No Guarantees

All of us live out our lives and think, looking back, how much difficulty we have experienced in getting to this point.   We look back and see the many ups and downs of our lives.   Those of us who are married imagine that we shall be together for an extremely long time.   We say, “Till death us do part” never thinking that death might come early.   Today, people are living much longer and this is borne out in an email I received a short while ago.   I had been sad to learn that Brenda, a friend from my previous church, had lost her husband aged 72.   I sent her an email to express condolence and Brenda, in her reply, said “I really thought we would grow old together.”   I think this expresses all our thoughts.   We all expect to grow old gracefully – some disgracefully.

Thinking about that short lived life in Lebanon, I wonder if we can match that faith?   This young man lived in a country where opposing forces were creating havoc for each other.   We all remember the news of 20^th January 1987 that said Terry Waite had disappeared and eventually his capture by an Islamic militia was confirmed.   Terry Waite was to spend over four years in solitary confinement before joining the hostages whose freedom his tried to negotiate.   He had set out in faith and was attempting to negotiate with a group who was holding British hostages.   He went out to meet this group who immediately broke trust and added him to their hostages.  The country of Lebanon was a beautiful place that had been ravaged by war.   Today we can name many more.   For people living in such places life is very much different from life in Anglesey.

Very few of us know what it is to live on the edge of life, not knowing if we will survive the next few hours.   It is, therefore, much easier for us to express faith in Jesus.   We live in relatively secure conditions.   Whereas, a 22 year old Lebanese man, living with the real threat of death on a daily basis, expressed the most amazing statement of faith in that letter he wrote.

The story of Ghasibeh Kairouz reminds me of the last days of Jesus as he contemplated death on a cross.   I am reminded that Jesus did not decide to embark on his ministry with a guarantee of a full life, dying as an old man.   He did not enter onto that journey around Palestine provided he made it into old age.   He set out with no guarantees.

Can Jesus have known that after his death there would be resurrection and after that the certainty of men being prepared to die for him as he was prepared to die for them?   Can he have known that all this would happen?   Can he have known that in time millions would commit themselves to the cause he started?   Was his death conditional upon all this?   Here is an example we find hard to follow and one which tests our self belief for all time.   Yet it is the great challenge.   Are we prepared to accept that we have no guarantees and carry on anyway?   Now that really is a big question and it is one we shall probably never answer.   To be honest it is the sort of question which haunts every Christian, knowing that ultimately this is what is asked of him or her.

Perhaps you, like I have done, have pondered the question, “What difference does it make to be a Christian?”   Looking at the lives of people who have been remarkable in their altruism and love for humanity, but yet have not been Christian, can we see a difference that Jesus has made?   Humanitarianism does not have the Christian faith as an automatic motivation.   In short, community minded people can be lovely human beings yet never espouse Christianity.   I am quite sure that you will know people who commit themselves to God who you would wonder about in terms of their charitable outlook on the world.   

In terms of personal pilgrimage does it really make a difference believing in God?   Would we still make journey’s end on our own?   Thoughts like these have often been in my mind as I have viewed the world in which I live.   I find they arise more often as the church appears to become less relevant viewed in terms of redundant buildings in our villages, towns and cities.   

Having totally depressed you, I want to finally ask the question, “Would you rather walk this life with or without Jesus of Nazareth?”   I know what my answer is.   Having fallen over a cliff, whose hand would you prefer to be let down to hold you?   I know what my answer is.   In this life of great uncertainty when people are in danger of death in given circumstances, who would we turn to for the strength to carry on?    I know what my answer is.   When the chips really are down where will our strength come from?   I know what my answer is.

There are no guarantees in life for Christians and non believers alike.   Yet it is better to walk with a man who knows what it is like to be tortured and scorned and put to a painful death and promises never to leave your side than to bet everything you have on a world that offers everything you desire but can then cynically abandon you in your worst moment.   Sufferers have always found comfort in talking to others who have known suffering.   One of the most beneficial ways to help others is to organise self help groups where the grinding pressure of life can be shared among people who are fellow sufferers. 

