August 2007

Happy summer to all!

My wife Sungmin and I rejoicing at the seminary graduation.

Are you happy? In the early days of my stay in Egypt I didn't really know how to reply to such a question. In our culture it’s just not something we ever ask! In Egypt, however, it’s as common as asking someone to pass the ayesh, the local bread that accompanies every meal.

I gradually learned that in the Egyptian culture every healthy, normal person should be able at all times to describe him or herself as “happy.” In Egypt, happiness seems to be not so much an emotional state as a state of wellness. It is the cultural equivalent of being “okay.” After a while I understood that I should tell everyone I am “happy” unless a major disaster was taking place.

In a similar way, I have always been challenged when Paul in Philippians chapter 4 commands us to “rejoice in the Lord always.” Rejoicing is not something that we do instinctively as human beings. I am tempted to gloss over this command, but I have to remember that both Peter (1 Peter 4:3) and Jesus himself (Matthew 5) command us to rejoice even in the midst of persecution and difficulty. This rejoicing thing seems to be more than just a passing thought in the Bible.

I wish I could honestly say that in the last 2,000 years the Biblical lands have become peaceful and idyllic examples of the kingdom of God on earth, but unfortunately this is not the case. In the global village we live in, the Middle East is still a rough part of town. As my co-worker Dr. Magdi Gendi likes to say, “we live in a hot neighborhood. It’s not Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood.” And yet, as Magdi always adds, “God is doing amazing things in this part of the world every day.” There is cause for rejoicing.

One of the people who gives me cause to rejoice is Magdi himself. He’s the Old Testament teacher here at Evangelical Theological Seminary (ETSC) in Cairo. I got to spend time this year with him and know his story while he served as acting president while Atef was on sabbatical. A few years ago, when Magdi was offered a scholarship for Ph.D. studies at Luther Theological Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, he and his family very much wanted to go. And yet, many people did not encourage them to go. One pastor even told Magdi, “If you go to the land of milk and honey, you will never come back!

While Magdi was at Luther, he was often invited to serve as pastor in one of the Lutheran or Presbyterian churches in the area. This would offer his family a much better standard of living, but he and his wife Heba understood that they were called to serve the people of the Middle East. After receiving his doctorate, Magdi and Heba did return to serve at the seminary in Cairo with their children. Amazingly, just a few years after rejecting these wonderful offers and opportunities to be a pastor in the United States, Magdi and I were able to visit Luther Seminary last spring. Magdi laughed when he thought about how he could have stayed in the United States. “Can you imagine, even if I had stayed to be a pastor in the U.S. for 50 years, I would probably never have gotten to be president of a seminary, even once! God’s plan is always the best plan.”

Rami Monir is a seminary student who gives me cause for rejoicing. Rami arrived in Egypt from Basra, Iraq, in January 2006 when the situation in his area was still somewhat peaceful. Rami grew up in one of the handful of Presbyterian churches that enjoyed protected status under Saddam Hussein. He came to Egypt to be trained as a pastor in order to return to Iraq to serve his people. Soon after his arrival, the security situation in Basra began to deteriorate. Christians in his area were threatened, and the church building was targeted by rocket fire. Rami’s church has disbanded. Most of his family moved to Baghdad or to the northern part of Iraq, which is still somewhat stable. It would be perfectly natural for him to give up and start to search for another country where he can live his life in safety. But Rami still believes God is calling him to return to serve his people in Iraq.

Rami also started to be concerned for the refugees from Iraq living in Egypt. A few months ago Sungmin (now my wife) and I traveled with Rami by microbus from Cairo to a nearby town in the desert where tens of thousands of Iraqis have relocated. Rami was excited to meet some of his countrymen and speak the Iraqi dialect. Rami hopes that for as long as he is in Egypt, he can meet with Iraqi refugees and pray with them and encourage them to rejoice in the midst of their difficult circumstances. But as soon as possible, he wants to return to Iraq, despite the risks and difficulties.
 
The Middle East has never been, and still is not, a place where rejoicing is easy. But rejoicing is what we are called by the Lord to do. I am blessed to serve alongside people like Rami and Magdi who teach me every day what it means to rejoice always in the Lord. The next time you see some news report about tragedy or problems in that part of the world, do pray for the situation—but also take a moment to rejoice for all that God is doing there through so many servants and leaders.

In Christ,

Brice

The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 158

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