I love to listen to the testimonies of my American friends who have recently been to Romania to do mission work. They inevitably comment on the prayer practices of Romanian churches.

• The prayer time blew me away!
• I couldn’t believe how much time they spent praying! 
• They are so fervent and passionate in their public prayers!

I always nod, smile, and – with great affection – recall the years I spent serving in Romanian churches that valued corporate prayer. For the Christians whose identities were forged through the fire of Communist oppression, prayer is an act of quiet desperation that manifests itself in bold supplication. I’ve never seen humility and confidence so perfectly married as when listening to (and joining) Romanians in prayer.

Here are five things about prayer I learned from Romanian believers:

1. Prayer is not wasted time.

Prayer takes up a big portion of a Romanian worship service. The typical service on Sunday morning begins at 9:00 a.m. The entire first hour is spent in prayer. Bigger churches open up the floor for spontaneous prayers about various requests. Smaller churches go pew by pew, so that every church member gets an opportunity to pray out loud. This tradition of soaking everything in prayer makes a strong statement: Prayer matters. It is not a waste of time. 

I often struggle with prayer because I am not fully aware of my utter dependence on God. I’m a “let’s get to it!” kind of activist. Prayer often seems passive. The Romanian testimony of prayer challenges me that it is never a waste of time to enter the throne room with our brothers and sisters and petition the King to act on our behalf. This is, in fact, the most effective type of activism for a child of God.

2. We should affirm one another as we pray.

Romanian Baptists pray out loud, one person at a time. But the prayers are never individualistic. The rest of the congregation listens carefully and affirms the requests of the person praying. When the public petitioner asks for something specific, other church members audibly affirm the request.

The Pray-er: “Lord, we thank You for giving us the privilege of coming into Your presence.” This petition is followed would be a chorus of spontaneous voices saying, “We thank You” or “Yes, Lord.”

When the pray-er starts making petitions, “Speak to us this morning, Lord!” the chorus gets louder and more united with their firm “Amen’s.”

Affirming others in prayer is hard for me to do in the United States. It seems like a charismatic or Pentecostal practice. No one else does it, so I’m the odd man out. Still, I miss leading people in prayer and hearing their “amens.” The public agreement in prayer reinforced the corporate blessing of my individual request. I often felt like I was being held up by my brothers and sisters in Christ, that I was lifted up to the throne room while I expressed the desires of everyone’s hearts. Then, when it came time for the next person to pray, it was like coming down and joining the chorus, reinforcing another brother or sister’s requests.

Audible affirmation during prayer is easiest for me when I’m praying with my wife. Affirmation reminds me that praying together isn’t just taking turns. It’s affirming each other’s requests, so that what the other is saying is also being delivered as the cry of our own heart.

3. Prayer is for everybody.

The Romanian church taught me that everyone can pray and that everyone should pray. That means that prayer in church is not the exclusive domain of the man in the pulpit or the church leadership. Men in the pews pray. So do women. Out loud. Children pray softly in their rows. Teenagers pray for their lost friends.

The Romanian practice of prayer embodies the priesthood of all believers. We are all granted equal access to the throne of God through the shed blood of Jesus Christ. This emphasis on prayer from all kinds of people in the church made the service seem like a family. We were there, affirming our mothers and sisters and fathers and brothers in the Lord as they prayed.

4. Prayer can be spontaneous and theological.

Once you make prayer the purview of everyone, you open the door to all sorts of messy requests, right? It’s true. New believers often prayed for odd things, or they mimicked phrases they’d heard that weren’t theologically precise.

Still, the majority of Romanian prayer services convinced me that prayers can be heartfelt, spontaneous, and theological. Head and heart go together. Many Romanian believers unconsciously followed the Lord’s Prayer pattern, beginning with praise to God for His salvation before moving into general requests and ending with specific desires for deliverance. Romanian believers peppered their prayers with snippets from psalms and other biblical petitions.

The cool thing was… no one felt “super-spiritual” by praying this way. It was the way we talked to God. One reason American evangelicals are increasingly fond of written prayers is that our experience has shown spontaneous prayers to sometimes be superficial. It doesn’t have to be this way. When you are immersing yourself in gospel truth, richly theological prayers pour forth from the heart spontaneously.

5. Prayer teaches.

Many churches want to be “gospel-centered” today. We want the gospel to be presented in our songs before the sermon even begins. I’m encouraged by these developments. At the same time, I’m convinced that one of the places we need to push for gospel centrality is in our corporate prayer life.

Prayer teaches. Often times, as I listened to the prayers of my Romanian brothers and sisters, I realized that the gospel was clearly articulated in these praises and petitions. Before the pastor even had the chance to get up in the pulpit, the gospel had been proclaimed through the prayers of the people in the congregation.

Conclusion

I’m grateful for my Romanian brothers and sisters, and for the prayer practices that they taught me. What about you? What are some prayer practices you have learned from brothers and sisters in other parts of the world?

This 10-minute video clip explores the persecution of Christians under Ceausescu’s Romania. It includes video and audio from Richard Wurmbrand, Nicolae Moldoveanu, and more. We in the West would do well to learn from our brothers and sisters who have endured persecution for their faith.

Here are some lines from the latter part of the video that stand out:

• For you, it is not just a prison. It’s your parish.
• God will judge us not according to how much we endured, but how much we could love.
• “Lord, how can I thank you that I am among those being tortured and mocked and that because of your mercy, I was not among those who torture and mock!”
• “With every blow you give, a prayer rises to God so you may be forgiven.”
• Here is the greatest thing: when you see that the man torturing you is more afflicted than you who are being tortured.
• Without love, we are absolutely nothing.

The song “Break My Plans” was composed by a group of Americans as a tribute to Romanian hymnist Nicolae Moldoveanu. The music  video clip below shows a reenactment of Moldoveanu’s journey to prison in Communist Romania. While in prison, he composed more than 360 hymns – all without any instruments, pen or paper.

I wish that many of Moldoveanu’s hymns were translated. Several of them are personal favorites: “Numai harul” (Only Grace), “Dacă ne-adunăm în Domnul” (If We Gather Together in the Lord), “Nu te-ndoi, ci crede!” (Don’t Doubt, but Believe!),and  ”Învață-mă să făptuiesc” (Teach Me to Do Your Will).

In Counterfeit Gospels, I mention Moldoveanu as an example of how we should find our joy in God alone:

The therapeutic gospel makes Christ a tool for getting something else. The biblical gospel says “Christ is all.”

The writer of Hebrews commends his readers, saying: You joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one. (Hebrews 10:34) The therapeutic gospel has no category for pleasing God through times of suffering, because pain is always, somehow caused by your own lack of faith. And yet the writer to the Hebrews can commend people for joyfully losing everything because their ultimate treasure was God alone.

