Crossing Your Sea

I didn’t know where they were taking me. I glanced around the street, but not a soul was around. Still, I hoped someone saw these Securitate agents abducting me. I couldn’t just dis- appear. They couldn’t do this to me. Turning left on the next street, I saw two black, unmarked Securitate cars. I had seen that type of car before, from a distance, following me to my office, home, and church. This can’t be happening. My mind immediately shot to my girls. What will happen to them if I disappear? Then I remembered that Radu was out of town on business. What if something has happened to them already?

I looked toward a few shop windows for help, with no luck. I felt alone and already forgotten. I must help myself, but how?

Petrified, I stepped into one of the black cars, followed by two Securitate officers. Nobody spoke. All the officers, including the driver, looked strong, cold, and on a mission. The other officers got into the second car, prepared to follow us. The cars sped across the city, running red lights, finally stopping at the Securitate headquarters—the most-feared building in all of Bucharest. From the outside, it looked like just another business, an old but inviting building. But for many people in Romania, it was the temple of death.

Officer Lucescu was in a hurry, and I had no choice but to follow him through the hall, down several stairs, and down another long hall. Everything looked clean but sinister. I shivered against the cold spirit of the place.

Each office had a tall brown door with a uniformed, armed policeman standing guard. So many of them, and all so young. They seemed proud of their jobs. I pitied them and wondered about their stories, and I imagined a day when Romania would not need them anymore. For now, however, they were the hands and eyes of a megalomaniacal dictator.

I continued to follow Officer Lucescu through a labyrinth of hallways. Finally he opened a door to a small, dark room with no window, only a small desk and a lamp. A musty stink poured out of the room. I hesitated to follow him inside. It must have been their smallest and most isolated interrogation room. God, help me, I prayed. This is the absolute worst place I have ever been.

Several guards circled the room, looking straight at me. I’d heard horror stories from clients about those overzealous young guards-in-training who would do anything and every- thing to show their loyalty and determination in serving the dictator.

This could be the end of my life.

I wiped the perspiration from my face and straightened my shivering spine.

Fascinated by what appeared to him as fearlessness, Officer Lucescu grinned as he asked, “What are you going to do now?” He shone the lamplight straight into my eyes. He kept staring at me, but I couldn’t see him. My face and eyes burned under the light.

I have decided to follow Jesus, no turning back. No turning back!

I put a hand over my eyes, but Officer Lucescu ordered me to look at him. Two guards moved from behind me; one restrained my hand and the other whacked my face. My body recoiled from the strike. I looked directly into the light. Is this a joke to him? I have to be calm. I cannot let my fear take over or they will win. I prayed the words of Psalm 56:3. “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” I also prayed that the officers wouldn’t search me. If they were to find the secret paper hid- den in my jacket, they would shoot me for sure.

Officer Lucescu’s phone rang, and he leaped from his chair to answer it. “Yes, sir. I will be there in a minute! . . . Yes, sir!” He looked worried and left in a rush.

Was that screaming voice the voice of Ceaușescu? I wondered. It surely sounded like him. No, I thought. It’s not possible.

The guards stayed quiet for a while, then one of the guards sneezed. I almost blurted out, “God bless you!” but I discerned they probably wouldn’t welcome God’s blessing. At one point, one of the guards whispered, “She is small, but she is tough.”

“How much do you want to bet that she will die within an hour?” one of the others whispered back. Then the betting commenced.

“I bet five,” came a voice from behind me.
“I bet ten,” said another.
I tried to drown them out with prayer.
“I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are

my help and my deliverer; Lord, do not delay” (Psalm 70:5). Another verse came to mind: “I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). Prompted by that verse, I began to pray for each of my captors, and as I did, an unbelievable peace invaded my soul. As time dragged on, I found myself looking forward to Officer Lucescu’s interrogation. I was determined to stay strong and tell him the truth in love about my legal work.

After all, I reasoned, they are here by human appointment, but I am here by divine appointment. Maybe I am here so they may see Christ in me.

……..