I am excited to welcome my dear sister-in-Christ and author friend, Diana C. Derringer as my guest blogger today.
Russia — the very name calls to mind numerous and conflicting images. On one hand we recall the terror of communism, the Cold War and Iron Curtain, and 70 years of repression. On the other we have ballet, world renowned art, and matryoshka dolls. Intertwined with both images, is a country desperate for the good news of the gospel.
By the end of the 1980s, communism had fallen, and Russia enjoyed a newfound freedom. Those forced into hiding for years could openly worship and witness. Taking advantage of that window of opportunity, several in my church began mission trips in 1994. I was certain of God’s call to go. Finally, in 1997 that vision became reality.
Our assignment was the area around St. Petersburg, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. During two free days we saw some of its magnificent sights, including the Peter and Paul Fortress, the Palace Square, Peterhof, and the Church of the Resurrection of Christ. We also enjoyed a canal boat ride, outdoor flea market, and other historically significant sites, including St. Isaac’s Cathedral that became the Museum of Scientific Atheism during communist rule.
We could have toured the entire trip. However, we settled for our miniscule taste and moved on to the tasks at hand — church construction, Bible schools, hospital and clinic visits, church services, prison ministry, and Bible distribution.
We worked in a far less elegant area with fewer resources. Our bus driver and his wife and four children lived in one room of a communal apartment. The church we helped build overlooked a multi-housing area with more than 100,000 people. Yet God’s faithful Russian servants humbled us with their devotion in the midst of the most difficult circumstances.
When we first met Brother Edward, we didn’t know his wife was dying, and he had no money for funeral expenses. He welcomed our team warmly and enthusiastically as mission partners. He told of contacts made in preparation for our arrival and how we could share in untried methods of ministry with local Christians.
As his testimony unfolded, we learned that Brother Edward endured communist torture in the very building where we met. Officers drew him up by his feet and then let him drop, head first, on the hard, bare floor. With just a hint of a smile, he said that community center, once the location for communist and atheist meetings, had become a central place of worship for several Christian groups.
Through his efforts, a women’s prison granted permission for ministry — a first. Many of the women, he told us, were serving sentences for murder. Their victims were abusive alcoholic husbands.
On the scheduled day of our visit, the warden initially refused us entry, in spite of prior approval. Following lengthy discussions, he relented but made the process slow and intimidating. He only admitted three at a time, and we had to leave our passports and visas with the guard.
Before our arrival, I pictured the prisoners seated in a large auditorium, with our team, interpreters, and Brother Edward on a stage some distance away. Instead we stood in the center of an open dirt courtyard with the women milling all around. Several had tin plates and cups as they walked to lunch. Most stopped, choosing to miss their meal. We could see others sitting in their windows, peering through the bars.
In spite of our shaky beginning, we felt the power of God’s presence and boldly shared testimonies and sang.
Then Brother Edward began to preach. I couldn’t understand his words, but the heart of his message rang clear. Near the end, he prayed. From every corner of that prison yard, women joined his prayer. Tears flowed over more faces than I could begin to count, both prisoners and officials.
Based on the estimated prison population provided to Brother Edward, we took 460 Bibles. We needed 1,800. Somewhat anxious, we began our distribution. Those receiving Bibles immediately began reading while standing in the hot midday sun. After we exhausted our supply of Bibles, we gave brochures and tracts as far as they would stretch. We spoke with our hearts, eyes, and hands when we had no interpreter nearby.
Never before or since have I participated in anything like that day. The desperate desire for God’s message of hope and salvation, the change in the warden’s demeanor as we left, and the guards’ response to the invitation — remembering still brings me to tears.
All this occurred because one poor, tired, physically scarred man, whose wife had only days to live, refused to give up. Others needed to join the family of God, and he resolutely showed them the way.
Our team could do little to change Brother Edward’s circumstances while with him. Yet, we did see that he had funds to bury his wife. How little for one who gave so much.
Brother Edward died a few years ago, yet his challenge continues. When I grow weary, I remember him. I pray nightly for the work that continues because of him. I long for a measure of his love, zeal, and steadfast spirit.
Thank you (СПАСИБО, “spah-SEE-bah”), my friend. I’ll never forget you.
“I thank my God every time I remember you” (Philippians 1:3 NIV).
Diana Derringer
Diana is an award-winning writer and author of Beyond Bethlehem and Calvary: 12 Dramas for Christmas, Easter, and More! Hundreds of her articles, devotions, dramas, planning guides, Bible studies, and poems appear in 40-plus publications, including The Upper Room, The Christian Communicator, Clubhouse, Kentucky Monthly, Seek, and Missions Mosaic, plus several anthologies. She also writes radio drama for Christ to the World Ministries. Her adventures as a social worker, adjunct professor, youth Sunday school teacher, and friendship family for international university students supply a constant flow of writing ideas.
Visit Diana at: dianaderringer.com
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One reply to “My Russian Brother”
This was beautiful and inspiring, yet I was feeling so small and encouraged to do more!