A Great Miracle Happened There

hannukahWhile I was in Guanajuato, Mexico, I learned about how the pastor there had received a very grim cancer diagnosis a couple of years ago.  Every doctor the pastor saw not only gave the same news but an even worse prognosis.  The situation looked grim; however, he and his congregation continued to pray.

After rounds of chemotherapy, the pastor visited a specialist in the United States who agreed with the original prognosis but also decided to take his case to a medical review board.  He returned to the pastor confused.  “This cancer seems to check every box of your diagnosis, but we can’t figure out why it has responded to chemotherapy – not to mention the antiquated chemotherapy you’ve received in Mexico.  The type of cancer we originally thought it was wouldn’t do that.”

When the pastor saw another doctor shortly after, she confirmed that this wasn’t the type of cancer they had been originally diagnosed.  In fact, the cancer cells were already dead.  He was completely healed.

Miracles are central to the Judeo-Christian faith, and God many times commanded the retelling of them so people would hear the testimony of His work.  Tonight, many will begin celebrating Hanukkah.  Central to this Festival of Lights is the phrase “nes gadol hayah sham” – “a great miracle happened there.”  The story of Hanukkah revolves around the Maccabean revolt found in the apocryphal book of Maccabees, but it also focuses on an added tradition that one day of Temple oil lasted for eight days.

In John 10, we read that Jesus Himself was in Jerusalem for Hanukkah (the Feast of Dedication).  It was there that the Jewish leaders began pressuring Him and even threatened to stone Him.  Jesus responded by challenging them to look at His miracles.  “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?   Do not believe me unless I do the works of my Father. But if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works, that you may know and understand that the Father is in me, and I in the Father.”

How fitting that Jesus said this.  It’s almost as if Jesus was challenging the Pharisees that if they were so willing to believe a tradition that may or may not be true, why would they deny the miracles that they had seen with their very eyes?

I think many hear the word “miracle” and like the Pharisees become instantaneously skeptical, as though they must find a scientific understanding to what occurred.  It’s easy to look at the story of the pastor healed of cancer and just say, “Oh, well, he was just misdiagnosed… by many, many doctors.”  In fact, I used to think that the presence of science negated the need for a miracle.  It’s almost as if I thought, “Do we really need God since we have such incredible scientific medicine?”  How many times have we neglected to credit God because we think that the healing was done totally by a doctor or a vial of medicine?  But as I’ve seen God choose to use me and work in me despite my lack of ability, I find myself crediting God more and more.  “Thanks God for doing that miracle.  And thanks for being a God that invites others into Your miraculous work.”  The Pharisees remind us that no matter how obvious God’s work is, acknowledging Him is a choice of perception.

I was reminded of that as I spoke with a woman in our congregation in the middle of a battle with cancer.  As we talked the other day, she exuded joy, joking about how her wig made her look younger and sharing the good news about how the cancer has already shrunk 30%.  She explained how this experience has caused her to lean on Jesus, who absolutely can do anything He chooses.  Moved by her attitude and perception, I shared with her the story of the Mexican pastor healed from cancer.  It almost seemed like God had showed me that story to encourage this dear woman.

I think it’s fitting that this year Hanukkah begins around the time of Thanksgiving – something it rarely does.  Hanukkah is a celebration of God’s provision, and during Thanksgiving we remember all that God has done for us.  Let me encourage you to share with others the miracles that God has done for and around you.  You never know how God will perpetuate His work and use it to change lives.   I learned that lesson a couple of weeks ago as I preached in Mexico.  I shared the story of two children, Joseph and Alannah, who suffered through surgery on the same night and came through by God’s faithful hand.   Nine people who heard of God’s work came forward to receive Jesus that day.  God had miraculously healed two children one night and some days later in a place far away, He used His miracle to save nine more.

The Perfect Storm. The Perfect God.

Christ in the Storm on the Sea of GalileeLudolf Backhuysen, 1695Have you ever wondered why Jesus led His disciples onto the Sea of Galilee, knowing that there would be a giant squall that nearly sank the boat?

That was the question I proposed last week as I preached to a lovely congregation in Guanajuato, Mexico.  But little did I know that I was going to live the message I preached.

