I Want To Be Like Sabina…
I can’t seem to get the images out of my mind. Even though they were blurred, the photographs showed clearly enough, bodies with devastating marks of torture. Dark holes lay where eyes once shone brightly, gouged out and gaping.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing. What happened here? Where was this? How could this be? Is this kind of cruelty still happening to innocent people in the modern world?
As I listened, I learned that, unfortunately, those photographs were recently taken and recently smuggled out and shown to the world to shout out a visual testimony to the cruelty being systematically performed by a current and truly wicked regime.
Why were these people tortured and killed? What was their crime? What information was being forced out of them? What details were so valuable that precious life became unimportant and a higher value was placed on sought-after information?
Was it their faith? Was it their ethnicity? Did they speak out against the government? Or was there no reason at all, just a power play to keep others living in fear?
My thoughts hovered over me like a black rumbling cloud. I had no answers, but my heart ached as, once again, I became aware of the kind of suffering many have endured in our world.
I have heard of these kinds of things but have preferred to push the truth of those excruciating acts out of my mind. Instead of lingering, I chose to turn away.
But this time I stopped. I found myself incredibly curious. I wondered why it made such an impact on me this time.
The only conclusion I can come to is that I met Sabina.
Well, I didn’t actually meet her in person, you know, but I read her book, The Pastor’s Wife, a memoir describing part of Sabina Wurmbrand’s life. Her book, set in Romania in 1949, just after Hitler’s Germany began to collapse, pulled me into the story as though I was following this young woman around, carrying her fears, respecting her boldness, and feeling her agonies.
Let me introduce you.
Sabina was born in Romania in 1913. She and her husband, Richard, were born Jews and both converted to Christianity after they were married.
Sabina and Richard’s conversion filled them with a deep passion to make Christ known. But after WW2, the Communists drove into Romania with a hatred for Christians and anything to do with Christianity. There was only one god and it was not our God Almighty. To them, that allegiance belonged to the Communist party alone.
But Sabina and Richard knew the truth of God’s forgiveness and refreshing new life in Christ and they knew there was only One True God. They longed for all people to hold this hope and to trust in Christ. This passion made them open their hearts and home to all who needed a place of refuge. It led them to hand out brochures, hide fugitives, feed Russian and German soldiers in the name of Christ, meet with and preach to other Christians in underground churches, and even preach on street corners. These were all illegal activities that could lead to imprisonment if someone reported them. Which indeed eventually happened. This unrelenting passion led Richard to a communist prison for 14 years and Sabina to 3 years in labor camps.
Sabina wrote graphically about her experiences and the unfair suffering that was placed on anyone who dared oppose the godless government laws.
In the labor camps, she experienced inhumane conditions, impossibly hard work, watery pots of food, and filthy conditions with brutal guards keeping an eye on them. I was especially moved when Sabina wrote this about her time there:
“Those of us who had faith realized for the first time how rich we were. The youngest Christians and the weakest had more resources to call on than the wealthiest old ladies and the most brilliant intellectuals. People with good brains, education, and wit, when deprived of their books and concerts, often seemed to dry up like indoor plants exposed to the winds. Heart and mind were empty…After work, women came to religious prisoners and asked, begged even, to be told something of what we remembered from the Bible. The words have hope, comfort, life.”
I met Sabina in this book and now I want to be like Sabina.
This story opened a way for me to take a fresh look at my own faith, my own prayers, my own feelings of safety, and my own deeply felt compassion for the world.
If I was Sabina, how might I live out my faith?
I believe that I would not allow myself to grumble. I would trust God unwaveringly. Scripture would be memorized and treasured. I would be ready with a gentle answer whenever challenged. I would cherish the church, rather than complain against it. I wouldn’t hesitate when laughed at for my beliefs or when others tried to label all Christians as out of touch with the times. I would welcome strangers and hold no prejudices because love covers all.
I look at Sabina and her stubborn determination to face all opposition in the name of and for her first love, Jesus. She did not let the circumstances crush her. She was in despair, but she held a solid trust that Christ was worth suffering for and she stood strong.
Eventually, after much torture, disease, lack of food, and filthy conditions, Richard was released. He and Sabina made their way out of the country and into the western world where they were surprised to find that little was known of the suffering of believers and the persecution of the church. They went on to establish an organization called The Voice of the Martyrs enabling believers around the world to learn about and support the suffering church.
After reading this book and seeing on television those tortured bodies of innocent men, I will never again hear of persecuted Christians or innocent prisoners in a passive way. I will remain outraged and full of angry prayers for the dear men, women, and children who are suffering horrible losses today.
I know our Father God is holding them close to His heart as they suffer for His name. I can even imagine His mighty heartbreaking howl as He grieves over sin and how it twists hearts to do such evil acts. Jesus is not unaware of suffering and unjust violence against innocent people. He sees. He knows. And, in light of His work on the cross, all of this will be made right someday. There will be accountability. I must believe this in order to live with the truth of its happening.
And in response, I bow down. I pray to the One I trust above all others and ask for justice for those whose agonizing despair is wailing from grieving hearts around the world. And I will not turn away.