have to get any kind of counseling.  In fact, the doctors would be against counseling because they make money on each suicide.  Now suicide is also legal in the Netherlands. In Milan, where suicide is still illegal, and Switzerland is only an hour away, about once a month or so, somebody jumps in front of a speeding subway train.  In fact, it is such a common occurrence that people have lost all sympathy for the victim and his or her family, instead they just become annoyed at the inconvenience that the suicide has caused them as they rush through their day.
• Drugs – The city of Amsterdam is uniquely problematic because they have de-criminalized both prostitution and marijuana.  Legalizing pot use has been discussed from time to time here in the US.  The arguments for legalization seem very logical and reasonable, particularly when it comes to saving taxpayer money and law enforcement manpower.  But before getting onto the bandwagon, you should take a trip to Amsterdam to see what legalized pot use looks like.  Marijuana is only legal in the marijuana coffeehouses, but it doesn’t stay in the coffeehouses.  And because pot is legal, tourists think that other drugs are also legal—they are not.  No matter how harmless you may think it is, the fact is that marijuana is a gateway drug.  The dealers of illegal drugs situate themselves along the canal in the Red Light district (more about that in a moment) and peddle their drugs to passers-by.  They don’t stand around looking villainous, but instead they are very friendly.  The dealers speak English and often the major European languages.   Amsterdam is the number one partying destination in Europe, possibly in the world.  So lots of young men travel to Amsterdam for legal sex with prostitutes and legal marijuana use.  Many of them are lured into trying the harder drugs as well.  The result is that the streets of Amsterdam are filthy with trash and vomit and people that are either homeless or too high to remember how to get back to where they are staying.  The streets are also very loud all night long, with the sounds of hell-raising.  There are so many people who are addicted to heroin that the city has started giving out free needles to try and keep the risk of HIV transmission low.  So the parks are full of addicts that are shooting-up.  And the free needle program has done nothing to stop the spread of HIV.  Prostitution – Legalized prostitution in Amsterdam was supposed to help prevent the spread of HIV by having the Dutch Minister of Health responsible for making sure that all the window girls stayed healthy and conducted business in ways that reduced the possibility of transmission (i.e. washing the customers and using condoms).  However, that has turned out to be impossible to enforce.  Plus, the presence of legal prostitutes has not stopped or even slowed down illegal prostitution in the Netherlands.  Let’s face it, supply follows demand.
• The idea behind legalizing prostitution seemed like a good idea, but prostitution plays a part in all the above behaviors, like a European version of “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” but worse because of the whole drug issue discussed above.  People believe that the window girls are independent businesswomen—they are not—at least not all of them.  Many of the window girls come from other countries, mostly Eastern Europe and Africa.  Those girls got there because they answered ads for jobs, and some even paid intermediaries who turned out to be traffickers to get them illegally into Europe.  Few, if any, of them set out to work in prostitution.  Like I said, the relaxation of borders within the European Union has actually worked to the traffickers’ advantage.  And even if some of the women are voluntarily working in the windows of the Red Light district, they have invariably been sexually abused as children.  As a woman, I can tell you that no little girl dreams of having dozens of sweaty, smelly men use and use and use her all day and all night long.  Prostitutes use the same survival strategy that victims of physical abuse use: they have learned how to zone-out and not be in their bodies while it is happening.  Despite the lies that the johns tell themselves, that doesn’t sound like it’s something they enjoy, does it?  All of this means that Amsterdam, an otherwise lovely city, has become a haven for potheads, traffickers, drug dealers, and drug addicts.
• Cynicism – The young people of Europe are among the most hopeless and cynical in the world.  They go to university only to find that they are still unemployed and unemployable.  East European youth are leaving their homelands in droves, seeking employment in the west.  The employers take advantage of that desperation and pay them lower wages, and giving them the jobs that West Europeans don’t want.  Most of the janitors in Italy are Romanian, Bulgarian, Ukrainian, or Polish.  Because they feel powerless, the youth are drawn into witchcraft and satanism.  They recognize that there is genuine spiritual power therein, but don’t have the discernment to know the good from the evil.  Turin, Italy is the European capital for satanism.  Every so often, there is a ritually sacrificed body (either human or animal) found in the woods near Turin.  It has become such a common occurrence that the news agencies have stopped reporting these findings.  Many of these young people consider traditional religion a waste of time, and they don’t want to hear about anything of a religious nature.  For this reason, missionaries in Europe have had to be very creative in sharing the Gospel.

