Randy Alcorn's Blog, page 220

The Persecuted Church: Ignored by the World, Watched by the Eyes of Heaven

This Sunday, November 13, is the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, a global day of intercession for persecuted Christians worldwide. It’s a day to remember and pray for the hundreds of men, women, and children killed for Christ each day, ignored by the world but watched by the eyes of heaven—those of whom the world is not worthy. (You can listen to my 49-minute message on the persecuted church, “Those of Whom the World Is Not Worthy.”)

In If God Is Good, I tell the story of Graham Staines, who left his home in Australia to minister to lepers in India for thirty-four years. He and his wife, Gladys, served Christ by serving the poorest of the poor.

At midnight on January 23, 1999—a year and a half before my wife, daughters, and I met Gladys and her daughter, Esther—a mob of militant Hindus murdered Graham and his two sons, Phillip, age eleven, and Timothy, age six. The killers invaded a Christian camp in the jungle, where Graham had ministered, and set fire to the Jeep in which Graham and his sons slept. When the fire finally cooled, believers found the charred body of Graham Staines with his arms around the bodies of his sons.

In the most appalling way, Gladys and Esther found themselves alone. Their response to the tragedy appeared on the front page of every newspaper in India.

“I have only one message for the people of India,” Gladys said. “I’m not bitter. Neither am I angry. But I have one great desire: That each citizen of this country should establish a personal relationship with Jesus Christ who gave his life for their sins.... Let us burn hatred and spread the flame of Christ’s love.”

When asked how she felt about the murder of her dad, thirteen-year-old Esther said (in words that sound straight off the pages of the book of Acts), “I praise the Lord that He found my father worthy to die for Him.”

Gladys stunned a nation by saying that God had called her and Esther to stay in India for that season. “My husband and our children have sacrificed their lives for this nation; India is my home. I hope to be here and continue to serve the needy.”

At the funeral, masses of people filled the streets—Hindus, Muslims, and Christians. They came to show respect for the Staines family and demonstrate solidarity against the killers. Although persecution of Christians had recently increased, the president of India stated, “That someone who spent years caring for patients of leprosy, instead of being thanked and appreciated as a role model should be done to death in this manner is... a crime that belongs to the world’s inventory of black deeds.”

At the conference where we met them, after Gladys and Esther spoke, an Indian national leader told us about the impact of their response to the murders. He said the people of India asked, “Why would a man leave his wealthy country and serve lepers in India for thirty-four years? Why would his wife and daughter forgive the killers of their family? Why would they choose to stay and serve the poor? Who is this God they believe in? Could it be that all we’ve been told about Christians has been lies? Could it be that Jesus really is the truth?” He stated that many Hindus had come to Christ through their witness.

The Staines carried on a long tradition of God’s people: “Others were tortured and refused to be released, so that they might gain a better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated—the world was not worthy of them” (Hebrews 11:35–38).

Christ made it clear that to persecute his people is to persecute him. Whatever others do to his people, positively or negatively, he regards as being done to him (see Matthew 25:40, 45). Christ no longer suffers on the cross, but he suffers with his suffering people.

After his ascension, Jesus says to the Pharisee on the Damascus road, “Saul, Saul why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4). Persecution, of course, entails suffering. One verse later Christ says to Saul, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” Note the present tense—although Christ’s atoning sacrifice occurred in the past, he continues to identify with and participate in his people’s suffering until he returns to end all suffering.

Thank you, King Jesus, for your loyalty to us and to every one of our suffering brothers and sisters. Thank you for promising a kingdom where righteousness will reign and joy will be the air we breathe. May that kingdom come quickly—and until it does, may you find us faithful.

      

The Water of Life for the Thirsty

In C. S. Lewis’s The Silver Chair, a young girl from earth, Jill Pole, is alone, lost, and very thirsty as she wanders through the foreign world of Narnia. Then she sees, for the first time, Aslan, the great and ferocious lion, standing by a stream of fresh water. Naturally, she’s terrified:

“Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.

“I'm dying of thirst,” said Jill.

“Then drink,” said the Lion.

“Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.

“I make no promise,” said the Lion.

Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.

“Do you eat girls?” she said.

“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.

“I daren't come and drink,” said Jill.

“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.

“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”

“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.

It never occurred to Jill to disbelieve the Lion—no one who had seen his stern face could do that—and her mind suddenly made itself up. It was the worst thing she had ever had to do, but she went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand.

It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted.

Jesus: “To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.” (Revelation 21:6)

      

Signposts of the New Earth

I’ve never been to Heaven, yet I miss it. Eden’s in my blood. The best things of life are souvenirs from Eden, appetizers of the New Earth. There are just enough of them to keep us going but never enough to make us satisfied with the world as it is or ourselves as we are. We live between Eden and the New Earth, pulled toward what we once were and what we yet will be.

Desire is a signpost pointing to Heaven. Every longing for better health is a longing for the perfect bodies we’ll have on the New Earth. Every longing for romance is a longing for the ultimate romance with Christ. Every thirst for beauty is a thirst for Christ. Every taste of joy is but a foretaste of a greater and more vibrant joy than can be found on Earth now.

That’s why we need to spend our lives cultivating our love for Heaven. That’s why we need to meditate on what Scripture says about Heaven and to read books, have Bible studies, teach classes, and preach sermons on it. We need to talk to our children about Heaven. When we’re camping, hiking, or driving or when we’re at a museum, a sporting event, or a theme park, we need to talk about what we see around us as signposts of the New Earth.

When we think of Heaven as unearthly, our present lives seem unspiritual, as if they don’t matter. When we grasp the reality of the New Earth, however, our present, earthly lives suddenly do matter. Conversations with loved ones matter. The taste of food matters. Work, leisure, creativity, and intellectual stimulation matter. Rivers and trees and flowers matter. Laughter matters. Service matters. Why? Because they are eternal.

Life on Earth matters, not because it’s the only life we have, but precisely because it isn’t—it’s the beginning of a life that will continue without end on a renewed Earth. Understanding Heaven doesn’t just tell us what to do, but why. What God tells us about our future enables us to interpret our past and serve him in our present.