What kind of gospel would lead someone to be joyful even in the midst of great earthly loss? Not the therapeutic gospel. Only the biblical gospel that magnifies Jesus Christ as the treasure of greatest worth can lead someone to great joy in the midst of great loss.

The most prolific Romanian hymn writer of the 20^th century was Nicolae Moldoveanu. He wrote thousands of hymns during his long life, composing many of them in prison as he suffered at the hands of the Communist authorities. One of Moldoveanu’s most beloved songs was written just after the police had plundered his home and left him without any belongings. Only someone gripped by the biblical gospel could pen these words. His song (“Ție-Ți Cânt Dumnezeul Meu”) is translated like this:

I sing to you, my God

For your goodness, for your great grace,
I will bless you in whispers and in shouts.

I sing to you, my God,

For all that you have given to me, for your sweet care
For all that you have taken from me,
I worship you with thanksgiving.

I sing to you, my God.

In words I wish to tell you, my song my burning plea,
You are the greatest treasure of all

The following music video of “Break My Plans” begins with these words from Moldoveanu:

1959 was the year when my life was split in two. The work of the Lord needed men who were tested.

Last Thursday, James MacDonald gathered a group of mega-church pastors for a conference called “The Elephant Room.” The sessions featured lively discussion and friendly debate regarding a number of controversial methodological, theological, and practical issues related to church ministry. (See notes here.) One of the most interesting sessions was David Platt and James MacDonald’s conversation on sacrifice and generosity.

David Platt made the case that wealth and money, though not inherently sinful, are dangerous in the hands of sinful people. Our current context of self-indulgence needs to be challenged. Spiritual transformation leads to material transformation. The gospel gives us generous hearts that overflow into radical sacrifice for God’s eternal purposes. When God blesses us financially, He intends us to give to others.

James MacDonald warned that a distorted version of Platt’s teaching equates “poverty” and “spirituality.” Instead, MacDonald believes we need a full-orbed theology of joy in God that includes joy in the good gifts God has given us. Emphasizing radical sacrifice can lead to poverty theology that is all about the immediate divesting of money rather than the multiplication of money that will lead to greater involvement in mission.

The Points of Agreement

The MacDonald/Platt discussion was tense at times, perhaps because the practical ramifications of how we think about money always hit close to home. Still, there are three major points on which Platt and MacDonald agree:

1. Money and possessions are a good gift from God.
2. Money and possessions can become idolatrous.
3. We are called to exercise stewardship of our finances in a way that pleases the Lord and furthers the spread of His name.

The Debate

Even though Platt and MacDonald would “Amen” each of these points, they have diverging views on the particulars of how these truths should be applied. MacDonald believes we need a theology of joy that reiterates point #1. Platt believes we are underestimating the idolatrous pull of point #2. Then, because MacDonald emphasizes #1 and Platt focuses on #2, they have radically different notions about how to apply #3.

I feel the tension of this discussion at a deeply personal level. When I lived in Romania, I wrestled daily with the tension of being one of the “haves” in a world of “have-nots.” Over the course of my years overseas, all my categories were shattered, so that I was confused, challenged, content, frustrated, joyful, and well-meaning at different moments and in different ways. Here are the cycles of my personal journey:

1. Culture Shock at Poverty

When I first began ministry overseas, I was deeply moved by the poverty I noticed. Early on, I wrote an email to family and friends:

You know I am not one to dwell on the bad things or poverty, but sometimes, the situations here can really get to me… Every now and then I wish to be home to just have a good long cry about all the things that happen here. Here, it’s impossible, because it’s almost like you’re in a bubble, and you have to separate your heart from your mind somewhat, just to make it through emotionally. Your mind can see something, but you have to keep it from getting to your heart until you have time to really process what you’ve seen and carry with you the emotional baggage that comes with it.

The longer I was in Romania, the more I realized that even poor Romanian villages would be considered “rich” by the standards of third-world countries. Poverty is defined in so many different ways, and the way we define poverty impinges on how we spread the gospel. Many times, I have asked David Platt’s question: “How do we proclaim the gospel in a world in which utter poverty (no drinking water, starving people, enormous economic needs) is so prevalent?”

2. Culture Shock at Wealth

Upon returning to the U.S. after spending a year away, I was surprised by our wealth. I remember arriving back in Nashville, and asking – in the fog of jet lag – “When did they put a new car lot near the airport?” Dad answered: “That’s just the parking lot, Trevin.” Strange, but after so much time away, my mind couldn’t conceive of the fact that all the new, shiny cars were owned by average citizens. Even now, I remember the feeling I had when I noticed how easy it was to walk downstairs and get a glass of water. After having lived in a village with no indoor plumbing, water from the refrigerator seemed like a luxury.

3. Frustration with Materialism

The longer I looked at the U.S. from the outside in, the more I noticed our excess wealth. Closets stuffed full of junk… credit card debt racked up on frivolities… churches budgeting thousands of dollars to activities that seemed designed more for the comfort of church members than God’s mission in the world… Our priorities seemed so out of line!

And then there was the day I received an email invitation to take a pastor-led cruise with a number of famous preachers. I remember the odd feeling of walking from the computer to the window where I could see homeless Gypsies scavenging through the dumpster outside our apartment complex. The jarring juxtaposition of wealth and poverty frustrated me.

4. Repentance for my Patronizing Attitude

After the period of frustration, the Lord convicted my heart for my superior attitude toward my Romanian brothers and sisters. My initial mindset had been: “I’m the rich American here to help the poor Romanians.” That attitude was unhealthy, anti-gospel, and ultimately untrue.

God opened my eyes to see the problem of dividing people into categories of “rich and poor.” I had the opportunity to serve alongside “poor” Romanians who were doing mercy ministry to poorer people. We prayed as Romanian missionaries went to third-world countries to spread the gospel. Over time, my categories were shattered. Christians are poor in spirit, called to be generous. Forget the categories. Quit patronizing our brothers and sisters, many of whom are richer spiritually than we’ll ever be. We’re united in our service by the cross, not the size of our wallets.

5. Repentance for my Judgmental Attitude

Then, God started in on me from another angle. He exposed my judgmental attitude toward “wealthy Americans.” Though I had looked with disgust at the idea of a “pastor’s cruise,” I eventually realized that this type of vacation was attractive to many pastors – not because they were idolatrous materialists, but because being “inaccessible” on a cruise is one of the only ways they can feel truly “off”. A pastor-led cruise may, for some, lead to rest and spiritual renewal in a way I had not considered. Whatever the reasons, I needed to repent of my patronizing attitude to the poor and my superior attitude to the rich.

Where Do We Go from Here?

