We’ve been in my room much of the last few days, just Alice and I, and it’s given me a lot of time to be still. I’ve discovered things I didn’t know a week ago— like the fact that Alice’s favorite movement from Holst’s The Planet Suite is Jupiter. To be honest, I don’t think she knew this until Monday, either. But now that we both have been made aware, we can avoid Mars altogether because… no, not her favorite.
All this stillness has allowed me to listen to music, yes. It’s also given me the chance to read when she sleeps. We’re currently back to newborn napping habits because it’s easier for her to breathe upright, therefore naps are happening on my chest in the rocking chair. I can’t say that I mind, although I do wish the reason for it wasn’t that she needed the help. Anyhow, I’ve been able to read, and this has been good. I’ve not done much reading in the past few months as she’s gotten more active and the older kids have had more needs. I miss it, but I also know it’s a season.
So then, music and reading. And Bible audio. Since we’re doing a lot of moving from bed to chair, back to bed but this time sitting upright, no, back to the chair to play patty cake and on and on, I’ve given my brain some “adult breaks” here and there by playing my daily Bible “reading.” Sometimes I’ve had to repeat chapters twice, but I’ve caught more by playing a chapter, then turning it off and ruminating a bit, then cueing up some more.
Music, reading, Bible listening, and… praying. Oh, there’s been so much praying. My heart is simply leaden over the situation for believers in Afghanistan. I have cried at least once each day picturing a mother just like me, in a room with her sick baby, wondering whether she wants her baby to survive whatever virus she is fighting or succumb because, well, at least that is peace. At least that isn’t the butt of a rifle or being thrown onto rocks or whatever else the zealots decide is a fitting end for the children of those who hold to the apostasy of the Cross.
I sit here in my safe house, thousands of miles from it all, and I know that it’s not just Afghanistan. This scene repeats around the globe. Believers are warned not to expect the world to welcome their message. Here in the United States, the cost of professing Christ is nowhere near what it is in so many other places. It’s getting harder. I’m not going to say it isn’t. But the reality check of Afghanistan ought to shake us all from our complacency and rouse us in prayer for our brothers and sisters who know it is only a matter of days before they see Jesus face to face.
My husband recently returned from his first international trip since March of 2020. So much has changed. Air travel, accommodations, the communication between one hand and the other— all different now, all stretched thin by low staffing and made more involved with the addition of measures designed to imply that one can be safe if only boxes 1-12 are checked, and checked again.
He called me, nearly defeated, after one particularly disheartening situation. He told me how empty the streets of Kathamndu were, and I could not believe it. I had never understood the term “teeming” as it applied to humans until I stepped off the plane in Nepal. Literally every available space in the airport was full of bodies, pressed against one another, vying for position, surging forward. “No crowds,” he told me. Even stranger, no Westerners. His was nearly the only white face he saw during his week’s stay. In a city so dependent on the dollars of tourism and mass trade, both of these signs are worrisome.
The financial downturn in Nepal has been breathtaking and nearly across the board. My husband found restaurants empty, shops still. Everywhere he went, people were obviously worse off than they had been seventeen months ago, when large-scale lockdowns shuttered businesses and forced people off the streets and indoors, lest they be found in violation of the curfews and mandates. The end result? Businesses are gone. People are hungry. The city is crippled.
And in a city that is still, tensions rise. Anxieties are fed. And someone, anyone has to be selected as the bad guy. Some people have decided that the scapegoat should be… the Christians.
You see where this is going. Praise God, it’s not Afghanistan. Not even close. But persecution is ramping up. Arrests are more regular. Churches are not allowed to meet. Believers are isolated from one another.
If this is Nepal, what are other countries like right now? What else are our brothers and sisters facing? We don’t know. And we won’t because, frankly, the media won’t cover it.
So it’s up to us. If you hear news filtering out, share it. Bring the needs of the brethren to light, where we can all come together to pray in accord. Ask the missionaries you support what they are seeing or what their partners are saying. Join others in prayer at iCommitToPray.com, a ministry of Voice of the Martyrs that shares global requests from the persecuted church. Read updates at Mission Network News to stay abreast of current updates out of various countries. Familiarize yourself with Open Doors’ World Watch List, and their overall ministry. Spend five days in YouVersion’s Lessons From the Persecuted Church devotional study. As you grow, as you learn, as your heart is turned to the sufferings of others, be their voice in your church body, and in your community. God will give you next steps, even if those steps are simply to be the one person in your city devoted to praying for brothers and sisters at risk because of their commitment to Christ.
I’m praying for Christians around the globe— yes, even right here in America— who find themselves being hated for their faith. I hope you are, too. I feel that the coming days, weeks, and even years will bring us much to lift in prayer. Come, Lord Jesus.