Silence Him! – Somali Christian Killed For Asking for Translation

This blog has been submitted by ICC representative Sylvia Thompson.

Nur took the soft cloth infused with black polish and began to shine his shoes.  His agile fingers made skillful circles around the heel of his loafers–an exercise his hands had performed many times before.  Somewhere in the distance a clock rang out– announcing to the citizens of Afgoye, Somalia that another hour had passed.  Nur took one last look in the mirror and smiled- -he couldn’t wait to get to the wedding.  In fact, Nur was amazed that he had even been invited to the gallant festivity.  As a former Muslim turned born-again Christian, Nur sometimes felt as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  Thus, when he received the Islamic wedding invitation, Nur felt that it would be the perfect opportunity to spread the Gospel — a wonderful chance to emulate Christ to the best of his human ability. 

Nur walked to the wedding with the present he had purchased tucked securely under his arm.  It was a beautiful night and the cool air was invigorating.  Nur felt intensely alive–almost electrified.  He was that city on a hill that could not be hidden–that lamp shining on a holy lamp stand.  Some of the Muslim wedding attendees smirked when Nur walked into the room, but the faithful Christian paid them no mind.  Instead he quietly sat down at the nearest table and listened to the Sheik conduct the marriage ceremony.  As the Imam began to speak in traditional Arabic, Nur glanced around the room to see if any other Somali citizens were having trouble following the ceremony.  Their glazed eyes and furrowed brows seemed to answer his question–they too had no idea what the Sheik was saying.  Thus, when the wedding was over, Nur stood up and asked the Sheik to summarize the ceremony in the Somali language–the mother tongue of all the banquet guests. 

The militant Sheikh glared at Nur and clenched his fists.  He could not believe the audacity of the infidel standing before him.  The angry Imam looked around the room trying to decipher which deluded Muslim had invited Nur to the wedding.  The uneasy guests squirmed in their seats as the Sheik’s eyes focused on the cross hanging around Nur’s neck.  “Silence him,” whispered the Imam to his closest bodyguard. 

Nur’s heart began to race as he stared into the weathered face of the Sheik’s large bodyguard.  He understood what the phrase “silence him” meant–it meant sure and inescapable death.  Nur closed his eyes and began to drink in the book of Acts–the one book of the Bible he had memorized in its entirety.  Tears fell down Nur’s cheeks as Acts 7: 54-60 filled his mind, “54When they heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. 55But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56″Look,” he said, “I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” 57At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, 58dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul. 59While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he fell asleep.”

Nur took one last deep breath and began to walk toward the doors of the wedding hall, but he never made it out into the cool night air of Afgoye, Somalia.  The Sheik’s bodyguard pulled out his handgun and shot–instantly killing Nur.

Ostracized in Bangladesh

This blog has been submitted by ICC representative Sylvia Thompson.

The Bangladeshi Muslim cleric peered at the old man squirming in front of him and shook his head. What a pitiful excuse for a Muslim he thought to himself–what a waste of time. Ruhul Amin Khandaker’s 65 year-old hands began to shake as he stared into the eyes of one of the most prominent Muslim leaders in all of Dhaka, Bangladesh–eyes without empathy or mercy.

“My son converted to Christianity according to his own will,” said Ruhul.  “Why must I bear the burden of his infidelity?”  

The Muslim cleric pushed a finger into Ruhul’s chest and spat,” You will bear this burden until punishment can be exacted from your son!  Why did you not sacrifice him like cattle before relaying to us this blasphemous news?”

Ruhul Khandaker laid his head on his chest and began to sob. He had first come to the Muslim cleric for consolation–for comfort. Yet, instead of sympathy Ruhul had received hours of bitter chastisement and unabashed fury from Dhaka’s prominent Imam. Once word got out that Ruhul’s son had moved to Australia, married a Christian woman, and converted to Christianity–the elder Khandaker became an instant outcast.  Tears rolled down the weary man’s face as images of his home being ransacked and looted–by those he had considered friends– flashed before his eyes.    Ruhul could hardly breathe as he remembered standing in the middle of his destroyed living room and staring into the eyes of a man enraged–a man who had once called himself a friend.  “We will return everything when your son comes back,” said the furious foe. “Until then do not even think of leaving your home!”

From that moment on Ruhul had become a beleaguered hermit–forced to live in hiding for fear of death by the hands of his own community.  Even his own relatives refused to look upon Ruhul’s face, and doctors turned a deaf ear to his cries for help. Ruhul felt hopeless as he realized that he would spend the rest of his life cut off from the outside world–ostracized because of his son’s love for Christ.

Yet, something within Ruhul Khandker’s spirit would not let him exact vengeance on his son–would not let him sacrifice his own flesh and blood like mere “cattle.”  A certain something was pulsating within the core of his soul–waiting patiently for salvation.  This subconscious desire for Christ was burning within Ruhul, but the veil of Islam was making it hard for the elder Khandaker to fully grasp.  Ruhul picked up his head and stared at the Bangladeshi Muslim cleric with new found wisdom and a strange sense of peace.  “If all of my property and wealth is destroyed, I can tolerate that,” whispered Ruhul.  “But one thing I cannot tolerate is to carry the coffin of my son on my shoulders.”

