Like most Americans, I have spent few waking hours thinking about Eastern Europe. In the back of my mind I have always been aware that there is a loose collection of nations that have had the geographical misfortunate of occupying the ground between Russia and the more advanced European states, and that Soviet Communism pillaged all of them in one way or another.
My working acquaintance with life in Eastern Europe after the fall of the Berlin Wall began with a trip to Romania in 1997. I visited again in 2003, and a third time earlier this month. On each occasion I have connected with a group of Romanian Baptist pastors who are facing the daunting task of launching a new generation of churches in a nation that just 20 years ago officially dismissed the claims of Jesus Christ.
Communist despot Nicolae Ceausescu ruled Romania like a tyrant beginning in 1967. He and his wife Elena were caught trying to flee the country on Christmas Day, 1989; they were summarily tried and executed by firing squad. The celebratory mood that immediately swept the country seemed inappropriately macabre to outsiders. Then the world began to learn the details of Ceausescu’s regime of terror.
Ceausescu's policies had crushed the nation with indebtedness. In an overnight effort to balance the books, Ceausescu ordered that every Romanian household be limited to a single 40-watt bulb. Thermostats in Bucharest office buildings could not exceed 57 degrees, even in the dead of winter. Individuals buying a ream of paper were likely to be interrogated by secret police.
In an effort to raise up multitudes of workers to his fulfill his dream of a fully industrialized state, Ceausescu demanded that every young woman produce children. Women of child-bearing age were subjected to mandatory monthly OB-GYN exams to ensure that if they were pregnant, each child would be brought to term. The burden of extra children became so great that when news of his execution became public, tens of thousands of little ones were immediately orphaned – released to the streets or into the “care” of the state.
When I first visited Romania in 1997 there was a full-fledged national crisis of providing for these children. Multitudes of pre-teens were living in the sewer system of Bucharest, sniffing glue to stave off hunger. Christian organizations and compassionate individuals poured into the country. Who would give these kids a future and a hope?
I recall that during my one-week stay back then I never saw a single pregnant woman. I don’t believe I ever saw a baby. In response to the Communist horrors, Romania seemed intent on turning away from the primary social task of bringing a new generation to life and health. A few weeks ago it was a joy to see moms and dads and expectant parents everywhere. Still, there is a long way to go. There are three abortions in Romania today for every live birth. The nation is shrinking in size.
I remember walking into an orphanage in 1997 and feeling overcome by emotion. I approached the director (who was a young American woman who had given up her high-paying job with IBM to devote all of her time to rescuing kids in Bucharest) and assured her that families in central Indiana would gladly welcome these little ones in their homes. I believe she appreciated my tears and my sincerity. But I will never forget her words: “These children will all be staying here. We are loving them, teaching them, and equipping them so they can be the future of Romania.”
That’s when I got it. Hope is what restores a shattered nation. And hope is embodied not so much in programs or initiatives as in long-term investment in the lives of real men and women, boys and girls.
I saw much hope in Romania a few weeks ago. In 1997, just a few years after the Revolution, the landscape was still dominated by hulking, uncompleted buildings which loomed like statues of long-forgotten gods out of some scene inLord of the Rings. Today those legacies of Communism are being completed, converted, or swept aside. Roads have been repaved. The stores are brimming with food. I even saw, on the shelves, the ultimate sign of advanced civilization – Mountain Dew.
Our group helped dedicate a brand new church in a small town near the Black Sea. This congregation, which is only seven years old, has already established a dozen “mission points” in outlying villages. In each case they have trained and sent a young man to go live in a neighborhood where there is virtually no presence of Christian faith.
We talked with a pastor who has done what others might consider unthinkable: Armed with nothing more than confidence in Christ and personal outrage, he has stood up to the local mafia boss, the man who has been deporting young Romanian girls into lives of prostitution in Western Europe. The boss has backed down. There is great power when one man speaks with moral authority.
How has ZPC invested in this spiritual revolution? At least 60 ZPCers have made visits to Romania with Dave and Joan Gall, our Romanian mission “champions,” during the past decade. We have underwritten an orphanage and a shelter for sexually abused girls. We have served as the sponsoring congregation for a pair of vibrant new churches. Every summer our mission dollars provide a week-long summer camp adventure for Romanian teenagers, and the one-and-only “vacation” for four dozen pastors – a conference in which they can share Bible study, worship, conversation, and much-needed rest with their spouses and with each other. It was my privilege to provide the teaching for that event this year.
Eugen Groza, who oversees these Romanian Baptist pastors who are working to make a difference in their country, lived through the Ceausescu era. Now he has known almost two decades of freedom. Eugen has said, “I know what it is like to have to be ready to die for Jesus. I also know what it is like to be able to live for Jesus. I have become convinced that it is harder to live for Jesus than it is to die for Jesus.”
Indeed, it is. That’s true in Romania, and that’s true in Zionsville. Only a long and persevering obedience is equal to the task of transforming our nations, our communities, our households, and our own hearts. But by God’s grace, it is possible. And it is happening right before our eyes.
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