The women bent over my hands and feet as I reclined on cushions on their visiting room floor. They made elaborate designs in henna, wanting me to look beautiful as I attended my first wedding in their country. They talked and laughed, anticipating the celebration that would take place in two days as their neighbour became a bride.

The preparations reminded me of Jesus’ story about being ready for a wedding: Once there were ten young women who took their oil lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom.

The next day, the feeling at the house of my new friends is one of expectation – today is the big day! The anticipation intensifies as we spend several hours dressing and perfuming our clothing and hair with incense. Finally we are ready!

As my friends and I arrive at the wedding hall, I discover that in spite of their efforts, I am underdressed.

My best dress is nothing compared to those around me! Women who normally look like black ghosts are now wearing dresses of every colour imaginable. Sequins and jewellery glitter everywhere. How beautiful the women are! Their laughing faces reflect their inner strength. Their lives are so difficult, yet they find such pleasure in dressing up and even more, in simply being together.

I happily join my friends on cushions on the floor. Music, provided by a band in another room, blares from loudspeakers. Women dance, as their mothers and grandmothers did before them. Finally an announcement is made and the bride arrives, with much fanfare! She wears a western style gown with a hoop skirt at least three feet wide; every inch is covered with sequins. She proceeds slowly up the aisle in the middle of the hall, surrounded by young women who chant blessings and hopes for many sons. Once in front of the hall, the bride sits on an ornate, throne-like chair. And the sense of anticipation grows. The climax is yet to come. The music, dancing and visiting isn’t our reason for being here. We’re waiting for the groom to come! I think again of Jesus’ story. He told the story of the wise and foolish virgins because he wanted his followers to be ready. These women (and I!) have spent days getting ready for this wedding, but they don’t even know about the one to come. How can they possibly be ready when they have no way of knowing the Bridegroom?

The hours stretch on. The conversations grow increasingly desultory and fewer and fewer women dance. My head pounds from the loud music. Four hours have passed and still we wait! In Jesus’ story, the waiting women fell asleep. They must have booked a different band, because surely no one could sleep surrounded by music at this decibel level!

Suddenly, the music stops. My ears ring in the silence, and then, over the loudspeakers a voice announces, “The groom is coming!” All around me is a whirlwind of activity. Reclining women suddenly leap to their feet and fly into their overcoats and veils, changing back into black ghosts. Here is the groom! Finally, the days of preparation and waiting are finished!

In the middle of all the rejoicing, my heart is heavy. My friends here are not ready for the wedding that’s to come. They’ve never met the Bridegroom. Seeing them with covered faces reminds me again of how it veils their hearts and makes it impossible for them to see God clearly. They cannot understand how He loves them and longs for a relationship with them. I look forward to a wedding feast with Someone who calls me His beloved. All they have is a set of rules to try to keep, and a faint hope that a capricious judge will be kind.

In spite of the stranglehold of Islam in the country, I have hope that God is working here and that my friends will be part of the final marriage celebration. Please join the work here by praying that hearts will be open to the wooing of the Bridegroom.

Susan is an IS Partner from the USA, currently serving in the Arab World.

Refugee. The word itself conjures up a variety of impressions and interpretations. The legal definition used by countries for over 50 years comes from the 1951 Geneva Convention on Refugees which states, “A refugee is a person who owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country…”. 1 However, there are many unprotected people in our world today who do not exactly fit this legal definition yet have had to move from their homes in fear. To that end, related terms such as asylum-seekers, forced migrants, internally displaced and stateless people have arisen.

The largest city in North Africa with a population of roughly 20 million people is home to one of the world’s largest populations of urban ‘refugees’ in the world today. This area has a long history of hosting refugees. Two thousand years ago Joseph, Mary and the Christ child fled to escape persecution in Israel. In the last century, 1 The 1951 Geneva Convention relating to the Status of Refugees. thousands of Armenians and Palestinians sought refuge when war broke out in their homelands. Since the early 1980s, African refugees, the majority from the Horn of Africa and Sudan, and most recently Iraqis, are refugees in this region. According to United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the international body for determining refugee status and protecting refugees, at the end of 2007 there were over 100,000 individuals considered refugees here. However there may be hundreds of thousands more here who do not fit the official definition.

While working with refugees, I see and hear how they are suffering. For some, what they left behind is traumatic and has caused great pain, and yet it is with sadness they leave what they know as familiar and ‘home’. The past is often bittersweet. The present situation for them in this city can also be a source of daily pain and suffering. Camps are not allowed so these urban refugees try to find their way along with millions of locals who are also just getting by. Refugees however are on the fringe, limited by language and cultural differences, unequal access to social and health services, education and few job opportunities. They often find the new environment unwelcoming and complex, causing frustration and distress.

According to a UNHCR report from 2002, “eking out a livelihood in a teeming city is vastly different from the life in a refugee camp, where services are freely provided by relief agencies. In this city, families are evicted from their homes because they cannot afford rent, children are denied an education because they cannot afford school fees, and the general health situation of refugees is deteriorating due to their often poor nutrition and lack of adequate living conditions.”

The refugee diaspora is extensive; families are often spread out over different countries, some have stayed behind in the home country and others have made it to North America, Europe or Australia. One of my colleagues lives with his uncle here while his mother is in Kenya, his father in Sudan and a brother now in Israel. Some of the refugees are eager to go back and help to rebuild their country. They embrace the perspective of having a goal for their lives, something to live for. But the situation for example in South Sudan has not improved much since the first step towards independence, neither in opportunities for work nor in safety. Many places are still ruled by bands of thugs who fight each other and rob travellers. Others here dream of going to a Western country although many hardly know what to expect besides what they see on TV or hear from friends or relatives. Often the stories of refugees who travelled are like fairy tales. They are too ashamed to admit that life on the other side of the ocean is not all they expected and even more strange than being here.