The story begins with the church generously asking me if I would preach the following Sunday.  There were so many reasons to decline the offer –  my Spanish is rusty, I’m shy, there are so many others who could give a much more dynamic sermon, we had to leave on the following Sunday around noon.  But I knew these were just excuses.  I knew that this was something God was requesting of me.

And so I began my sermon preparation, asking the very important first question, “What should I speak about?”

Amidst the ferocious, night winds that pounded our hacienda in the mountains surrounding Guanajuato, followed by peaceful calm mornings, the Lord whispered the story of Jesus calming the storm into my heart.

I read the story anew, taking note of how the disciples worked to keep the boat afloat until suddenly they were forced to wake Jesus.  I saw how they treated their Rabbi as their last resort and then how they accused Him for not caring about their well-being.  The Lord opened my heart to how prayer changes everything – how God sent them into this perfect storm to demonstrate to them how perfect He is – how a big God can calm big storms.

I had enough material to write a book.  Oh, if only I were going to preach in English.

As the week carried on, and we traveled and filled our days with activities, it was clear that I wasn’t going to be able to have my typical 15 – 30 hours of sermon prep time.  A couple of times throughout the week, I even had dreams of showing up ill-prepared to preach with no visual presentation (my equivalent of dreams where you’re naked in a public place).  I began getting nervous, wondering how I was going to possibly get this done.

I decided I needed to consult the Rabbi sleeping in the bottom of the boat.  “Jesus, I’m not sure how this is all going to work out, but I’m trusting you.  You asked me to do this – to cross this sea, so I’m trusting you to get me through it.”

By the time Saturday rolled around, I had most of my message written out.  Writing out sermons is something I never do, but I trembled at the thought of standing on the platform, stuttering through a microphone as I reached for long-forgotten vocabulary words.  That Saturday night, Estela Price selflessly put her packing and sleep on hold to help me fix mis-conjugated verbs and poor word choices.  We finished at 2 AM, but by the time we left for church around 9 AM the next morning, I hadn’t even fully read it over once.

The waves began crashing against my brain.  “You’re just going to read this?  Didn’t you see the dynamic preacher last week?  This is how you’re going to follow it up?  This is how you’re going to represent American pastors?”  I wanted to sink.

I paused.  “Jesus, this is your work.  This is your message.  Speak through me.”

Armed with no striking visual slides to take the attention off my nervous fidgeting, I stood in front of this beautiful congregation.  I simply read the script – walking them through the story of the little boat that almost sank, telling them about the peace that Jesus offers, encouraging them to have a life filled with prayer.  I prayed with them – a little anxious that I didn’t have any notes – but trusting that God would put the words in my mouth.  I encouraged them to invite Jesus into a fear that they had in the past, the present, or the future.  One of the things that came to my lips was, “Maybe your fear has to do with a death of a family member or friend.”  My eyes were closed, but I could hear sniffles – the sound of Jesus calming storms.

After I sat down, the Elder that invited me to preach very graciously thanked me and then asked if there was anyone who wanted to invite the Prince of Peace in their life.  People didn’t hesitate.  Eight or nine people rushed forward.  I learned later that some of them were from a family that experienced a death in the past week and decided to come to church for the first time.

In an amazing act of generosity, the Elder asked if I would lead them to Jesus, and so I prayed with and for them.  “Jesus, I give you my life.  I want you to be my Lord and my God.”

Everything about what happened last week should conclude with me telling you that I gave a very awful sermon, put a congregation to sleep, and embarrassed myself.  Never have I been so uncomfortable and so unprepared in relation to preaching.  But something different happened.  I understand Paul’s words from 2 Corinthians 12:9 when he said, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

This story isn’t about a dynamic sermon given by a confident pastor.  Oh no, quite the contrary.  This is about a God who takes our weak efforts and blows away our expectations.  I’ve never given a sermon followed by people running forward to receive Jesus; there’s no logical reason why it should happen while I was reading a message in my rusty second language.  Sometimes there is no human logic behind what God does and how He does it.  There are only miracles.  This story is not about a perfect vessel.  It’s about a perfect God resting inside the stern.

