SHUT UP!
What is the goal of persecution? Is it to jail, torture and kill Christians? No! The goal is simply to get them to be quiet. If they can do that, they’re happy. It’s only when Christians won’t comply that more pressure is brought to bear. It’s hard to hide a death. It’s real easy to hide, “Don’t talk about that!”
If we don’t speak about Christ, if we don’t speak about what God has done in our lives, we’ve given in to persecution and given victory to the enemy. We think of persecution happening only overseas in closed countries but it happens here and often those who are the worst persecutors are those within the church. I think of the times I’ve been told that I’m not allowed to tell my story or chastised when I did.
In what ways do you feel silenced—either overtly or covertly? What would happen if you began to share Christ the way you believe you should? Would you lose your job? Your popularity? Your prestige in the community? Is Jesus worth it?
In China, when warned to keep quiet or their land and home will be taken from them, they say, “Take it! It’s not mine anyway. It’s God’s.” When the ante is upped and they’re told to keep quiet or their children will be taken from them they say, “Take them! They’re not mine anyway. They belong to God.” When their lives are in danger if they don’t keep quiet they say, “Take my life. It isn’t mine but God’s.” Is Jesus worth it?
During the time of the Soviet Union, there weren’t many churches and often these churches were a three-day walk from home, one way. Many Christians couldn’t afford the time to go more than a couple times a year. One family solved this problem by having church in their home. They didn’t call it church and wouldn’t have considered it church because they simply sat together as a family, singing songs of praise to God, praying and sharing stories from the Bible. A couple neighbouring families saw what they were doing and asked if they could join them.
When the group grew to 25, the father of this family was threatened. When they grew to 50, the man lost his job and the kids were kicked out of school. They continued and people brought them food and helped teach the kids trades. When it grew to 75 (they were still meeting in a very small house), the government showed up, slapped the man back and forth and told him to stop. An old grandma confronted the police who had done this, telling the man he’d mishandled the man of God and would die as a result. He dropped dead several days later. Fear of God swept the community and the next week 150 showed up.
The man was sent 1000 miles to a prison full of 1500 hardened criminals where he stayed for the next 17 years. The prison was the sort where there were no walls, only bars and so you could see the entire place in a glance. There was no privacy, the lights were always on, it was always noisy and always damp.
His first morning there he did as he always did. He stood by his bed, faced east (apparently this is a common thing amongst Christians in certain areas), stretched out his arms to the side and began to sing his heart song to Jesus. The 1500 criminals jeered, laughed and threw food at him. But he continued every morning for years. The officials couldn’t break him, though they tried. Every time he was taken out of his cell, he made a practice of watching for bits of paper and anything with which to write. He’d pick them up, hide them in his clothes and take them back to his cell where he’d write out Bible verses and stories as an offering to Jesus and attach them to the pillars that formed the corners of his cell. This really angered his jailers who would rip them off and beat him. He continued.
One day, they travelled the 1000 miles to his home, broke in, took some of his wife’s clothing that he would recognize, found a prisoner with a similar appearance to his wife and dressed the woman in the wife’s clothes. Then they made sure the man saw the woman without seeing her face. The woman was taken and tortured for three days within earshot of the man and then killed. For him, this was the last straw. He was sure it was his wife and was in utter despair of soul. He told the guards to bring him the necessary papers. He would sign whatever they wanted. In glee they told him they’d bring them in the morning.
That night, back home, sensing the man’s despair, various family members gathered together in his home and began to pray for him. In his prison cell, 1000 miles away, aided by the Holy Spirit wafting the sounds of their voices to him, the man heard these voices, including those of his wife and children. He knew now that his wife was alive and when the guards brought the papers in the morning, he refused to sign them.
Later that week, he thought Christmas had come. He found an whole piece of paper and a pencil lying beside it. He wrote all over it and put it up on his pillar. When the jailers saw this, they went berserk and decided to kill him. As they reached his cell door, dragging him with them, all 1500 criminals stood by their beds, faced the east, raised their arms and sang his heart song. The jailers dropped the man in astonishment and asked him, “Who are you?” “I am the son of the Living God whose name is Jesus.”
Ask this man, “Was Jesus worth it?” and he’ll say, “YES!”
