The loan of a minibus from another church made it possible this week to pick up lots of Roma and ferry them to church. For them it was a whole lot of fun. Somewhat scary for me driving a 15 seater for the first time. This week no dads rolled up and the kids were wild to the point that my attempts to tell the story of Abraham were lost. I don't think it would have been much easier even in English. We urgently need a team of skilled people with a heart for bright, sparky Roma kids. Anyone out there reading this... please let me have your ideas. When the London team come [next week] the problem of discipline is overcome by the sheer power, volume and passion of the presentation. Something a single gadjio man of 59 can't really match. Praying this morning, I laid it before God: "tell me if I should back off and recognise that humanly speaking this ministry is impossible for me to fulfill. The answer came back instantly and unequivocally: "Who will go, if you don't go?" "Noone it seems". "Who will go for me then?" "Lord, send me!"
It never ceases to strike me that what I perceive to be massive problems, the Roma seem to regard as minor issues, or even just life as normal. I continue to import my alien values, and continue to be shocked into wiping my slate clean. The Roma women spot it when I start falling apart; they gather round me and lift me up... sometimes in prayer. The kids welcome me like the pied piper without me doing anything other than pitching up. This is at once the easiest and the toughest ministry on the planet. Success and failure constantly kiss, leaving me both wrung out and energised.
No comments:
Post a Comment