I could continue, but I think this post is long enough.  So, I take a deep breath, pray for at least an hour, and go pour my heart out for an hour or so about Europe.  Suddenly, I understand exactly what Jeremiah meant when he said that if he tries to keep silent, God’s Word is like a fire shut up in his bones.  God is good, and I want more missionaries to share His goodness with this lost and dying continent.

Granny’s Eyes and the Little Lost Bird

I returned from the Budapest, Bratislava, and Vienna trip feeling very tired and ready for a rest from traveling.  We had stayed in hostels the whole 2 weeks, so having a bedroom all to myself with a door feels like unbelievable luxury.  Of course, my hostel roommates were all very considerate—even those who were strangers—and I had no trouble sleeping.  But still, there is something about having space all to yourself.

When my plane landed at Milan Malpensa Airport and I turned on my phone, I received a voicemail message from a cousin that I had never met.  His mother had contacted me some weeks ago, asking if he could come stay with me.  He arrived in Milan the very same day that I did: Sunday.

My cousin is a big, sweet guy from Texas who goes by BC.  That’s very Texan to go by initials instead of a name.  This is his first trip to Italy, and he travels very light.  BC is 28 years old, very adventurous and open-minded.  When we wandered around a bit, looking for the tram stop in an unfamiliar area, it didn’t faze him one bit.  BC just takes things as they come.  He’s also a kindred spirit, with a big wanderlust and love for Europe.

He started out in Portugal, where he has friends.  After a few days there, he made his way down the coast to Spain, saw the Rock of Gibraltar, and back up the Mediterranean coast to France, then Turin, Italy where he spent the night Saturday night before coming to see his missionary cousin in Milan.  He showed me pictures of his trip, and they included some pictures of his mom, my dad’s cousin.  I saw a resemblance to my great-grandmother.  She looked like I would imagine that Granny had looked as a younger woman.  Her eyes were especially like Granny’s.  BC might look like his dad, who I never knew, but the family resemblance in his mom is unmistakable.

I took BC around the center and showed him the castle, the cathedral, the galleria, and La Scala opera house.  It’s amazing to be with someone who isn’t tired of seeing churches and castles.  It’s almost like seeing these things for the first time again.

Milan’s cathedral, the Duomo, is beautiful and a real wonder.  It is the 3^rd largest cathedral in the world, after St. Peter’s in Rome and Notre Dame in Paris.  It was under construction for over 500 years, and has over 3000 life-sized statues built into its façade.  Although we didn’t go up there, it is possible to go explore the roof of the cathedral.  From the roof of the cathedral, you can really grasp just how enormous it is.  And from there, a whole lot more of the cathedral is still far over your head—all of it very intricately carved.

Inside the cathedral, BC and I went into the crypt that is behind and under the altar.  There lay the mummified remains of San Carlo (St. Charles), who had been bishop of Milan a few hundred years ago.  I had seen it before, and it still creeps me out.  BC was also creeped-out.  I also pointed out the statue of St. Bartholomew.  I had seen pictures of it, but had never spotted it before.  The saints are always depicted in the way that they were martyred.  According to legend, Bartholomew was skinned alive.  So the statue (which stands inside the cathedral near the side exit) shows him standing skinless with his skin draped over his shoulders—also very creepy.  Creepy religious art seems to be an Italian thing because I can’t remember even once seeing anything like this in any church in any other country.

When BC had spent 2 nights here, he declared himself to be rested and restless.  He said that he wanted to go by train to Como and on into Switzerland from there.  So I took him to the train station, helped him buy his ticket from the machine, and we said our goodbyes.  Yes, he is kin and a kindred spirit!

Today as I was finishing writing about BC’s visit a bird hit my window.  I was surprised to see that it was a parakeet.  It wasn’t afraid of me, and let me pick it up.  I took it downstairs to the custodian.  “Does anyone in our building keep birds?” I asked.  She said no, but advised me to ask the custodian of the building across the street.

I carried my little friend across the street and asked the custodian there.  She keeps birds, but both of her parakeets were still in their cage, which is enormous.  I asked if anyone in her building keeps birds, but she said no.  She opened the cage and told me to put it in.  At first the bird was reluctant to let go of my finger, but finally went into the cage.  It proceeded to investigate its new surroundings, while the other birds came closer for a good look at the newcomer.  There was a moment of tension while one of the birds fluttered at the newcomer, but soon they seemed to settle into a posture of guardedly watching each other.

“Thank you for taking the bird,” I said.  “Of course,” she chuckled.  “The cage is big enough for all 3, and I think they will get along.  I’m glad you brought it.  Left outside, he would surely starve to death.”

