ISIS

False flags, fear, Facebook and Costly love for Christ’s sake…

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It’s a scary picture. A bunch of Syrian refugees in Germany gatherer around the hideous black ISIS flag. Clashing with police. Way to throw such a loving and hospitable welcome back in people’s faces right?

Or not. In that, it’s not a bunch of Syrian refugees from the latest influx gathering around this flag. It’s some German ISIS supporters, a year ago, waving a flag that Germany has since banned.

This image that’s doing the rounds on Facebook via some fear-mongering race-baiting watchdogs is from a year ago. Here’s a blog post from 2014 featuring the same image that is being shared online as though it happened two days ago.

This is something of an Internet false flag. It’s becoming increasingly common for people to take pictures out of context and harness them for agendas, often to create fear and outrage. Or fear and loathing.

And that’s dangerous.

Truth is so important. Especially in fraught and complex geo-political situations where millions of people have been displaced by evil regimes hell bent on genocide.

Wikipedia calls a “False Flag” action one that:

False flag (or black flag) describes covert operations designed to deceive in such a way that the operations appear as though they are being carried out by entities, groups, or nations other than those who actually planned and executed them. Operations carried out during peace-time by civilian organizations, as well as covert government agencies, may by extension be called false flag operations if they seek to hide the real organization behind an operation. Geraint Hughes uses the term to refer to those acts carried out by “military or security force personnel, which are then blamed on terrorists.”

In this case, militant websites with an anti-refugee agenda are conducting operations on social media that are then blamed on terrorists. And if you share these images without verification, you’re aiding in their dark arts.

Truth is especially important for Christians because it’s part of how we love —both how we love our brothers and sisters, and our enemies. It’s important when we’re dealing with genuine refugees, including brothers and sisters in Christ, and our Muslim neighbours who are fleeing a violent and destructive regime.

Welcoming refugees involves cultural change. It involves giving something up. It involves sharing the hard fought and hard won prosperity that our country enjoys thanks to the work of previous generations. But love costs. And love always involves change. And change isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it certainly hasn’t been bad historically. Australia benefits from multi-culturalism. Though the Indigenous population in Australia have legitimate complaints about the way they were treated by a bunch of boat people. Most messages to the contrary are fear driven.

And look, it’d be naive to suggest refugee resettlement doesn’t come with some social costs — there are massive issues trying to accommodate multiple cultures in different places, there may even be criminals who take advantage of our generosity, but that’s not a good reason not to be generous. The key to minimising these difficulties is loving and inclusive communities, not panic-driven fear mongering.

A word for Christians

This is especially true for Christians, and sadly it’s those wanting to protect a “Christian” way of life who share stories like this. So let me speak directly to Christians for a moment, not because Australia is a Christian nation and we should want to protect that, but because we’re meant to be imitating Jesus in our engagement with the world. And listening to him. It may be that some ‘enemies’ of Australia, or of Christianity, come to our shores as refugees (or to European shores). Our nation will decide what to do with refugees, and fear might be part of that decision, but that shouldn’t be a result of our fear.

Here’s how Jesus says to respond to this.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. — Matthew 5:38-48

Sounds unrealistic right. But it’s what Jesus calls for us to do, and what he demonstrates, on our behalf, at the Cross. You were the evil person. Your heart is the sort of heart that lead humanity to kill God. To crucify Jesus. And yet, while you were still a sinner — an enemy — a Godkiller — Christ died for you.

There will be costs for loving and welcoming refugees. But we should be most willing to pay them.

You might be afraid of what these costs will mean for you and your children. And that’s normal. But we shouldn’t respond to fear the way the world does. Our ‘fears’ have a different perspective. Or, again, as Jesus puts it…

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. — Matthew 10:28.

Interestingly, that same chapter has something to say about providing welcome to those in need —especially those who also belong to Jesus (but all people ‘belong’ to Jesus in one sense, don’t they, whether they know it or not. That’s kind of the point of the “give to Caesar what is Caesar’s” — what has Caesar’s image on it — and “give to God what is God’s”…). This is what not fearing the one who can kill the body looks like… Taking up our cross. Following Jesus. Costly love for his sake.

Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.

