Time Near the Arabian Desert

It’s not easy getting into Syria. The border crossing, both ways, is a process of lines, unexpected fees, men in army fatigues with vacant looks, both on the Lebanese and Syrian sides. But once you get through their intimidation, their obvious intent of making life just a bit more difficult than it has to be, you enter a country where the spirituality initially seems as arid as the landscape.

This is my fourth trip to Syria, and while I could say it is the food, the sites in old Damascus, the hospitality that draw me to this region, it is the body of Christ that calls me back. Part of the church are the men I am so privileged to work with, modern day apostles of sort. We hiked into Dier Mar Musa one day for an overnight with the monks. It is a monastery sitting high above the Arabian desert, and we spent the night just looking at the stars and pondering the greatness of God and the work He has called all of His believers to do.

But coming back to ground level, few things go as planned in this part of the world. Doing ministry is one of them. Like Paul in Acts 16, trying to get to Mysia, hoping to enter Bithynia, God had other plans for us this time around. We planned to go to south Syria to visit house churches—then north toward the border, to encourage small home groups. But things were not opening. All along, it appears God was calling us to Aleppo, the second largest city in Syria, five hours north of Damascus.

It was here we met with two churches, one in a regular building, one in a home. It’s always a challenge knowing what to say. Speaking in a different culture, one where the secret police must be informed of your activities, one in which most make very little income, and the system seems to suck the life out of one’s soul, I often feel so inadequate to speak to it all. But the Word of God always proves powerful. I Peter seemed to be the working text for this trip. So much of the message seemed to fit this context, for these are “aliens” who pay a certain price for their faith. There aren’t many devoted followers here.

There are a lot of good things. People are coming to Jesus. Many are incredibly warm—and so gracious. But there is not a lot of trust between churches. It’s one of the greatest problems for the church in the Mideast, and it really grieves my spirit. The adversary is surely intent on doing everything to keep the church from becoming a movement, gaining traction. Tribalism seems to often get in the way. But God is bigger than any government, any culture, any work of the devil, and I regularly find myself asking—why not? (laysch la).

God seems to show us, whether we are in the northwestern part of the States, or the northern part of Syria, that His church can be a radical witness, a powerful movement, if it chooses to be missional; if it is determined to be one in Spirit. Here’s what I imagine some day in Syria—a movement where people come in and find a celebration of life, where all that has been sucked out of the soul in an arid and harsh environment is replaced with grace and imagination and passion. Given some of the people I am meeting, and given their deep prayers of faith, it really seems possible.

 

 

Comments

[jan]

Thank you for SPEAKING hope when everyone else is telling only what they see---doom and gloom--just the facts, man, just the facts.