As I crossed back to my apartment building I felt grateful that I had been home when the bird hit the window.  Otherwise the poor thing would have died sooner or later.  I realized that it feels really good to have helped the little bird, and also to help the people who pass through my apartment.  Not that the people are in danger, but it’s good to help them on their way.  This is what I do.  God is good!

A Planned Meeting and a Surprise Meeting

I returned to Bratislava to meet with a missionary here.  However I had gotten in touch with her late, and her village is 6 hours away by bus, so that meeting didn’t happen.  But I did manage to meet with one of our new Slovak friends, Zuzana (see Kebap Shop Breakfast (part 2 of the double post, titled Sweet Slovakia) and Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem).  Zuzana came with us to Budapest and also to Vienna to pray in those capitals.  When she returned from Budapest, her boss told her that she was fired, no explanation given.  Of course she was very upset at first, but Pastor Ivan’s daughter had already offered her a housecleaning job, so she decided not to let it get her down.  Ministry carries a price tag.  Jesus told us repeatedly that we will have to leave our homes, our families, and that we must count the cost.  For someone so young (20), Zuzana is surprisingly mature.

Slovakian Presidential Palace

So I met with Zuzana, and she took me for a walk in the park behind the Presidential Palace.  It is a lovely park with flowers and wide paths.  She said that Pastor Ivan’s daughter is from his first marriage, and she is not saved.  She said that Pastor Ivan wants her to share her faith with his daughter.  She admitted that she feels some pressure about this.  I told her about my 3-point method of sharing my faith:

1. I was . . .
   1. Everybody has their own unique story of their life B.C. (before Christ)
2. Then Jesus changed my life
   1. Usually the smile on your face is enough to convince people of the change inside
3. Would you like to know Jesus?

Simple and easy, you don’t have to be an expert in theology or to know the Bible inside and out.  People don’t care about those things.  All they want to know is that Jesus is real.  They want to know what Jesus can do for them.  And nobody can argue with you about your experience because it happened to you.  They might not respond the way you hope, but sometimes the seed planted today will begin to grow next year.

Then I told her about my conversion and re-conversion (see Gotcha! and Gotcha! Part 2), and the suicidal depression I had endured.  Zuzana then told me her story.  She had also been suicidally depressed, with demonic apparitions.  To look at the 2 of us, you would never imagine that either of us were so down.  So I said, just tell her what Jesus has done for you.  God will give you the right time to talk with her about it.

Uniformed Guards at the Presidential Palace

Then we walked back to town, to her favorite coffee shop.  Zuzana told me about one time when she had been reading her Bible there and God showed her that the woman next to her was crying. The Holy Spirit told Zuzana: “Tell her that I love her, and that she is precious to Me.”  So she did.  The woman was startled and resistant at first, but then listened as Zuzana told her about the wonderful love of Jesus.  As we found our seats in the coffee shop, she said, “And she was sitting right there.”  I turned and looked where she pointed, and said, “Right there?  Where Anushka is sitting?”  And we began laughing like maniacs because we had not expected to meet her there in the coffee shop.  Anushka (see double post Sweet Slovakia and Kebap Shop Breakfast) was sitting there writing on her laptop.  She looked up when she heard the laughter, so we told her about Zuzana’s story and how she had pointed right there without realizing that Anushka was there.

So I got another chance to say goodbye to Anushka, and I had a lovely visit with Zuzana, and was able to encourage her.  Zuzana will probably be joining us on our next trip, to Ukraine and Belarus.  She will be useful in both of those places as a translator.  God is good!

Austria’s Identity

The Hitler Balcony

Yesterday we went to the balcony where Hitler addressed Austria as the leader of Germany and the Nazis.  There we prayed and proclaimed that no more lies would come from that place, but only words of righteousness and truth.  I was standing by a very evil-looking sculpture that had a beak like a bird.  In Budapest one of the locals had given me a rubber bracelet that I have been wearing ever since.  I put the bracelet around its beak as a symbolic/prophetic act to shut the mouth of lies.

I shut his lying mouth!

Next we went to the Austrian Parliament building, but we had no connections, so we were not able to get in past the lobby unless we entered as part of a tour group.  If we did that, then we would not be able to stop and pray, so we went outside the building and prayed from there.  Our hosts told us that there is no Christian in the Austrian Parliament at all—perhaps in name only.  It was a difficult place to pray from.  The Hitler balcony had been prayed over many, many times, but the Parliament had obviously been neglected in prayer.  It was the most difficult prayer session since that first evening in Vienna (see God is Doing a New Thing).