“Anyone who welcomes you welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet as a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person as a righteous person will receive a righteous person’s reward. And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.” — Matthew 10:40-42

The sort of love Jesus calls us to give our neighbours, this sort of welcome, is what he also calls us to give to our enemies, in the hope they’ll become our neighbours. The apostle, John, seems to have these bits of Jesus’ teaching in mind as he writes to the church. It’s interesting to see what he does with fear, and how he values truth and love, in these words. If only we were more inclined towards pursuing truth and love, rather than fear, when it comes to what we share online.

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. — 1 John 3:16-18

And here’s the bit about fear — which again nails a failure to love our brothers and sisters. Which, again, is a warning that we might need to take seriously if a significant percentage of Syrian refugees are followers of Jesus, and we might also need to take seriously if we’re called to love our enemies like Jesus did… And that’s the basis of the sort of love Jesus calls us to.

God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear,because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

We love because he first loved us. Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen. — 1 John 4:16-20

Truth and love are so important in a fear driven world, especially where social media exists to amplify people’s outrage and loathing, where fact checking comes a distant second to opinion sharing. Please. Please. Don’t join in false flag activities as a Christian. We have a flag. We have a standard bearer. It’s the Cross, and the one who carried it first. Carry that online. Make that your true flag. Be known for holding out the love of Jesus, even to our ‘enemies’…

ISIS, Martyrdom, Fundamentalism, and Christian hope

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News broke yesterday that ISIS had beheaded 21 Egyptians for being “people of the Cross.” Images from the dramatic and disturbingly choreographed and colour coordinated public statement are circulating around the internet, but I have no desire to aid the spread of ISIS propaganda, so you won’t find them here.

What you will find is some further processing of these events, consider this the latest in a series of thinking out loud, which started with the “We Are N” post, and incorporates the post responding to the siege in Sydney’s Martin Place, and the post responding to the Charlie Hebdo shooting in Paris.In the first, I explore the relationship between Christianity and martyrdom —  something this post will unpack a bit more. In the second I suggest that one of the things we need to keep recognising in this ISIS situation is that people are motivated by religious beliefs, and that even if ISIS does not represent mainstream Islam (which, by all accounts from mainstream Islamic clerics, it does not), it does represent a form of religious belief. This is a case made in this article from The Atlantic: What ISIS Really Wants. In the third, I suggest that the Cross of Jesus is the thing that should shape Christian responses to brokenness in the world, our ‘religious motivation,’ and that this is the key to responding well to radical religious violence.

This latest horror brings all of these threads together.

I don’t know how you process events like this — it probably depends greatly on your vision of the world, of life, and death. I’m still figuring out what an appropriate response to this looks like. Part of me is just an emotional ball of anger at the world, perhaps even at God, a raging, fist shaking lament at the injustice in yesterday’s events. Part of me cries out for the sort of “justice” that the Egyptian government has promised to exact, but I’m not sure that actually solves anything (it may even make things worse). Part of me believes that this event is an incredibly clear picture of the vision of hope held out by two different religious outlooks  — involving two different sorts of “fundamentalist.”

If you’re not a Christian (or a Muslim) then you may look at this event, and other executions carried out by ISIS, as just another mark chalked up on the wall in a battle between two groups fighting over whose imaginary friend has more power, if you’re a mainstream Muslim you may be horrified that, once again, you’ll be called on to explain the actions of people who have taken up the name of your faith and used it to destroy others. If you, like me, are a Christian, you might be trying to figure out how to parse out the simultaneous shock and horror at this situation, the turmoil in your own inner-monologue as you grapple with the question “what if my faith were tested like this,” and, perhaps you might worry that you have what some (even you, as you mull it over) might consider a perverse sense that these Christians are heroes, whose faith encourages you in your own suffering, or lack of suffering.

Hopefully, the universal human response — beyond the response of those carrying out the killings — is one that involves the realisation that these events are a very loud, very clear, indicator that something is very wrong with this world. It may be that you think religion, and violence like this, is at the heart of what is wrong with the world, or it may be that this brokenness we see in the world causes us to seek after God, forcing us to work through the different pictures of God we find in different religious frameworks.

This particular story — the execution of 21 “people of the Cross” is actually a picture of two religious fundamentalists acting entirely consistently with the fundamentals of their beliefs (not necessarily as fundamentalists of everyone who chooses a similar label — but actions that are consistent with the motivations of the people involved).

