Persecution

Last Sunday, a man sat alone as the congregation lined up to support the latest fundraiser. He looked tired and out of place. My husband approached him and, despite language difficulties, found out he's a refugee from Eritrea. According to Persecution.com, Eritrea is a communist country on the east coast of Africa where Christians are arrested and tortured. I've read stories about large groups of Eritrean brothers and sisters being locked into metal shipping containers where they had to endure unimaginable living conditions in oppressive heat. Knowing that the person who sat a few feet away from me knew what persecution is like served as a reality check.

I went back to school this quarter and am closing my third week. Something I've known for a while is that colleges and universities and art academies tend to not be enthusiastically tolerant of true followers of Christ. So far, this seems to be true of my school. No one has said anything regarding my faith yet, but the environment was put into clear focus when most of the class nodded in agreement after my political science instructor said the only people who oppose gay marriage are the ones who "think its a sin and all that crazy stuff."

Wouldn't we all love to say that our commitment to Christ can make it through anything? We rejoice in the story of Peter's restoration but don't want to relate to his denial of the Savior. We shake our heads at his naive determination," Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!" and sigh when in Matthew 26:70 he does, indeed, deny Christ.

I've asked my youth group kids before if they think they would give in to the demands of a torturer asking them to deny their faith. Some make Peter-esque statements and others humbly stare at the floor. Isn't it funny that in a country where our freedom of speech guarantees our safety from physical harm, we're more afraid of speaking our faith than China's underground churches, North Korea's missionaries, and Eritrea's evangelists? I don't know if I could hold on while I'm being beaten to a pulp, starved, given electric shocks, and not allowed to sleep. I don't know because the miniscule things I have to endure at school already seem like so much. I don't know because I realized I don't even have the courage to walk to say that yes, the car with the huge Bible verse on the back window is my car. I don't have the courage to walk up to it after class, so instead I pretend I can't find my keys in front of a religion-neutral car. How shameful is it that thousands of men and women in Eritrea suffer physically for their faith in Christ but I can't suffer mere embarrassment?

I hope I get to see the man from Eritrea again. I need these reality checks more often. I need to see how saddening the weakness of my faith is so that I can pray more earnestly for God's help and seek him in his word more eagerly.