The Austrian Parliament Building

After lunch we had our debriefing, and all of us had felt the same difficulty praying at the Parliament building.  I had 2 impressions about Austria.  The first one I noted in my blog yesterday (An Emotional Day), about how in prayer my emotions had been up and down and up again—but only in prayer.  And I noted, as on the first day (God is Doing a New Thing), that I believe Austria has a female identity—and may I add, that she seems hormonal.

My second impression about Austria is that it seems to me very strange that there was no indigenous Austrian who went to pray with us.  They did pray with us in the church, but not out in the city.  To my knowledge, this was the first time that only foreigners prayed in the capital.  However, I have not been on all the prayer trips, and I was told that it was also this way in Luxembourg. 

The thing is that Operation Capitals of Europe (OCE) does not come in to do our own thing.  Rather, we want very much to come alongside the indigenous believers to support them in what (we hope) they are already doing.  Otherwise nothing lasting will result from our prayers because we cannot possibly return and return and return to pray for their capital—there are something like 50 capitals in Europe (not all are recognized, like Cardiff, which comes under the UK, but is in fact the capital of Wales).  Anyway, we did our best, and the local believers did seem encouraged by our visit and our efforts.  Much remains to be done in Austria, but we did what we could to help things along. 

Last night the team said their goodbyes to the local church, and today we said our goodbyes to each other.  I have returned to Bratislava to meet with a missionary here, then I will go to Budapest tomorrow, and fly early Sunday morning back to Milan.  It has been an interesting time, and there is still so much to pray about.  If you would like to pray for us, here are a few prayer points:

• One teammate was unable to come on either this trip or the last one (Sofia & Skopje) because of illness.  This is obviously a spiritual attack because she was healed of this illness, so it should not have returned.
• Others might likewise be attacked in the area of their health, especially due to the exhausting nature of these trips (see below).
• Several of us on the team are over 45, and these trips are physically, spiritually, and emotionally exhausting.  Because of exhaustion, tempers sometimes wear thin.  We need to give each other a lot of grace and compassion.
• Team unity has been gravely threatened by rebelliousness.  Nevertheless, we were able to remain united and to stay focused.  I suspect that the enemy will continue to try this tactic to divide the team.

All in all, I feel like this has been a very good trip—a challenging trip, but very good.  God is good!

God is Doing a New Thing!

Greetings from Austria!

Actually I am on the train from Bratislava to Vienna, and we just crossed the river.  There are lovely yellow fields of flowers.  It is a beautiful, sunny day, and my mood is equally sunny.  I just feel very hopeful after having such powerful and successful prayer in 2 capitals: Budapest and Bratislava.  It’s funny, I don’t know what to expect in Vienna because I’ve only passed through on the train.  But I feel a kind of breathless expectation.  This trip is pregnant with possibilities.  More later!

—Several hours later—

The mood swung dramatically when we entered the church.  Our hosts started right into a slide show about the history of Vienna, with emphasis on the spiritual realities here.  For me, the most impacting was the final slide: a map of Vienna 1913-1914, showing that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, Tito, and  Freud were all living in Vienna within a few miles of each other.  It occurred to me that Vienna is a spiritual womb (see my comment above, written on the train: pregnant with possibilities!).  At that time she birthed some pretty horrible things, but through prayer and worship, Vienna can birth great things for the Kingdom of God.

However, before receiving that revelation, we tried to worship, and it was a disaster at first.  The worship was weak, and only the English-speakers were worshiping.  One of our teammates pointed out that our hosts were not singing.  An Austrian host told us that what they need is not worship, but prayer, and prayer warriors for Vienna who will seek God’s face and pray these things through.

We tried to explain that prayer and spiritual warfare is exactly what we had come to do, but that we enter into prayer first with worship, like the priests of Jehoshaphat (2 Chronicles 20).  At that, a missionary who has lived here for 26 years put on a worship song in German, and we all worshiped together—some in English, and some in German.  That was an important turning point.  After that prayer began to breakout among our hosts, and that depressive atmosphere lifted.

Afterward, we enjoyed a lovely meal prepared for us by our hosts.  Friendship and fellowship developed, and there was lots of laughter and love.  God is good!

Sweet Slovakia

Greetings from Bratislava!

I apologize, I wrote this 3 days ago, but in the absence of internet service, I forgot to post it.  So this is a double-post.