In any of these cases you might wonder what motivates a person to act like this — as a religious fundamentalist —  either to carry out such atrocities on fellow humans, or to not renounce your faith in the face of such an horrific, violent, death? In both cases the answer is caught up with the religious notion of hope — a vision of the future, both one’s own, individual, future beyond death, and the future of the religious kingdom you belong to. This hope also determines how you understand martyrdom — giving up one’s own life (or taking the lives of others) in the name of your cause (or against the name of theirs).

It’s worth calling this out — making sure we’re sensitive to the distinction between this Islamic vision for the future, and the mainstream, because it’s in the actions of believers, on the ground, that we are able to compare the qualities of different religious visions of, and for, the world.

What we see in events like this is a clash of two religious visions for the world — a vision for hope secured by powerful conquest, the establishment of a kingdom, and martyrdom for that cause, and a vision for hope secured by God’s sacrifice for us, and his resurrection, which involves a kingdom established by the Cross, for ‘people of the Cross.’ This first vision is the motivation at the heart of the ISIS cause, and the latter is at the heart of a Christian view of martyrdom and hope. There’s also, potentially, a chance to examine a secular vision for the world —  which typically involves peace, or an end to conflict (perhaps especially religiously motivated conflict).

Every world view — whether religious, or secular, grapples with this brokenness, and aims to find a path towards an unbroken world. Clashes of world views — like this one, give us opportunities to examine what world view actually provides a meaningful path towards such a transformation. Such a path is fraught, I don’t think there are many solutions that don’t perpetuate the brokenness. I’ll suggest below that it’s only really Christian fundamentalism that will achieve this, the Atlantic article articulates the problem with potential non-religious/secular solutions, especially the military option.

“And yet the risks of escalation are enormous. The biggest proponent of an American invasion is the Islamic State itself. The provocative videos, in which a black-hooded executioner addresses President Obama by name, are clearly made to draw America into the fight. An invasion would be a huge propaganda victory for jihadists worldwide: irrespective of whether they have givenbaya’a to the caliph, they all believe that the United States wants to embark on a modern-day Crusade and kill Muslims. Yet another invasion and occupation would confirm that suspicion, and bolster recruitment. Add the incompetence of our previous efforts as occupiers, and we have reason for reluctance. The rise of ISIS, after all, happened only because our previous occupation created space for Zarqawi and his followers. Who knows the consequences of another botched job?”

Christians believe we are saved, and the world is transformed, by martyrdom — but not our own

These 21 Egyptian ‘people of the Cross’ are not saved by their martyrdom.

They do not have extra hope because of the way they die.

They may have died because of their hope — hope placed in Jesus, but as Christians, our hope is not in our own lives, or our own deaths, as contributors to the cause of God’s kingdom, but rather, in God’s own life, and death, in the person of Jesus.

Jesus’ death. Not our own. Is where Christians see the path to paradise.

This produces a fundamentally different sort of kingdom. It produces a fundamentally different sort of fundamentalist. A person living out the fundamentals of Christianity is a person who is prepared to lay their life down as a testimony to God’s kingdom, out of love for others — to lay down one’s own life for the sake of our ‘enemies’ and our neighbour. Because that is what Jesus did, for us.

Here’s what Paul says is at the heart of Jesus’ martyrdom. His death. From his letter to the Romans.

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” 

Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!

Later, in the same letter, Paul shows how this martyrdom becomes the paradigm for a Christian understanding of life, death, and following God. A very different outlook, and a very different fundamentalism, to what we see in ISIS.

“Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship…”

And a little later in the same part of the letter, we get an outline of a Christian response to these truly evil, and horrific, killings  — and, indeed, to all the evil and brokenness we see in the world. When we live like this, we live out our hope, we become living martyrs, embodying the values of our kingdom and following our king.

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.  Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.  Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.  Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.  Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
    if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

This is a picture of Christian fundamentalism. It’s an exploration of what it looks like to be people of the Cross.

Bizarrely — the horrific killings ISIS is carrying out, especially as they execute ‘people of the Cross’ actually serve Christians who are looking to express our own hope as we offer ourselves in this way.

