Reconciliation in Budapest
When we arrived in Budapest this June with 6 suitcases, a recording studio and a toddler in tow, we had no idea how different we would be 10 weeks later, when we again attempted to navigate Ferighy airport.
I had gone on my very first mission trip less than a year prior and was so transformed by it, that my husband Matt and I decided to move our family to the ‘mission field ‘ the following summer. We were greeted by our now dear friend Steve Johnson, who patiently loaded up our myriad bags and listened to our excited, sleep deprived chatter as we drove to our new home in the lush 11th district of Budapest.
As the summer flew by and the foreign became familiar we had the privilege of working with a number of short term teams who had come from the States. All had come like we had, to spend a week or two or three or 10 (in our case) serving the ministry of YWAM Budapest. Eager and passionate, each person had unique gifts and were clearly called by God to be there, at that time.
As each team arrived we were jolted from the delicate cocoon we had created of assimilation; speaking as little English as possible, investing in real friendships with local Hungarians- mostly non Christians, building community with the coffee and sandwich vendors we visited every day. Suddenly our low-key identity was blown and we were once again Christians from Houston; aliens in a strange land.
But here’s the amazing part. The first person we really connected with and were able to share the Gospel with, was an American backpacker from California. A young man on a journey, who’d been backpacking for months and had vowed to continue until his shoes wore out; even after his carefully saved trip money had long since evaporated. Our YWAM extended family, which included the year round staff at YWAM Budapest and the short term teams that were passing through, willingly adopted our new friend, Marcus. He stayed with us, ate with us, attended bible studies and street outreaches with us. He was not a Christian, he said, but he believed in God, and was searching for the truth about Him. He was also searching for his own history; his father had been a part of the tragic 1956 Revolution in Budapest, where thousands of students were killed protesting the tyranny of the Communist government. His father had escaped, leaving behind his family and identity- never to return.
Marcus spent many evenings talking to his father on Skype, telling him of the Christians he’d met in Budapest, the landmarks he’d seen. It was a chance for father and son to connect and mend the difficult relationship between them.
Matt and I spent many hours around the kitchen table talking with Marcus and praying for him. Praying for reconciliation with his father, but most importantly, praying for reconciliation with his Father in Heaven.
The evening before Marcus was scheduled to leave Budapest, we were out playing Christian songs in our favorite city park. A freak summer storm released copious thunder, rain and hail on us as we huddled together trying to protect the instruments. “Marcus,” I said, half jokingly, “I would feel a lot better about this being the end of the world if I knew you were going to Heaven with us.” To my shock he agreed, and moments later, in the midst of a city park in Budapest as golf ball sized hail stones scattered across the pavement, Marcus was praying to accept Christ.
I had never had the privilege before of leading someone in prayer to the Lord and if I never do again it will be ok. God’s grace and power was so evident in that moment, the thrill of seeing Him so present and so active it will surely last me a lifetime.
What I want to say, what we want to say, is THANK YOU, all of you who prayed, who wrote, who supported us in our mission to Budapest this summer. We are so humbled by your love and support and by your faithfulness to His call, to “go and make disciples of all the nations.” Even those of our own nation, however far they may be from home.
-Cameron and Matt Hammon