As we flew home from Dallas to Washington D.C., I looked out the window and saw an enormous, beautiful moon.  It appeared thousands of miles closer, but I knew it was merely an illusion.  Moons don’t change size or come closer.  It’s a matter of perception, for when they’re on the horizon next to objects that seem large to us, we appreciate their grandiose size.  So it is a true with God.  The waves of our circumstances and trials seem overwhelming.  God often brings us to those enormous storms to show us just how big He is.

Mark 4 tells us that the disciples weren’t the only ones on the Sea of Galilee that day.  There were a lot of little vessels being tossed and inundated by the tumultuous waves.  And just as they were all affected by the storm, they were all blessed by Jesus’ miracle.  While I faced my own storm and saw Jesus’ work, there are some that will forever tell the story from their vantage point about how Jesus showed up one Sunday morning in the middle of the storm and said, “Peace.  Be still.”

Two Surgeries. One Big God.

Last night I sat on my couch browsing my Facebook feed.  Suddenly, my heart sank as I read that baby Joseph Coleman (Steve and Julie’s grandson and Melanie’s nephew), who was recovering in the hospital from an operation the other day, had been rushed back into emergency surgery after he suddenly crashed.

As I waited for the next update, I saw a post from our long-time friends Corey and Meghan Fitzgerald.  Their daughter Alannah had been bitten on the lip by a dog earlier that day and was having plastic surgery.  My heart sank deeper.  “God,” I pleaded, “how much can this family go through?”  They’ve had such a tough year trying to find a diagnosis for their youngest son Declan.  He’s been through just about every test imaginable.

I sat on the couch.  I waited.  I prayed.  I felt helpless.  Two little children in surgeries.  Two families weighed down with this pain.  I wished I could be somewhere – somewhere more useful.  If only I could be of more help to Joseph’s parents Daniel and Bethany or Alannah’s parents Corey and Meghan.  If only I could do something more than just sit here and…

Pray.

It seems so little.  So cliché.  So passive.  So unhelpful.  “I’ll pray for you.”  Really?  That’s it.  That’s all I can offer?

Sometimes it is.

As Jesus often reminds us, sometimes principles of the Kingdom of Heaven seem opposite to what our world values.  How often do some see a crisis and want to dive in and fix it?  Yet, sometimes we’re faced with the realization that there’s nothing we can do.  Last night I was reminded of something Julie said following all of the uncertainty of the first couple months of her grandson Joseph’s life.  “I didn’t know how to pray any more.  I had to let God pray through me.”  Paul reminds us in Romans 8:26, “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”  We’re so weak, so overwhelmed, that we don’t even have the capability of praying with words.

And that’s okay.

Prayer, even when we don’t have the words, is the posture of humility before God.  It is a reminder to ourselves that there is One who is able to do anything.  It is to be at one place and time and peer into the vast universe seeing the One who is able to be at every place at every time in the past, the present, and the future.  It is admitting that we can truly do nothing apart from the One who can do it all.  Prayer is opening the doors of our heart, mind, soul, and strength and giving the King of kings His throne.  Prayer is not so much inviting God to work, as it is God inviting us to watch Him work.  Prayer is the most powerful tool mankind has because it is rooted in the foundation of the All-Powerful.

Last night, I, like Jesus’ three disciples, fell asleep.  Jesus was still praying.  He was moving mountains.  He was binding the wounds of little Alannah.  He was raising little Joseph back to life.  He was comforting those in the waiting room and those praying in their living room.  Time and space are no obstacles for God.  What was, is, and what will be is perpetually in the hands of the Eternal Great I AM.

Redeeming Halloween

totoroThis Thursday, as children dress in all sorts of costumes and go around the neighborhood collecting candy, many in the church will once again ask, “Is celebrating Halloween okay?”

Many have taken various stances on this issue. Some join in trick-or-treating. Trying to avoid celebrating it as the world does, some churches hold events for kids. A pastor I know would take his son and invite others to Chuck E. Cheese to play games. One person told me how his family would turn off all the lights and sort of hide in their own home, ignoring the knocks at the door.

We often times talk about how the world has hijacked certain Christian holidays. They’ve taken Christ out of Christmas and inserted a goofy bunny into Easter. But if we were to dig into history, we discover that these “Christian” celebrations were actually once pagan holidays. With the spread of Christianity, came a desire to redeem these secular celebrations and give them a new meaning.