Refugees are also anxious about their future. Joseph was told in a dream that it was safe to return with Mary and Jesus to his homeland. Most refugees do not have such clarity or guidance about their futures. For example, before the long awaited peace agreement between north and south, Sudanese refugees could apply to the UNHCR here for refugee status with the prospect of being resettled to a Western country but since the agreement this is now almost impossible. Repatriation, or returning to one’s home country, is still not a viable option since most of their home countries are still unsettled. Refugees say they feel ‘stuck’ here. One program aims to reach out to refugees, offering opportunity and hope amidst the challenges of life in this city. This refugee ministry opened its doors almost 20 years ago under the Episcopal Church. The program now offers a variety of services to refugees in their first few years in the city, including health care, emergency assistance, self-reliance programs, education opportunities and spiritual encouragement. The majority of the staff are refugees themselves, who work alongside other national staff and a variety of international volunteers.

At present, some 30,000 refugees use the services of this program, a significant number being of the majority faith in this region. On any given day in the main city centre premises, there may be groups of ladies waiting for their antenatal appointment, children playing during their school break, youth waiting for their English class to start and young men and women enrolling in a vocational training course. There are so many refugees that need a safe place to come to; a place that listens to their concerns and tries to help. Of course there are frustrations and challenging situations each day. But as one colleague tells me, after graduating from a Christian counselling course offered by the church, “I learned how to deal with people and understand how I can diffuse anger and tension, when people become highly agitated. We seek to treat refugees in a manner of dignity and respect so they can feel what it means to be valued…”. It is our hope that we can offer a helping hand, to do it in love as Christ would, and share some of the hope we know about our certain, future home with our Lord.

Since the 1979 Islamic Revolution which forced out the Shah and installed an Islamic Republic, Iran has become a byword for Islamic fundamentalism. Nowhere has the so-called “clash of civilisations” been put into sharper relief than in the tortured relationship between Iran and the US, with President Bush labelling Iran as part of the so-called “Axis of Evil” in 2002 and President Ahmedinejad describing the September 11th attacks as “a suspect event”. Under these circumstances perhaps Iran, run by an oppressive régime incapable of tolerating dissent, is one of the least likely places in the world to witness a large-scale revival of the body of Christ. And yet, amazingly, that is the situation in modern-day Iran. The spirit of God is moving over the parched sands of Persia.

The history of the Iranian church is remarkably long. Acts 2: 9 records “Parthians, Medes and Elamites” hearing the gospel on the day of Pentecost and there are churches in Iran that date back to the days of the apostles. Ancient churches and historical artifacts testify that Christian missionaries from Persia travelled as far as India and China in the 8th and 9th centuries. Even though Christianity in Iran has been a minority religion throughout its entire existence, buffeted by the whims of Zoroastrian and Muslim authorities over the centuries, the Iranian church has survived.

This, in itself, is remarkable, but even more remarkable is the extent to which the church is thriving. Western missionaries worked in Iran for over 100 years, scarcely seeing any fruit at all, but the seeds they planted were crucial. Thanks to their work, and the work of people like Haik Hovsepian and Seth Yeghnazar, along with his sons Sam, Lazarus and Luke, by 1976 a few small churches had been established. Following the 1979 revolution the new régime allowed Christians and other minority groups to gather openly and then clamped down savagely, closing churches and imprisoning Christians across Iran. These attacks culminated in the 1990s with several killings of senior Iranian churchmen. In 1989 Hossein Soodmand, pastor of the Assemblies of God (Jama’at – e Rabbani) church, was executed for apostasy. Mehdi Dibaj, another member of the Jama’at – e Rabbani, was imprisoned for ten years, from 1983 to 1993, before being freed in January 1994 following a global outcry. At his trial he boldly declared ““I am not only satisfied to be in prison for the honour of His Holy Name, but am ready to give my life for the sake of Jesus my Lord”. Following his release he was abducted and murdered later in 1994. In 1993 Haik Hovsepian, an Iranian bishop in the Jama’at-e Rabbani, was asked by the government to sign a document stating that he would not allow Muslims or Muslim converts into his church. He refused, declaring “our churches are open to all who want to come in”. He was murdered in January 1994.

The brutality of this persecution forced many Iranian Christians to meet in underground churches, but, as is often the case with persecution, it strengthened and encouraged the Iranian church rather than destroying it. There is currently an extensive network of underground churches in more than 40 cities across Iran, largely consisting of recent believers from Muslim backgrounds, and recent developments such as Christian satellite broadcasting are reaching millions more. The website of 222 Ministries (www.222ministries. com) contains many testimonies from Iranian Christians and stories of how the church in Iran is growing – Muslim clerics, leaders of mosques, drug addicts and prostitutes all testify to the power of Christ. 222 Ministries even run an online theological college which currently has over 800 students, including Muslim clerics, and their staff members receive 1,000 phone calls a month from Iranians wanting to commit their lives to Christ. Lazarus Yeghnazar, the President of 222 Ministries International, calmly states that “conservative estimates put the size of the Iranian church at over one million people”. The scale of this revival is astonishing.