The first thing you notice about Bratislava is that it doesn’t seem to have the eternally crumbling infrastructure of the rest of the formerly Communist world.  The downtown area is sunny by day and well-lit at night.  The sidewalks and pedestrian area are nicely paved and not terribly crowded, although there are plenty of restaurants, shops, and cafes.  And the Slovaks themselves are light-hearted and open, which is probably the most surprising thing of all.  Communism left many people as scarred as their lands.

So how did the Slovaks survive Communism to flourish so nicely?  I think we heard a clue in the Slovakian National Anthem.  Anushka translated and explained the lyrics, which in part tell the story of a woman digging a well.  She dug deeper and deeper, and deeper still.  Then she looked into the well, thinking that she should drown herself in the well.  But she decides not to do that.  These are strange lyrics for a national anthem, but in it you can see the unhappy scars of Communism that tempted the woman (Slovakia) to kill herself.  Somehow she finds the resilience to survive.

The Slovaks, like the woman, bear the scars of Communism, but have turned their attention from the dim past to the bright future.  Slovakia does indeed have a bright future.  The economy here is the best of all the formerly Communist world.  Of course, economic crisis is global, and Slovakia is not immune, but the youth are not fleeing Slovakia like they are from many other East European countries.  In fact, we have met young people here who have come to Slovakia looking for a better life, instead of going to the west.

Our first evening here was at a local church that meets in a movie theater.  It was a youth prayer group meeting, but like none I had ever been to before.  Youth from all over the city, from various churches, came to the meeting, which had over 100 people.  There was worship in music and dance, there was teaching, and there was prayer, both corporate and in small groups.  In fact, when it was time for small group prayer, the leaders asked the people over 30 to pray over the youth.  That means that most of our team sought young people to pray for.  I found 2 university students, sweet, smiling girls, and prayed for them.  They were very encouraged by my prayer, and thanked me for praying for them.

Later I heard that the churches all over the city regularly cooperate and meet together.  It gave me such hope.  Unity!  I would love to see unity like this in Milan—or even in America.  The Bratislavan churches do not compete with each other.  They recognize that the different expressions of faith and worship are simply a matter of the individual character of each church family.  People are not regarded with suspicion if they go to a meeting at another church.  I would guess that there is probably less church-hopping, as a result.  Because giving people the freedom to visit and learn from other believers conversely will instill in them a feeling of familial pride in their own home church.  Plus the home church benefits from the sharing of prophetic insight and instruction.  It’s really how the Body of Christ was intended to function.

Young people are the most precious resource that Slovakia has because young people have not yet lost their idealism or their positive outlook.  When a country loses its youth, it loses something really valuable.  It loses its future.

If you want to see the most flourishing of all post-Communism, you should come to Slovakia.  There is a sweetness here that will make you want to come back.  I know I do!  God is good!

 

Kebap Shop Breakfast

Greetings once again from Bratislava!

I woke up early this morning, and left the hostel in search of coffee.  I was surprised to see on the streets that there were a lot of drunken people, mostly young people, at 6:30 in the morning.  A few were staggering, but mostly I could tell that they were drunk by the volume of their voices.  I’m not sure if there is something about having lots of alcohol in the bloodstream that renders a person incapable of hearing as well as normal or if it’s just a matter of having spent all night with thundering music.  The drunken people on the streets all seemed to know the places where they could find food, which was mostly kebap/falafel shops.  The first place I stopped didn’t have coffee.  The counter person acted like it was strange to want coffee at such an hour of the morning.

The next place I stopped had coffee and seating indoors, so I sat down to drink my coffee.  A young man entered soon after me and asked for his kebap in English.  While he was waiting to pay, I asked him where he was from.  He said, “Ireland,” with some pride in his voice.  He paid and sat down with me.  He told me about his night, which had been spent with friends drinking in bars.  I asked his name, which was Sean.  He ate only half of his kebap, declaring that his eyes had been bigger than his stomach (something my dad had often said).   I asked him what time the bars close, and he said they close at 6.  He said that he was the “last man standing,” and that if the bar hadn’t closed, he would be happy to continue drinking because “I’m Irish,” (again said with pride).

Sean works in Bratislava, but travels often between here, Budapest, Vienna, and Prague.  Because he talked so much, I got the feeling that Sean is lonely here.  Perhaps loneliness is something that he is trying to escape with alcohol.  He looked at my cross and said, “You’ll probably feel better than me in the morning.”  Then he stood up and walked out.

I felt bad that I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to share Jesus with him, but I don’t know how much his boozy brain would be able to really understand or accept.  Anyway, I prayed for him.  He is probably my son’s age, and already very much an alcoholic.  It was a sad way to start a Sunday.

