Today we’re going to take an imaginary trip to the market together. I’m very excited to present to you a glimpse of real life here in Georgia, so please come along!
As we walk down the narrow street following the smell of fresh baked bread, all our senses are overstimulated. Our eyes are drawn to the vendors’ colorful merchandise and to the beautiful produce stocked on wooden carts. A lady loudly advertises her flowers while two other merchants stare at our obviously foreign attire and our odd baby carrier. The ladies selling tablecloths and head scarves marvel vociferously at my son’s blue eyes, and the lady selling ice cream leans in to give the baby a kiss.
While sidestepping a dirty puddle, we are startled by a loud car horn behind us. Drops of water land on our heads. Is it raining? We look up to discover that the drips are coming from laundry hung to dry over the street. The sharp smell of cigarettes fades just enough to allow our noses to bathe in the sweet fragrance of honeydew melon being sold from the trunk of a car. A stray dog is watching us and wagging its tail, hoping for a handout. Across the street, an old lady with a hoarse voice is singing and playing a repetitive song on an ancient ukulele. We stop to drop a few tetri in her box and catch a look of gratitude on her face.
Right there in the middle of the sensory overload of a noisy, crowded market, we don’t even notice Giorgi, a young Georgian man blending in with the other shoppers. We do, however, notice the old man in a long, black robe dipping a bunch of dried herbs in a small container. In a flash, he shakes the wet herbs over the crowd. A few drops land on our faces, hands and clothes. He is a priest, and we have just been baptized with holy water! We look at each other with bemused expressions and shrug. We return home with our bags full of tasty produce and chat about our funny, interesting day at the market as we start preparing a delicious dinner.
However, across town, a young man is having a terrible day. Remember Giorgi? His life was upended the moment he was sprinkled with holy water by the old priest in the market. Immediately after realizing what had happened, he hurried home to find his father. With tears in his eyes he confessed, “Dad, I have just been baptized. I am so sorry to tell you this, but I am a Christian now.” Until today, Giorgi has been a Muslim. If he is lucky, his Imam might be able to do a ritual to reverse his baptism. If not, his fate has decided. He will live the rest of his life as a Christian, having no clue about what that means. And the sad thing is that those who do have a clue are very few.
Just imagine that! Although you live in a modern, free, Christian country in the 21st century, religion is still assigned at birth. You don’t have a say in this. You don’t choose your faith, your faith chooses you. Christianity is an identity that many claim with pride, but it is not a way of life. The Bible in Georgian is one of the earliest translations—definitely a source of national pride, but not a source of life for the soul. Different religions take turns claiming you, while no one seems to be interested in your choice.
There are so many people like Giorgi around us. We are praying that God will lead us to them and that we will have the wisdom to show them freedom. Freedom to believe, freedom to choose, freedom from sin and freedom from superstition. Will you pray that these precious people will find out their worth in God’s eyes?
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