Naturally, spiritual warfare being what it is, the persecution of the church in Iran is intensifying, a testimony to the size and momentum of this revival. Since April 2008 there have been 53 arrests of Iranian Christians all over the country – in Tehran, Mashad, Esfahan, Shiraz and elsewhere. In July 2008 an elderly Christian couple were leading a gospel meeting at their house church in Esfahan and baptising new believers in a tub of water in their lounge when their house was raided. The police were particularly incensed when they discovered that the husband, Abbas Amiri, was a respected haji who had visited Mecca on several occasions and who had also fought for Iran during the Iran-Iraq war. He was beaten and died on his way to hospital. His wife Sakineh Rahnama later died of shock. Recently the Iranian government provisionally passed legislation demanding the death penalty for Muslims who leave Islam – previously courts could hand down hard labour sentences or jail terms instead, but the death penalty could soon be the only option. The flourishing church is not the only evidence that many Iranians are unhappy with their government – for example, a United Nations report in 2005 revealed that Iran has the highest drug addiction rate in the world, and the Iran Press Service reported in 2006 that government agencies are considering creating legalised brothels to combat a massive rise in prostitution. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that something is rotten in the state of Iran.

Although precise statistics regarding the church in Iran are hard to come by – it’s an underground church, after all – what is clear from many sources and from the increasingly desperate restrictions introduced by the Iranian government is that the message of Christ is spreading in Iran, and spreading fast. Lazarus Yeghnazar believes that the church around the world needs to be prepared for an avalanche of new believers both inside Iran and in the extensive Iranian diaspora around the world, and wants Christians to pray for this as a matter of urgency. The ancient bones of the church in Iran, dating back to the time of the apostles, are coming to life in thrilling fashion, providing a wonderful example of the power of Christ over the plans of men.

Since the 1979 Islamic Revolution which forced out the Shah and installed an Islamic Republic, Iran has become a byword for Islamic fundamentalism. Nowhere has the so-called “clash of civilisations” been put into sharper relief than in the tortured relationship between Iran and the US, with President Bush labelling Iran as part of the so-called “Axis of Evil” in 2002 and President Ahmedinejad describing the September 11th attacks as “a suspect event”. Under these circumstances perhaps Iran, run by an oppressive régime incapable of tolerating dissent, is one of the least likely places in the world to witness a large-scale revival of the body of Christ. And yet, amazingly, that is the situation in modern-day Iran. The spirit of God is moving over the parched sands of Persia.

The history of the Iranian church is remarkably long. Acts 2: 9 records “Parthians, Medes and Elamites” hearing the gospel on the day of Pentecost and there are churches in Iran that date back to the days of the apostles. Ancient churches and historical artifacts testify that Christian missionaries from Persia travelled as far as India and China in the 8th and 9th centuries. Even though Christianity in Iran has been a minority religion throughout its entire existence, buffeted by the whims of Zoroastrian and Muslim authorities over the centuries, the Iranian church has survived.

This, in itself, is remarkable, but even more remarkable is the extent to which the church is thriving. Western missionaries worked in Iran for over 100 years, scarcely seeing any fruit at all, but the seeds they planted were crucial. Thanks to their work, and the work of people like Haik Hovsepian and Seth Yeghnazar, along with his sons Sam, Lazarus and Luke, by 1976 a few small churches had been established. Following the 1979 revolution the new régime allowed Christians and other minority groups to gather openly and then clamped down savagely, closing churches and imprisoning Christians across Iran. These attacks culminated in the 1990s with several killings of senior Iranian churchmen. In 1989 Hossein Soodmand, pastor of the Assemblies of God (Jama’at – e Rabbani) church, was executed for apostasy. Mehdi Dibaj, another member of the Jama’at – e Rabbani, was imprisoned for ten years, from 1983 to 1993, before being freed in January 1994 following a global outcry. At his trial he boldly declared ““I am not only satisfied to be in prison for the honour of His Holy Name, but am ready to give my life for the sake of Jesus my Lord”. Following his release he was abducted and murdered later in 1994. In 1993 Haik Hovsepian, an Iranian bishop in the Jama’at-e Rabbani, was asked by the government to sign a document stating that he would not allow Muslims or Muslim converts into his church. He refused, declaring “our churches are open to all who want to come in”. He was murdered in January 1994.

The brutality of this persecution forced many Iranian Christians to meet in underground churches, but, as is often the case with persecution, it strengthened and encouraged the Iranian church rather than destroying it. There is currently an extensive network of underground churches in more than 40 cities across Iran, largely consisting of recent believers from Muslim backgrounds, and recent developments such as Christian satellite broadcasting are reaching millions more. The website of 222 Ministries (www.222ministries. com) contains many testimonies from Iranian Christians and stories of how the church in Iran is growing – Muslim clerics, leaders of mosques, drug addicts and prostitutes all testify to the power of Christ. 222 Ministries even run an online theological college which currently has over 800 students, including Muslim clerics, and their staff members receive 1,000 phone calls a month from Iranians wanting to commit their lives to Christ. Lazarus Yeghnazar, the President of 222 Ministries International, calmly states that “conservative estimates put the size of the Iranian church at over one million people”. The scale of this revival is astonishing.

