Yesterday at church, we learned about and prayed for persecuted believers around the world, as part of IDOP (the International Day of Prayer for the persecuted church.) https://www.persecution.com/idop/?_source_code=WB127I22
It was very sensitively done, but the boys were quite affected by what they heard. I guess when you live in Cambridge and attend a church school and get taken to church every Sunday, freedom to worship Jesus is just the norm, a given. Yes, we pray for friends who are missionaries overseas, but they don’t seem to have it so bad. To be honest, the whole area has really slipped off my radar too, whereas I know some friends feel burdened by it and are prayerful about it.
The statistics we heard yesterday were sobering. Last year, on average, every DAY, at least 16 Christians were killed, 17 arrested, 10 abducted, for their beliefs. It was a clear reminder that religious persecution of followers of Jesus is obviously not only historical, not just in the book of Acts we are working through in our sermon series.
Tonight, I picked up a very out-of-date copy of “You can change the world” (children’s version of “Operation world”) and we began alphabetically, praying for religious freedom in Albania, where Christianity was illegal. (Apparently, since the fall of Communism in 1991, it’s a bit less of an issue, but I’m sure God can still use our prayers. But I really must get a new book…)
We seem worlds apart. Here in Cambridge, we are surrounded by churches we can choose to attend, or not. Elsewhere, it seems your options might be much more limited; some believers have no choice but to attend a secret, underground meeting, or perhaps none at all. The lady I was sitting with told me that she was just back from a trip where she had visited literally underground churches in Turkey, and how special it had been to spot the ichthys symbols, a reminder of the absolute necessity of keeping your faith secret there in times past.
I finished the service feeling such a sense of love for our church. I hope no one there minds my saying that we were not at our slickest this week. Loads of people arrived late (like really, badly late. The service leader is of Zambian origin and I thought it was funny how he punctuality-shamed us all by starting on the dot of ten-thirty to a nearly empty hall which then got fuller and fuller as the service went on). The music group had some issues with coming in at the right time. The leader muddled up some people’s names. The children pretty much ate all the cake before the grown ups got there. We have so many new arrivals, that it is hard to keep track of who has been properly welcomed. But the topic of persecution was handled so sensitively, and our pastor did such a wonderful, ambitious, thought-provoking job in the sermon, and it felt so appropriate to be part of a group that includes lots of Hong Kong Chinese, and with our Ukrainian refugees listening to their simultaneous translation, that I came away thinking, “I am just so glad we get to go to this church!”
I’ve chosen a couple of churches in my life. Starting at Cambridge University as a student was a bit like being a child in a sweet shop, figuring out which of the several life-filled, Bible-believing churches to attend. Full marks to C3 church for sending a student worker to visit me in college, happy to answer questions about joining that church, or (her words), “any of the really good churches there are around here.”
Our current church, Emmanuel Church, Northstowe, was an easy choice, in that it was planted by our previous church, Grace Church, Cambridge, into this new town, and so we already knew a bunch of people there, including the pastor and his family. We went with confidence that the Bible would be taught faithfully and unashamedly, and that our boys would be surrounded by a community of believers.
But I love it, and I’m glad we chose it. And I’ve been reminded not to take for granted the freedom we have to openly worship Jesus together.
Join us sometime?
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