The Russians' Secret: What Christians Today Would ... - GOD'S WORD

Andrey (we called him Henry) an orphan. He knew I liked to read. One day whenI stopped in to see him he told me to take any book I wanted from his library. Ichose the autobiography of a Russian believer, Ivan Prokhanov, published in1933. In the book I found a “Call to Resurrection” addressed by Russian believersto “all Christians in the world” in 1928:With the greeting Khristos voskrese! (Christ is risen!) we write to you. . . . Today,like in Christ’s time the power that transformed Zacchaeus and the thief on thecross still works! From its source (Christ) a stream of light, love and peace stillflows into all the world. . . . Those who live by Christ’s Gospel still get the powerto forget themselves and serve others for the healing of the human race. But byholding up a little parasol or drawing the curtains we can keep the sun fromshining on us. In the same way, by making little changes to the Gospel, men haveobstructed its radiant light and kept masses of people in darkness.There is nothing wrong with the light! The Sun of the Gospel still shines! . . . Hewho has ears to hear, let him hear what God says to the church: Khristosvoskrese! Let us rise and walk in the light! 4Resurrection and light from heaven. A fire of hope! When Christians suf­fer withChrist do they naturally become optimistic? Wherever I turned among RussianChristian writings I sensed their joy in springtime and the Resurrection of Christ.At first I supposed it was the counterpart—the “other side of the coin”—ofsuffering, and that it might be the secret to their survival under persecution. Butthen I discovered a third clue:What “Conversion” Meant in RussiaIn 1978 I began to teach school in northeastern Ontario. The fall colours, yellowand flaming orange, were coming on. Up from the log house where I stayed withthe family of three of my students, I would climb over rail fences, cross a creek,and sit on lichen-spotted boulders high above a pasture where the lead cow with abell grazed among her companions. Abandoned houses and barns, very small andwooden, stood among sunlit hills and land that had been farmed. On the upper sideof that pasture a road led through the trees, down into a clearing along theMadawaska river and a Christian community at a place called Combermere.The people with whom I stayed were friends of the com­munity and soon took mefor a visit. We bought used clothing at their second-hand store. But as I learned,