Naturally, spiritual warfare being what it is, the persecution of the church in Iran is intensifying, a testimony to the size and momentum of this revival. Since April 2008 there have been 53 arrests of Iranian Christians all over the country – in Tehran, Mashad, Esfahan, Shiraz and elsewhere. In July 2008 an elderly Christian couple were leading a gospel meeting at their house church in Esfahan and baptising new believers in a tub of water in their lounge when their house was raided. The police were particularly incensed when they discovered that the husband, Abbas Amiri, was a respected haji who had visited Mecca on several occasions and who had also fought for Iran during the Iran-Iraq war. He was beaten and died on his way to hospital. His wife Sakineh Rahnama later died of shock. Recently the Iranian government provisionally passed legislation demanding the death penalty for Muslims who leave Islam – previously courts could hand down hard labour sentences or jail terms instead, but the death penalty could soon be the only option. The flourishing church is not the only evidence that many Iranians are unhappy with their government – for example, a United Nations report in 2005 revealed that Iran has the highest drug addiction rate in the world, and the Iran Press Service reported in 2006 that government agencies are considering creating legalised brothels to combat a massive rise in prostitution. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that something is rotten in the state of Iran.

Although precise statistics regarding the church in Iran are hard to come by – it’s an underground church, after all – what is clear from many sources and from the increasingly desperate restrictions introduced by the Iranian government is that the message of Christ is spreading in Iran, and spreading fast. Lazarus Yeghnazar believes that the church around the world needs to be prepared for an avalanche of new believers both inside Iran and in the extensive Iranian diaspora around the world, and wants Christians to pray for this as a matter of urgency. The ancient bones of the church in Iran, dating back to the time of the apostles, are coming to life in thrilling fashion, providing a wonderful example of the power of Christ over the plans of men.

Since the 1979 Islamic Revolution which forced out the Shah and installed an Islamic Republic, Iran has become a byword for Islamic fundamentalism. Nowhere has the so-called “clash of civilisations” been put into sharper relief than in the tortured relationship between Iran and the US, with President Bush labelling Iran as part of the so-called “Axis of Evil” in 2002 and President Ahmedinejad describing the September 11th attacks as “a suspect event”. Under these circumstances perhaps Iran, run by an oppressive régime incapable of tolerating dissent, is one of the least likely places in the world to witness a large-scale revival of the body of Christ. And yet, amazingly, that is the situation in modern-day Iran. The spirit of God is moving over the parched sands of Persia.

The history of the Iranian church is remarkably long. Acts 2: 9 records “Parthians, Medes and Elamites” hearing the gospel on the day of Pentecost and there are churches in Iran that date back to the days of the apostles. Ancient churches and historical artifacts testify that Christian missionaries from Persia travelled as far as India and China in the 8th and 9th centuries. Even though Christianity in Iran has been a minority religion throughout its entire existence, buffeted by the whims of Zoroastrian and Muslim authorities over the centuries, the Iranian church has survived.

This, in itself, is remarkable, but even more remarkable is the extent to which the church is thriving. Western missionaries worked in Iran for over 100 years, scarcely seeing any fruit at all, but the seeds they planted were crucial. Thanks to their work, and the work of people like Haik Hovsepian and Seth Yeghnazar, along with his sons Sam, Lazarus and Luke, by 1976 a few small churches had been established. Following the 1979 revolution the new régime allowed Christians and other minority groups to gather openly and then clamped down savagely, closing churches and imprisoning Christians across Iran. These attacks culminated in the 1990s with several killings of senior Iranian churchmen. In 1989 Hossein Soodmand, pastor of the Assemblies of God (Jama’at – e Rabbani) church, was executed for apostasy. Mehdi Dibaj, another member of the Jama’at – e Rabbani, was imprisoned for ten years, from 1983 to 1993, before being freed in January 1994 following a global outcry. At his trial he boldly declared ““I am not only satisfied to be in prison for the honour of His Holy Name, but am ready to give my life for the sake of Jesus my Lord”. Following his release he was abducted and murdered later in 1994. In 1993 Haik Hovsepian, an Iranian bishop in the Jama’at-e Rabbani, was asked by the government to sign a document stating that he would not allow Muslims or Muslim converts into his church. He refused, declaring “our churches are open to all who want to come in”. He was murdered in January 1994.

The brutality of this persecution forced many Iranian Christians to meet in underground churches, but, as is often the case with persecution, it strengthened and encouraged the Iranian church rather than destroying it. There is currently an extensive network of underground churches in more than 40 cities across Iran, largely consisting of recent believers from Muslim backgrounds, and recent developments such as Christian satellite broadcasting are reaching millions more. The website of 222 Ministries (www.222ministries. com) contains many testimonies from Iranian Christians and stories of how the church in Iran is growing – Muslim clerics, leaders of mosques, drug addicts and prostitutes all testify to the power of Christ. 222 Ministries even run an online theological college which currently has over 800 students, including Muslim clerics, and their staff members receive 1,000 phone calls a month from Iranians wanting to commit their lives to Christ. Lazarus Yeghnazar, the President of 222 Ministries International, calmly states that “conservative estimates put the size of the Iranian church at over one million people”. The scale of this revival is astonishing.

Naturally, spiritual warfare being what it is, the persecution of the church in Iran is intensifying, a testimony to the size and momentum of this revival. Since April 2008 there have been 53 arrests of Iranian Christians all over the country – in Tehran, Mashad, Esfahan, Shiraz and elsewhere. In July 2008 an elderly Christian couple were leading a gospel meeting at their house church in Esfahan and baptising new believers in a tub of water in their lounge when their house was raided. The police were particularly incensed when they discovered that the husband, Abbas Amiri, was a respected haji who had visited Mecca on several occasions and who had also fought for Iran during the Iran-Iraq war. He was beaten and died on his way to hospital. His wife Sakineh Rahnama later died of shock. Recently the Iranian government provisionally passed legislation demanding the death penalty for Muslims who leave Islam – previously courts could hand down hard labour sentences or jail terms instead, but the death penalty could soon be the only option. The flourishing church is not the only evidence that many Iranians are unhappy with their government – for example, a United Nations report in 2005 revealed that Iran has the highest drug addiction rate in the world, and the Iran Press Service reported in 2006 that government agencies are considering creating legalised brothels to combat a massive rise in prostitution. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that something is rotten in the state of Iran.

