We enjoyed a great weekend remembering the death and resurrection of the Lord Jesus. But over the past few days I have also been hearing a lot about believers around the world, and in other parts of Mexico, who are being persecuted. As we’re thankful for the freedom we enjoy, we also need to remember and pray for our brothers and sisters who don’t have that freedom.
On Friday, our friend David led us in a meal to remember the Last Supper of Jesus and the disciples (foot washing and all). We held it out on the street, and although people looked at us funny, no one threw grenades.
On Sunday morning we were up at the Valtierra’s home for a sunrise service, celebrating the resurrection.
José led the service, Rod led the music, and Samuel shared from Luke 24. His focus was on the peace that we have in Christ.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the peace and freedom that we have because of what happened those many centuries ago outside of Jerusalem. The wonderful thing is, whether we’re living in safety or not, whether we’re free or in prison, whether we’re loved or ridiculed (or both), in Christ we can still have that peace and freedom.
I’ve been reading about the life of John Bunyon, who was imprisoned for preaching God’s Word. Having left behind a young wife and children, he lived in filthy conditions with constant uncertainty about his future. Still, he refused to do what possibly could have set him free – promise not to preach. In fact, he preached in prison, and also wrote.
One of the things he wrote was a poem called Prison Meditations. It was written in 1665, five years after his arrest. Here are a few stanzas. Together with our persecuted brothers and sisters, let’s remember the freedom that we have in Christ…
Excepts from
Prison Meditations,
A Poem
by John Bunyan
I am indeed in prison now
In body, but my mind
Is free to study Christ, and how
Unto me he is kind.
Their fetters cannot spirits tame,
Nor tie up God from me;
My faith and hope they cannot lame;
Above them I shall be.
Though they say then that we are fools
Because we here do lie,
I answer, Jails are Christ his schools,
In them we learn to die.
God sometimes visits prisoners more
Than lordly palaces;
He often knocketh at the door
When he their houses miss.
This jail to us is as a hill,
From whence we plainly see
Beyond this world, and take our fill
Of things that lasting be.
From hence we see the emptiness
Of all the world contains;
And here we feel the blessedness
That for us yet remains.
You can read the full poem, Prison Meditations (all 70 stanzas!) here.