One of the most helpful books I have read on the subject of wealth is Neither Poverty nor Riches: A Biblical Theology of Possessions by Craig Blomberg. The points that Platt and MacDonald agree on are declared loudly and clearly in Blomberg’s work. We can gratefully enjoy God’s gifts. We must beware of the idolization of wealth. We must give where we want our heart to be.

I don’t claim to have figured out the debate about radical generosity and stewardship. But there are places where I think both emphases could lead to unhealthy extremes.

MacDonald is right that there is nothing inherently spiritual about poverty. But I’m cautious about his statement that financial blessing flows to fruitfulness. Sometimes. Maybe often. But not all the time. I’ve served alongside many pastors who didn’t reap financial rewards, even though they had very fruitful ministries. Conflating financial blessing with fruitfulness can lead to unwarranted appreciation of prosperity-gospel teachers who confuse the two (just as the ancient world did). Christ has set us free from the shackles of “success” defined by the world.

Platt is right that we live in a culture that seeks joy in more and more things. His focus on “radical sacrifice” as the outworking of gospel generosity should be commended. But I’m cautious that Platt’s teaching could be turned into a legalistic, obligatory exercise that leaves little room for the full-orbed theology of joy that MacDonald talks about.

A couple months ago, Platt tweeted: About to coach my first T-ball practice. Scared. Really scared. The next tweet was: Exhausted. Stressed. Filthy. Sore. Glad to be coach. Grateful to be dad. I chuckled when I read those tweets, and I was glad to see them. Why? Because that image of joy-filled leisure and recreation can easily get lost in the “radical” image that comes through Platt’s books, conference messages, and the branding machine of the publishing industry.

Conclusion

The more I think about those three points, the more I am convinced that it’s not a “balance between the three” that is necessary, but a radical, unshakeable commitment to all three.

• We need to pursue joy in the God who gives us good gifts, intentionally basking in His goodness to us, growing in gratitude for His provision, and enjoying His gifts as the good things they are.
• We also need to be radical in our realization of how idolatrous good things can become when they take the throne of our lives. Our commitment to enjoying the good things of life should be matched by our ruthless efforts to root out idols from our lives, to find our satisfaction in God alone, and not just the gifts He gives us.
• In the end, radical stewardship will look different from person to person, from church to church, – but we are all called to be good stewards, to prioritize rightly, to sacrifice for the King out of gospel-soaked generous hearts. Radical sacrifice must always overflow from a heart that is gripped by the gospel; otherwise, it becomes a joyless and fruitless effort of self-righteousness.

In recent weeks, I have been monitoring a theological controversy in Romania among my Baptist brothers and sisters.

Dr. Joseph Tson – a well-known pastor and author, perhaps the preeminent Romanian Baptist theologian of the past few decades – has recently declared his theological agreement with a charismatic group (“Strajerii” – “Watchmen”) that promotes a type of Word-Faith, prosperity-gospel teaching.

Tson’s recent revelation has affected Romanians all over the world. The Baptist Union recently excluded Tson from the Baptist Union and revoked his ordination for his deviation from the Baptist Confession of Faith.

In the uproar online over Tson’s recent changes, I found Dr. Radu Gheorghita’s “Letter from a Younger Theologian” to be a helpful source of biblical insight and brotherly persuasion. Dr. Gheorghita is the Associate Professor of Biblical Studies at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. He was a mentor to me when I was a student at Emanuel University of Oradea. With Radu’s permission, I have translated the letter into English and am happy to provide it here.

A YOUNGER THEOLOGIAN’S LETTER TO JOSEPH TON

Dear Brother Joseph,

We thank you for the message you sent with your supplemental clarifications. Before I can respond, I want to appreciate the decent tone of dialogue in your most recent messages, and I assure you that I don’t take that for granted. As for me, I desire to maintain the same parameters. I hope that at least one good thing might come from the tumult of recent weeks – that Romanian theologians will know how to dialogue decently, not merely to argue and thrash one another in public. Ideally, we would have a meeting face to face to debate these things. Since this luxury is not afforded us, we must be content with the internet, not the ideal place for substantial dialogue. I will come back to this later…

Radu Gheorghita

I would like to respond to you, interacting briefly with a few of the ideas you included in your message… I won’t spend much time on every point because that would take too much time and space. I want to concentrate on just a few things I see as most vulnerable in the position you presented to us.

1. … I have come to understand that from Martin Luther on, Protestant theology has been constructed on the Epistle to the Romans (to be exact, it is considered that “the gospel” is reduced to what Paul wrote in Romans 3:1-5:2). I have become convinced that “the gospel” is in the four Gospels and I have made the decision to construct my theology on the teachings of the Lord Jesus in these four Gospels. As far as I know, no one in the modern era has tried this kind of course. What I have gained is a new Christian theology, or, if you like, a new kind of Christianity!

There would be so many things to discuss here that I find it difficult to decide which aspects to limit myself to. I will deliberately avoid interacting with the two or three phrases that I hope you meant to be taken hyperbolically. I have noticed many times, in your sermons as well as your books, that you appeal to these kinds of affirmations. But one would think that the fact that Christianity and its ideas are already 2000 years old and are spread across the whole globe would cause a certain restraint toward affirmations of this kind (even if they are qualified with “in the modern era”).

How do you want us to understand these affirmations? Are you claiming that no one from the time of the apostles until you yourself has thought in this way? Or, that ever since the Gospels were written true Christianity has entered a shadow until the 21st century? Do you realize the implications of these affirmations, and the reason why they cannot be taken seriously?

I go now to the heart of the problem. Notice how you force a breach by tearing the Word of God (New Tesament) in two: Paul versus the Gospels. What is understood from the above paragraph is that trying to construct your theology (evangelism, sanctification, service, etc.) on the theology of Romans is inferior to that constructed on the Gospels. In essence, you are considering the Gospels more “authentic” than the teaching of Paul.

You are making here two capital mistakes, which biblicists are very acquainted with. First, you are introducing a hierarchy in the canonical writings – which is exactly what Luther also did, the only difference being that he moved closer to Paul. It’s like you are saying, borrowing colorful vocabulary: “The epistles of Paul are epistles of straw; I go back to the Gospels”…

I affirm with the most seriousness that no Christian has the right to do such a thing. The voice of God in the Scriptures of the New Testament is just as clear, valid and necessary in the epistle to Jude as in the Gospel of John. No one has the right to classify and structure the writings of the New Testament according to what they think (whether their size, their “authenticity”, their date of composition, etc). All are equal! And the true Christian will position himself at an equal distance from them. This is the foundation that sola scriptura is based upon. Surely I don’t have to remind you that the preference of the liberal theologians from the 19th century on was exactly this division of the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels from those of the epistles of Paul, which they say are responsible for the derailing of original Christianity.