Nevertheless, I am looking forward to a very good Sunday because today I am going to kindergarten.  Actually, it is a church that meets in a kindergarten.  The church also runs the kindergarten.  Zuzana is a girl I met on our first night in Bratislava.  We met at that prayer group in the movie theater church.  Zuzana took me to her church, just to show it to me because it was close to where we were meeting, and it was interesting because of the kindergarten meeting there.  To her surprise and mine, the pastor was there—Pastor Ivan.  Immediately I felt a very strong urging by the Holy Spirit to pray for him.  It was a prayer very much led by the Holy Spirit, and it encouraged Pastor Ivan very much.

So when we talked about going to church last night, although I like Anushka’s church very much, I don’t feel like I’ve made quite the same connection as I did at Pastor Ivan’s kindergarten church.  Since it is close to Anushka’s church, and since Zuzana was sitting next to me, I asked if it would be OK if I go to her church instead.  Nobody had a problem with that, and Zuzana was very pleased to hear that I wanted to visit her church.

Most of all, I want to encourage Pastor Ivan, who has had some problems lately.  Sometimes the simple act of showing up can be very encouraging.  I think he will be very encouraged to see me again this morning in church.  And encouraging him will also encourage me.  In God’s work, everybody is encouraged and blessed.  I love working for the Lord!  He really is the best Boss ever!  I often tell people that my Boss is like a Father to me.  God is good!

Blessed in Budapest

Yesterday was our second and last day in Budapest.  In the morning we met in the Jewish Ghetto and did a prayer walk with Esther from Jews for Jesus.  Although the Jews of Budapest were only confined to the ghetto for a month, it was such a difficult time, being winter, that there was no heat and little or nothing to eat.  Many people died during that month, and Esther’s grandmother was one of them.

But then she took us to the Carl Lutz memorial.  Carl Lutz was a Swiss man who saved thousands of Jewish children during the war, and Esther’s mother was of them.  It makes the Holocaust so much more tragic and real when you meet someone so personally impacted by the war.

Carl Lutz memorial

After lunch we walked out to the middle of the Crown Bridge.  Just last year they had added a couple of obelisks and crown statues to the bridge.  Obelisks are ancient Egyptian symbols, which have to do with the worship of the sun.  Nevertheless, obelisks are found in many churches, especially in Europe.  Obelisks are also a common architectural theme in Freemasonry.  The Masons claim to be a Christian organization and point to their good work in building the Shriners Childrens Hospitals, and riding around in funny little cars in parades wearing fezes, but even a casual glance at the rites reveals the satanic roots of Freemasonry.  The Hungarian crown has a crooked cross on top, which I think is revealing, too.  So we prayed there in the middle of the bridge, looking across the Danube at the Parliament building that we had visited the day before.

Crown statue on the Crown Bridge

One more destination was the castle and church atop the highest hill in Budapest.  From that vantage point high on the ramparts, we prayed for Budapest and proclaimed her future and her people for Jesus.  Those of us from other countries then prayed for the Hungarians who had come to pray with us, blessings them.

Castle ramparts high above the city of Budapest

Finally we returned to the Scottish Mission Church to worship God and have a final evening of prayer together.  It was a really sweet time together, and when the Hungarians surrounded us to pray for us, the Holy Spirit fell upon all of us and we laughed in the sweet joy of the Lord.  So we ended our time together worshiping, praying, blessing, and laughing.  It was wonderful!  God is good!

And today was a travel day back to Bratislava followed by relaxing, each in their own way (taking a run, shopping, sleeping, writing a blog post—guess who!).

Restroom sign at the Scottish Mission Church

Building a New Foundation

Greetings from Budapest!

We arrived yesterday just after noon by train from Bratislava.  The difference in atmosphere between these 2 cities is like night and day.  Bratislava’s sweetness is nowhere to be found in Budapest, which is a hardened city.  One teammate said that she felt a Nazi-like spirit here.  This was confirmed when the local pastor told us that Hungary had made laws against the Jews 3 times.

Nevertheless there is a thriving Jewish community, which we will be visiting today.  I had been to the Jewish Cultural Center in Budapest 2 years ago during my Faith Trip (see my book, Look, Listen, Love).  Today we are going to the Jewish Museum, which is near the JCC.  Since Budapest was the starting point for my Faith Trip 2 years ago, all this feels very much like a reunion—and even more so because it was also here in Budapest that I met the head of Operation Capitals of Europe (oceprayer.com), and 2 of our teammates.  I met 2 other teammates in Kalisz, Poland at the Feast of Tabernacles.  None of these 4 had ever come on another prayer trip.  All of this helps lighten the heavy Budapest spirit, and perhaps that was what God had in mind.