Although precise statistics regarding the church in Iran are hard to come by – it’s an underground church, after all – what is clear from many sources and from the increasingly desperate restrictions introduced by the Iranian government is that the message of Christ is spreading in Iran, and spreading fast. Lazarus Yeghnazar believes that the church around the world needs to be prepared for an avalanche of new believers both inside Iran and in the extensive Iranian diaspora around the world, and wants Christians to pray for this as a matter of urgency. The ancient bones of the church in Iran, dating back to the time of the apostles, are coming to life in thrilling fashion, providing a wonderful example of the power of Christ over the plans of men.

One of the most poignant stories I have ever heard comes from the life of the famous missionary to China, J. Hudson Taylor. The first man to come to faith through Taylor’s preaching was a leader of a Buddhist sect, and it was a sweet moment when he testified that after years of searching for truth and rest, he had found them at last in Jesus. But the experience turned bittersweet when he inquired just how long this life-giving news had been known in England. “‘What!’ said he, amazed. ‘Is it possible that for hundreds of years you have had the knowledge of these glad tidings in your possession, and yet have only now come to preach it to us? My father sought truth for more than twenty years, and died without finding it. Oh, why did you not come sooner?’”

How easy it is for us, even those of us living among ‘unreached’ people, to lose track of how quickly the time is passing, and how many people all around us are literally dying to hear the ‘glad tidings’ which brought us life. Demanding jobs wear us down, the daily pressures of life consume our energy, ‘political correctness’ or even fear of reprisal may sap our boldness… all conspire to numb us to the awful reality that people we know, and millions we don’t, are racing towards an everlasting separation from God.

Paul implored the saints in Ephesus to walk wisely, ‘redeeming the time (literally, ‘buying the opportunity’) because the days are evil.’ Sometimes ‘the opportunity’ is obvious. Several months ago we first met ‘Sarah,’ who was staying in the slum with her brother’s family, and had come to the city in search of medical treatment. A quick examination revealed that she had come much too late. The cancer which had begun in her mouth had completely eaten away her tongue, and had spread into her neck and jaw. She was in terrific pain, and pleaded with us to help her. With heavy hearts we explained to her and her family that there was no medical solution, but that our God is able to heal, and so we prayed for her in Jesus’ name. And so began the journey.

Sarah often cried and kissed our hands when we brought her pain medicine or ‘milkshakes,’ or gave a little massage that helped to relax her frail and withered body a little. We also found that Sarah listened eagerly to our stories about the man named Jesus, who touched and healed people, and who willingly sacrificed himself for sinners. She dreamed one night that Jesus came to her and said, ‘God heals you.’ Sometimes she called out his name when the pain was too much. I saw her a couple of days before she died, very agitated and in a lot of pain. I prayed with her for God’s mercy, and she said ‘amen’ with me, and then calmed down and went to sleep. I know that she was touched by God’s love through our care for her. God knows if she is with Him now in glory, yet we are grateful for the precious opportunity we had to tell her of the Redeemer.

But often the opportunity is gone before we know it. I knew that ‘Matthew’ was special from the first day I met him. Unlike many of the other men from this poor community, Matthew went out of his way to help me, often escorting me around the slum until I got into my car to leave. His very humble shack was nevertheless neatly organized and clean… the tiny ‘kitchen’ he had set up for his wife even had shelves! He worked hard, seven days a week, as a garbage collector, in order to provide for his family, and would never have allowed his wife to beg on the street, as so many women do. We were encouraging him to organize other like-minded men to work together on improving their community. We had occasion to share with him that we were followers of Jesus, and that we ourselves had new life because of him. And we looked forward to telling him more. That is, until the day he was killed. One day a charitable organization showed up to distribute food and blankets in the community, and things got out of control. Everyone was grabbing, and tempers flared when Matthew and another woman reached for the same blanket. In the blink of an eye, the woman’s husband exploded in anger and stabbed Matthew in the chest. Witnesses later told us that he threw his arms around a young girl who was standing there and cried out for forgiveness before he collapsed and died. And the opportunity was gone. We learned last week that the man who killed him has been executed. Another opportunity.

I recently visited the family of an eight-year-old girl who was raped by a neighbour with a wife and children of his own. As I write this, I am convicted that I keep meaning to seek out his family, and maybe even the man himself, before it is too late. But life is so busy…

Hudson Taylor’s reflections on that first convert, written more than a century ago, still speak to us: “A whole generation has passed away since that mournful inquiry was made; but how many, alas, might repeat the same question today? More than two hundred millions in the meanwhile have been swept into eternity, without an offer of salvation. How long shall this continue, and the Master’s words, ‘to every creature,’ remain unheeded?” Can we not find the time to share that offer? Can we not pray?

One of the most poignant stories I have ever heard comes from the life of the famous missionary to China, J. Hudson Taylor. The first man to come to faith through Taylor’s preaching was a leader of a Buddhist sect, and it was a sweet moment when he testified that after years of searching for truth and rest, he had found them at last in Jesus. But the experience turned bittersweet when he inquired just how long this life-giving news had been known in England. “‘What!’ said he, amazed. ‘Is it possible that for hundreds of years you have had the knowledge of these glad tidings in your possession, and yet have only now come to preach it to us? My father sought truth for more than twenty years, and died without finding it. Oh, why did you not come sooner?’”

