I spoke at a conference a while ago. Two events had a deep impact on me, both on a single night. The first was the baptism of three Iranian women, “Persian“, as they prefer to be called. The second was video footage of the Karen people in Burma (or Myanmar), Christians brutally persecuted for their faith.
The three Persian women all gave testimonies, in halting English, with heartfelt emotion. All are recent converts from Islam – a religion they described as “rule-bound and joyless“. Their decision to follow Christ will cost them their families: their fathers and brothers will disown them, their mothers will be forbidden ever again to speak with them. Yet what stood out in these women was their joy and thankfulness. They reminded me of the Apostle Paul – “I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.” (Philippians 3:8). They drenched in the waters of baptism, and the rest of us drenched in the tears of astonishment. I spent some time with the Persian pastor and his wife, and told them that next time I’m in Toronto I’d come and visit their church. He was overjoyed: “You will bring us such encouragement,” he said. I don’t think he has any idea how much it’s the other way around.
The pastor from Burma, who brought the video footage, spoke of the stubborn faith of the Karen people – though displaced, tortured, imprisoned, killed for what they believe, they cling to Christ. He showed gruesome footage – a young boy whose leg was sheered off after stepping on a mine, men and women gashed from machete attacks, parents whose 9-year old daughter was abducted by the Burmese army. It reached the point that many people could hardly watch. Ten minutes into it, the pastor stopped it. “Let’s end it there,” he said, “before we get to the violent parts.” Before? You mean this gets worse? Yet, again, what stood out was this pastor’s unbridled joy. He exuded confidence in Christ and in his victory.
It brought me to my senses. It returned me to my first love. It restored the joy of my salvation.
And it made me feel like a wimp.
My conversion to Christ and my commitment to him have cost me almost nothing: Not relationships, not possessions, not limbs. Yet I find things to whine about anyhow. I can, with minimal provocation, feel hard done-by, “persecuted,” under-appreciated. To refer to my sermon last week, it takes me very little time – sometimes no more than 12 hours work in the vineyard – for my thankfulness to turn to bitterness, my joy to entitlement.
Lord, have mercy.
Did you practice losing this week? I did, with varied results. A few times I forgot myself – once, a driver raced in to beat me on the merge in a roundabout, and feelings not exactly akin to praise rose in me. Then I remembered, and thanked God.
A small step. Hardly heroic. Cost me nothing.
I have much to learn about the Kingdom of God from Persian women and Karen villagers.
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