Some years ago when I was serving as the field representative for the East European Iron Curtain countries out of my denomination’s European Office in Switzerland, I planned my first visit to communist Hungary to meet with the national overseer there. My supervisor told me to be very careful about how I approached his house, since drawing attention to a local resident receiving a visit from an American could cause our pastor difficulties.

With great intensity, I studied the country map as well as the city map where he lived. I also received advice to park several blocks away and walk back to the house as though I wasn’t sure I knew who I was looking for. After arriving at the border crossing and having my papers examined I tried to act like an ordinary tourist. But one border guard didn’t seem convinced. He asked me to open my trunk. When I did he saw my briefcase and jokingly asked if I had any gold inside. I surprised him when I said to him, “Yes I do!” When I opened the briefcase, my Bible was laying on top. He looked at it, turned to me and smiled and said, “Yes you do!” then waved me on my way.

I drove to an area on the outskirts of Budapest. Reading street signs in Hungarian was not my forte. But, I finally found the street where the pastor lived. I noticed that all the houses were behind high fences and iron gates. I spotted the number I was looking for, drove on by for a few blocks and parked. I walked back nonchalantly to the big black iron gate and pushed the doorbell, trying to look as if I wasn’t sure if it was the right one. I heard a woman’s voice from inside the compound yell something in Hungarian, and I answered in English by giving my name. I waited for about a minute, but nothing happened. So I pushed the doorbell again. Once more, the woman answered and I gave my name and the name of the person I wanted to visit, still no one came.

Finally, I pushed the button once more, and when the woman answered, this time, I shouted, “Hallelujah!” All of a sudden I heard things being moved around and within seconds, she was at the gate, smiling and greeting me with great joy. I entered the house and hugged my brother in the Lord and we had a wonderful visit. Thank the Lord he spoke English. As I left that day to go back to the hotel, I praised my God for the heavenly language we can all use to identify each other around the world. As far as I know, it works in any language. So I say again, Hallelujah!

About drbob76

Retired missionary, pastor, seminary professor, Board Certified Chaplain and American Cancer Society Hope Lodge Director.
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  1. Rachel Adamson says:

    Brother Seyda, I always like your insights to your stories. and it always lifts my day. I always wanted to go to the mission field but God had another mission plan for me. i love what he is doing in my life. Thanks for your stories. don’t stop telling them. My one desire is to go see my friends in Bejing China.


  2. drbob76 says:

    What you said is very touching, Rachel. When I share what God has done in my life I want to give Him all the glory. For without Him, I would not have been where I was nor been blessed by what He did for me. But it was not an easy or straight road. So keep the faith, hold on to your dream, walk alongside Him and see where He takes you.


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