The second mistake you are making is the exact opposite of the first: you aren’t trying to observe, appreciate and explore the true value of the theological diversity of the New Testament writings. On the one hand, you are in effect placing Paul beneath the Gospels. On the other hand, however, you are putting John in the same category as the Synoptics.

Here you are guilty of a methodological inconsistency that cannot be ignored. The same reasons that cause you to read Paul with other eyes than the Gospels ought to be the same reasons for which John should be read differently than the Synoptics. You cannot divide the New Testament authors from one another in some cases and then mix them in others, according to your fancy. If Paul says something other than the Synoptics and can’t be harmonized with them (and I believe you claim this to be true) then John also says something different than the Synoptics and even he can’t be harmonized with them.

To make myself more easily understood: The New Testament has many forms of evangelism (I am speaking of evangelism because this is what you have brought up). I agree with you up to a point. Where I do not agree is the fact that the affirmations that evangelism in the style of the Gospels (where you place John, Mark, Matthew and Luke together without differentiating the theological nuances specific to each) is superior, more correct, more authentic than the evangelism in Paul’s style. I am inclined to believe that Paul would not agree with you.

In the last instance, the first century of evangelism and subsequently, the explosive spread of Christianity among non-Jews was mainly the result of the type of evangelism of Paul and not the Gospels. So, I don’t believe you were wrong in the way you did evangelism in the past. Your request for forgiveness that you made before the church of Mănăștur were unnecessary.

The spirituality that you promote has support in the Gospel of John – but not any farther than this Gospel. The Holy Trinity’s indwelling the believer is John’s theological nuance, but you won’t find it in the Synoptics. This nuance is found under other emphases in Ephesians (filled with God, filled with Jesus Christ, filled with the Holy Spirit) but since you prefer to renounce Paul as you color your own spirituality, you can no longer claim him as support. Likewise, I must affirm with the same strength that the Gospel of John must be balanced with the other Gospels and epistles. That’s why we have them all. No wonder the Gnostics favored the Gospel of John and searched it for support for their mystical, elitist teachings!

2. First, the fact that He speaks to me is part of the non-cessationist faith that God still speaks today and generally is part of the phenomenon of prophecy. Secondly, the expression of God’s love through the words of Song of Songs is for some a cause for scandal! Third, have you not also seen here a deviation from the “Baptist tradition” that says that we can today have fellowship only with the written Word, not with a living Person?

I have never understood the reason why you limit the Baptist creed to “fellowship with a book” and not with a living Person. I believe the Baptist creed is well-formulated in this case, because the Living Person that you refer to is the person who chose to usually address his church in this way: through the Scriptures written and preached. It is this voice that the church needs, not the “audible, mysterious” voice of God.

Please observe that I am not saying that God could never or will never speak to a Christian audibly. All I am saying is that God has chosen to speak to us through Scripture. It is the instrument chosen and used by the Holy Spirit to address us. And if God has chosen this method, should it not honored? What right does someone have to call it insufficient, old-fashioned, “a relationship with a book, not a living Person”?

Herein lies the greatness of the Scriptures: they are a book, but they are much more than a book! I do not see any reason to accept the degradation of the Scriptures that you suggest when you affirm that the voice of God in Scripture is inferior to the (audible?) voice of God.

20 years ago, you told me something like this: “Radu, you need to learn to listen to the voice of God.”

I responded, “Bro. Joseph, I agree with you. That is why I devote myself to the study of the Scriptures.”

You continued, “No, Radu, God speaks today too. You need to get used to hearing his voice”.

Then, I answered, “Yes, I know that he speaks, but he speaks through his voice in the Scriptures. That is the voice I seek, the voice I want to discern, the voice I want to hear, the voice that I will take as guidance.” You did not like my response, and since then, we have both remained in our respective positions.

I say, then, that Scripture written and preached is sufficient as the voice of God. Without this foundation, the Christian faith ceases to remain the Christian faith. Does God speak today through other methods? Of course. He is God and he is free and sovereign to choose a method of communication. And yet, he has given us the Scriptures to verify the other methods of communication, so we might see if they are from him or not.

In fact, the issue of an audible voice that you hold to has always bothered me from a theological and practical point of view. Theologically, because of the very fact that Scripture does not emphasize or promote or encourage this kind of communication. Where in the epistles of the New Testament or even in the other writings do you find encouragement to “listen for” the audible voice of God? If it is so important, why have the apostles not left us with good guidance in this regard? Of course you know that this was one of the preferred doctrines of the Gnostics. True knowledge of God, they claimed, is only for those who have been initiated, for the Christian elite, for those who take part in direct communion with God. It wasn’t for nothing that orthodox Christianity distanced itself from them at the beginning of the second century.

The practical difficulties are even greater. Please forgive me for resorting to anecdotal material, but on more than one occasion you have made categorical affirmations about something, after the fact that God “revealed/communicated” his will; yet only a few days later you sought to convince us of the very opposite.

I did not appreciate at all the tone of brother Daniel Chiu’s open letter – it was unnecessarily harsh. But several things he says there confirm this exact problem. Oscillations of this kind (which you cannot deny) are the best argument against the sufficiency of guidance through hearing the “audible” voice of God.

Furthermore, if the “audible” voice is accessible to more than one person, what happens in cases where the two voices heard are contradictory? For example, there are many voices (on the internet) that are trying to demonstrate that you are listening today to other voices, not the voice of God. Notice that ultimately it is the Scriptures that offer us light in these situations. Why not begin and end then with only the Scriptures?!

3. Instead of saying that I have changed my theology and through this “betrayed” you, and instead of saying that I am an inconsistent and unstable man, why not put forth the effort to see that in all these years I have accomplished a pioneering work and that I have opened up new roads in theology?

I won’t spend too much time on this statement because I have spoken of it already in my first point. I limit myself merely to providing a provisional list of theologians whose studies are relevant to this discussion. In fact, any theologian that is concerned with studying the historical Jesus of Nazareth, has formed – in some way or another, a theology of Jesus Christ, for example, a summary of Jesus’ teachings. I begin with one of the most recent and complete: Scot McKnight, The Jesus Creed. Scot deals with the questions you raise: What if we were to extract the teaching of Jesus in the Gospels? What would it look like? I recommend Scot’s study because he has studied these things intensely in the past twenty years.

