What We'd Like to Forget

Several years ago I stood in Tienanmen Square. Kites flew in the air. Flags waved in the breeze. Handsome soldiers marched in rigid but peaceful formation. I tried to picture huge tanks barreling down on college-age protesters, but my imagination failed me. I knew that horrible things had happened right where I was standing, but the atmosphere seem more ripe for a family picnic than a holocaustic memory. Behind us a centuries old palace memorialized ancient Chinese emperors, but no historic markers mentioned the occasion that blasted itself onto television sets around the world a few decades ago.

While I was trying to take in the scene, another haunting image crept into my mind. My trip to China had been full of breath-taking scenery, exotic food, and rich history. But amidst all the fun, I looked across Tienanmen Square to the offices of the Communist regime. What was happening behind the gray walls? Were there interrogation rooms in the basements of those buildings? While I enjoyed watching kites soar against the backdrop of an Asian sunset, was some Christian brother or sister suffering for their faith just a few feet from where I stood?

Each month I receive a newsletter from the Voice of the Martyrs organization (VOM). When I started receiving the publication, I admit my heart would sink when I saw it in the mailbox. The stories are sad. People all over the world suffer imaginable horrors because of their faith in Jesus Christ. VOM doesn't spare the details in describing what these brave believers undergo because of their love for Christ.

The first few times I read the publication, I cried. Sometimes I couldn't finish the articles. For a while, I quit reading them altogether. They sat in a pile, accusing me. I knew that the Bible says that we are to remember those who suffer for their faith as if they are our own family members. What if these stories were about my real brother? I'd read every word...and pray fervently.

So, out of obligation, with guilt and reluctance, I began reading again. The stories often made me feel inadequate. I asked, "Could I take this type of persecution?" I doubted it, which made me feel even more guilty. When I compared my faith to theirs, I didn't measure up.

Then a change began to take place. A thought occurred to me, which at first added to my guilt, but then began to free me. If these people can suffer torture, imprisonment, and death for Christ, I thought, the least I can do is suffer a little discomfort each month to read their stories and pray for them.

That's when it began to dawn on me: by praying over these people each month, and even crying over them, I was partaking in their suffering in a small way. In so doing, I was also partaking in their sacrifices for Christ.

I've not been called, at least not yet, to make great sacrifices for my faith. But one small sacrifice -- to obey God's call to "bear one another's burdens" -- this I can do.

When I recognized my struggles and sadness as small gifts to Jesus, I began to have victory over my reluctance to read the articles. Then things got even better.

As I prayed over the articles, pity and sadness began to be replaced by a feeling of empowerment. Every time I read a story, I prayed for the person in the article. I began to lay hands on the photographs and ask God's mercy on the individuals pictured. I prayed for the salvation of the persecutors. I prayed for strength for the suffering. The miracle of God's great Christian community became real to me.

My heart beats faster even now as I write these words. Here, in this very study, I can pray for a brother or sister in Ethiopia, or Pakistan, or Chiapas, Mexico . .and that brother or sister can feel the effects of my prayers. The thought astounds me.

I'm so stunned by that, I've had to stop typing and just meditate on the joy of it. By God's grace, I can sit in South Texas and make a difference in world missions, international relations, comforting the sick and suffering, setting the captive free, bringing salvation to the worst of humanity, comforting widows, educating orphans, bringing medical treatment to the injured, and encouraging a missing Christian in solitary confinement somewhere.

So, I've found joy in a strange place. Now, when the VOM newsletter arrives, my heart leaps. "It's from my martyrs," I think. A strange way to put it, I know. But I feel like I've received a letter from a long, lost friend.

Now, I look forward to reading the stories and praying. Yes, I will probably be sad. I might even cry. But the joy of connecting, of making a difference, of experiencing the power of God while I pray...these things overwhelm the sadness. But it gets even better.

One day, I'm going to meet these people. I really am. I'm going to hug them and thank them for challenging me to keep my faith real. I'm going to give God glory while I hold the hand of a genuine hero of the faith.

They will say, "Thank you for praying for me."

And I will say, "It was an honor."

Then we will cast our crowns at the feet of our Lord.

If you would like to join in, go www.persecution.org and sign up. You can have the newsletters mailed to you as I do, or you can participate through their Internet services. Resources appropriate for children and teens are also available.

Gettin' Real,
Melodie

PS Thank you for your patience with my lack of posts this month. Please pray for my husband's family as they have experienced the tragic loss of his cousin. Please also pray for my family we adjust to our new life as homeschoolers.