How easy it is for us, even those of us living among ‘unreached’ people, to lose track of how quickly the time is passing, and how many people all around us are literally dying to hear the ‘glad tidings’ which brought us life. Demanding jobs wear us down, the daily pressures of life consume our energy, ‘political correctness’ or even fear of reprisal may sap our boldness… all conspire to numb us to the awful reality that people we know, and millions we don’t, are racing towards an everlasting separation from God.

Paul implored the saints in Ephesus to walk wisely, ‘redeeming the time (literally, ‘buying the opportunity’) because the days are evil.’ Sometimes ‘the opportunity’ is obvious. Several months ago we first met ‘Sarah,’ who was staying in the slum with her brother’s family, and had come to the city in search of medical treatment. A quick examination revealed that she had come much too late. The cancer which had begun in her mouth had completely eaten away her tongue, and had spread into her neck and jaw. She was in terrific pain, and pleaded with us to help her. With heavy hearts we explained to her and her family that there was no medical solution, but that our God is able to heal, and so we prayed for her in Jesus’ name. And so began the journey.

Sarah often cried and kissed our hands when we brought her pain medicine or ‘milkshakes,’ or gave a little massage that helped to relax her frail and withered body a little. We also found that Sarah listened eagerly to our stories about the man named Jesus, who touched and healed people, and who willingly sacrificed himself for sinners. She dreamed one night that Jesus came to her and said, ‘God heals you.’ Sometimes she called out his name when the pain was too much. I saw her a couple of days before she died, very agitated and in a lot of pain. I prayed with her for God’s mercy, and she said ‘amen’ with me, and then calmed down and went to sleep. I know that she was touched by God’s love through our care for her. God knows if she is with Him now in glory, yet we are grateful for the precious opportunity we had to tell her of the Redeemer.

But often the opportunity is gone before we know it. I knew that ‘Matthew’ was special from the first day I met him. Unlike many of the other men from this poor community, Matthew went out of his way to help me, often escorting me around the slum until I got into my car to leave. His very humble shack was nevertheless neatly organized and clean… the tiny ‘kitchen’ he had set up for his wife even had shelves! He worked hard, seven days a week, as a garbage collector, in order to provide for his family, and would never have allowed his wife to beg on the street, as so many women do. We were encouraging him to organize other like-minded men to work together on improving their community. We had occasion to share with him that we were followers of Jesus, and that we ourselves had new life because of him. And we looked forward to telling him more. That is, until the day he was killed. One day a charitable organization showed up to distribute food and blankets in the community, and things got out of control. Everyone was grabbing, and tempers flared when Matthew and another woman reached for the same blanket. In the blink of an eye, the woman’s husband exploded in anger and stabbed Matthew in the chest. Witnesses later told us that he threw his arms around a young girl who was standing there and cried out for forgiveness before he collapsed and died. And the opportunity was gone. We learned last week that the man who killed him has been executed. Another opportunity.

I recently visited the family of an eight-year-old girl who was raped by a neighbour with a wife and children of his own. As I write this, I am convicted that I keep meaning to seek out his family, and maybe even the man himself, before it is too late. But life is so busy…

Hudson Taylor’s reflections on that first convert, written more than a century ago, still speak to us: “A whole generation has passed away since that mournful inquiry was made; but how many, alas, might repeat the same question today? More than two hundred millions in the meanwhile have been swept into eternity, without an offer of salvation. How long shall this continue, and the Master’s words, ‘to every creature,’ remain unheeded?” Can we not find the time to share that offer? Can we not pray?

One of the most poignant stories I have ever heard comes from the life of the famous missionary to China, J. Hudson Taylor. The first man to come to faith through Taylor’s preaching was a leader of a Buddhist sect, and it was a sweet moment when he testified that after years of searching for truth and rest, he had found them at last in Jesus. But the experience turned bittersweet when he inquired just how long this life-giving news had been known in England. “‘What!’ said he, amazed. ‘Is it possible that for hundreds of years you have had the knowledge of these glad tidings in your possession, and yet have only now come to preach it to us? My father sought truth for more than twenty years, and died without finding it. Oh, why did you not come sooner?’”

How easy it is for us, even those of us living among ‘unreached’ people, to lose track of how quickly the time is passing, and how many people all around us are literally dying to hear the ‘glad tidings’ which brought us life. Demanding jobs wear us down, the daily pressures of life consume our energy, ‘political correctness’ or even fear of reprisal may sap our boldness… all conspire to numb us to the awful reality that people we know, and millions we don’t, are racing towards an everlasting separation from God.

Paul implored the saints in Ephesus to walk wisely, ‘redeeming the time (literally, ‘buying the opportunity’) because the days are evil.’ Sometimes ‘the opportunity’ is obvious. Several months ago we first met ‘Sarah,’ who was staying in the slum with her brother’s family, and had come to the city in search of medical treatment. A quick examination revealed that she had come much too late. The cancer which had begun in her mouth had completely eaten away her tongue, and had spread into her neck and jaw. She was in terrific pain, and pleaded with us to help her. With heavy hearts we explained to her and her family that there was no medical solution, but that our God is able to heal, and so we prayed for her in Jesus’ name. And so began the journey.