Alongside Scot’s study, you will find a synthesis of Christianity seen through Jesus’ lens in the three reference studies of the past fifty years: N.T. Wright, James Dunn, John P. Meier. Each one of these studies treats exhaustively the teachings of Jesus from different angles. They are first class theological syntheses of Jesus’ teachings, in hundreds of pages written with much attention given to the text, history and the theology behind it. Also deserving mention are the studies of Ben Witherington, Craig Blomberg, I.H. Marshall, Tom Schreiner, Frank Thielman, Graham Stanton, Craig Evans, Robert Stein, T.W. Manson, G.B. Caird, Craig Keener, Darrell Bock, Don Carson – all of which in one way or another have brought together the teachings of Jesus and have tried to systematize them. As you have seen, I have limited myself to evangelical theologians. If I were to include those with liberal orientations, the list would triple easily. If I were to add the studies of biblical theology limited to a book or a Gospel (Andreas Kostenberger put out last year a theology of John that is 600 pages), or serious commentaries on the Gospels (each one including a theological synthesis of Jesus’ teachings), the volume would multiply by 10. These are only studies of biblicists in English. In what way are your studies “pioneering works?” Since Albert Schweitzer (at least) until now, the study of Jesus’ teachings is a well-worn path!

4. In September of this year, Dora received from the Lord the thought to call Bro. Nelu Demeter la Baile Felix, where he lives (she was in Portland, OR). They arranged a counseling session for healing through deliverance, and after three hours of counseling, Dora was healed by the Lord of her allergy. She began to eat bread and is now healthy. Her husband, Oliver Ghitea, who is a doctor, was profoundly changed through the experience of his wife, and through subsequent personal conversations with Nelu Demeter.

Of course, we rejoice very much in the healing of Dora. I would be the last person to want to attribute the healing power of the Lord to other spirits. The warning that the Lord gives in the Gospel is very clear to me. At the same time, however, we also read in the Gospels that wonders are done by those who are not known by the Lord (Matthew 7). I am not personally interested in discovering the Spirit/spirit responsible for healing. But Scripture does tell us to evaluate and test the spirits.

Here is my problem. You present Nelu Demeter the way you do when you want to appreciate someone. But on the internet, we meet another Demeter – I think you have watched the video clip known for “the throne of Satan in Berlin and those twenty virgins”; I won’t say more about “the Chinese wall and eating of rice”. Please explain to me how it is possible that from the same mouth (James 3) can come words of healing (in Dora’s case) and monstrosities of this kind? Are you not bothered by the discrepancy?! Or are you convinced that God truly spoke to him, giving him the prophecy regarding Berlin? Perhaps you will say that one of the issues is serious (Dora’s case) but the other (Berlin) is less so. You realize that this kind of explanation does not resolve anything for me. Of course, I realize that I am discussing a particular case and not treating thematically the principle of healings. But I am doing nothing but thinking out loud about the example that you gave us.

There are so many things left to say, but I have said too much already. I  am striving to finish on a positive note, returning to the idea of a common friend, who has suggested that we try to find a way to meet together, you with many “young theologians”, and have a face-to-face discussion about these things, with the Scriptures in hand. If you are open to something of this sort, please let me know and we will work out the details. Do not think I envision a counsel that would burn you. On the contrary, more than you realize, we still respect and appreciate you. Yet at the same time, our hearts burn for biblical clarification of these controversies.

One of these,

Radu

Ten years ago today, I boarded a plane with a one-way ticket to Romania.

I was a bright-eyed (naïve) nineteen-year-old heading over to a formerly Communist country. I had very little knowledge of the language. I had no ties with any missionary agency. 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 when I would be returning to the U.S., only that my place of residence would be a Christian university campus.

Truth be told, I wasn’t scared. The situation didn’t frighten me. Yes, I dreaded the loneliness that would overwhelm me when I said goodbye to my parents. I dreaded the time that would pass before I could speak Romanian fluently. But my decision had been firm. God had led me to this place. No time to look back.

In my journal, I wrote about arriving in Oradea:

“The streets of Oradea were soon before us. The sky was sunny and the weather was lovely. The city was bustling with activity; the leaves just beginning to change colors and surrender from the trees. Looking over the city, I realized that this was now my new home. The excitement, anticipation, and wait of the past few months were for this moment – to be in the place where I belong… to serve.”

The excitement soon turned to sadness. After I said goodbye to my parents, I went to my dorm room and wept. 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. Even now, I choke up when I recall the emotions of that moment. And as I think of the ways God blessed the following five years of my life, I am overwhelmed. He gave me more opportunities to minister than I could have dreamed of. He gave me the ability to speak Romanian fluently within a few months. He gave me my precious wife. He blessed us with our first child.

When I flip through the journal I kept during the first year in Romania, I am embarrassed at my immaturity, my naive expectations and unbridled idealism. My disdain for my former self, however, is kept in check by the thought that ten years from now, I may entertain similar thoughts regarding where I’m at now! If anything, the journal reminds me that life is a journey.

The big story is about God. And this God is the One who calls us, who equips us, who goes before us, and then sends us off into the sunset of his plan, as heralds of his Son and the salvation he has brought to earth.

Thank you, Father, for calling me to Romania ten years ago. Thank you for sustaining me, strengthening me, and using me for your purposes. Please do the same in the next ten years, and grant me faith so that I will continue to follow you wherever you lead.

The Orthodox church across the street from our apartment in Romania

It was 2005, and I was wrapping up the last of my five years in Romania. Friends kept telling me that I shouldn’t leave Romania without having attended an Orthodox Easter vigil. So, with Corina agreeing to stay home with our son, I decided that I would stay up until midnight on the Saturday before Easter and attend the service outside the Orthodox church building across the street from our apartment.

Participating at a Romanian Orthodox Easter vigil was a new experience for me. I had been with Corina to Orthodox church services, but apart from some of the Orthodox theologians we had been acquainted with at my university, the Easter tradition of Romanian Orthodox Christians remained a mystery (except for those elements that had been adopted by evangelicals).

Just a few minutes before midnight, I headed out to the Orthodox church across the street (see picture on the right). People were already gathering outside the church, many of them holding long, unlit yellow candles. Others were entering the church to buy candles and then returning outside to the swelling crowd. To make sure I didn’t miss any of the action, I moved up next to the outside steps at the entrance of the church. It was chilly outside, so I was thankful for my light jacket.

At midnight, the church bells began to ring triumphantly, their sound pealing through the crisp evening air. Someone came out of the church with a candle already lit, and one by one, each candle was lit until a yellow glow surrounded the church.

Moments later, the main priest, dressed in bright vestments, came out of the church holding a large cross. Several banners waved behind him.

When the priest came down into the crowd, he turned and faced the church building, and the doors were solemnly closed. He then took a large Book into his hands and began reading from Matthew 28. After several moments of chanting and spreading the aroma of incense into the crowd, the priest shouted: “Glory to the holy, life-creating and undivided Trinity always, now and ever, and unto ages of ages!” Then the classic Romanian Easter song began – the voices of the crowd raised in one accord in celebration:

Christ is risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death,
and to those in the tombs
bestowing life!

