Being transported from temporary prison to
temporary prison was not easy. The prisons were often overcrowded and
filthy. Once I stayed in a prison that had over six inches of wet, slimy
waste all over the floor. The prisoners had placed their soup bowls
upside down to make a way to walk to the toilet from the bunks. People
were sick and coughing, and it was a miracle that we did not all catch a
disease and die from the horrible conditions.
But it was not the bad food and the lack of
sanitation that bothered me the most. It was the conduct of the
prisoners themselves. Nothing was too vile or evil for them. Their
language, their attitudes, and their actions were extremely difficult to
bear. We were all crowded together—murderers, thieves, arsonists, and
political prisoners. The toughest of the bunch were always out to assert
themselves and bring the rest of us under their thumbs.
One night, a strong young man was thrust
into our already crowded cell. He was a loudmouth, filling our cell with
his bragging.
That evening, when I knelt to pray before I
climbed into my bunk, I felt him watching me. When I was finished
praying, he watched me as I lay down. Then he walked slowly over to me.
In a loud voice, he taunted, “So! We have a holy man with us. Hmmm.” His
tone was sinister, chilling me.
He motioned another young man to him and said something in a low tone.
Then he addressed me.
“Where have you hidden your gold?”
“I don’t have any gold,” I answered.
“Ha!” He laughed loudly. “We don’t believe
that. You are a holy man, and you were not put in prison for nothing!
You must have
embezzled church money.”
I shook my head. “No, it is not for stealing
that I am in prison. I am here because I preached about God.”
“Yeah, right!” Cursing, the young man leaned
over me menacingly. “Say what you will. No one is put in prison just for
speaking about God. You are hiding the true reason you are in here. I
know you priests! You grow fat from the coins that you extort from the
people, and then you become rich.”
I understood then that he thought I was an
Orthodox priest. “I do not go to the Orthodox church. I am a minister,
but we do not get salaries for the church work we do.”
“We will see if you tell the truth,” he
bragged. “You will tell us where you have the money hidden. We can
search you in here and find it.”...
The strong young man grabbed a towel and
twisted it around my neck. “Tell us where the money is!” As his
accomplice held on to the other end, they began twisting the towel and
pulling it tight.
I felt my throat being squeezed tightly.
“Lord, if this is the way I am to die, then let me die. I pray for my
wife and the boys. . .“ My lungs were screaming for air. The pressure
around my throat was terrible. I lifted my hands toward my neck, but
someone hit my arms away.
I felt myself begin to black out. Then
blackness swept over me....
When I regained consciousness, I was still
lying on my bunk with the towel around my neck. There was no one
standing over me. I shifted my head and saw the group of men playing
cards. I sat up and rubbed my neck.
“Here is your towel,” I said, and tossed the
instrument of my torture toward them. They looked at me, cursed, and
resumed their game.
Evidently they had searched me after I had
passed out. At any rate, they did not molest me any further that night.
The next evening, the same group approached
me again. “Holy man, what can you do? Can you conduct services here in
prison?”
I looked at them. Were they mocking me?
“Yes, I can sing and pray here in prison.”
“Then begin. Show us what you can do.”
I looked through the smoke-filled room. “How
can I do anything when the air is filled with smoke?”
It is common for prisoners to make chifir
in prison. This is made with black tea, boiled until the thick goo is so
concentrated it acts like a narcotic. To brew chifir, the
prisoners burn their socks, underwear, or anything else they can get
their hands on. The resulting smoke in the cell is suffocating.
The leader yelled to the others. “Put out
the fires. Stop smoking The holy man is going to speak.”
Every eye was on me. The leader glared at
them until, one by one, they put out their fires....
I began to speak. Since I was fairly sure
most of them knew the Lord’s Prayer, I spoke about the prayer, line by
line. I was amazed how quiet everyone became. They all listened
respectfully.
All evening, I spoke about God. I told them
how He loves us. I told them what God hates. In fact, I spoke until ten
o’clock when the call for curfew made us go to our bunks.
The next evening, they asked me to speak
again. I spoke for four hours. Incredibly, this continued for three
weeks. I knew that God had opened this door for me. Every day I wondered
how I could possibly speak for the entire evening again. But each night,
the Spirit was faithful and provided topics. I quoted the Scripture
verses I knew and used them to introduce the subjects I spoke on.
They didn’t all listen every evening. Some
of the men lost interest and began to play cards or occupy themselves in
other ways, but many of them listened. Sometimes I began a subject late
in the evening just before curfew. Then, when we were told to go to bed,
I would tell them I would continue the topic the next evening. This
worked well to pique their curiosity and maintain their interest.
Since this was a transit prison, prisoners
were constantly taken out and new ones brought in. But every evening,
the young man who had tortured me made everyone quiet down
and gave me a space to speak. When I was finally transported to the next
prison, many of the men spoke kindly to me.
When I thought back to my first night in
that cell, I understood that the torture I had gone through was a small
price to pay for the privilege of preaching for three weeks to the
ungodly men. I prayed that somehow the seed I had sown would bear fruit.
"For our light
affliction, which is but for a moment [in light of eternity],
is working for us a far
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look
at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not
seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the
things which are not seen are eternal." (2
Corinthians 4:16-18) |
In a world that is fast
rejecting God's Word or twisting His Truth, we need to prepare for unthinkable
challenges to our faith and families. This book will help us stand
firm in Christ and gratefully "pay the small price" of suffering
with Him!
I suggest you order at least ten of these books and share
with your friends and relatives, so that they, too, may be encouraged
and equipped for the times ahead. (That's what I did)
This
wonderful book is available through
Lighthousetrails.com
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