Sarah often cried and kissed our hands when we brought her pain medicine or ‘milkshakes,’ or gave a little massage that helped to relax her frail and withered body a little. We also found that Sarah listened eagerly to our stories about the man named Jesus, who touched and healed people, and who willingly sacrificed himself for sinners. She dreamed one night that Jesus came to her and said, ‘God heals you.’ Sometimes she called out his name when the pain was too much. I saw her a couple of days before she died, very agitated and in a lot of pain. I prayed with her for God’s mercy, and she said ‘amen’ with me, and then calmed down and went to sleep. I know that she was touched by God’s love through our care for her. God knows if she is with Him now in glory, yet we are grateful for the precious opportunity we had to tell her of the Redeemer.

But often the opportunity is gone before we know it. I knew that ‘Matthew’ was special from the first day I met him. Unlike many of the other men from this poor community, Matthew went out of his way to help me, often escorting me around the slum until I got into my car to leave. His very humble shack was nevertheless neatly organized and clean… the tiny ‘kitchen’ he had set up for his wife even had shelves! He worked hard, seven days a week, as a garbage collector, in order to provide for his family, and would never have allowed his wife to beg on the street, as so many women do. We were encouraging him to organize other like-minded men to work together on improving their community. We had occasion to share with him that we were followers of Jesus, and that we ourselves had new life because of him. And we looked forward to telling him more. That is, until the day he was killed. One day a charitable organization showed up to distribute food and blankets in the community, and things got out of control. Everyone was grabbing, and tempers flared when Matthew and another woman reached for the same blanket. In the blink of an eye, the woman’s husband exploded in anger and stabbed Matthew in the chest. Witnesses later told us that he threw his arms around a young girl who was standing there and cried out for forgiveness before he collapsed and died. And the opportunity was gone. We learned last week that the man who killed him has been executed. Another opportunity.

I recently visited the family of an eight-year-old girl who was raped by a neighbour with a wife and children of his own. As I write this, I am convicted that I keep meaning to seek out his family, and maybe even the man himself, before it is too late. But life is so busy…

Hudson Taylor’s reflections on that first convert, written more than a century ago, still speak to us: “A whole generation has passed away since that mournful inquiry was made; but how many, alas, might repeat the same question today? More than two hundred millions in the meanwhile have been swept into eternity, without an offer of salvation. How long shall this continue, and the Master’s words, ‘to every creature,’ remain unheeded?” Can we not find the time to share that offer? Can we not pray?

They made elaborate designs in henna, wanting me to look beautiful as I attended my first wedding in their country. They didn’t seem to mind doing this service for a virtual stranger, the friend of a friend. They talked and laughed, anticipating the celebration that would take place in two days as their neighbour became a bride.

Just 3 weeks into language school, I didn’t understand much of the conversation that flowed around me and my mind wandered. The preparations reminded me of Jesus’ story about being ready for a wedding. “Once there were ten young women who took their oil lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom.” “Those women had such easy preparations!” I thought as I sat for hours without moving my hands and feet. “All they had to do was buy some oil for their lamps!”

The next day, the feeling at the house of my new friends is one of expectation—today is the big day! The anticipation intensifies as we spend several hours dressing and perfuming our clothing and hair with incense. Finally we are ready!

As my friends and I arrive at the wedding hall, I discover that in spite of their efforts, I am underdressed. My best dress is nothing compared to those around me! Women who normally look like black ghosts are now wearing dresses of every colour imaginable (and some combinations that you might not imagine!). Sequins and jewellery glitter everywhere. How beautiful the women are! Their laughing faces reflect their inner strength. Their lives are so difficult— they face poverty, year after year of childbearing, complete lack of selfdetermination. And yet they find such pleasure in dressing up and even more, in simply being together.

I happily join my friends on cushions on the floor. Music, provided by a band in another room, blares from loudspeakers. Women dance, as their mothers and grandmothers did before them. Finally an announcement is made and the bride arrives, with much fanfare! She wears a westernstyle gown with a hoop skirt at least 3 feet wide; every inch is covered with sequins. She proceeds slowly up the aisle in the middle of the hall, surrounded by young women who chant blessings and hopes for many sons. Once in front of the hall, the bride sits on an ornate, throne-like chair. And the sense of anticipation grows. The climax is yet to come. The music, dancing and visiting isn’t our reason for being here. We’re waiting for the groom to come! I think again of Jesus’ story. He told the story of the wise and foolish virgins because he wanted his followers to be ready. These women (and I!) have spent days getting ready for this wedding, but they don’t even know about the one to come. How can they possibly be ready when they have no way of knowing the Bridegroom?

The hours stretch on. The conversations grow increasingly desultory and fewer and fewer women dance. My head pounds from the loud music, and I look at my watch. Four hours have passed and still we wait! In Jesus’ story, the waiting women fell asleep. They must have booked a different band, because surely no one could sleep surrounded by music at this decibel level!

Suddenly, the music stops. My ears ring in the silence, and then, over the loudspeakers a voice announces, “The groom is coming!” All around me is a whirlwind of activity. Reclining women suddenly leap to their feet and fly into their overcoats and veils, changing back into black ghosts. Here is the groom! Finally, the days of preparation and waiting are finished!

In Jesus’ story, when the groom arrived, there was both joy and sorrow, as some of the bridesmaids discovered that they weren’t ready. And for them, it was too late.

“The bridegroom arrived. The five who were ready went in with him to the wedding feast, and the door was closed.” (Matt 25:10b-11)

In the middle of all the rejoicing, my heart is heavy. My friends here are not ready for the wedding that’s to come. They’ve never met the Bridegroom. Seeing them with covered faces reminds me again of how it veils their hearts and makes it impossible for them to see God clearly. They cannot understand how He loves them and longs for a relationship with them. I look forward to a wedding feast with Someone who calls me His beloved. All they have is a set of rules to try to keep, and a faint hope that a capricious judge will be kind.

