Even as I write this blog, I continue to be amazed by how much of an impression my visit to the Middle East made on me, and how much of an impact it has had on my way of thinking.
Every morning, I am reminded of my brothers and sisters when I look at my nightstand, atop which stands a polished granite cross that was given to me by one of the churches we visited as we left. It was as though they were saying, “Please do not forget us.”
Every time I see that cross, I am reminded to pray. And every time I think about the generosity of my brothers and sisters and the hospitality they showed me out of their great poverty, I weep.
Their example has set the standard for me, and by the grace of God, I will never be the same.
Arrival
Our very first morning, we were immediately thrown into the fray when a Muslim from our apartment complex visited us, seeking medical care and advice. Our team spent a good hour with him talking and giving him a free medical exam.
After that time, he confessed something that choked up even our translator: “I swear by Allah that you are better people than Muslims, because you have mercy in your hearts.”
When a devout Muslim swears by the name of Allah, whatever he is about to say comes from the heart. Our friend could have been killed for his words. But he saw something in us that made him say the unthinkable. God is moving in his heart. Pray for him.
For the rest of the trip, he greeted us with a warm smile, and at the end of the week when we departed, a wave wouldn’t suffice: we exchanged hugs. And this dear man will continue to meet with our local missionary and will continue to hear the gospel long after we are gone.
At the end of the day, it’s hard to argue with the love of God. The Islamic faith has copied many things from Christianity, but they cannot duplicate our love.
”By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
When our Muslim friend left, we traveled to a local market to pick up a few sets of local clothing, which I knew would be a bazaar trip. (Yes that just happened… moving on.)
The roads in our city are insane, not quite Nigeria insane, but cars literally litter the road, and maneuvering and finding a parking spot is a full time job. We pulled up in front of some cars, and our local missionary informed us that we’d just leave the keys with the people standing there in case someone needed to move.
My jaw hit the floor. “Is this really the way things go down here?” I wondered.
Actually, as it turns out, he knew the nearby shopkeepers who are men of God who are active in sharing their faith with their Muslim neighbors. So while it wasn’t quite as crazy as I first thought, the whole exchange was intriguing, to say the least.
Walking the streets is not like walking the streets in Nigeria or Central America. Nobody even turned to gawk or stare at us, which happens more or less non-stop in all the other countries I’ve visited. It was only when I pulled my camera out that I started to receive some looks.
And it was when I had my camera out that I found out something else interesting. The people here love posing for photos.
Visitation
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.”
Galatians 6:9-10
We spent the rest of the trip putting on medical clinics and visiting churches to minister to the people and to encourage our brothers and sisters who suffer intense persecution.
As we got out of the car to put on our first medical clinic, the local missionary confessed that he was afraid of what might happen in the neighborhood we were visiting. We ducked into a small side alley and soon found ourselves surrounded by poor people from the local neighborhood, mostly Christians.
Initially, I was hesitant to take photos until the local missionary encouraged me to start documenting the visit. I pulled out the camera and was instantly swarmed by the local children, who loved having their photos taken. And as I spent time laughing and talking to them in broken English, I began to hear their stories.
The standard of living between the average Muslim and the average Christian is incredibly different. The man in the photo above can’t even find a job as a janitor to provide for his family. Many of those I first thought to be children were actually 16-18 years old. They are incredibly small for their age and they look like they are only 10-12 because they are malnourished and their families are unable to find work.
But if there were any jealousy or bitterness with us, I never caught even the slightest hint. Instead, everyone I spoke with welcomed us warmly. Despite the language barrier, I felt like I was with family. And indeed I was, because the family of God crosses every cultural and language barrier. Truly the Lamb of God purchased men from every tribe, tongue, and race, that we may serve Him shoulder to shoulder.
After our medical clinic and time with the people, they led us into their nightly church service, where we were honored as heroes with rose garlands and a standing ovation from the congregation. And I remember thinking, “You are the heroes. Who am I? I came here one week and you have to live through persecution your whole lives. I’m not the hero here.”
In fact, the first church we visited had just finished putting up a wall around the church building, so that it would take two bombs, rather than one to kill the people.
I was so incredibly humbled that I still break down when I consider what they did for us. Because after they had honored us in their church service, they took us inside and fed us out of their poverty. No doubt, the money we brought for the church more than covered their hospitality, but the missionary explained that even if we did not, they would have gone hungry that night, preferring to feed us instead.
The love of Christ that I experienced among my persecuted brethren defied explanation. One of the churches was so poor that they took up an offering to make sure we were fed a good meal.
This is humbling.
But even more humbling was when I told my newfound friends and brothers that I would pray for them. They responded by explaining that they already pray for us in the States every day.
The persecuted are praying for us? That’s convicting.
Yet perhaps there may be something worse than suffering persecution. Perhaps they pray for us because it is we, not they who are truly missing out on the power of knowing Christ and the privilege of sharing in His sufferings. Could it be that they have found Jesus’s words to be true?
“Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
Suffering, Hope, and Joy
“Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.”
Psalm 116:15
On one of our last visits, we visited a church in a neighboring city. We parked next to a small square where worn walls and abandoned looking buildings surrounded a dusty basin and upturned cart. The cart and the scene intrigued me, so I began taking photos. Five short minutes later, we learned from the pastor that short months earlier, three of our brothers were shot down in that very square.
Little did I know that as I was taking photos, I was standing on holy ground.
And yet in that very church that experienced death, the worship was alive and vibrant, the response to the preaching ecstatic, the fellowship encouraging, and a new Muslim convert worshipped alongside the widow of one of the men killed.
Only the blood of Christ can take men and women who were enemies and turn them into family. Pray for the families of those men who lost their lives for Christ, and pray also for their persecutors, because our response to their evil must be one of good. Just as the apostle Paul wrote,
“Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse...
Do not repay anyone evil for evil...
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”
We will never conquer our enemies with the weapons of this world, we can only conquer them through the love of Christ and the gospel, His Holy Word.
Conclusion
It seems as though this mission trip backfired: I was more blessed than those I visited. And yet, our visit was an incredible encouragement to our brothers and sisters everywhere we went, and they went out of their way to tell us so. The fact that we care enough to travel so far just to stand with them and encourage them in their ministry is a massive blessing for them.
Ministry in the Middle East is difficult. Those who are already Christian suffer intense persecution and prejudice. Meanwhile, the Muslim who leaves the faith can not only be killed by his family, he can also be tried and executed by the state for leaving Islam. Under such circumstances it would be impossible for man to bring change, but be encouraged, God is still saving Muslims even under these very difficult circumstances.
So pray for the peace of the Middle East. Pray for the leaders of the Middle East (just and unjust alike) and the millions of lost souls who will never know God’s love unless someone risks it all to tell them. And most importantly, pray for our brothers and sisters.
