Revelation 6:9-11

When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the Word of God and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, "O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?" Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been.

Three men, living in the city of Malatya, in the central-eastern part of Turkey, did not come home from work Tuesday night. Wednesday morning, the police went to the Bible publishing company that the three men worked at. There they found the men being held hostage by a small and young group of terrorists. They had been "hog-tied," with their hands and feet bound. Reports say that they had been tortured all night, as evidenced by cuts on their hands and feet. Two of the three were dead when police arrived. Their throats had been slit. The third died at the hospital. To add to the pain, all three men were married, with two of them having children (3 children for one, 4 for the other).

My roommate knew two of the three men. Together we wept for them today. I have no great words for him. What do you tell a man who is crying out to God, saying, "Why must we suffer? They are slaughtering us like animals! When will it end?" It won't end in this life. God told the martyrs (a group these three men are a part of now) that it would not end until the "number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete." Only then will it end, and peace finally reign.

Until then we weep. In the words of Paul, to the Corinthians, "We are sorrowful, yet always rejoicing." There lies the heart of the Christian. Praising a Sovereign God, knowing that this was allowed and even ordained by Him. Trusting in his everlasting kindness, believing that He is working for his glory and our good, and resting in His wisdom and strength. We praise him that these men "loved not their lives, even unto death." And we weep. We pray for their families, that the "God of all comfort" would comfort them in their affliction. We pray that the small church in this country will bond together to support, uplift, and encourage one another in the faith. And again, we weep.

In the end, that's all I can do. Just cry. Evil won't be stopped with a new law, or better gun control, or the oversight of the European Union. It will only be stopped when God has seen enough and comes back, riding on the clouds, in all power and glory. So until that day, we weep. We weep and we cry out, "Come, Lord Jesus! Come!"

What happens in Atioch, stays in Antioch.

Well fortunately for you guys, that's not the case. You get to read about it all right here. A big gang of us made the trip down to Antioch this past week. If you don't know why Antioch is significant, read the book of Acts in your Bible.

So the first thing we did when we got there was eat. We had been told that the doner in Antioch would change your life. Literally, the guy who told us what restaurant to go to said, "It will change your life." Well, he was almost right. One more squeeze of mayonnaise on that bad boy and I would've been blowing chunks mid-afternoon.

Because after lunch we had a walking tour of the faiths of Antioch. We walked by the local Ulu Camii (Grand Mosque), actually went inside of an incredibly beautiful Orthodox church, a rather plain looking Protestant church (it's lead by Korean Methodists), and then saw the front door of the local Catholic Church. I have to say that I don't agree with the Catholic theology, and it's building was the least impressive, but they do have one thing right. Three hour lunches!

After the walking tour we stopped in the archaeological museum. They had a huge collection of mosaics and a room full of pottery, statues, and coins. It was neat to see, but rather unimpressive. I guess when you see 3,000 year old artifacts on a weekly basis, it kind of loses it's "wow power."

So from there we headed up to the cave known as St. Peter's Church. This is probably where all the stuff happened in Acts. It was just a small cave with a facade built on the front of it. It may have been cooler had there not been a group of hippie Italian Catholics having some sort of worship service inside. But really, there wasn't much to it until you started trying to picture it dark, with just a few lanterns of light around, and there in the front would be Peter or Paul or Barnabas speaking to a group of people that would change the world. That puts it in a little bit different perspective.

From there, we went into the caves. There are caves and tunnels in just about every hill in this country and this one was no different. Maybe a hundred feet above the church there was a long tunnel that lead you along the front side of the hill and then around to the back. When you reached the "end" of the tunnel, there was only one way to go... straight up. I'd guess it somewhere around 20 feet, straight up. Everyone, even the women with us, were troopers and just scaled right on up it. I was very impressed with everyone (including myself) because I didn't think it was doable. It's the closest thing to rock climbing I've done since the elevator was out last week and I had to walk up the stairs.

And our last site of the day was an old castle built on the pinnacle overlooking the city. It was an incredible view out over the valley that Antioch sits in. The castle itself left something to be desired. I never thought I'd be able to say that I went to a castle that was built by the Crusaders some 500 years ago, and it failed to impress. Honestly, it's probably the worst of the three castles I have seen here.

Before we left, we grabbed dinner at a local restaurant and everyone was graceful enough to give me time for a bite of kunefe (a local cuisine) before we hit the road home. All in all, it was a day to remember. Not only did we see some awesome sites, realize that there are some Christians in this country, and eat a lot of mayonnaise. But we got to share the Gospel with three young men. All three of them took a Turkish New Testament with them and promised to read it. Let's pray that they do.