In spite of the stranglehold of Islam in the country, I have hope that God is working here and that my friends will be part of the final marriage celebration. Please join the work here by praying that hearts will be open to the wooing of the Bridegroom.

For most of the past 10 years my family and I have lived in a part of the world where relatively few people understand what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

When we arrived I had anticipated putting my honours degree and doctorate to good use in some sort of agricultural project which served the poor and gave ample opportunities to live out our faith. Instead I became the world’s most highly qualified pot inspector!

It all began quite innocently really – or was that ignorantly?

Firstly, I knew nothing about the product we were selling (pottery), in fact I didn’t even like it. My only prior exposure had been when my wife dragged me down to the Sunday markets to ‘revel’ in the pottery on sale – a highly evolved form of conjugal torture!

Secondly, I knew nothing about doing business – I was an agricultural scientist, the son of a Marxist. In my family, business was a sleazy alien we stopped at the front door along with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. We were encouraged to pursue honourable professions which would benefit the world (medicine, education – even science). So although I could model ‘heat and water vapour transfer’ I couldn’t distinguish a balance sheet from a shopping docket!

Thirdly, we had no capital – well what do you expect of a Christian socialist!

Despite this trifecta of what might be kindly described as business handicaps, we somehow (or more accurately, God managed) to build a business exporting pottery to Western markets. Along the way we became the leading pottery exporter in that country. We employed about 20 people full-time, up to 30 casual staff, and through our subcontractors generated employment for more than 200 people. We worked in more than 10 different communities across the country and worked with more than 70 different subcontractors (including accessory suppliers and packaging suppliers).

It started very simply – a fellow Christian worker (who was a trader by background) needed someone to help him pack pots. He had figured out that the pottery was cheap and that there was perhaps an export market for it. But if the price was low, the quality was lower, so to control that he inspected every pot he shipped – the trouble was there was only so many hours in the day and when you have to pack 50,000 pots just to fill up one container, that’s a lot of hours.

The solution of course was to bring in the world’s most highly qualified pot inspector (moi!). I knew all those years of studying heat and water transfer through the rhizosphere (even my computer doesn’t know this word) would eventually come in handy! So there I sat, day in day out, surrounded by the grubby poor I had envisaged serving, looking at their cruddy pots and throwing most of them away (not a way to make them love you – let alone admire your walk of faith!).

Occasionally to break the monotony (believe me, inspecting 50,000 pots out in the open, with only dust, sun and smelly potters for company is monotonous), I’d discover they were cheating and slipping my rejects back into the boxes we were shipping. Then I’d get a chance to express my love for them!

Here, strangely enough, is where the trifecta really begins. My tirades of abuse and pot smashing (along with their attempts to cheat me) brought about a real relationship. We needed each other – I had customers to satisfy – they had families to feed – it was a relationship of mutual need – so we couldn’t just walk away – and in the end we had to be reconciled. After all we had a job to do and neither I nor they could stop until the container was done. So over a soft drink they’d illuminate me as to how white lies (which is what apparently this was) were really okay, let alone culturally appropriate. And I’d illuminate them on how regardless of a potter’s theology of truth, our customers were not so culturally ductile! We began to really communicate!

Over the years these people with whom I fought on a daily basis became trusted (not with their pots) and valued friends. In turn we became trusted members of the communities in which we worked. In many ways we (and our staff) became a part of those communities, bought property and were present day in and day out.

From the income generated from our business, new businesses sprung up, other businesses grew. We were able to develop products specifically to generate employment for women and gradually help our suppliers to understand that acting with integrity and building trust were essential to business success and indeed helpful to all forms of human interaction.

We didn’t get everything our way – we still struggled with our subcontractors employing their children rather than sending them to school, we were threatened by local authorities with having buildings demolished if we didn’t pay bribes. There were enough moral dilemmas to keep a Christian socialist wannabe do-gooder busy for the rest of his life!

Ultimately though, we wanted to see people blessed, not just materially or by living ‘better lives’ (important as these things are) – but we wanted them to experience the transformation that can only occur through meeting Jesus, through experiencing God’s forgiveness and being reconciled to our Father and Creator. But the reality is we didn’t see much harvesting though we did lots of sowing.

In our location, as in many of the societies where Interserve works, there is a kind of ‘faith lock-down’ going on. This is at least partly a result of the trauma these communities are going through as they seek to adjust to the impact of globalisation and development. In the midst of turmoil they cling all the more desperately to the one thing that has not changed (or at least they have some hope of not allowing to change) – their faith. Hence our attempts to persuade them to follow Jesus can easily be perceived more as reckless social vandalism than ‘love in action’. That of course is the great challenge in our post-modern/pre-modern world – to live with such integrity that our oral communication of the gospel only explains what our lives already state.

What we have done, we have sought to do as an outworking of the law of love in our lives. The funny thing is that love can be manifested in inspecting 50,000 pots and rejecting more than half of them – it really can. Because the story of love in this context is about telling the truth in love (being real) – that’s what the gospel is all about I think. About the truth of our circumstances today, tomorrow and in eternity. But it can’t start if you’re not there – sitting in the dust and heat, surrounded by smelly people who begin by thinking that the aim of the game is to pull a quick one over you. It’s a wobbly start, but then that’s life all over!

The author has lived with his family in the Middle East, where he pioneered a successful business. They recently relocated to another BAM project in South Asia; they are currently preparing through a year of intensive language and culture study.