There were no guarantees for Jesus as he set out to show God’s love to the people.   There were no guarantees that he would be well received and his teachings accepted.   He just set out and did it.   There are no guarantees for us as we seek to live as Christians.   Our commitment to Jesus does not carry a guarantee of a safe life – far from it.   We are not assured of an easier passage.   Yet we stake everything on the promise that Jesus will always be with us, regardless of what we might face on our pilgrimage.   That promise is firm and sure.   It is no guarantee – just a promise.

No Guarantees

It was in 1997 that I came across a story which captivated my attention.   As David Jones might say, “It challenged me.”   Let me read it to you:

Listen to a unique story which is about a young man, Ghasibeh, travelling home from his studies in Beirut to his village in Northern Lebanon.   His father had died some years previously, and he wanted to be with his mother and sister for Christmas.   He never reached his village, and was never heard of again.

It soon became clear that he must have been a victim of one of many killings and kidnappings that were being organised by gangs of Muslims and gangs of Christians.   It was the old story of reprisals and counter-reprisals between the two communities.   For a hundred years Lebanon had been virtually free of this curse.   But in 1975 it had reappeared.

Ghasibeh was 22 when he died.   He was a Christian from the Greek Catholic community.   Before he left Beirut on his last journey, he had an intuition that he might never reach home safely.   He wrote this letter, which was later found on a table in his room in Beirut.

"In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.   As I begin to write this letter, I feel almost as if there is someone else speaking through me.   In Lebanon these days everyone's life is in danger.   I myself have imagined that I am travelling to my village of Nabha, when suddenly I am kidnapped and killed.   In case this is a true premonition, I have decided to leave this letter for my family, my fellow villagers and countrymen.

Firstly, to my mother and sisters: do not grieve beyond reason.   Our separation will be short and we will meet again, in heaven, the kingdom of eternal joy.   Do not fret: God in his mercy will reunite us there.   My only request is that you forgive those who have killed me, from the bottom of your hearts, and join with me in prayer that the shedding of my blood may be a ransom - though it is the blood of a sinner - for the sin of Lebanon: that it may be mixed as an offering with the blood of all the victims who have fallen, from all political and religious factions, an offering which may restore to this country the peace, love and harmony which has disappeared, not only from our country but from the world.

Encourage the people to love one another because of my death, and God himself will be your comfort and consolation.   Do not be afraid; my only regret in leaving this world so abruptly is the sorrow it will bring you.   But pray, pray and love your enemies.   To my fellow Lebanese I say: people of one house may disagree, but without hatred.   They may get upset with one another, but without fighting.   Even if they fight, at least they do not kill one another.

And so remember the past days of understanding and love, and do away with these days of intolerance and strife.   For together we ate; together we drank; together we worked; together we prayed; and together we will die.   My father was a partner with a Muslim.   I called him "Uncle Hussein", and my heart would be at peace when I said his name.   they were partners for 57 years.

They died without breaking their partnership, and without even reckoning any accounts between them.   And so I remember that sometimes if one was unable to borrow a sum of money from his brother, he would go to a fellow villager: to a Muslim, a Christian or a Druze, and that person would help him through.

Yes, we have all known those days, but our sin blinds us to them now.   Everyone must pray as his heart believes;  God himself will bring an end to our tragedy, and prevent the outside powers from turning Lebanon into the battleground for their conflicts.   I sometimes think I will know sorrow, even in heaven, if Lebanon remains in this plight.

For the funeral: Father Peter should take the service as simply as possible.   No great show with ranks of clergymen.   And my soul will rejoice if Abou-Khalil makes the coffin with wood from some old boxes.  Let the people remember me without a great display of mourning.   People always have a lot to say, but without sincerity, otherwise these killings would not take place.   But let the choir sing with all their heart, for this thought comforts me.

I am thinking of you all as I write this letter.   I have not forgotten any one of my relations, close friends and companions.   But I must not let my emotions blur my Christian hope; now I have found the word to say to you all: pray and fear and love God.

Finally, as to various obligations which are on my mind - I am a debtor myself, but redeemed by my Lord - here are some debts which need to be paid.   Please sell a piece of land if necessary.

8,000 Lebanese pounds to Nakhle

25 Lebanese pounds to Ahmed

650 Lebanese pounds to Fahda

200 Lebanese pounds to Muhammed

Finally I ask of all people forgiveness, and from God through Christ, for I know that in sinning my sins have been against all."          GHASIBEH KAIROUZ.

Further thoughts on this are contained in the next posting.