(This story is taken from a fantastic biography about Brother Andrew, called The Narrow Road)

And still, this was not the entire story in Rumania. For the following week I met Christians living under the same persecution, who had still kept alive something of divine hope and trust.

The circumstances were similar enough to make a really good comparison. In both instances I met with the stated leaders of established Protestant denominations in their official headquarters. In both instances there were two men present beside myself, an important element in the comparison, since suspicion of one’s fellow Christians played such a large factor in the slow wearing down of the Church.

This time, too, I noticed the numbers. On the walls of this office were three pictures. They showed the president of the country, the secretary of the national Communist Party, and the famous old artist’s conception of the Straight And Narrow Way. How, I wondered, had the government clerk described that painting?

I was worried about the president of this denomination­Gheorghe-the moment he stepped into the room. This frail little man was so winded from the effort of walking that it was several minutes before he could catch his breath.

When he did, we discovered a problem. Neither he nor Ion, secretary of the group, spoke a word of my languages, nor I of theirs. We sat facing each other across the barren, multinumbered room, quite unable to communicate.

Then I saw something. On Gheorghe’s desk was a well-worn Bible, the edges of the pages eaten back an eighth of an inch from constant turning. What would happen, I wondered, if we were to converse with each other via the Scriptures? I took my own Dutch Bible from my coat pocket and turned to 1 Cor. 16:20.

“All the brethren greet you. Greet ye one another with an holy kiss.”

I held the Bible out and pointed to the name of the book, recognizable in any language, and to the chapter and verse number. Instantly their faces lit up.

They swiftly found the place in their own Bible, read it, and beamed at me. Then Gheorghe was thumbing the pages, looking for a reference, which he held out for me.

Proverbs 25:25: “As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.”

Now we were all three laughing. I turned to the epistle of Paul to Philemon.

“I thank my God always when I remember you in my prayer because I hear of your love and of the faith which you have toward the Lord. . . .”

It was Ion’s turn, and he didn’t have to look very far. His eyes traveled over the next lines, and he pushed the Bible to me pointing with his finger:

“For I have derived much joy and comfort from your love, my brother, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you.”

Oh, we had a wonderful half hour, conversing with each other through the Bible. We laughed until the tears were in our eyes. And, when at the end of the conversation I brought out my Rumania: Bibles and shoved them across the desk and insisted with gestures and remonstrances that, yes, they were supposed to keep them and that, no (to the hand in the pocket and the raised eyebrow), there was no charge, both men embraced me again and again.

Later that day, when we finally had an interpreter and our conversation became more mundane, I made arrangements with Ion to take all the Bibles I had brought with me. He would know better than I where to place them in this hard country, and he assured me that it was better to have just one contact than several.

That night, back in my hotel, the clerk called to me.

“Say” he said, “I looked up that agape in the dictionary. There’, no language by that name. That’s just a Greek word for love.”

“That’s it,” I said. “I was speaking in it all afternoon.”

Open Doors, Brother Andrew with John & Elizabeth Sherrill, The Narrow Road, Grand Rapids, MI: Fleming H. Revell, 2001, p. 234-236.