On a recent Saturday afternoon I, Benjamin, headed out of the house for the Gara (train station) Bible club that we have each week. On the way I was thinking about the usual: praying that the guard would give me the key to the room, wondering who would come to the club, and thinking about the lesson I had planned. As I got close to the room I saw one of the street people whom we have come to like named Carmen Vasile running down the street. I called to him and he came over and walked with me. He told me that the police had been chasing him for washing windshields on cars that were stopped at the light in front of the station. He was glad to see me and said that he wanted to come to the club, so he came along with me. When Carmen and I got to the gate after getting the key, we met up with Dorel, another one of the street guys. After we put the things I had brought with me into the room, Dorel and I went to the station to invite the kids to come.

 

Upon arriving at the station, I saw Dani Chorba (often in a drunken state) asleep on the ground right next to the street. What a waste he is making of his life. His problems are so exposed to the whole world. He’s like the man in Proverbs who, when he awakes, goes immediately and searches for another drink.

 

Next to him were Dani Mic and Andrea. They are a young “couple” both of whom are in their teens. Dani Mic has recently come back on the street after a month's stay at a farm here for street kids. It’s always sad to see people back in the muck after they’ve been out of it for awhile. They jump back into the old life so quickly. He is looking worse every time I see him. Like everyone on the street, his health is slowly fading.

 

Also in front of the station were Susana and Maria, both gypsies. They rely heavily on the paint thinner which is ruining their health. Susana is already to the point where, whether she has been using the bag (drugs) or not, she is in the same state of mind. Maria too is always in a sad state; she always seems to be in another world. I’ve never actually heard her story about how and when she came on the street. Now, after years of abuse and drugs, she is one of the “lowest in the barrel.” This means that she is at a very low state as far as health, IQ, and morals are concerned. At the moment she is pregnant and will soon be a mother.

 

Dorel and I invited these to come to the Bible club then moved on to the water fountain in the back of the station where many of the kids usually hang out or wash their clothes or shave, etc. There was quite a group of them at the fountain this Saturday.

 

Alex, whose seventeen-year-old girlfriend has just had her third baby, was sitting at the side of the fountain inhaling his paint thinner. He didn’t seem to notice our arrival.

 

A lady saw us and started yelling, saying that she wouldn’t come to the Bible club. “I was born a sinner and want to die a sinner!” I don’t know her name, but I see her there sometimes. She has three little girls whom she sends out to work (beg). One of these girls came up to me and I started talking to her, inviting her to come. As I think about her, it’s sad to think the life she has in her eyes will someday, probably not too far off, go out and she will become another Maria or Susana. As I was inviting her, her mother interrupted saying, “None of my girls are going either. I want them to die like me.” I thought how sad that this mother was dragging her children to hell after her. Even if her children get saved and don’t go to a fiery hell, they still have to go through this hell on earth at the station.

 

Also near the fountain was a little group of men crowded around an old man who was making a tattoo on one of the guys. He himself was covered in them and it appeared as though he was going to do the same to them also. I invited them and they laughed and started mocking God and cursing, especially the tattoo man. I decided to leave them and Dorel and I headed for the bridge. The bridge (an overpass over the train tracks) is home to a good portion of the street kids in the spring, summer, and early fall.

 

They make beds out of whatever they can find and sleep wherever there is room under the bridge. As Dorel and I got closer to it, I could see that there were only a few people there. Under the bridge is always one of the saddest places at the station. It is where most of them do their drugging, fighting, and cooking. When Dorel and I got there, there were three girls and three guys. Two of the girls (one of whom is only thirteen) were arguing about which bag was whose. They were very drugged and very upset. The third girl just sat there by them yelling at them, “Give her the bag! Give her the bag! I’ll give you other drugs! I’ll give you other drugs! Give her the bag…” The thirteen-year-old was in tears and the other girl looked terrified thinking that she might not get the bag. She’s about three times the size of the thirteen-year-old, but she was so weak because of the drugs.

 

What goes on under the bridge saddens me, but last Saturday especially saddened me because I was seeing lived out in front of me the effects of street life---especially the drugs. I can imagine that if it saddens me, knowing that I can do nothing to help these people except to tell them about Jesus, how much sadder He is knowing that He can help them, but that they refuse His help. It makes me pray not only for the street kids of Arad, but also for me---that I won’t reject His help in my life.

           

"And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient;…Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them."

Romans 1:28, 32