We bear witness to his martyrdom in the way we lay down our lives for others — even as we live. Christian martyrdom involves bearing faithful witness to the one martyr who gains access to the Kingdom through self-sacrifice. When we get this picture we can be confident that God’s power rests in our weakness, rather than our displays of strength. This produces a fundamentally different political vision and approach to life in this world, and the comparison is never starker than it is when it is displayed in the face of a religious ideology like that of ISIS, which mirrors, in so many ways, the religious ideology of the Roman Imperial Cult, and its persecution of the earliest people of the Cross.

This is the hope one of the earlier Christians, Tertullian, articulated to the Roman Emperor, as he called on them to stop executing Christians, his argument, in part, because killing Christians was not serving the Roman Empire, but God’s empire. He wrote a thing to Rome called an Apology  — a defence of the Christian faith, and the place of Christianity within the Empire. It’s where the quote in the image at the top of the post comes from. This quote (this is the extended edition).

“No one indeed suffers willingly, since suffering necessarily implies fear and danger.  Yet the man who objected to the conflict, both fights with all his strength, and when victorious, he rejoices in the battle, because he reaps from it glory and spoil. It is our battle to be summoned to your tribunals that there, under fear of execution, we may battle for the truth. But the day is won when the object of the struggle is gained.  This victory of ours gives us the glory of pleasing God, and the spoil of life eternal. But we are overcome. Yes, when we have obtained our wishes. Therefore we conquer in dying; we go forth victorious at the very time we are subdued…

…Nor does your cruelty, however exquisite, avail you; it is rather a temptation to us.  The oftener we are mown down by you, the more in number we grow; the blood of Christians is seed.

This is what Christian fundamentalism looks like. We need more Christian fundamentalists. More Christian martyrs. More people expressing this hope in how they live and die.

This, amongst my prayers of lament for those killed as people of the cross, and in the face of the brokenness of the world, and the horror of the Islamic State’s vision of ‘hope,’ is what I’m praying. That God will bring justice for these killings, but that he will also bring hope through them, as people catch sight of the sort of lives lived by Christian fundamentalists. People of the cross.

I want to be that sort of person — a person of the cross — to be known that way, this is one of the realisations I have come to while processing these killings.

It is only when we whose hope, whose visions of the future, are shaped by Jesus live as Christian fundamentalists, in the Romans 12 sense, that we have any hope of really, truly, presenting the Christian hope for the world — God’s hope for the world — to others.

It’s the only real hope we have of fighting other visions for the future, or breaking the cycle of brokenness.

What other response won’t just perpetuate feelings of injustice? What other responses have any form of justice that doesn’t simply create another perpetrator of injustice? Visions of justice that don’t involve this sort of Christian fundamentalism — giving up one’s ‘rights’ for vengeance simply create a perpetual system of perpetrators. This is perhaps seen clearest as we see boots on the ground (Egypt) or off the ground (The US) in secular visions of the future — military responses to ISIS, and in the actions of ISIS itself. Violence begets violence. Ignoring violence also begets violence. Something has to break that cycle  — and the Cross, and the people of the cross, Christian fundamentalists, provide that circuit breaker. The message of the Cross also provides the path to paradise, the path to a restored relationship with the God who will restore the world, and the path to personal transformation both now, and in this transformed world. That’s a vision of the future I can get behind.

ISIS, Martyrdom, #WeAreN, and why not ن

Two weeks ago. Sunday morning. Just before church. I checked Facebook on my phone. I read a story that punched me in the stomach.

Eight Christians had apparently been crucified in Iraq by ISIL. Martyred.  The story wasn’t this one – but it was pretty much like it.

Standing up to preach about our crucified king, Jesus, became realer for me in that moment than it had ever been before. Martyrdom has a special place in the hearts of Christians because it’s how it all started. Our martyrs don’t die in a bid to take other lives with them, our martyrs die to give life to others. Our martyrs lay down their lives to follow our martyred king. Jesus.

It turned out the story was a couple of months old and had taken this time to reach Facebook in Australia. The situation hasn’t improved in those intervening months. Between May and now. It has deteriorated.

ISIL has systematically removed those who oppose their rule – both Muslim and Christian – through violent persecution. To the point that Obama has launched a military intervention in the region. To prevent genocide. Obama’s speech, launching this action isn’t silent on the persecution of Christians (even if most western media covering the story seems to be avoiding it).

