Coffee Shop Evangelism

Arriving in Türkiye was the closest I have come to cultural overload on the race. It was 6am and we had just arrived in Istanbul after driving about 18 hours straight on a bus and having very little sleep. We all sluggishly unloaded our bags and waited in the frigid air along the highway awaiting instructions on what to do next. Our logistical team then announced that our hostel was not ready for us so we needed to drop our bags off, and then head into the city to occupy ourselves until later that afternoon. All this was pretty overwhelming considering how tired I was and the fact that this entire country was brand new to me. Regardless, a small group and I headed out in search of somewhere to bunker down, take a nap and get caffeinated for the next day. (fun fact: Istanbul never sleeps! The night life culture is huge here and people are out until 7 in the morning. I do not understand how their bodies work but sleep is not part of it.) After walking a bit, we come across a fancy hotel that has a cozy coffee shop with plenty of space attached to it; so that’s where we decide to camp out for the entire morning. I didn’t get much sleep in, but I was able to have several hours of deep conversations with my squad mate Victoria whom I had just started getting to know on the bus earlier. 

                         

The next day was a rest day. We had not slept much (again) because our hostel was attached to a screamo bar and near the main strip which was also full of clubs. I wanted to go somewhere I knew would be peaceful, so I decided to go back to that coffee shop from before. I sat down after ordering a tea, opened my Bible to 1 Samuel and then put headphones in to zone out to some worship. Soon after I feel a presence hovering over me and I open my eyes to a male barista trying to set my drink down next to me while simultaneously attempting to understand what book I was reading. I take out my headphones because it is pretty apparent that he is lingering on purpose and has questions. He then asked me what it was I was reading and after I found out that he had no clue about the Bible or who Jesus was, I chuckle to myself and think, “no rest for the weary today I suppose.” I then switch gears to story -telling mode and start elaborating on the ultimate love story that is redemption of mankind through the sacrifice of Jesus and how we came from paradise to such a hopeless state of need. I told him all about how God partners with broken people like king David, the woman at the well, Moses and Ruth to fulfill His great will for mankind. Which, ultimately, is restoring the intimate relationship we once had in Eden. Simply enough, I explained the Good News. 

Even though I have been raised with this mentality that my faith is “good news”, it becomes apparent when you publicly share your faith and people drop everything to listen. The manager, security guard, customers and fellow barista all took a pause to come and get to know more about this man named Jesus. There is so much power in His name and the redemptive story it represents. God is literally Emmanuel (with us) in those moments and His Spirit is moving through the words we are bold enough to share. The look of wonder and curiosity in the barista’s eyes were so genuine, it made me want to cry. At that moment, I wanted to give him a big hug and tell him that this truth I was sharing was not just for the Americans or Western idealists but was for him then and there. Even in the midst of a Islamic, saturated culture that teaches man to strive their entire lives climbing the “good works” ladder in hopes of gaining God’s favor.

Two days later we brought that man and his fellow barista a Bible in their language. The Islamic faith will claim that the Bible is faulty because it has been translated across too many different languages. The fact, however, is that there is a less than 1% difference between the original text and the translations. Also none of these differences impact the meaning of the original text. The Word of God was meant for all people everywhere. God does not discriminate or have favorites; His will is for all to know Him. This is distinctly different from the Islamic religion because they believe that one must learn to read the Quran in the original Arabic language. That is extremely limiting and requires one to dedicate their entire life to learning and understanding a language that is not their own.

Because the Bible has been translated, we were able to give a girl from Kazakhstan a Russian Bible she could read and my Türkish barista friend one in his own language as well. After giving them the Bibles, I was not able to go back due to relocation. There is a lot in me that is trying to correct how I could’ve been better or what I should have done differently to be more intentional. Crazy how I can lose sight so quickly of all the good that just transpired, then place the responsibility of their salvation on myself. When I come before my loving Father with this, He assures me that it’s not about perfection or performance, but obedience. I’m trusting in Him with the rest of those people’s stories. Heck, He already knows them so deeply, who am I to doubt His impact on their heart with the small amount of obedience I gave. “Put it to rest,” He says when my inner critic starts stirring, “and leave it to me.” I haven’t seen those people since, but I’m trusting and praying that they come to know the freedom in their Heavenly Father as I have. 

Being a dedicated follower has never been easy, but the more I observe other religions and belief systems, I am dumbfounded at how lucky mankind is to have a God that fiercely pursues them instead of the other way around. There is no room for shame or striving, just a generous outpour of love and a dad who desperately wants His children back. There is so much peace in knowing that’s the God I serve. The only true One who is worth all the struggle, ridicule, and discomfort. It’s all for Him and ultimately I have to remind myself that He does not need me to share about Him or convince anyone, but that I get to. And that in and of itself is such a sweet gift.

My team and I  are now posted in Ayvaçik, Türkiye. Here our focus will be manuel labor as we are constructing a new building for the ministry. I am so excited to be getting mhy hands dirty and soaking in the fellowship over these last 5 months. Continue to keep us in your prayers.

Much Love, Tris