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In Budapest, Father Finds Lost Son |
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Written by Becca
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Monday, 18 January 2010 |
Thank you for your prayers for
us while we are in eastern Europe. We totally feel them and have been
having an excellent ministry time. We've been shooting footage for
videos for different ministries here, ministering on the streets, and
feeding people!
This is an account from the time in Budapest, Hungary, last week:
Last night we were in the city and talked to people who live on the
streets. We also handed out sandwiches. It was cold and many took
refuge in the underground, low-ceilinged piazzas of the metro stations.
Emerging from the underground, we met a community of people on
a street corner near a kiosk of newspaper vendors. They wore several
layers of jackets and had street names for each other. I was surprised
they were out in the cold, the air had dropped several degrees since
the beginning of our night.
One man was very drunk. Some of
our group members went to talk to those who were more lucid. We
offered sandwiches to the group. The man who was drunk thanked us,
then broke off pieces and handed them out to us like communion. His
blue eyes were bright in his tired, wrinkled face, his top gums
toothless as he handed me squished bread, margarine, lettuce and ham. I
noticed one of his finger tips is burned.
He gives us a
speech, weeping at one point. The girl from Budapest who is translating
for us tonight is not translating because she is in a different
conversation and this man is not coherent. We continue to listen and
smile politely. He goes over to his bag by the wall and pulls out a
bottle of wine. Stumbling back to the group, he makes sweeping motions
with it. We do not want to drink with him.
He genuflects and
pours a large wine cross onto the sidewalk. He kneels on it, opening
his arms to heaven, head thrown back against the fuzzy night sky. The
wine bleeds dark red around his knees and down the concrete in large
rivulets, pooling at the rivers' ends.
I do not know why this
man lives on the streets, why he is not home with his family, his wife,
children. What are his talents and abilities? What were the series of
events that unfolded to bring him to this state? Why was I born into a
relatively grounded family with resources and connections that have
afforded me this life? Where is this man's community? What does he
need: tough love, tenderness, a brother, a father, a mother?
Amidst wondering about this man's life, I realized that what we were
doing on this frozen street corner in Budapest was love. People in our
group had good conversations with those who were more lucid. We were
able to tell one man with the street name of Little Rat that Jesus does
love and care about him. He was certain that Jesus could not love
him. It was good to tell him the truth and pray with him.
Back in the underground area of the metro, another man with a tough
face told us how he had been a boxer. He turned away from God after a
successful trainee of his broke away from his training and management.
He and his wife divorced, and he pulled out his wallet in the noisy
station to show us a picture of his two children whom he had not seen
in a very long time. He had lost in life on so many levels, and he
needed to hear that it was okay. Jesus had not given up on him, Jesus
did not blame him, and God could be enough for his life. He was truly
moved in his heart.
We would have the extreme privilege, the
next day while ministering at a different metro station, to run into
our boxer friend. He joyfully told us that he was on his way to meet
his son.
It was a privilege to work with the people
ministering long-term in Budapest. They are praying and forming
relationships with people, asking God to help build the community of
believers in this city. We need each other so much. God shows us how
to do this together.
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