Moments later, the priest walked to the doors of the church and began to beat on them, shouting: “Open your gates for the King of Glory!” The doors were opened, and the bells began to ring again. Then, the entire crowd outside, with candles lit, began to walk up the steps and into the church. Being in the corner near the stairs, I was swept up into the church with the crowd. Since everyone around me had lighted candles, I was afraid to try to leave, since it would have been easy for my jacket to brush up against a candle and catch fire!

The sanctuary was packed with people. All open spaces in the sanctuary were filled. I managed to make my way to the middle of the church, standing in the aisle between dozens of others. The priest continued to sing of the Resurrection. A few moments later, he announced, “Christ is risen!” And the entire church replied with a thundering, “He is risen indeed!”

The liturgy inside the church continued for another hour. One by one, the candles around me began to go out, until I felt safe enough to make my way through the crowd and head back home. It was 1:35 in the morning by this time, and the service was coming to a close.

Reflections

Many thoughts went through my mind during and after the Orthodox Easter vigil. I appreciated the strong emphasis that the Orthodox Christians placed on Jesus’ Resurrection. The added touch of candles being lit at midnight reiterated the importance of the new creation that dawned that Easter morning. The triumphant sound of church bells, the spine-tingling command to “make way for the King of Glory,” and the early-church announcement “Christ is risen” were edifying and celebratory features of the event.

At the same time, much of what I saw was disturbing. Some Orthodox Christians who arrived late, after the candles had been lit, wanted to go up into the church and buy candles so they could participate. The people around me did not want to be bothered by them traipsing clumsily through the crowd, so they lied and said that there were no more candles, this despite the fact that people will still exiting the church with lit candles!

The church service featured a beautiful liturgy, but except for the singing of the classic Easter song and the occasional reference to the Trinity (to which all the attendees cross themselves), there was little participation from the crowd. Most of the people around me seemed to be there out of obligation. The liturgy expressed beautifully the transcendence of our God, but left little for the crowd to experience of his immanence. (In many evangelical churches, we tend toward the opposite error – an expression of God’s closeness without an awe-inspiring vision of his “otherness.”)

I also wondered if those around me truly believed that Christ had risen bodily from the dead at a given time in history. Since the Romanian Orthodox church is so strongly tied to Romanian culture and history, it would be easy to go through the traditional formalities once a year in celebration of Easter, without ever really believing that the events celebrated had any bearing on today’s world or personal salvation.

Overall, the Easter vigil widened my perspective of Christian tradition and celebration, offering me a glimpse at a vastly different segment of Christianity. Still, I was happy to be back in evangelical church services for Easter services the next day, where I heard a powerful message about the meaning of Christ’s death for sinners and his resurrection to new life.

When I lived in Romania, I often got homesick during the Christmas holidays. But once we moved back to the States, Corina and I often got homesick for Romania around Easter.

Spending five Easters in Romania has had a profound effect on me theologically. I now recognize (in a way I did not before) the importance of Jesus’ resurrection as the central event of human history and the crux of the Christian faith.

The Church Calendar

Part of what makes Easter special in Romania is the time of spiritual preparation that precedes the holiday. Most evangelical churches in America celebrate Christmas, Good Friday and Easter. Many churches choose not to meet on Christmas Day (unless it falls on a Sunday). Most of the other “Sunday” celebrations are secular, such as Mother’s Day or Father’s Day.

Liturgical traditions (such as the Eastern Orthodox Church) have a calendar replete with important church events:

• In January, Romanians celebrate Jesus’ baptism.
• Usually in February or March, the Lenten fast begins.
• The Thursday night of Holy Week brings the church together in solemn remembrance of the Lord’s Supper.
• Good Friday services are held both in the morning and evening.
• No services are held on “The Saturday of Silence.”
• The Orthodox church holds an Easter vigil at midnight, and Easter services are held twice on Sunday and twice on Monday.
• The Sundays following Easter continue to focus on the Resurrection of Jesus.
• 40 days after Easter, the Ascension is celebrated.
• Just a little over a week after the Ascension, on the 50th day after Easter, the church devotes two full days of worship (Sunday and Monday) to Pentecost – commemorating the coming of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the Christian church.

Although bypassing most of the less-important events, the evangelical churches in Romania hold tightly to the Orthodox church calendar when it comes to celebrating Christmas, Jesus’ baptism, Easter, the Ascension and Pentecost. Many evangelicals choose to keep the Lenten or Advent fasts. Thus, the evangelical church of Romania takes what is best from the liturgical tradition and still maintains a strong free-church style of worship.

Growing up in America, Christmas always seemed like the biggest holiday of the year. I was not accustomed to celebrating holidays like Jesus’ Baptism, the Ascension, or Pentecost. The Romanian celebration of other important events deepened my appreciation for major moments for the Christian church.

Before moving to Romania, I had never reflected on how the church orders its time. I had never thought about why Pentecost is such an important date. Neither had I given much thought to Jesus’ Ascension or to the spiritual significance of his baptism. But it was the Romanian emphasis on Easter that gave shape to my understanding of Jesus as the Conquering King.

Why Two Dates?

The Eastern Church and Western Church have separate dates for Easter. Occasionally, Easter falls on the same Sunday (in 2010 and 2011, we will celebrate together), but usually the celebrations are separated by a week or two. This means that in any given year, you might find Roman Catholic Hungarians in the area celebrating Easter one Sunday, while the Orthodox Romanians might be celebrating a week or two later. In 2005, the dates were spread very far apart: the Western churches celebrated on March 27 and the Orthodox churches on May 1.

Romanian evangelicals go with the majority of Romanians and choose to celebrate with the Orthodox. But Romanian evangelical churches in the West (in the United States or Great Britain) generally celebrate together with the majority of Christians in their area.

Why the different dates? Both the Eastern and Western churches claim to celebrate Easter on “the first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox.” The problem is that Western church uses the Gregorian calendar to establish this Sunday, while the Eastern church uses the older, Julian calendar. When the different definitions of “vernal equinox” and “full moon” are taken into consideration, it is no wonder that the two church traditions do not come to a mutual understanding.

Furthermore, the Orthodox Church always places Easter after the Jewish Passover, which means that the date may sometimes be the first Sunday in May. Easter observance in the Western Church often precedes the Passover by weeks.

For me, the only downside to Easter in Romania was not always being able to celebrate on the same Sunday with my friends and family back in the States. Aside from the difference in dates, Easter quickly became my favorite Sunday of the year.

Tomorrow, I’ll write about my experience at an Eastern Orthodox midnight Easter vigil.

This week marks the twenty-year anniversary of the revolution that overthrew the Communist regime in Romania. My wife still remembers the fear and uncertainty of living through those days.

Chuck Colson’s book, Being the Body, tells the story with an eye to the role of the Church. It all began with a Hungarian Reformed congregation that would rather bring down the government than part with their pastor…

The following is an abbreviated excerpt from Colson’s Being the Body. I hope you will pick up the book and read the whole story.