Scottish Mission Church in Budapest

Yesterday afternoon after worshiping and praying together, we had an appointment in the Parliament building with an MP.  He talked to us about some of the history of Hungary, and answered our questions.  Then we had a time of prayer with him and for him.  Afterwards he showed us around the building, and into one of the parliamentary chambers.  We only had a brief time there, so instead of prayers, we made brief declarations about godly decision-making in that place.

The Parliament building is enormous because when it was built Hungary was much larger.  The MP told us that Hungary had once had 66 counties, and now it only has 16.  Slovakia was once part of Hungary.  The symbol for Hungary once was a 2-headed eagle, which speaks of division—and indeed, division came.

Hungarian Crown in Parliament

Budapest is currently building a new subway line near the Parliament building.  Because of the work underground, the streets all around the Parliament building are dug up, exposing as it were the building’s foundation.  Interesting that we should visit it just at the time that its foundation is exposed.  So we made declarations and proclamations that all evil laws and corruption be pulled-up by the roots and replaced by seeds of righteousness.

We heard one of the local believers tell about a prayer initiative that God had given him called Seven Towers.  They have set 7 places, 1 in each district of Budapest, as prayer towers.  Each week there is a 24 hour prayer vigil in one of the towers.  We recognized this as an important work in restoring Budapest to the Kingdom of God.

Weeping Willow Memorial to Holocaust Victims

So the Hungarian government will be rebuilt on a foundation of righteousness and restored to the Kingdom of God.  And we will see the oppressive spirits and Nazi-like influence scatter and vanish as Jesus takes His rightful throne as Lord and King of Hungary here in Budapest.  God is good!

The Poster Child for Communism

The missionaries I came to meet with, Ted and Carol, picked me up at Budapest airport and drove me to their home about an hour and a half away.  They live in a former mining town in Hungary.  Their town’s people were the “poster children” for Communism because the workers were miners.  Miners have big muscles, so they were celebrated in pictures and sculpture shirtlessly embodying the Communist ideal.  The Communist dictators treated them very well because they were the poster children.  So the town’s infrastructure was far better than most of the rest of Hungary.

This is the pretty town square viewed from T & C’s window

When Communism collapsed, there was joy all over Hungary—except for this town.  They had lost their celebrity status and all the perks that come with it: the finest housing, cars, the best food, good schools for their children, etc.  For them freedom meant learning how to scrape their resources together, working at whatever jobs they could find when the mine closed.  Many in this town are nostalgic about the “good old days of Communism.”

Having arrived Saturday night, I had missed the gypsy Bible study (see Six Hours Late).  But I did get to hear Ted preach.  Over breakfast this morning I had mentioned the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda (John 5:1-6) in conversation about how God is moving among the Italian Catholics (see Touching the Hem of His Garment).  Ted said, “Guess what scripture I’m preaching about!”  Yup!  John 5:1-6.  His sermon was really good, teaching me something new that I had never considered before.

Jesus had approached the paralytic and no one else.  Why?  Perhaps because everyone else had someone there to help them into the waters when they rippled.  Ted said that it was strange that this man was alone.  Jesus asked him a strange question, one I had always wondered about: “Do you want to be healed?”  Of course He knew the answer, but it gave the man the opportunity to reveal something about his own character.  He complained that there was no one to help him into the water.  And even when he had been healed, he “blamed” Jesus because He had told the man to carry his bed home—in other words, to work on the Sabbath.  And after he saw Jesus again, he ran to the authorities and told them that it was Jesus.  Not one word of gratitude for his miraculous and life-changing healing.  This guy had some definite character issues, which is something I had never really thought about before.

After church we walked around town a bit, returned home, and prayed together.  Ted and Carol mostly work with gypsies, doing CHE, Community Health Evangelism.  The CHE concept is great.  It involves health, but not only the health of the body, but of the whole person: body, soul (mental/emotional), and spirit.  I love the holistic approach, and it is so desperately needed in the gypsy communities of Europe.  The gypsies are the most receptive of all Europeans when it comes to the Gospel message.  They grab it with both hands.  So we prayed together for them, for their family, and for their ministry.

And I pray daily for the Lord of the Harvest to send more workers for this mission field.  The harvest is ripe, but the workers are few.  If you are interested in missions in Europe, whether with gypsies or not, check out GoMissions.