Halloween is no exception. Once a very pagan Celtic celebration, the church introduced a new tradition of remembering the saints and martyrs – the faithful departed. The night before All Hallows Day (or All Saints Day) became known as Hallows Eve (or Halloween). Over time, remembering the impoverished souls became part of the tradition, and poor children would go door-to-door collecting food called “soul cakes.” As Halloween spread, other traditions were introduced, and we see much of its negative aspects in our secular society.

As a child, I grew up celebrating Halloween, though Karlene’s family did not. For me, I never thought it was a big deal. I’d go around, collect candy, and then come home and indulge in a sugar binge. In fact, I loved the idea of free candy so much, I trick-or-treated until I was 15.

When we got married, Karlene researched Halloween, and we decided that if we were going to participate, we would do it purposefully. We read about the origins of the pagan celebration and what the church did to redeem it and point it to Christ. So we decided that instead of just celebrating Halloween as the world did, we would redeem it.

When Annalía was two, we told her about the story of the poor children who went around the neighborhood collecting soul cakes and praying for the saints. At each house, our daughter held out her bag, received candy, and then returned a blessing. “God bless this house,” she said. You can imagine the adorable sight of a little two-year-old swimming in a monkey costume pronouncing blessings. Thursday, we’ll continue the tradition with all three of our kids. It may seem like a small gesture, but we see it as teaching our children the power of prayer walking.

Please don’t take this message as a pastor trying to convince you to celebrate Halloween. I think that is an issue better left to your own conscience. Rather than take a stance on whether one should or shouldn’t celebrate Halloween (there are plenty of articles you can read if you would like to be convinced one way or the other), I’m going to take a similar position that Paul took regarding eating unclean meat. If you regard Halloween as the devil’s holiday, then don’t celebrate it. But whatever you do this Thursday, whether it’s trick-or-treating, going to an alternative location, or turning off all your lights and watching a movie, use it as an opportunity to glorify and honor God. Every moment of our life is an opportunity for redemption. What we choose to do on October 31st is no different.

All Things New

Tonight at sundown, the Jewish people will celebrate the important festival of Rosh Hashanah.  Sometimes referred to as the Feast of Trumpets.  Rosh Hashanah literally means the “head of the year.”

Many may recognize that when God established the Feast of Passover, He told the Hebrews that the festival would occur during the first month (Nisan) of their calendar year.  So, how then can Rosh Hashanah – new year’s day – fall on the 7th month (Tishri) of the Hebrew calendar?

In one sense, many liken it to how a school year begins in September or how a fiscal year might begin in April or July.  On another sense, having multiple beginnings demonstrates just what Jesus declares in Revelation 21:5, “I am making everything new!”  How fitting that Rosh Hashanah always correlates with a new moon.

Unlike our New Year’s parties, which tend to be rather raucous, Rosh Hashanah is a subdued celebration marking the beginning of the Days of Awe or High Holy Days.  It is a time to reflect on God as King over creation and over our lives.

The Jewish people commemorate Rosh Hashanah through the blowing of the shofar – the ram’s horn.  The ram’s horn and Rosh Hashanah serve as reminders of how God intervened and saved Isaac’s life by turning Abraham’s attention to a ram caught in a thicket by his horns.  We Believers in Jesus the Messiah, recognize the connection between Isaac’s substitutionary ram and Jesus – “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29).

The blowing of the shofar is much like a call to worship or what you might expect when a monarch enters the room.  It calls us to attention.  It heralds something new – that an event is about to begin.

Paul tells us in 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17, “For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever.”

Many take this to mean that the rapture – the resurrection of the dead and the ascension of all believers into Paradise with Jesus will occur on the Feast of Trumpets, as Israel blows the trumpet call of God.  For those who trust in Jesus, such an event will usher tremendous joy, as we experience the hope of Heaven.

But whether Jesus returns tomorrow as the sound of shofars resonate in Zion or whether He returns at another time, Rosh Hashanah is a reminder that Jesus is the God of resurrection.  He is the God who makes all things new.  As Solomon wrote in Lamentations 3:22-23, “[the Lord’s mercy and compassion] are new every morning.”