“…we’ve begun operations to help save Iraqi civilians stranded on the mountain. As ISIL has marched across Iraq, it has waged a ruthless campaign against innocent Iraqis. And these terrorists have been especially barbaric towards religious minorities, including Christian and Yezidis, a small and ancient religious sect. Countless Iraqis have been displaced. And chilling reports describe ISIL militants rounding up families, conducting mass executions, and enslaving Yezidi women.”

My Facebook feed is filled with profile pictures featuring the Arabic letter ن for ‘n’ – for nazara (Christian) – because ISIL marks out Christians for death by placing this letter on their homes. The hashtag #wearen has captured expressions of Christian solidarity for our family in Iraq (though it’s worth remembering the need for human solidarity for all those people being persecuted by ISIL)

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Here are some good things to read about how changing your profile picture can be a helpful thing to do, and an expression of solidarity with our persecuted brothers and sisters by David Ould (and a follow up) and Dave Miers. I haven’t changed my profile picture. Still. Partly because I’m a contrarian and am worried about the tokenism of ‘awareness raising’ in the face of helpless situations. Partly for reasons I will explain below. I have found the exercise useful for keeping me praying about these events as the symbol dominates my news feed. There are good ways to give money directly to people affected by the situation – the Bible Society or the Barnabas Fund would be good places to start. It’s worth thinking of ways to support non-Christians targeted by ISIL as well. I’m praying that the Christians fleeing Iraq will have opportunities to love and care for their country people also fleeing this oppressive regime.

My Facebook feed is also filled with people praying for and expressing outrage over the persecution of Christians. Rightly so. The stories coming out of Iraq – particularly those from Canon Andrew White, an Anglican minister in Iraq, including this story that ISIL is beheading Christian children. That’s such an awful sentence to write. Writing it now pales in comparison when it comes to how White must feel sharing this news with the church globally.

My friends sharing these stories and changing their profile pictures are expressing a sense of hopelessness – this seems so present, in our interconnected and globalised world, and yet so far away. So very far away. Far from our experiences of life in a beautiful country like Australia, and from our ability to help bring change. There is so little we can do.

My friends are sharing these stories and changing their profile pictures because they want to raise awareness of what’s going on for fellow Christians.

My friends are sharing these stories and changing their profile pictures because they want people to be praying. Which must surely be the response to events such as these.

These are all good motives.

But the situation is not hopeless.

I’m not writing this to cheapen the awful reality for other people living through an experience so far removed from my own. I’m not writing this lightly. If this is not true, then Christianity is not true. Or. Perhaps. If Christianity is not true. This is not true.

There is hope for those suffering in these events.

Despite the awful atrocities being committed against Christians. Despite the horror of what humans can do to one another in the name of religion. Despite the carnage. There is hope. The hope doesn’t rest in Obama launching airstrikes. The hope rests with the one who went to martyrdom to pave the way for Christians everywhere. To secure a certain future.

The Apostle Peter, who was, as legend has it, crucified upside down, spoke of this hope. A living hope. In his letter to the persecuted church.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.  – 1 Peter 1

There is hope.

Why not ن?

I love the link David Ould’s post makes to the Passover. That time in the book of Exodus, in a region not so far from where these events are happening, where the lives of people who put their faith in God were spared because their doors were marked with a symbol. Lamb’s blood.

I like it because it’s a great reminder that whatever happens to these Christians – even to the point of the awful stuff being reported – they are marked not by ISIL with their feeble Arabic letter. But by the blood of Jesus. This is the symbol for Christians. The blood spilled at the Cross. While the n is marking out those who are associated with Jesus – the Nazarene, and this is nice, and appropriately theologically accurate, I think there’s a better symbol. A symbol that marks the moment God wrote his name on those who turn to him, the symbol that marks that first martyrdom – a symbol designed by another evil empire. Rome. A symbol that represents real hope, and opens martyrdom up as a way of life for Christians. Even when we’re not literally being crucified. Peter fronts up to a bunch of Jewish rulers in Acts 4, shortly after the death and resurrection of Jesus. And explains how the disciples are carrying on the work these rulers thought had died with Jesus. Just after they healed a crippled man. Peter says.

know this, you and all the people of Israel: It is by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified but whom God raised from the dead, that this man stands before you healed. Jesus is

“‘the stone you builders rejected,
    which has become the cornerstone.’

Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.” – Acts 4

I don’t know if I’m suggesting that Christians everywhere start changing their profile pictures to a picture of the Cross. Though maybe I am. I’m not sure what the exit strategy is for those who have changed their profile pictures. How long do we maintain this solidarity? I think there’s been plenty of good stuff happening as a result of the use of ن. And I’ve suggested a few ways to take concrete action at the bottom of the post (also check out the Bible Society’s list of 5 things to do – some of these are the same). At the end of the day it’s a pretty minor quibble to suggest the cross is a better symbol of Christian hope than the Arabic letter designed to associate people with Jesus. But it’s the Cross that subverts evil and oppressive regimes who seek to stamp out Christians. It’s the cross that was the symbol that encouraged the earliest Christian martyrs to follow the way of Jesus. Even to death.

All of Tertullian’s Apology – a defence of Christianity to the Roman regime which was persecuting Christians in the hope of systematically wiping out the faith, is worth reading. Chapter 50 is particularly powerful stuff in the present context. Especially this bit. 

But go zealously on, good presidents, you will stand higher with the people if you sacrifice the Christians at their wish, kill us, torture us, condemn us, grind us to dust; your injustice is the proof that we are innocent. Therefore God suffers that we thus suffer; for but very lately, in condemning a Christian woman to the leno rather than to the leo you made confession that a taint on our purity is considered among us something more terrible than any punishment and any death.Nor does your cruelty, however exquisite, avail you; it is rather a temptation to us.  The oftener we are mown down by you, the more in number we grow; the blood of Christians is seed. – Tertullian, Apology, Chapter 50.

The last words from Peter’s first letter are also particularly worth reading in this present crisis. Words to persecuted Christians. Words I am praying our brothers and sisters in Iraq are reflecting on, words that give them hope, and give us hope as we watch events that seem to be hopeless.

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you. If you suffer, it should not be as a murderer or thief or any other kind of criminal, or even as a meddler. However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name. – 1 Peter 4

There is hope for the Christians being persecuted – even to the point of death. The symbol of that hope isn’t the letter the enemies of Christians put on their doors, it’s the way God opens a door for them. It’s the lamb’s blood of Exodus on a cosmic scale. The blood of Jesus.

There is hope, and martyrdom is an expression of that hope. It’s a testimony to what Jesus has done for us. Revelation, another book written to Christians suffering incredible persecution, links the symbol of the blood of the lamb – spilled at the cross – with martyrdom (not shrinking from death) – suggesting this way of life (and death) is part of the victory Jesus wins over those who persecute.

They triumphed over him
    by the blood of the Lamb
    and by the word of their testimony;
they did not love their lives so much
    as to shrink from death.” – Revelation 12:11

What can we do?

All of these ‘things you can do’ lists have a massive danger of being tokenistic things that are more for our own comfort and appeasement than for the comfort of others if we’re not prepared to shoulder the cost when the story falls out of your Facebook newsfeed. What does responding to the situation in Iraq look like next month? Next year? Whenever you change your profile picture back to a picture of your smiling face, or your cute kids, or whatever abstraction tickles your fancy? How are you going to keep going?

1. Pray.

If the hope people are dying for is real. If we really are children of God, like our brothers and sisters in Iraq. If we have confidence that what Jesus did at the Cross restores our relationship with the God who created all things by speaking, then we should realise that prayer is actually the best way we can respond to any situation. It’s real. Not a token gesture. I do like that Christians do awareness raising best out of everyone online – because the easiest and best response doesn’t cost us much more than the click of a button. It costs us speaking to God. What a privilege.

2. Give.

I mentioned the Bible Society or the Barnabas Fund as options earlier. Voice of the Martyrs is another option. If you have another specific campaign to suggest – leave a comment.

3. Write.

Wouldn’t it be great if Australia joined other countries like France in offering refuge to those experiencing these horrific atrocities? I know the global refugee situation is incredibly complex. But if what is going on is enough to provoke Obama to do something other than giving a speech, it must be a big deal. Can I suggest writing to Scott Morrison. A church going man. The Federal Immigration Minister. To suggest he might do whatever it takes to help protect our fellow humans (not just the Christian ones) who are suffering under ISIL, who are perhaps the closest thing to the physical manifestation of evil since the serpent slithered into the garden, or since Pilate washed his hands of the crucifixion of Jesus… There are other more recent examples of the kind of evil that systematically wipes out minorities, but to invoke them breaks the internet. You can write to Scott Morrison via the email address listed on this page. Here’s an example letter. But I’m sure you can come up with your own version.