Born on the Bayou

At least some of them were. Some of them seemed to have been born in Powder-Puff-ville. No more crying guys!

But seriously, this group from LA was great. They were a bunch of students that came over here to spend their spring break checking out some of the historical and biblical sites around here. We really had a blast together and I think we were mutually encouraged and challenged. The group was good about being flexible and patient. I didn't hear any complaining about having to take buses or walk long distances. They were willing to try new things and to walk around in their undies with a bunch of hairy Turks. They learned new games and new words. All in all, it was a good week.

My personal favorite memory was being able to share the Gospel with a guy at a little cafe we were at drinking tea and playing backgammon. Of course, five white guys speaking English together attracts attention in this country. Luckily this time, it was good attention. The owner came and sat with me, since he figured out I was the only one who could speak his language. We talked for a few minutes about my friends. They were going to Tarsus the next day to see Paul's old town and that steered our conversation towards spiritual matters. The guy asked me what I believed. Instead of trying to struggle through it in my broken Turkish, I just handed him a little booklet that explains it in his own language. We had a nice little conversation and then he went back to work. I think it was good for the guys to see the spiritual state of things here. Most people are more than happy to talk about things with me, but none so far have seemed open to actually entering into some sort of healthy dialogue. Just like this guy in the cafe, most people end with "I respect you," and leave. I'm not here for respect guys. I had plenty of that back home. I came in the hope of giving you a choice. No one here knows the Gospel or what the Bible truly says about Jesus. I came to give them that opportunity. To see for themselves what God has said through the Gospel.

And that's all I can do, give them the opportunity. I try to do that as much as I can and pray that the Holy Spirit has been working in someone to draw them to the Father before I get there. Because, after sharing with the cafe owner, one of the guys said, "That was cool." You know, it really is, when I think about it. But honestly, it doesn't satisfy. I'm ready to see something more. I'm ready to see a life changed. So with that in mind, I'm going out to see who I can meet today, and if maybe, just maybe, I can find those people in this city that God has set aside for himself.

Take a Breath

Okay, let's go.

That's what I feel like right now. Just after my last post we had our first tourist group show up. The group was made up of four men and a lady, all from MS. They took a tour of Tarsus, nearby Ceyhan, Yumurtalik, Konya, Lystra, and Derbe. They got to see Paul's Well, Cleopatra's Gate, and a host of other interesting Biblical and historical sites. I think they enjoyed themselves, but I doubt they enjoyed it as much as we did.

Personally, my favorite moment was when we were in Ceyhan. We were just walking down this street, meeting people, stopping into shops, and the like. We happened upon a butcher shop with some sheep hanging in the window. That alone I think would've been interesting for them to see, but to add to the experience, our butcher buddies had pulled the liver and heart out to display under the carcasses. If you're not in the mood for dark meat though, they did have the stomach hanging by the door and a coiled bit of intestine draped from the ceiling. But if you're looking for something just a little juicier (and this is where I thought my friends would lose it), they had not one, not two, but at least 8 fresh sheep heads, skin on and still bleeding, in a bucket out on the sidewalk. Honestly, it's probably better that they saw them that way rather than seeing them skinned and boiled like I see them being sold downtown. But the MS folk did real good and went right into the shop. Of course, knowing no Turkish, they let out a warm, "Hey Y'all, how y'all doing?" At that point, everybody in the shop just stopped what they were doing and stared. I explained that my friends were from America and that we were just looking around. In perfect form, the butcher offered us tea. This is my life. So the two MS folk head inside to sit and drink tea and I sit out on the sidewalk with an old man to talk and drink tea. Come to find out the old man is an Arab and is busting on Turks. When I asked him how long ago it was that he came to Turkey, he said he was born here, but that his family had come from Syria... 500 years ago! I can't tell you where my great grandma was from and this man is still calling himself an Arab after 500 years of living in Turkey. There's a cultural difference for you. It was a nice little sit at the butcher shop and then we were on our way.

They left on Wednesday and I had a couple days to recoup before another group comes on Tuesday. Luckily, I'm not responsible for a whole lot past just walking around with everybody and helping translate at times. But it still takes up a lot of time, especially when I have to teach English three days a week, in the morning and evening.

The workload of this week is looming over me. So in response to that, I bought some potatoes, green beans, and two healthy looking trout from the grocery store and I am feasting tonight. I'm listening to some relaxing music, reading a good book, and preparing myself for a full week. It'll be this time next week before I can take another breath.