In his book Reason for God, Dr. Tim Keller writes, “The Biblical view of things is resurrection – not a future that is just a consolation for the life we never had but a restoration of the life you always wanted. This means that every horrible thing that ever happened will not only be undone and repaired but will in some way make the eventual glory and joy even greater.”

As we enter the season known as The Days of Awe, let us ask Jesus what new movement He would like to do in our lives.  Maybe we need a fresh start, maybe we’re entering a new season in life, maybe it’s time to take the next step in our spiritual journey.  No matter what it is, let us take this time to turn our hearts and lives to Jesus, knowing He loves to make all things new.

The Personality Driven Church

Someone approached me recently and said, “Justin, we need to get our worship service better organized.”  The first thing I thought In my head was, “What are you talking about?  It’s totally organized.”  As I learned this summer through Bill Smith’s workshop on Personality Types and Prayer, I am an INFP.  In my head, everything is extremely organized – an array of cabinets and intricate file systems.  Outside of my head, not so much.  It turns out that when I think I’ve communicated something thoroughly, I probably haven’t.  And being an INFP, the first thing I tend to do is to take criticism personally (#ThingsIWishIKnew10YearsAgo).  So, I took a step back and listened as this person articulated a thoughtful idea of bringing a better level of communicated organization to our worship service.

Perhaps this is the biggest lesson I’ve learned this summer.  We all have different personalities, and each personality comes with a set of strengths, and weaknesses, and needs.  When I spoke last month on Speaking the Truth in Love, I mentioned that what we need to do before we confront an individual is to determine if the offense is an issue of sin, heresy, or personality.

It turns out personality conflicts often cause the greatest amount of disunity in churches.  And sometimes not being able to recognize that causes the greatest amount of frustration.  It’s like we can’t put our finger on it, but that person irritates us.  We think it must be some sin or character deficiency.  We might say, “They’re so unthoughtful,” or “The way they go about that just lacks spiritual maturity.”   Sometimes that might be the case, but perhaps all it is is that God created them different than us.

Recently, I was challenged by a friend with a particular thought.  Sometimes churches tend to build themselves around similarities – ethnicity, age groups, personality types, worship styles, and interests.  However, as he pointed out, the church is meant to tear down the natural homogeneous barriers that we find so comfortable.

His words come smack dab in the middle of our Life in the Body teaching, Bill Smith’s workshop on personality types, and just as we are getting back into Romans, focusing on the particular passages that deal with conflicting groups in the church.  It forces me to stop and say, “Ok, God, you obviously have something for us to learn.  What is it?”

I think the answer is this.  The greatest challenge for our small church is to love and embrace the diversity that God has created.  We can’t control who comes into our doors, but we can control what we do when they come in.  We’re all different.  We’re all quirky in our own ways.  The I-types may seem unapproachable.  The J-types may seem confrontational.  The E-types may seem too energetic.  It’s going to take a whole lot of love and forgiveness to make a diverse church unified.

Peter wisely instructs us, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:9).  And he’s right.  The Greek word for sin is hamartia, meaning to miss the mark.  Just think, if we miss the mark with God (who is patient and slow to anger), you can imagine how much we will miss the mark when communicating or working with others.  Haven’t we all had those conversations where we just didn’t seem to be connecting?

It’s easy for us to just pass people off as weird or to choose not to spend time with them because they’re different than us.  It’s easy to gossip about someone when they do something that offends us.  But as Paul instructs us in Philippians 2, “Our attitude should be like Christ Jesus.”

So brothers and sisters, as a fellow human with various quirks and faults, I ask for lots of mercy, grace, and forgiveness.  I ask that for each of us.  Instead of seeing only the shortcomings in each other, let us choose to see the mighty Holy Spirit at work in each other.  When confrontation must happen, let us be eager to clear the air.  When there is hurting, let us be eager to forgive.  Where we might find fault, let us find an opportunity to encourage each other in our lifelong journeys to be like Jesus.  “For in Christ, there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female…” and neither INFP or ESTJ… “for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).

Seeing Hope

Two years ago this very day, my wife gave birth to a baby who had died in utero. The baby, who we named Hope, was only fourteen weeks. The doctors and nurses cleaned her up and allowed us to spend some time with her, saying our goodbyes. We cried and prayed over her. And though we had left the hospital on three other occasions carrying a newborn, this time we left empty-handed and empty-hearted.

