July 24, 2019
by Ney Bailey
There is one image of communist-era Romania that will forever be impressed
upon my memory: the sweeping, green valley, dotted with elderly people
transferring 20-foot-high flaxen piles of corn, stalk by stalk, from
the ground to flatbed trucks. It was like something out of a National Geographic magazine: the backs of feeble babushkas bent
unnaturally, their lined and weathered faces framed delicately by scarves.
Frail gentlemen hoisting corn when they looked as if they needed to eat and
rest—juxtaposed with the bored, robust young men, who smelled of
cigarettes and arrogance as they casually patrolled the work of the
elderly.
This scene perfectly captured the heartless absurdity of Romanian
communism. The topsy-turvy division of labor and resources and constant
suspicion and intimidation left most of the population living in fear.
Nicolae Ceaușescu, the communist-era despot, forced thousands of
people to flee the capital city, Bucharest, while he literally starved his
people in order to build his palace and repay international debts. Those people in
the valley? They could not eat the corn they harvested under this
cruel regime. Their spirits and their bodies were broken.
In 1981, I received an invitation from Campus Crusade for Christ
International (now CRU) to speak at a missionary conference in Vienna.
After the conference ended, I ventured out with two
missionary-interpreters, to teach and encourage Romanian believers.
The Romanian government was hostile toward the gospel at that time, so
before we crossed the Hungarian/Romanian border, everyone needed what we
called a “cleansing.” We had to remove from our person anything that identified us as Christians—a bookmark, a
business card, any identifying literature or symbols.
Yet in spite of such oppressive hostility, the seed of the gospel had already
been deposited in the broken soil of this land by courageous Romanian
Christians, who had endured persecution, betrayal, labor camps, and death.
This seed was bearing fruit in Ava, one of the soft-eyed babushkas picking
through corn in the valley. She whispered, “Go in peace,” to
one of the interpreters as we were leaving. The interpreter later explained
that no one would say “go in peace” unless she knew
Jesus.
All over Romania, believers would quietly arrive in 30-minute increments to
secret gatherings to hear someone teach the Bible. These precious people
gave us tokens of thanks because they joyfully received any instruction
concerning God’s Word. I still remember Anna’s delicate apple
cake. She must have stood in line for days to procure the sugar and flour
needed to bake such a lovely dessert. I took a picture of Anna’s
hands, to remember her. (We couldn’t photograph faces—the
authorities would surely harass anyone we photographed. So we took pictures
of hands . . . feet . . . backs.)
Thank God, the walls of communism fell in 1989. Can you imagine my joy when
I heard that Trans World Radio was to start beaming Chuck Swindoll’s
messages into Romania from a tower that Hitler had built for propaganda
during World War II?
Today, I’m overjoyed that Ben and Anda Mogos serve as the pastor and
executive director of Insight for Living Romania, respectively. Their
ministry is an answer to many, many prayers. As a board member of Insight
for Living Ministries, I am especially delighted that we serve Romania.
One more thing: we saw Ava again as we motored away from the corn fields.
She locked eyes with me and said, “Wherever you go in the world,
greet the brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ for me.” And so
it’s my joy, many years later, to greet you, dear brothers and
sisters, for her.