22

Fear or Freedom?

Much of what I heard from believers throughout Eastern Europe over the next several days echoed the stories that I had been told by the Russians and Ukrainians. But the most disheartening place I visited, which will go unnamed here, was a former communist-bloc nation where the church actually suffered little overt persecution.

That seemed like a positive thing, until I found out why that was true. My interviews there revealed that, from the beginning of communist rule, this nation’s churches quickly and completely embraced the verses that Paul wrote in Romans 13 about honoring and obeying the authority of earthly rulers. In fact, the churches emphasized those verses so much that they ignored and failed to obey many other Scriptures, including some of the central teachings of Christ.

For example, once that nation’s churches had made their go-along-get-along strategy for survival a central tenet of their faith, they pretty much forgot the very last instruction Jesus gave His followers—to go and make disciples. Since the government concluded that the church posed little threat and would probably soon wither and die, there was no need for concerted persecution to control the believers. These compromised churches had shackled themselves.

These believers had failed to share their faith or speak for themselves. They had failed to speak for others when thousands of Jews were slaughtered just blocks from their church’s headquarters. They allowed the communist leadership to share space inside their denominational offices. Why would they ever face overt persecution when they had already surrendered almost everything?

One small protestant group in another former Iron Curtain country had fallen into that same trap—for a time. Gradually, over decades of severe persecution, they had allowed the government to dictate how, when and where they would worship. All the while, these believers resented their loss of religious freedom under communism. One of their pastors applied to the government for permission to study theology in England. Miraculously (and there seemed to be no other explanation), the communist government had granted the permission.

After three years of study, this pastor returned home. In a meeting with fellow pastors, he reported on his experience. “The ONLY important thing I learned,” he told his colleagues, “was that we are free! We are free, because our freedom comes from God, and not from our government. We need to start acting like we are free!”

Over the next year, these pastors struggled with the meaning and possible application of this seemingly radical idea. During that year, they fasted and prayed. They tried to understand how this freedom related to the teachings of Romans 13. In the end, about half of the pastors signed a carefully-drafted letter that they then sent to their repressive communist government. It said, in essence:

Our Bible instructs us to respect and accept your authority over us and the people of our country. For years now, we have done that. But our Bible also teaches us to distinguish between the authority granted to governments and the authority that belongs to God.

In the letter, they tried to articulate that difference. They assured the authorities that there was no intent to oppose or overthrow the government. But, respectfully, they also explained that they would obey God and do what God tells his followers to do in His Word. They explained that the Holy Spirit was giving them the freedom and the strength to do this. From that day forward, they stated, they were determined to fulfill the biblical and historic role of their faith—to proclaim the gospel, to plant churches, to witness to their beliefs in the public arena, to baptize new believers, and to worship together when and where they chose.

The church leaders mailed their letter. Then they waited, no doubt with fear and trepidation, to see what might happen. To their surprise, the government did nothing in response. The only significant change that resulted from claiming their freedom was that they were now able to exercise that freedom. Eventually, they became part of the Body of Christ again.

In talking with several of the leaders who had signed and sent that declaration of freedom to their government, including the old pastor who had gone away to study theology three decades earlier, I shared some of the stories that I had already heard in the former USSR. After I told them the story of Dmitri in prison singing his HeartSong every morning, they immediately got excited. They said that there was another believer who I needed to talk with before leaving their country. “You simply must talk with him!” they insisted. He lived just down the street from the church where we were interviewing at the time.

Up four flights of creaking stairs, in a tiny apartment, we met a white-haired, stooped-over, shell of a man. It was clear that, earlier in his life, he had cast a longer shadow. He invited us into his apartment. The aged furnishings made the room feel like a museum.

Tavian, the old man who lived there, took us back in time as he recounted his personal history. He said that during the days of Soviet occupation, in the post-World War II decade before his country established its own communist government, he had been part of a charismatic underground movement that rose from within the country’s traditional Orthodox Church. They called themselves “The Army of God.” Reading their Bibles, they discovered what Jesus had said about the sending of the Holy Spirit to enable His followers to carry out His will on earth. They came to understand that this same Holy Spirit would empower them to do the work of Christ’s Body—with or without the blessing of the Orthodox Church or the permission of the government.

When they began to put those beliefs into practice, they, of course, attracted the attention of others. The established national church opposed their efforts. Soviet occupiers declared that they were dangerous. And their own new communist government accused them of being traitors. Tavian and many other believers were arrested and imprisoned. The established church was party to this incarceration.

Tavian recalled many incidents of physical and emotional torture. Soviet indoctrination experts came from the USSR. to train this satellite nation’s police and prison officials. The different forms of torture were simple, but effective. For example, large amounts of salt were added to the prisoners’ food, while, at the same time, water allowances were reduced. Other times, prisoners were hung by the wrists; their feet were unable to touch the floor. Sleep deprivation was also common. For days on end, prisoners would be kept awake. They were beaten every time they started to fall asleep—or topple out of the chair.

As was the case in other communist countries, the authorities tried to destroy the soul or at least the self-identity of those they saw as a threat. It took great energy for a prisoner to retain the smallest remnant of his or her original personality. Many lost that battle. Some prisoners were isolated in cells for years. At other times, jailors would pack fifty people in a cell designed to hold four people.

