My Move to Romania
Only a few short months passed once I had discerned God’s call on my life to Romania. In September 2000, the big day arrived. I said goodbye to my brothers and sisters, boarded a plane with my parents, and headed overseas with a one-way ticket.
During the trip, I kept asking myself, What are you doing? I was a bright-eyed, naïve nineteen-year-old heading over to a third-world country, with almost no knowledge of the language.
I had no ties with any missionary agency; nor was I commissioned and sent out as a representative of my church.
I had no salary and no way to support myself, except to live off the savings I had accumulated during my year of work between high school and college.
I had no close friends in Romania, only a handful of acquaintances.
I had no idea exactly when I would be returning to the U.S., only that my place of residence would be a foreign country and a university campus.
I wasn’t scared. The situation didn’t frighten me. I dreaded the loneliness that would overwhelm me in a few days when I said goodbye to my parents and they headed back to the States. I dreaded the lack of knowledge and the time that would pass before I could speak Romanian fluently. But I wasn’t scared. My decision had been firm. God had led me to this place and I had answered the call. I wasn’t going to look back.
My parents spent a week with me in Romania, helping me settle into my dorm room on campus. We visited several village churches and met some new people. A pastor we had befriended had invited me to help with the young people in his small village church. At least, I would have some ministry opportunities, even if I didn’t know the language at first.
When the week was over, my parents and I shared a teary goodbye. They left for Budapest, and I went back to my dorm room and wept bitterly. What have I done? I remember thinking. I have left everything I’ve ever known. I have left everyone who loves me. I don’t know the language. I don’t know the culture. I don’t even know any people. And I’m supposed to minister here? The tears flowed as I seriously questioned my calling. But I didn’t let that moment go on. There was too much to do to sit around and feel sorry for myself.
A few days passed before school began. My first school year would be entirely devoted to learning to speak Romanian fluently. So I busied myself with Romanian grammar books and began spending my time studying the language. The faster I learned the language, the quicker my isolation would end and I could get on with ministry.
More on that later…
written by Trevin Wax © 2007 Kingdom People blog