Communism and the Rise of Nicolae Ceausescu

In the 1940′s and 50′s, under young leaders like Nicolae Ceausescu, Romania’s nightmare began. Multiplying like cockroaches, the Communists eliminated the light of opposition any way they could. Students and peasants, pastors and priests – over the years, millions were thrown into prison. Many died there.

Meanwhile, Ceausescu climbed through the party ranks, dreaming of the day Romania would be his. By the early 1970′s his dream had come true. He was president of the country, with the party and the army firmly behind him.

Ruling from a kitschy Versailles-style palace in Bucharest, Ceausescu brutally plundered Romania and reshaped it in his own sick image. Romania’s soil has been called the most fertile in Eastern Europe, yet the Ceausescu government starved its people. While citizens shivered in long lines to buy bread laced with sawdust, the government shipped most of Romania’s food abroad. Meat, butter, sugar, oil and flour were strictly rationed. Vegetables were scarce, citrus fruits nonexistent.

While their people competed for bony chickens and occasional pork knuckles, the Ceausescu and top party officials had difficulty keeping their cholesterol levels in check. A menu from a birthday dinner for Elena Ceausescu make Marie Antoinette seem frugal.

“Systematization” and the “Securitate”

When he wasn’t choosing which type of caviar to consume, Ceausescu was promoting his pet program of “systematization,” which razed thousands of rural villages and transferred their citizens to apartment blocks in designated urban-industrial centers.

Raw concrete and exposed joints pockmarked these mid-rise flats that were a warren of dark, tiny rooms and flimsy walls, smelling of sewage and old garbage. Heated by a central system controlled by some sadistic state functionary, the blocks were maintained at about fifty degrees during the winter.

Many families had hot water only once a week, and electricity was rationed as well. Forty-watt bulbs were the highest wattage allowed in homes that had current only certain hours a day, and bulbs were removed from streetlights. At night the roads were utterly black, flanked by worthless steel stalks.

Meanwhile the Securitate, a spidery network of secret police that webbed the country, enforced the wretched status quo. An estimated one in four citizens informed for the secret police, who harassed and imprisoned anyone who didn’t salute the regime.

A Reformed Church On Fire for Christ

Laszlo Tokes, a large, handsome man with deep, compelling voice, had become pastor of the Hungarian Reformed Church in the center of Timisoara in 1987. Tokes quickly gained immense popularity, not only with the elderly in his congregation, but also with students from the university.

While the Communists weren’t particularly concerned about the old people, they did care about the students. Religion should have been irrelevant to this generation coming of age in the last decade of the century of Lenin.

Tokes mourned for his town and his country. The secularism of the atheistic regime had bitten deep into the hearts of the people. Still, he knew the church could help set those hearts on fire. His Reformed faith had given Tokes eyes to see what could happen when the church understood its identity, when the people stopped thinking of their faith as just a Sunday morning ritual and understood that the church was the community of the people of God that could infiltrate the world.

Tokes found dusty baptismal records of families who had once been part of the church but had dropped away because of the collaborator’s empty rites. Tokes invited them back. New converts were baptized. New tithes came in. The celebration of Communion took on new meaning as parishioners remembered the body and blood of Christ and realized that, indeed, the risen Christ was among them.

Within two years, the membership rolls of the Timisoara Hungarian Reformed Church had swelled to five thousand. But the growth was more than numbers; people were being discipled.

Both the Securiate and the ecclesiastical superiors knew they could not allow the church to continue like this. Tokes’ booming voice proclaiming the Word of God from the pulpit echoed in their minds like a bad dream. There was no place for this passionate Christian faith in Ceausescu’s Romania.

The methods of the Securiate were anything but subtle. They threatened members of Tokes’ church, and parishioners had to run a gauntlet of secret police just to enter the building each Sunday. Once the service began, agents would stand in front of the church cradling machine guns in their arms or dangling handcuffs in front of them. Merely attending church services became a silent act of protest.

Meanwhile, Tokes was denied his ration book; without it he was unable to buy bread, fuel, or meat. Parishioners, who by now had learned the real meaning of fellowship, shared from their own slim resources, smuggling firewood and food to the pastor and his family.

Then Tokes himself was attacked. Four men, their faces concealed behind ski masks, burst into the pastor’s small apartment in the church building. Laszlo and Edith happened to have visitors that evening, who helped then fight off the attackers with chairs. The assailants ran away, leaving Tokes bleeding from a knife wound in the face.

Waiting to Be Exiled

Soon after the secret police must have concluded that killing Tokes would simply make him a martyr. Instead, they would render him ineffective by exiling him to a small, remote village outside of Timisoara. A court ordered his eviction from his home and church, setting the date for December 15, 1989.

On Sunday, December 10, Laszlo Tokes looked out over the upturned faces of his congregation. ”Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,” Tokes announced, “I have been issued a summons of eviction. I will not accept it, so I will be taken from you by force next Friday. They want to do this in secret because they have no right to do it. Please, come next Friday and be witnesses of what will happen. Come, be peaceful, but be witnesses.”

The Candlelight Vigil

Five days later, on December 15, 1989, the secret police came to take Laszlo and Edith. They brought a moving van for the Tokes family’s belongings, but they never got to load the truck. For massed protectively around the entrance to the church building stood a human shield. Heeding their pastor’s call, members of the congregation had come to protest his removal.

The brick-and-concrete home of the Hungarian Reformed Church sat directly across from a tram stop. Each time the crowded cars unloaded, passengers could see the people gathered outside the church building.

“What is going on?” they asked. When they learned what was happening, many joined the group. Some were from other churches; some were just curious or supportive onlookers.

Meanwhile, Lajos Varga, a friend of Tokes, began making telephone calls, rallying believers from all over Timisoara – Baptists, Adventists, and Pentecostals, Orthodox, and Catholics. A burly, hearty Baptist pastor named Peter Dugulescu was also part of the crowd, as was Daniel Gavra, a student from Dugulescu’s congregation. Gavra made his way through the people toward Dugulescu.

“Look, Pastor,” he said, opening his jacket surreptitiously because of the Securitate agents.

The way things were escalating, Dugulescu half expected to see some sort of weapon. But the lump in Gavra’s jacket was a paper packet filled with dozens of candle stubs.

It was past one o’clock in the morning when Tokes opened the window of his apartment a final time before he went to bed. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Light from hundreds of candles pierced the darkness. Hands, cupped close to the people’s hearts, sheltered the flickering flames, and the flames lighted their faces with a warm glow.

Rumblings of Revolution

The extraordinary demonstration continued throughout that night and into the following day. Then, late in the afternoon, the people took the protest a step further than a show of solidarity for Laszlo Tokes. For the first time in their lives, Romanians shouted their secret dreams aloud: “Liberty! Freedom!”

