Romania And Abandoned Children Today

Our second visit to Romania in 2022 is now complete, with a contrast in temperatures almost beyond belief.

Minus 10 degrees with a bitter northerly wind in March, 33 degrees of baking sunshine in Constanta (above) in May.

And once again, the diversity of ministries the Lord has blessed us with is a cause of immense thanks.

Support for poorer pastors, help with youth drug addiction, HIV families, a missionary in the very town where Nicolae Ceausescu was born and raised, and of course, the refugee crisis.

But among all these I'll tell you something. And it's real. There's something different about abandoned children.

We had three days with them on this last visit in the Christian home we support in Constanta.

And things we had forgotten, well, we remembered again.

Of tragic starts. Two sisters, their father unknown, who spent the first year and half of life sheltering with their mother at night underneath a motorway bridge.

Of inexplicable departures. The mother of one boy, who, when he was only a few years old, said she was leaving the house to buy food only never to return.

We'd already heard of another girl from the same home who from the age of 2 until 5 had lived with her drunken father in a stable.

And of others whose mother had forced them to leave the house by throwing stones when she'd wanted to take up with a new man.

Such stories deepen our understanding, that's for sure. But there's something different about actually MEETING the kids. That's just extra. Back and white images develop into the most tragic colour.

Because you can sense it, you really can. Just by standing near them. The tragedy, the hurt, the lostness, the mystery of desertion by the ones Providence positioned as closest protectors and providers. It radiates out in an invisible aura of sadness. It surrounds the kids. Fills their rooms.

Affects their every look at others.

Even in slightly mutinous adolescence, a desperate desire for attention from adults.

What thoughts must they have through the long marches of the night?

At least 1000 babies are abandoned in Romania's hospitals every year, according to official data. Probably multiply that figure by five for the truth to emerge.

And while not wishing to upset the authorities, I still say this. From the children I have spoken to, their nightmares are not of lost parents but from the brutal state homes in which some were previously placed. Only two years ago!

Knowing these things, the Spirit that moved our Lord Jesus to take the little ones in His arms burns within.

Perhaps it's to help in in the small gestures, like noting birthdays and sending little gifts. These make more of a difference than we'd think. So we'll happily do those.

Monthly financial support for Casa Anna in Constanta also helps. As of course does joining dear David and Flavia Muntean in the completion of their building for 12 abandoned little ones in Siria. By the Lord's goodness we're getting closer to that funding target. But there's still some way to go.

To be honest, however, and beyond all this, our greater vision is for the shattered relationships of childhood to be healed by the first relationship of all.

Through visits, gifts and continuing prayer, and by eternal grace, for God the Father to be known through Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

Such realities! Such possibilities! And it can happen.

I was listening recently to a sermon by Sinclair Ferguson. From the sermon of the mount, he preached of God's vision for the healing of man's heart and the transformation of life.

Something spiritual, that's for sure. But not only a moral or ethical healing, but also the wounds that cannot be seen. Full healing? Full healing? All things are possible for Him.

Join us in this, dear ones. Please pray, feel, and if possible, give.

If your church would like a visit from us to hear more, please get in touch.

And let's bring these children to our Saviour, so that by sovereign grace, He might be brought to them.