Most mornings find us here, ringed around this farm table, blocks and chunks of sunlight bejeweling faces. We’ve slept in beds but a few steps away, done chores before dawn in that barn on the other side of the lane, and now gathered here, some still eating their toast, crumbs falling on the table into squares of golden light.
We stay here and open pages, read of other places, different times.
And so it is we meet historical Gustavus one morning after Emily Dickinson’s poetry, his sure and steady voice calling across the centuries. It’s the 17th century, words have taken us to Sweden, and we listen to King Gustavus’ standing in the great hall of the Diet in Stockholm, passionately addressing his government on May 20, 1630. With the slaughter of brethren in the faith throughout Europue, he anguishes for “our religious brethren who sigh for deliverance. With the help of God, they will not have sighed in vain.”
The words of Gustavus’ ardent plea catch in my throat. Nearly 400 years had passed since those words rang out; an ocean and near-light years away. And yet, was there not still a collective sigh escaping from our persecuted brothers and sisters around the globe…at this very moment?
We are just here, rising every morning, serving breakfast, praying, opening our books… entirely oblivious, generally apathetic and indifferent to the countless, innumerable cries of imprisoned, oppressed, tortured men and women for do what we do every day: talk to Jesus as Savior and Friend.
Even if I had ears and heart to hear, I wasn’t Gustavus. I simply could not abandon spouse and children to deliver my brethren in the faith. While a husband and father, Gustavus was a king. We are simply, merely, a homeschooling family of a half dozen kids and a mom and dad trying and praying to hold it all together.
We turn the page of Gustavus’ story, the children and I reading as Swedish troops waved farewell to hearth and home and sailed for mainland Europe, risking their lives, the only ones they had, so that unknown siblings in God’s family might worship freely.
After five wave-tossed weeks at sea, Gustavus and company landed on the coast of Germany. Falling heavily down on the sandy beach, Gustavus led his weary army in prayer, “My Lord and my God, You who rule the winds and the seas, I give You thanks from the depths of my heart. You know, O Lord, I haven’t come for my own glory, but to help Your oppressed church. Protect us and bring us victory in this sacred work.”
Standing, Gustavus observed tears in the eyes of his brave men.
Reading the story, my own emotions well close. Hope-girl, seated beside me, softly wishes, “Too bad we couldn’t go help the oppressed church like that, Mama.”
Gustavus stirred hearts, ancient and present, with truth, “Weep not. Pray to God with all your heart. To pray often is almost to conquer.”
I whisper his words again, “To pray often is almost to conquer.”
I look at the children circling our table, Caleb with face in hands, Hope with intent eyes, Joshua and Levi pressed together, leaning close. We could not go to China. Or Sudan. Or Iran. Our family of eight would never, in all likelihood, step foot in Saudi Arabia where discussing the Bible would toss you in a barren jail cell for 4 years and include a sentence to lashing—750 stinging, biting strokes. We would never fellowship in the dark of a damp underground church, or defend sisters in Christ from a flurry of fists and sticks for singing hymns on Sunday morning. No, we were simply a family. But might we too go into all the world, freeing the oppressed?
Gustavus echoed across time to our family gathered around the table: “To pray often is almost to conquer.”
This family could go. The oppressed church need not sigh in vain: we could pray.
Often. Daily. God would hear…does hear. Our prayers would be as going, as conquering, emancipating our persecuted brethren, releasing those held captive to the dark.
So we bow heads, holds hands, and ask, “Father, today be with Pastor Van Thong, imprisoned in Laos for attending meetings with Western Christians. No one is allowed to visit him Lord and he is being held indefinitely. We cannot go to Laos and implore the government for Pastor Van Thong’s release. But we can pray, Lord, for his comfort, his encouragement, and his glorifying You in all these things. And may Your Spirit and Your good and perfect will reign victorious, Father, in Laos…and all the world over.”
A little hand squeezes mine and we know: To pray is almost to conquer.
So we travel into the world on our knees.
Related:
Persecution.org
Prisoner Alert
How to teach geography and go…
Post adapted from a column piece no longer available at Christian Women Online
Quotes of Gustavus from Trial and Triumph