4. Love those who have fled persecution already in our midst.

I don’t know about you, and your church (or city). But in my church, and my city, there are those who have fled similar regimes – be it fleeing persecution in Africa, the Middle East, or anywhere.

We’re often so quick to move onto new plights based on the news cycle (or current events, when the news cycle isn’t all that reliable). This love for our persecuted fellow Christians (and persecuted fellow humans) can’t just be token. It can’t be solved by the firing off of a prayer, the click of a button, the absolution of a one-off financial donation, or a passionate email to an MP.

This is an issue we need to be in for the long haul. In. Costly. Painful. Real. World. Ways. How are you going to do stuff in the real world?

It starts with doing stuff for those who have already escaped persecution. Those who are here in our country as a result of our migration program. And this isn’t just about caring for Christians. You can’t take Jesus seriously when he speaks about loving our enemies (not just our neighbours) – if you’re going to limit this sort of care to Christians. I’m not saying we shouldn’t care for Christians who have been persecuted. We absolutely should. But they share our hope. Or we share theirs. So maybe we should be looking outside the people who tick the same box as us on the census form? The best way to avoid tokenistic jingoism is to get your hands in the mix – to make others comfortable through your own discomfort (it’s very easy to write about martyrdom).  Trust me. I’ve spent the last hour or so doing it). This is a massive challenge when we respond to this sort of thing as Christians. It’s a challenge I feel.

I don’t want to change my profile picture until I’m sure I’m actually doing something to back up whatever is happening in the online space. Otherwise I feel like I’m in danger of being like the Pharisees who do a bunch of token religious stuff in public, so people will notice, but aren’t really doing much good in private. This isn’t a dig at those who have changed their pictures – I’m sure many of them are doing all sorts of stuff beyond just talking. But online stuff has a massive tendency towards the sort of thing Jesus nails in Matthew 23 when he smashes the Pharisees.

Everything they do is done for people to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long;  they love the place of honor at banquets and the most important seats in the synagogues;  they love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and to be called ‘Rabbi’ by others…

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.” – Matthew 23:5-7, 23-24

I’m aware of the irony of writing this stuff on a blog. From my lounge room. Firmly entrenched in middle class Australia. But I need to stop being a slaves to the news cycle and figure out how this passion for the persecuted transforms my every day reality. Maybe you do to?

5. Don’t just do ‘token’ awareness raising. Don’t let the martyrdom of our brothers and sisters be in vain.

All responses outside of the events, as they happen, have a tendency to feel like they’re token gestures. That’s one of my problems with anything that smells like clicktivism or awareness raising. When there’s so little being said about what is happening to Christians we (Christians) tend to feel like we’re being mistreated, vicariously. As if column inches in the news give us validation as Christians. As if we’re martyrs because our voice isn’t getting a run because of some insidious secular, anti-Christian, agenda. I’m not questioning whether such an agenda exists. I’m sure it’s possible. There’s been an anti-Christian agenda since the Roman rulers and the Jewish rulers got together to crucify Jesus.

I’m not going to wring my hands because the Christian aspect of this genocide isn’t getting published by our western media. That seems to be missing the point. Members of our global family. Fellow children of God. Are being executed for their faith. This is an incredibly powerful testimony to the hope that they have. These brothers and sisters of ours have nothing like the freedom we have to tell people why they are giving up their lives.

I’m not going to change my profile picture to raise the plight of my fellow Christians around the world as though the situation (as mind-blowingly horrible as it is) is hopeless. Nor am I going to change my profile picture without constantly reminding people that the Christians executed by ISIL have an amazing hope.

This situation is not hopeless. Though we might feel like it is. This situation is not hopeless. It is created by hope.

The hope in the midst of these horrific acts of genocide is the hope that has driven Christians to martyrdom since very soon after the death of Jesus. The hope of resurrection. Living hope.

The hope Peter says we should always be out to share with others. This may seem like an empty, or token, gesture in the face of the systematic elimination of Christianity from a section of the Levant, but it is not. It is what is required for that elimination to fail.  The proclamation of the tangible, martyrdom-inspiring, living, and real hope that is found in the death and resurrection of Jesus.

But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. “Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened.” But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” – 1 Peter 3:15.

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