What are you willing to risk in order to not only be faithful but to speak out and share your faith with others? Is Jesus worth it?
If we don’t speak about Christ, if we don’t speak about what God has done in our lives, we’ve given in to persecution and given victory to the enemy. We think of persecution happening only overseas in closed countries but it happens here and often those who are the worst persecutors are those within the church. I think of the times I’ve been told that I’m not allowed to tell my story or chastised when I did.
In what ways do you feel silenced—either overtly or covertly? What would happen if you began to share Christ the way you believe you should? Would you lose your job? Your popularity? Your prestige in the community? Is Jesus worth it?
In China, when warned to keep quiet or their land and home will be taken from them, they say, “Take it! It’s not mine anyway. It’s God’s.” When the ante is upped and they’re told to keep quiet or their children will be taken from them they say, “Take them! They’re not mine anyway. They belong to God.” When their lives are in danger if they don’t keep quiet they say, “Take my life. It isn’t mine but God’s.” Is Jesus worth it?
During the time of the Soviet Union, there weren’t many churches and often these churches were a three-day walk from home, one way. Many Christians couldn’t afford the time to go more than a couple times a year. One family solved this problem by having church in their home. They didn’t call it church and wouldn’t have considered it church because they simply sat together as a family, singing songs of praise to God, praying and sharing stories from the Bible. A couple neighbouring families saw what they were doing and asked if they could join them.
When the group grew to 25, the father of this family was threatened. When they grew to 50, the man lost his job and the kids were kicked out of school. They continued and people brought them food and helped teach the kids trades. When it grew to 75 (they were still meeting in a very small house), the government showed up, slapped the man back and forth and told him to stop. An old grandma confronted the police who had done this, telling the man he’d mishandled the man of God and would die as a result. He dropped dead several days later. Fear of God swept the community and the next week 150 showed up.
The man was sent 1000 miles to a prison full of 1500 hardened criminals where he stayed for the next 17 years. The prison was the sort where there were no walls, only bars and so you could see the entire place in a glance. There was no privacy, the lights were always on, it was always noisy and always damp.
His first morning there he did as he always did. He stood by his bed, faced east (apparently this is a common thing amongst Christians in certain areas), stretched out his arms to the side and began to sing his heart song to Jesus. The 1500 criminals jeered, laughed and threw food at him. But he continued every morning for years. The officials couldn’t break him, though they tried. Every time he was taken out of his cell, he made a practice of watching for bits of paper and anything with which to write. He’d pick them up, hide them in his clothes and take them back to his cell where he’d write out Bible verses and stories as an offering to Jesus and attach them to the pillars that formed the corners of his cell. This really angered his jailers who would rip them off and beat him. He continued.
One day, they travelled the 1000 miles to his home, broke in, took some of his wife’s clothing that he would recognize, found a prisoner with a similar appearance to his wife and dressed the woman in the wife’s clothes. Then they made sure the man saw the woman without seeing her face. The woman was taken and tortured for three days within earshot of the man and then killed. For him, this was the last straw. He was sure it was his wife and was in utter despair of soul. He told the guards to bring him the necessary papers. He would sign whatever they wanted. In glee they told him they’d bring them in the morning.
That night, back home, sensing the man’s despair, various family members gathered together in his home and began to pray for him. In his prison cell, 1000 miles away, aided by the Holy Spirit wafting the sounds of their voices to him, the man heard these voices, including those of his wife and children. He knew now that his wife was alive and when the guards brought the papers in the morning, he refused to sign them.
Later that week, he thought Christmas had come. He found an whole piece of paper and a pencil lying beside it. He wrote all over it and put it up on his pillar. When the jailers saw this, they went berserk and decided to kill him. As they reached his cell door, dragging him with them, all 1500 criminals stood by their beds, faced the east, raised their arms and sang his heart song. The jailers dropped the man in astonishment and asked him, “Who are you?” “I am the son of the Living God whose name is Jesus.”
Ask this man, “Was Jesus worth it?” and he’ll say, “YES!”
What are you willing to risk in order to not only be faithful but to speak out and share your faith with others? Is Jesus worth it?
posted by Magdaleine at 6:04 PM
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