Looks like "row claw;" sounds like "vrot suave."
We played for an all-day festival organized by a group of Polish evangelical churches to give their congregations a chance to gather for fellowship and encouragement. (The way most of the festivals or concerts on the tour worked was that each band/act would take turns playing a set, so--depending on how long the sets were and which bands were most appropriate--we could play anywhere from one hour to all day long, which allowed us to adapt depending on the venue and atmosphere.)
I ended up in a two-hour conversation about Jesus with a guy around my age, named Peter (I've changed his name for this blog). It started when I asked him if he could explain to me what the festival was all about, and he answered, "Don't ask me; I don't even believe in God! I'm just here with my family." So I asked him what he did believe, and the conversation went from there, and after a while he said, "Can we sit down? I want to keep talking about this," and he grabbed chairs for us. We talked pretty comfortably and openly about the gospel of the kingdom, who Jesus is, Polish culture, Peter's atheism and views on how science and God cannot mix, and much more. Peter talked about how many Polish young people are angry and confused because of hypocrisies they see in the church, and how religion (especially a national one) seems empty and pointless.
He said he's spent his whole life being railed on by priests and friends. He said this was the first two-sided conversation he's ever had about faith. But he also said, "I don't need God. Maybe if something really bad happened in my life, I would realize I did."
A while later, while we were still talking, there was a commotion, and we heard an ambulance pull up, and Peter's little sister ran over in tears. His mom, who had gotten quite drunk earlier, had managed to get badly injured. Peter left abruptly, of course, to be with his family. When the ambulance pulled away, Peter ran back to tell me that he was grateful that we had been able to talk, and then he he left to follow the ambulance. What a crazy thing.
He said he's spent his whole life being railed on by priests and friends. He said this was the first two-sided conversation he's ever had about faith. But he also said, "I don't need God. Maybe if something really bad happened in my life, I would realize I did."
A while later, while we were still talking, there was a commotion, and we heard an ambulance pull up, and Peter's little sister ran over in tears. His mom, who had gotten quite drunk earlier, had managed to get badly injured. Peter left abruptly, of course, to be with his family. When the ambulance pulled away, Peter ran back to tell me that he was grateful that we had been able to talk, and then he he left to follow the ambulance. What a crazy thing.
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