‘Tell them that we Christians exist. We are the bridge between East and West,” said Felomain Nassar-Batshone, program manager, at International Orthodox Christian Charities, Amman, Jordan.
The story never changes. Whenever ISIS terrorists approach an Iraqi or Syrian village, Christians are given a fateful choice: They can stay and pay a tax to ISIS. They can convert to Islam. They can be martyred as Christians. Or, they flee.
We Americans would do well to remind ourselves that these Christians are the original church. They are in the cradle of Christianity. They are from the part of the world where the Good News was born and raised from the dead. These Christians also know that ISIS is but the latest attempt since the 1915 Armenian Genocide to rid the land of its resilient Christian community.
Last summer, they fled with nothing but the clothes on their back. A year later, that’s still all they have. Basim Alqassab, a Nineveh Plain Christian now in Amman, told me, “We live without salaries or hope of return to our homes. Our hearts feel fatigued and distressed with sadness and injustice.”
The only thing certain is their faith. In the last seven months, I have visited the region four times, traveling through northern Iraq, Lebanon, and Jordan. I have met hundreds of Christians living amidst terrible conditions. In each and every case—where it would be so easy to feel the absence of God—they declare themselves closer to God.
I met with the Jan and Yousef families in northern Amman, where the 14 members of their families live in a small apartment that they cannot afford with zero opportunity to return, work, or emigrate. They are Syrian Orthodox Christians from Mosul, Iraq, and they cannot provide for themselves. Yet, they said, “Everything on this planet will fade away. But Jesus Christ will never fail.”
In my visit to the small village of Anone, along the Iraqi-Turkish border, I met Fadia, who summed up the perspective of these Christians by saying, “My faith is stronger. We only have God now. Tell [Americans] I live every day with a smile and as if it is my last.”
This kind of transcendent trust is humbling. It also challenges each of us to work—spiritually, financially, and politically—toward a solution. I can never forget my short visit with Sarah, a 95-year-old Christian from Qaraqosh on the Nineveh Plain, just 30 miles from where I met her in an Erbil shelter. "I didn't want to be here at this age. I want to be in my home," she said. She went home—to God—in March.
A Simple and Complex Plan
Here are three things that we as Christians should pray for, so that safety will return to Christians and other religious minorities in the Middle East:
Rescue. The greatest need is cash assistance. Christians need cash for rent, medicine, and education in the absence of an opportunity to work.
Restore. There is a tremendous need to restore lives by restoring trust and addressing trauma. It is imperative that different ethnic and religious groups be in dialogue with each other about their common needs, both—now and if they should return to their homes, as trust is rebuilt. One way to restore trust is through education. Traumatized kids may learn from each other. In Marka, Jordan, Canon Andrew White has started a new school. Originally planned for 135 children, ages 5 to 14, the school now serves 250 refugee children. In Kurdistan, Iraq, we are working to create a new partnership that will holistically address trauma, especially gender-based violence.