Trying not to wake the...

What you’re about to read is no beautiful missionary story about an incredible crusade or event that saw thousands come to know Christ. It’s the true stories, the untold legends, those uncovered secrets that never make the front page of an update newsletter. Here’s how it happened.

My “friend” who happens to also be a missionary was staying at some people’s house in the cold snow covered mountains of Romania. Now whatever ideas you’ve already gotten in your head about Alpine ski lodges, Mercedes SUV’s and hot chocolate by the fireside you can quickly forget. This was none of those.

He was staying in a pastor’s house with four of the remaining nine children, the pastor and his wife. The house was “warm” compared to the negative “freeze-your-digits-off” outside weather, but it surely wasn’t anything that would make you think of having ice cream after dinner. The only bathroom in the small house was downstairs next door to the kid’s room, two teenage boys and two teenage girls, all sharing the same room.

After most of the family had gone to sleep, save one girl sitting in the living room/ dining room/ family room, he quietly made his way to the bathroom trying not to wake anyone so he could take a shower.

Now whatever ideas you just got in your head about an actual shower that you can stand up in, stand under the faucet in, or actually consider a shower you can quickly forget. This was a bathtub with a house coming out of the faucet that you have to hold with one hand while trying to position yourself so less water gets onto the floor and surrounding fixtures, oh yes, no shower curtain.

Now whatever ideas you may have in your mind about the bathroom being as warm as the rest of the house you can quickly forget. The cold tile on the floor is one reminder that the warm water will feel especially good.

So my friend looks to the faucet. This is an old metal one that has two nozzles, cold on the right and hot on the left. Except something is missing, the cold water handle. That’s ok he thinks, the water wasn’t especially hot last night, crank it up!

As the water heats up and the steam builds he carefully navigates the high cold tub walls and steps in. The water instantly sears his sensitive feet that have suffered mild frostbite (or so he claims to all the workers in Florida) from that day’s journey.

As he kneels in the tub, because standing would expose you to the outside world through the open window located shoulder level to him, he realizes this water is not just hot, it’s near crying out in pain hot. Which isn’t acceptable due to the fact that the family is asleep.

So he begins the sprinkler splash, which is an ancient missionary trick that entails one hand holding the hose while the other splashes scalding hot water onto his cold body. After that method failed, he tried quickly grabbing some water with one hand to use as a temporary washcloth to rub down whatever parts of his body he wanted clean.

After applying some shampoo to his partially dampened hair he realized that getting the stuff on would be a lot easier than getting the stuff off. There would have to be a considerable amount of water involved to rinse out his hair, which would create an absolutely intolerable situation. The search for an ulterior method begins by the perusal of the bathroom amenities.

Now whatever ideas you may have in your mind of bathroom items and amenities you can quickly forget. There was a washing machine, a sink and a toilet. All of which conjured up frightening images when the paramedics would have to arrive to retrieve his cold naked body from the clutches of said items.

As he continued his search in vain, trying to look around the cold room and letting his imagination work, he realized the obvious. Honestly, what other options are there for rinsing this stuff out of your hair when you’re kneeling in a cold bathtub at 1130 at night trying not to wake the…

Then the noise, a piercing metallic sound of a solid metal object falling, scraping and bouncing off the cold walls of the tub he is in. Coming to rest under his leg is the handle to the hot water nozzle.

A thousand thoughts from a thousand places hit his mind at once. He envisions the family all waking suddenly and running into the bathroom to see what happened. He pictures stern and shocked looks as they stare to see this intruder who has broken their prized hot water handle. He thinks to call out that everything is ok, but realizes he never learned how to say “It’s only the handle to the hot water nozzle, go back to bed don’t worry about me” in Romanian. But a surprising thing happens and no one wakes.

Slowly his mind puts the pieces together, he realizes that the one handle, works both the hot and cold nozzles. He realizes that by removing it from one side to the other he can obtain hundreds of different temperature settings. He realizes that in his over-assuming mind of how poor and backwards other people are, they’ve actually kept things simpler.

In a small cold bathroom, in the high Carpathian Mountains, in a local pastor’s home, the family sleeps soundly as the missionary laughs quietly at himself. The simplicity and reality of the situation strikes as he thinks of all the people at home who might somehow understand if he tries to relate this story to them. And as he types out the story at 1230 at night, he hears the pastor downstairs snoring loudly.

Of course, this is the story he told me, so I don’t know if it’s true or not.

What do I know

I don’t carry conversations very well about cars, I couldn’t tell you the difference between a ‘67 or a ‘68 Mustang. I’ve heard that it has something to do with a side grill piece but I don’t remember for sure.

I don’t know much about politics, I couldn’t tell you who the Green, Free or Liberty party candidates were this last run. Don’t ask me the difference between the House of Representatives or the Congress. I know who our president is but I don’t follow much after that.

The sports category I fail on as well. Get me on the field and I can play, but don’t ask me what March Madness is or who’s going to be in the Rose Bowl this year. I don’t know anything about ESPN or SportsCenter except their commercials are sometimes funny.

There have been multiple times when I’ve felt that I should know about all these things; seeing guys stand around and talk all up and down about what year was better for certain players or how one car was a predecessor to some other model. A man on the side of the road in Kenya began talking to me about the perils the world is in because of my presidents’ bad decisions. I had no answers. Is that bad?

Should I be slightly concerned that I don’t know anything about the impending Super Bowl? Should I be more thorough in knowing my Mayor or what he does? Should I spend more time reading what the ballot measures are before voting ABACADABA all the way down?

I feel strangely out of place when the guys start throwing words around like catalytic converter, alternator, fuel injection or someone’s voting record. I kind of glaze over when people start rolling names of players around; you would think they had dinner with them every night.

I suppose there’s nothing wrong with people talking about all this stuff; maybe I’m the one who should know more about it. It’s good that we engage in conversations about things we like and things that matter, maybe I’m the one that needs to read and know more. I mean seriously, what do I know?

What I do know.
I know that there are still millions of students around the world who’ve never been told of a creator who cares or a master designer who crafted their bodies with precision beyond imagination. I know that there are still countries and people groups with no Christians, no witness, no one to tell them that the best life to come is the one we find in Him. There are still people who are crying out to know the promise we’ve found and why we have no need to fear death.

Someone once said “Why should people have the chance to hear the gospel twice when some people haven’t heard it once?” True, and how can I even think that I should stop working when I know there are some who haven’t had that chance to hear it once?

What is it that consumes so much of our time that we don’t live for God more? What can be so important in this life that we don’t take the time to live for the next? What part of our conversations center around Him? How can we live differently? There are hurting people asking questions that are going unanswered, unaddressed and avoided because I’m too concerned about things in my world. We have the answers and for some reason a God in heaven has chosen us to be a part of this awesome work.

Tonight, standing in front of a small Romanian church I will try and convince them the importance of children’s ministries and reaching their world with God’s message of true life. I will share with them knowledge and what I know from my experiences as a Book of Hope missionary. Hopefully they will see past all the things I know in my mind, and instead see all the things I hold in my heart for the children of their country.

What will the next two, five or ten years hold for my life? I really don’t know, whether I continue at Book of Hope for another two years or not isn’t important right now. What will the next two, five or ten minutes hold for me? I don’t really know that either. But I am looking forward to the day when He puts His hand on my shoulder and looks at me and says “Well done”. That I do know.

Side note: This message isn’t meant to tear down or rip on people who enjoy talking about all the things mentioned here. This is just an observation I’ve made about the things I talk about or don’t talk and about and how I spend my time… and go Seahawks.