The year was 1987. For the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, it became a turning point. New concepts hung in the air: "democracy," "freedom of speech," "freedom of religion." New leaders loudly proclaimed that all these "innovations" were already in effect throughout our great state. The youth of our church decided to put democracy and freedom of speech to the test. One Sunday evening, after service, we went out onto the main street of our city to proclaim God's word to people. We were "armed" with guitars and filled with enthusiasm.
Positioning ourselves at the central intersection, we began to sing to attract attention. The location was ideal for our event, as this street was closed to traffic on Sundays.
We hadn't finished our first song when a crowd surrounded us. Encouraged by this, we decided it was time to evangelize. One brother stepped forward and spoke briefly. For several minutes, complete silence reigned. People listened. But before he could finish, the crowd erupted in indignant shouts. Curses, insults, whistles, and even spittle rained down on us from all sides. The voice of the crowd merged into one turbulent stream of hatred, drowning out the few lone voices of our defenders.
The people were simply possessed by fury. We were confused, not knowing what to do. Any attempt at dialogue was cut short by a new wave of outrage. I began silently calling to the Lord for help, wondering why He allowed this? The roaring crowd began pressing us against the wall, and we understood that we were about to be beaten... Fortunately, a police unit appeared from nowhere. They began restoring order. First, they tried to drag all of us into their wagon. We resisted, while the crowd shouted: "Give them to us! We'll deal with them ourselves!" The scene almost exactly repeated Chapter 21 of the Acts of the Apostles, where it tells of how Paul, coming to Jerusalem, entered the Temple after the days of purification. I don't know how it would have ended, but a senior officer appeared who ordered the unit to push back the crowd and us to disperse quickly. We scattered in different directions. I wandered through the streets, wondering why the Lord had allowed this situation? We hadn't even managed to tell people anything! Surely He didn't want people to hear the Good News of His salvation? "Lord," I repeatedly addressed God, "You Yourself said in Your Word: 'Go and teach all nations.' Why did it happen this way?" I walked with my head down, reasoning with myself, utterly disappointed by everything that had occurred. When I heard a man's voice, I didn't immediately realize someone was speaking to me. "Excuse me," said a young man, "I was a witness to what happened to you." He was somewhat embarrassed, but nevertheless continued: "I would like to ask you some questions!"
At first I was even somewhat startled by the unexpectedness, but quickly composing myself, I said I would try to answer him. And we began our conversation. Questions came at me like from a cornucopia. Before I could answer one, I received several more. It was clear that the young man had finally found what he had been seeking for a long time. It seemed to me that he needed my answers less than confirmation of the truths he himself had already come to understand. I invited him to visit our services, and he promised to think about it. We parted. Coming home, I understood that God had used the arising situation so that this young man would finally get answers to his many questions that had long tormented him. Looking ahead, I want to say that he came to the assembly and accepted Jesus into his heart. And I received another lesson in God's wisdom: external circumstances do not always reflect what happens beyond the visible—behind the scenes of the play produced by the Greatest Director of all.
