In The Face of Persecution

Persecution was the theme of our early sessions this week.

Several years ago in Russia, churches weren’t shut down. Some were permitted; one for every several hundred miles. To go might take days, which would equal taking days from work. Employers weren’t crazy about the idea; churches were empty. One man decided that to teach his children about the Lord, he would start studying the Scriptures with them at night. Soon, his neighbors noticed their routine. They asked if they could join with them. The man replied, “But I’m no preacher. I’ve had no seminary.” They came anyway. Together they sang, they prayed, they read the word: seventy-five of them. Their gatherings began to grow until their apartment was stacked full of people. So many comings and goings caught the attention of the KGB. Unauthorized churches weren’t allowed, the KGB told the man. But, he said, “We aren’t a church. I’m not a minister. I’ve not been to seminary. We just sing, pray, read the Scriptures, and give our money to those in need.”

The KGB left, but they came back and more violently the next time. They entered while everyone was gathered at the man’s flat; they found him and began to beat him severely. On their way out, one of the elderly women of the gathering pointed a gnarled, arthritic finger at the KGB leader and said, “You have beaten a man of God. You will not live through the week.” The KGB leader died in his sleep the next night.  The gathering doubled within hours.

On the day following, the KGB returned once more, this time to arrest the man. They put him in jail for seven years. The prison was kept dark, and crowded. He was placed on a block with fifteen hundred hardened criminals and allowed no access to a Bible. Every morning he would rise, raise his hands high and sing at the top of his lungs his heart song to the Lord.  The first day, the other men jeered him mercilessly. They yelled, threw things, banged things against their bars.  To keep Scripture in his heart, he would scavenge all day for small bits of blank paper. When he’d find them, the man would cover them entirely with whatever He could possibly remember from the world. When he finished, the man would place the paper as high as he could in his cell and sing again, his heart song. The guards would, every day, enter his room, take down the paper, and repeat, “Do you not remember? These words got you here,” before they beat him again.

One day, as he was searching the yard for paper, as if it were Christmas day, he miraculously found a full, blank sheet. The man wrote as small as he could, covering the paper with Scripture entirely. He placed it as high as he could on the walls in his room, lifted his arms and began to sing. The guards came down, infuriated this time. They swore that they were going to kill him. As they raised their fists to beat him, every prisoner from their cells raised their hands and began to sing the man’s heart song. The guards stopped where they were, and said, “Who are you?” and they left.

The man was later released and is still faithfully preaching the Word. His son, whom had witnessed the devotion of his father, is now a minister at the same prison.

Pray that we will all, you and I, have a faith like that, to sing in the face of persecution that others may join in with our song.