God is good!  Working with God is great!  He’s the best Boss ever, and the retirement plan is out of this world!

Six Hours Late

What kind of business people are frequently late?

What kind of business people never let you know that they’re running late?

What kind of business people are absolutely unforgiving if you’re late?

What kind of business people never apologize for being late?

What kind of business people claim that they are “on time” if they are under 6 hours late?

Airlines, that’s who!  I’m not sure why we put up with it, but we do.  Honestly, their behavior is outrageous.

Today I am at Milan Malpensa Airport.  I was here on time for my flight, but the plane is 6 hours late.  No apology, no explanation, besides “technical problem” was given.  I was lucky enough to find one of the 3 plugs in this part of the airport.  Thus the ability to write a bit as I wait.

I have to say that I am glad not to be stuck on the plane for 6 hours.  A friend was on her plane for 5 ½ hours before the start of a transatlantic flight.  So add 7 or 8 hours to that 5 ½.  The airline can maintain a good “on time” record if they manage to take off within 6 hours of their scheduled time.  Being stuck in the airport is far better than being stuck on the plane for all that time.

Of course it’s always wise to travel with something to read, but 6 hours in an uncomfortable airline waiting room chair is still too much.  I feel especially sorry for one of my companions.  She’s a young mother with a 2 year old.  She told me that they had left the house at 5:00 this morning, and now our flight (originally scheduled for 12:50) is scheduled for 7:00 this evening.  Her little boy is cute, and a very happy child, but how do you keep a 2 year old entertained for 6 hours in an airport?  I don’t envy her at all!  Every once in a while I see him dash past me with her in pursuit.  She had asked the airline to put her on a flight to somewhere near Budapest, but they refused because it would mean putting her with another airline.

If you can see a pink Z next to this notice, you might know which airline I was flying!

I had missionaries who were coming to meet me at the airport in Budapest from about an hour away.  They were going to take me to a gypsy Bible study group, but I will have to miss that.  I checked into the possibility of being compensated in some way for missing the meeting.  But that’s not happening.  I guess I’m glad it’s not actually costing me money to miss the meeting.  But I imagine that some of these people might lose money over being late.

You can pass the time playing silly games with your friends.

Anyway, that’s enough griping for now.  No matter how incompetent or inconsiderate the airline is, God is always good.  Maybe I’ll go see if that young mother could use a hand keeping the boy entertained.

The young mother and her little boy take a rest.

—The Next Day—

I found the young mother with tears in her eyes.  She said that she had a terrible headache, so I offered to go get her some aspirin.  However, the airport newsstand that sells all sorts of other travel aids doesn’t sell aspirin.  They told me that I would have to exit security and go to the airport pharmacy.  By this point, it was too close to our 7PM takeoff time to do that, so I got her a bottle of water instead.

She refused the water, but told me that she managed to find someone with aspirin.  And she pointed to the signboard for our gate, which now had takeoff time at 7:50.  She was planning on taking a train to her town about 2 hours away.  She wouldn’t get home until about midnight now.  I wanted to talk with my missionary friends to see if there was any way that we could help her, but the really odd thing is that she vanished into the crowd.  I never saw her again.  I looked for her on the bus on the plane, at baggage claim, but she was just not there.  I have no idea what happened to her.

Some people might be discouraged by not having been able to help the young mother, and I felt that way at first.  But there are some people who are very closed and unwilling to accept help.  I suspect that is the case with her.  She told me that she is Hungarian, but her son and his father are Italian.  She said that she is a believer.

But although she may believe, she doesn’t appear to have a personal relationship with Jesus.  She didn’t refer to the boy’s father as her husband.  Also, I think she’s probably not Hungarian, but Romanian.  Many Romanians from Transylvania (Hungarian-speaking Romania) claim to be Hungarian because of the extreme prejudice of the Italians against Romanians.  Northern Romania is about 2 hours by train from Budapest.  I also got the sense that she was running away.  Perhaps the boy’s father is abusive.  Who knows.  One possible explanation for her disappearance could be the father discovering where she was and blocking her from taking his son out of Italy.  And being abused could be a reason for refusing help—abuse victims don’t feel worthy of help.  That tends to keep the cycle repeating on them.

Whatever the reason, she disappeared, and I never saw her again.  Nevertheless, I feel a peace about her.  I did what I could for her, but there is only so much that some people will accept before the burden of kindness becomes more than they can bear.  I think you call that a guilty conscience.  I prayed for her, and will continue to pray for her.  She didn’t allow me to do much of anything for her, but God can do what I can’t—and more.  God is good!