Tavian spoke about the abuse in a straightforward, matter-of-fact way. The pain in his voice became clearer, however, as he told how leaders of his traditional church had betrayed and informed on the underground renewal movement. I heard even deeper anguish as he described the helpless grief when he learned that his wife had died.

With a very different voice, however, he spoke of something that had helped him to stay strong.

“I wrote many songs,” he told me. “God gave me words and melodies to strengthen and soothe my soul.”

“How many songs did you write?” I asked.

He smiled and replied, “Around six hundred!”

That confirmed what I had already been told by the believers who insisted that I meet this man. They had already told me that Tavian’s name was known by believers all over their country. Before communism, the Orthodox Church had used the ancient music of their tradition in worship. Protestant believers normally transliterated western hymns and songs of faith to sing in their worship. Since Tavian had been released from prison, however, believers were now singing much of this old man’s worship music in their worship services every Sunday morning.

Naturally, I asked if he would sing one of his songs. Tavian sang two. As he sang, I understood how he had been able to silence his captors and persecutors as he sang the power of God into their lives.

As I exited his building, I imagined Tavian arriving in heaven one day, being met by a choir of angels singing one of the HeartSongs that he had composed while in prison for Jesus’ sake.

In a different Eastern European nation, I encountered another believer who shared an instructive and thought-provoking story.

Eugen told me that during the days of communist rule in his country, he had been interviewed by a Westerner representing the magazine of a Christian organization that supported believers who were persecuted for their faith. When this reporter had asked Eugen how he had been treated by the communist government, Eugen had said that the local authorities tormented him and physically assaulted him. He said that sometimes they would try to intimidate him by stopping right in front of him and staring until he stepped aside to let them pass.

Eugen told how someone (he suspected the same policemen) had punctured his tires with a screwdriver and smashed his windshield with a hammer. He told how his children were regularly ridiculed in front of their classmates for coming from a believing family. Keeping his children after school, school administrators would tell them: “It is because your father is a minister that you are being embarrassed in front of your classmates. That is also why you don’t have any friends.” The communists evidently believed that if they could demean and discredit the parents’ beliefs, they could turn the children against their parents. And, if they could do that, the churches would die within one generation.

The western reporter who had heard Eugen’s story was appalled. He told him, “What the government is doing to you and your family is not right! We need to tell your story in our magazine so we can get people to pray for you!”

“Oh, please don’t do that!” Eugen had exclaimed. “These things that have happened to me and my family are normal here. It is only a small cross for us to bear. Someday, if you hear that I am imprisoned, tortured and being threatened with death, maybe then you could make our story public. Maybe then, your government could intervene for us and maybe then people could pray for us. But not now! We don’t want to embarrass our persecutors and cause more trouble by making a big deal out of such small things.”

The reporter and his well-meaning organization heard that word from Eugen, but they refused to accept it. Despite what Eugen had said, they believed that they could (and that they should) do something to help. Eugen’s story was published. To protect Eugen and his family from retribution, the magazine printed a disclaimer: “The names of the people in this article, as well as the name and location of the city, have been changed. But the details of the story are true. This is how believers are treated by the government of __________.” (And, amazingly, the disclaimer identified the actual county by name!)

The magazine made up a name for the central character in the story. They made up names for his wife and children. Totally at random, they used the name of a town in that same country. Choosing the name of the town completely at random, the publishers had no idea if any believers actually lived in that place. They decided that it would be perfectly safe to use randomly-chosen names and places in the magazine article.

The authorities in Eugen’s country came across a copy of the magazine. In all likelihood, they read the disclaimer. Even so, they went to the city named in the article and investigated. They almost immediately discovered more than a dozen, previously unknown, illegal house churches operating in that area. They promptly arrested and imprisoned people from each of those churches.

Eugen, whose interview had indirectly led to this tragedy, was horrified and heart-broken. Years later, he shared this story with me in an effort to keep the same thing from happening again.

That is why I have waited over a decade and a half to put these stories in print.

Eugen’s warning is crucial. In fact, I determined then and there to tell this cautionary tale to others in an effort to support and help fellow believers around the world in places where they suffer persecution for their faith. My hope is that this story will illustrate in a powerful way something important: if we tell the stories of believers in persecution in real time, if we are not very careful, we can actually increase their persecution. The Bible instructs us to pray for our spiritually-oppressed brothers and sisters. Sometimes, it is not helpful or wise to go beyond that instruction and share their stories. Even with the best of intentions, we cannot always be sure about the outcome of our sharing.

It is one thing to suffer persecution for Jesus’ sake. My own personal experience in Somalia, as well as these amazing and powerful stories that I was hearing, convinced me that God is able and willing to use that kind of persecution for His glory. Causing people (even unintentionally) to be persecuted because of our foolishness or carelessness, however, is a different matter. What a tragedy for persecution to be wasted!

When I had left Somalia, I had resolved not to do that. According to Jesus, His followers would be “sheep among wolves.” But there was no reason for His sheep to be unnecessarily foolish or careless. That was one of the reasons that I had started this journey: to learn wisdom from the experiences of others. As encouraged as I had been by what I had heard so far, I knew that there was much more that I needed to learn.