The next year was particularly difficult for my wife Karlene. She asked many tough questions to which I didn’t have any answers. I wanted to solve her hurt, but nothing I could say or do could bring about relief. Indeed I had questions of my own that I buried deep down in the depths of my soul.

Ten months after the miscarriage, I made a trek to Colorado for a retreat at John Eldridge’s “Wild at Heart” men’s ministry. While there, I spent a lot of alone time praying and asking God to open my heart and heal the wounds of my past. In dramatic fashion, the Lord gave me stunning visions of His glory and spoke to my hurts and insecurities.

On one afternoon, while I was deep in prayer and meditation on the hillside nestled in the Rocky Mountains, the Lord gave me a vision. It is a vision I have only shared with my wife up until this point. In this vision, I was standing at the top of a waterfall looking down. Jesus was gently whispering, “Run strong, Justin.” I knew I was meant to jump, but I didn’t have the courage. Suddenly, Jesus ran up from behind me and grabbed me around the chest and jumped off the ledge with me. Instead of falling to the depths of the water, we soared like an eagle while He held me tightly.

Down the windy river we flew until we ended up gently stopping on a river bank some distance from the waterfall. Surrounding me was a lush, green country hillside. Beside me, a calm blue stream flowed ever so slowly. Where I stood, the river had narrowed to a mere small stream only a few feet wide. With a small leap, I could have easily crossed it.

Suddenly, Jesus was standing on the other side of the river from me. I looked at Him, and then I looked at His side. There standing beside Him on His left, holding His hand, stood a little girl. She was a young child – maybe eight or nine. She had long straight, dark hair with strands that blew gently in the breeze. Her face was soft, beautiful, and innocent.

The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew it was her. It was my Hope. Even 14 months later, I can still picture her – that moment I saw her standing with Jesus.

In my vision, tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to hold her; I wanted to ask Jesus all sorts of questions. I couldn’t muster the words. It was as if seeing them brought this amazing sense of peace, in spite of all the unanswered questions and the deep pain. Then, as if her and Jesus’ voice mended together, they said, “I’m waiting for you. Run strong.” Jesus turned, and without any instruction, Hope turned and followed Him.” The two moved together so in-sync, it was as if Hope had been with Him for a lifetime.

As Jesus and Hope faded away in the distance, I noticed that standing beside me was my wife and three children. My hands were around their shoulders. My wife was leaning against my chest – her arms wrapped around my torso. Behind us stood a tiny cottage house.

I slowly opened my eyes, wishing I could stay in this vision forever, hoping that I would never lose the memory of seeing my little girl.

It’s been two years now since we said our final goodbyes to Hope. It’s been over a year since the Lord gave me that vision of her. I struggle to share this very intimate vision publicly. I fear that people will pass this very real and significant experience off as nonsense. It’s a vision I still don’t totally understand. Perhaps one day the nuances will become something symbolically significant – I don’t know. Perhaps someone will explain to me what this vision means better than what I can understand myself.

In the past two years, we’ve been able to minister to those who have also suffered the painful loss of a child. I grieve for those who hurt so intensely. What I discovered that day in Colorado is that healing does not come with answers. Peace and healing came that day through a miraculous encounter with the Prince of Peace – the Great Shalom. Only He has the amazing ability to tame the troubled heart and make wild the lifeless one. In seeing Him, I was given a “peace that surpasses understanding.” It is a peace not dependent on having questions answered but through encountering a Savior and Friend who holds my heart deep within His.

No Matter What the Cost

On April 18, 2007, three Christians – employees of the Bible publishing firm Zirve Publishing House in Malatya, Turkey – were attacked, tortured, and murdered by five Sunni Muslim assailants. April 18th has now become the national day of prayer among Turkish Christians. It is a day to pray for peace, for opportunities to share the Gospel, and for the families of martyrs.

In this New Hope Video Reflection, shot in Izmir, Turkey, Justin talks about how the Church at Smyrna faced grave persecution for their faith in Jesus. And today, Turkish Muslims who convert to Christianity also risk ostracism, discrimination, or even persecution.