Drab, high-rise block apartments cut a dirty, jagged line against the gray sky. Two rough-looking young men walk in the buildings’ shadows. Unsmiling, they nod to friends smoking and drinking alcohol outside a small grocery store.
The two duck inconspicuously into an out-of-place, single-story building. Once inside, their hard exteriors melt as warm golden hues, soft red lights and pulsating techno music provide a hip — yet safe — environment for Polish youth. They flash huge smiles and bound over to greet their American friend Rich Ellis making coffee behind the counter.
“Are we still on for pickle soup and Bible study Monday night?” they ask. Ellis, an International Mission Board journeyman missionary, answers with a smile so big even his dark beard and mustache can’t hide it. Just a few months ago, no one was interested in coming to the coffeehouse, let alone learning anything about the Bible. Now Coffeehouse Logos is packed on most weekends.
Technically business isn’t “booming” — most of the youth never order coffee and snacks from the menu — but that doesn’t matter. What does matter to the small Polish Baptist church sponsoring the coffeehouse is that people are exposed to the love of Jesus Christ.
Ellis partners with the church in reaching the surrounding neighborhood for Christ. The Kentucky native serves coffee, cleans toilets, teaches English classes, plays pingpong and foosball and teaches the Bible. His willingness to do anything endears him not only to the church but to the neighborhood as well. He doesn’t know a stranger.
Something about this young missionary captivates people.
Is it the piercing in his lower lip? Perhaps it’s the tattoos adorning both arms.
No, these help him blend in with the rough neighborhood. More likely, it’s the love that emanates from this journeyman. Young people flock to him because he cares. Whether it’s roughhousing, playing games or sharing American goodies out of a care package from home, Ellis shows his love by investing in lives.
“There’s not much around here to do but sit outside, smoke and get drunk. The kids we work with are rough, but we’ve seen some changes in the last year,” Ellis said. “One way to reach these kids is by building relationships and trust. You do this by hanging out.”
Four guys barely fit in Ellis’ small kitchen at his house, despite their slight build. A big tub of dill pickles sits in the middle of the table. Someone fishes out a pickle and grates it. Another peels potatoes as a third prepares the carrots. The fourth tells an animated story in between text messaging his girlfriend.
“When we started Monday nights, none of us knew how to cook,” one of the guys says, holding a knife awkwardly over the clutter on the cutting board that’s supposed to end up as a traditional Polish meal. “Look at us now.”
Pickle soup night started with a few guys coming to Ellis’ house on the night the coffeehouse is closed. The group started with just a few guys, but now even girls join the Monday night ritual.
Seeing change happen
Ellis said the close quarters in the kitchen provide opportunities for the Polish youth and young adults to ask questions about God. Monday night regulars seem to be searching for a deeper Bible study than what is offered Thursday night at the coffeehouse. Not one of the regulars is a believer, but all claim to be Christians, having grown up in a predominantly Catholic country.
Nearly 78 percent of Polish people claim to be Roman Catholic. The Protestant population numbers around 0.4 percent, according to Operation World. Ellis explained that in the past, Baptists and other Protestants were considered to be sectarian, or a cult. A change in thought is slowly taking place as those willing to take a stand share their faith — like Ellis.
“When I found out I was going to Poland for two years, I decided to get a tat (tattoo) in Polish because I knew they would ask about it,” Ellis said. One arm has an artistic rendition of “One Truth” in English. The other arm says the same in Polish.
Every day, someone at the coffeehouse stops Ellis to look at his tattoos and ask him questions. Even strangers on the street stop him to ask about his Polish tattoo. “God uses my tattoos to help witness,” he said. They provide an opening and a chance to share about Christ. “God uses everything unique about us to tell His story.” (BP)
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