Students began singing a patriotic song that the Communists had banned years before: “Awake, Romania!” And much later, as night fell on December 16, someone began shouting: “Down with Ceausescu! Down with Communism!” Part of the crowd headed downtown to the city square, while the remainder kept guard at Tokes’ church.

Before dawn of December 17, the secret police finally made their move and broke through the people. As they did so, Laszlo and Edith took refuge in the church sanctuary near the Communion table. Tokes wrapped himself in his heavy clerical robe and picked up a Bible, holding it like a weapon.

The bolted church door gave way with a splintering crash, and the police swarmed into the building. They beat Tokes until his face was bloody. Then they took him and Edith away into the night.

With their pastor gone, the crowds moved from the Hungarian Reformed Church to the central square of Timisoara. By now armed troops, shields, dogs, and tanks filled the streets. But even with the army in place, the people did not retreat. For this had become a full-scale protest of Timisoara massed in a city square, shouting and singing. Daniel Gavra and many others distributed candles. And when darkness fell, the people – lighted their flames against the night.

The Communists responded with the brute force they had always employed when threatened by freedom seekers. They ordered their troops to open fire on the protestors.

Daniel Gavra and a number of other believers marched into the square carrying the new flag of the revolution: Romania’s tricolor with its Communist emblem scissored out of the middle. As they marched, Gavra linked arms with a young Pentecostal girl.

The soldiers opened fire, and the girl slipped from his arm. She was dead by the time she hit the pavement. Daniel barely had time to comprehend what had happened when there was another explosion and he fell, his left leg blown away by a barrage of bullets.

In the confusion of the crowd and the darkness, the savage gunfire claimed hundreds of victims, but the people of Timisoara stood strong. Though shocked at the cost of their stand, they know there was no middle ground. They had decided to stand for truth against lies, and stand they would.

By Christmas 1989, the world reeled with the results of that stand: Romania was free and Ceausescu was gone. The people of Timisoara rejoiced. Churches filled with worshipers praising God.

A few days after Christmas, Pastor Peter Dugulescu opened the door of the hospital ward where Daniel Gavra had been taken after he was shot. The boy was still recuperating, his wounds bandaged and a stump where his left leg had been. But Daniel’s spirit had not been shattered.

“Pastor,” he said, “I don’t mind so much the loss of my leg. After all, it was I who lit the first candle.”

This is the final installment in this week’s Romanian forum, in which we are discussing Romanian Baptist practices regarding conversion, discipleship, and baptism. (Read Parts 1 & 2 and info about the participants.)

Trevin Wax: How do you deal with teenagers and adults who repent and believe?

Marius Cruceru: Usually, we spend 10-12 weeks catechizing them. After that, they go through a period in which we supervise their spiritual state. After that, we invite them before the elders for an interview. At the end, we have them testify publicly before the church how they came to Christ. And finally, they are baptized.

Doru Hnatiuc: We take them through a catechesis that focuses on discipleship, spiritual growth, and doctrinal clarification.

Corneliu Simut: I think we could make some improvements here. Generally, Baptist churches hold evangelistic services throughout the year and then fix a date for a baptismal service. The problem is that if the baptism is in the month of August, and yet we begin evangelism in January, there might be a number of people who repent during those months. Those who repented in January will go through more catechesis than those who repented in July; and yet we still baptize them all in August.

What do we do with the teens and adults? We catechize them and then seek to involve them in church ministry. We have some problems here too. We tend to direct them to only a few places of service (choir, orchestra, etc.) when there are other ministries that we sometimes neglect.

Trevin Wax: How long is the period between conversion and baptism?

Corneliu Simut: There is not a fixed time frame, but it is usually about 6 months.

Marius Cruceru: Sometimes it can be up to a year.

Doru Hnatiuc: It varies depending on the person and depending on the church. Usually, it’s a few months.

Trevin Wax: What does catechism in Romanian Baptist churches look like?

Corneliu Simut: Very simple. It is a presentation of the most important teachings of Scripture (God, revelation, man, salvation, Christ, the Holy Spirit, the Church, and Last Things).

The Romanian confession of faith was put together in a single night in 1948 at the request of the Communist authorities. That’s why the first half is very detailed, and the second half only has a few verses and without explanation. Thankfully, the teaching on salvation is well-represented, but sometimes other important doctrines are ignored.

Marius Cruceru: The catechism is an overview of the Confession of faith. It involves free and open discussion, and much talk about the changes one makes when called to follow Christ.

Doru Hnatiuc: The catechism varies from church to church. When I participated in catechesis, I followed a course of biblical doctrines. They were very well explained to me and applied to my personal life. There were also lessons on discipleship and spiritual growth.

So in my case, I try to combine an education in doctrine and discipleship. I use only my Bible. The people take notes. It is helpful to have something for them to fill out.

Trevin Wax: How would you advise Southern Baptists in America regarding this problem of rebaptism?

Corneliu Simut: Don’t look for quick results. Conversion is something the Holy Spirit does, not us. All we can do is preach the gospel, the Word of God revealed for our salvation. We can do no more than that.

Sometimes, I think in our desire for efficiency, we prefer to lift up the banner of great spiritual awakenings (one great sermon and 1000 new converts) and we downplay the example of the prophets (one great sermon and very few, if any, converts), forgetting that God does the work of rebirth, not us.

Marius Cruceru: The problem of “rebaptism” is not the real problem. It’s an ecclesiological crisis. It goes back to an understanding of the church. We don’t need a hyper-sacramental understanding of baptism, but neither do we need a relaxed and casual view of baptism.

Doru Hnatiuc: There is no simple answer. The question has major theological and doctrinal implications. The practice of the church in this matter leads to a reorientation around other key doctrines (like church discipline, methods of evangelism, the gospel, salvation, evangelistic invitations, decision/faith, etc.).

In the U.S., I once helped at a church where the pastor offered a Bible to all those who had been baptized the week before. One of the baptized people was his wife, who had declared that her baptism at 10 years old had been invalid. The pastor and his wife were in that church for many years. She had been a teacher in Sunday School. She had led many children to Christ, who had later been baptized. She had taught these children the way of faith, lived in obedience to the Lord, and had raised her own children in godliness.

Was all of this fruit invalid? Or just her baptism? No one at the church was thinking through these sorts of implications. She might have said that her fruit is not invalid just as it is possible for a lost pastor to lead others to Christ and to baptize them, and his state before God not affect the act of baptism.

My question is this: If there is evidence of a new life in Christ, of a life of obedience to him, why then does that evidence not confirm the validity of the early decision and baptism? We need to think about these implications and make some decisions. Otherwise, we are going to wind up in ridiculous situations, teaching deformed doctrines and leading others in aberrant practices.