The Muslim cleric growled as Ruhul turned around and quietly left the Mosque. Angry eyes and smug sneers surrounded the despised father as he walked back home– each step marked with fear and trepidation.  Once inside Ruhul bolted his doors, locked his windows, and breathed a sigh of relief.  He couldn’t understand how his own community, his own Muslim brothers and sisters–were suddenly bent on destroying his life.  Was this the core of Islam–death, destruction, and vengeance?   It was a simple question with a life-changing answer–an answer that Ruhul’s son had already discovered.  

“I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all men—the testimony given in its proper time,” (1 Timothy 2:1-7).

Killing highlights the precarious future of the Christian Church in Iraq

A drive-by shooting that killed a Christian businessman and wounded his nephew on Sunday night in Mosul, Iraq has finally brought media attention to the tragedy that has befallen the church in Iraq. The attack on the Christians, who were only standing just outside their own home, occured the same day that the country’s President and Prime Minister condemned attacks that have claimed the lives of thirteen Christians in the northern city in the past two weeks alone.

Though some speculate the hostility was only prompted by Christian protests ahead of provincial elections in 2009 to secure their threatened representation, the on-going campaign of violence against Christians in Iraq has driven out at least 900 Christian families. The families have fled in response to routine killings and constant threats to convert to Islam or face death. A source for AsiaNews recalled, “. . .yesterday, a car with a loudspeaker went around the streets in the neighborhood of Sukkar, ordering the Christians to leave.” “Christians out of the city,” the people on board were shouting, “otherwise you will be victims of more attacks.”

One must not make light of the hundreds of Christians who took to the streets of Mosul in protest, either. Even the UN has criticized the country for scrapping a key clause in its legislation that would have guaranteed seats for Christians and other minorities in the upcoming elections. Though (hopefully until now) widely ignored by the media, the Christian population in Iraq has been reduced to half the size it was in 2003 and more and more families are fleeing each day in response to a campaign of killing and threats in which they seem to have no hope of defense.

A Fleeting Moment in Belarus

This blog has been submitted by ICC representative Sylvia Thompson.

It was a beautiful day in Borisov, Belarus.  For one fleeting moment, beams of bright sunshine sparkled in the sky and a cool breeze seemed to be tickling the tops of the tallest trees.  There was an overwhelming feeling of joy in the air, which could not be denied–even the birds and butterflies appeared to be drinking in this palpable energy.  Somewhere in the distance a guitar began to strum and a man began to hum–a faithful band preparing to glorify the Lord.  The wonderful smells of hot cakes, chocolate ice cream, and braised beef wafted into the air as God-fearing vendors unearthed their wares.  Tiny children adorned in crisply ironed shirts and frilly dresses could hardly contain their excitement as a balloon-filled truck rumbled up the road.  Their little hearts leapt when the truck opened wide and out burst 5,000 red balloons that had been hiding inside! 

For one fleeting moment, Bosirov was transformed into a fairytale scene–where the world is perfect and always at peace.  For one fleeting moment, the Christians of Belarus laid their faithful eyes on an indescribable scene, something tangible–the first Christian festival in the history of Borisov, Belarus.

Yet, just before the first chord was strummed and the first hot cake was sold, a cyclone of bad news ripped through Borisov’s first Christian festival.  With pursed lips and clenched fists, the head of Belarus’s Municipal Executive Committee Ideology Department marched up to the festival’s marquee and snarled, “This event is banned!  Go home.”

For one fleeting moment, the faithful believers thought they were in the middle of a dream–or the cusp of a nightmare.  In one fleeting moment, the sun stopped sparkling and the cool breeze stopped tickling the tops of the tallest trees.  Suddenly, there was an overwhelming  feeling of sadness in the air, which could not be denied.  Somewhere in the distance a guitar stopped strumming and a man stopped humming–a faithful band prepared to go home.  The wonderful smells of hot cakes, chocolate ice cream, and braised beef began to disappear as God-fearing vendors repacked their wares.   Five-thousand red balloons danced into the sky as tiny children began to cry. 

A palpable feeling of despair filled the festival grounds as Borisov’s fairytale scene began to unravel–as months of planning became instantly stifled.   For one fleeting moment, Belarus’s faithful Christians felt hopeless–until one tiny butterfly flapped its wings and one little bird began to sing.  Suddenly, the festival goers looked around at each other and smiled.  They were all here and they were all together–fellowshipping.    For one fleeting moment, the Belarusian Christians had been united in Christ.  All was not lost. The Lord was with them.   It was a beautiful day in Borisov, Belarus.  The sun was sparkling in the sky and a cool breeze was tickling the tops of the tallest trees.