Two terrorist attacks in the same city in the span of three weeks. Over 50 people dead between the two. Any level-headed person with the option to leave would. And anyone who was there to see it happen or to see what happened after each attack knows firsthand the dark effect of a terrorist attack and that its reach goes well beyond the blast radius.
My entire squad was in Istanbul when the first bomb went off, just a kilometer from where we were staying. I didn’t hear a blast. I didn’t see smoke rising over the domes and minarets that punctuate the cityscape like commas in a run-on sentence. I didn’t hear the wailing of the men and women who suddenly found their families minus one that morning. To the contrary, an eerie silence blanketed the city, as if the entire place had gone commatose or breathed its last. In a way, many of the locals thought it might as well have.
You see, every tourist in the hostels and hotels in the Sultahnamet district fled the city that morning. Barely a soul could be seen wandering streets that just a day before had been so crowded and bustling that trying to get anywhere in a hurry might have led to an aneurism. Restaurant owners sat despondent at their streetside tables, leisurely drinking tea or smoking the shisha they knew they couldn’t sell anymore. Some hassled those of us who remained all the more aggresively to “please, please just come inside. Whatever you want, we have.” When the concierge at a hotel asked me that day how I liked Istanbul thus far, I told him I thought it was a beautiful city. “It was,” was all he said. The whole city was a ghost town. For a city that had seen a 25 percent decrease in tourism already this year, that was bad news.
The bombing didn’t just kill 11 policemen that day. It killed people’s spirits. And the fear that it conjured began killing the city itself – its business, its charm, and its people’s livelihoods. I would be hardpressed to find a more overt example of the work of the Enemy. He stole, he killed, and he destroyed.
But we stayed. In the immortal words of The Blues Brothers, “They can’t stop us. We’re on a mission from God.” We frequented local restaurants and shops. We made friends with the waiters and the restaurant owners and businessmen. Through our presence, our willingness to remain joyful, our resistance to fear, and yes, the money we spent, God put smiles back on their faces and groceries on their family’s tables. That might sound melodramatic, except for the fact we were told by some of our new waiter friends that their families could eat this week because we chose to stay.
Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that staying was heroic or that somehow my squad and I “saved Istanbul.” Far from it. We couldn’t have known what effect we would have by not fleeing. And like I said, any level headed person would have left. We stayed because God wanted us there, and He’s the one calling the shots. We stayed because He who is within us is greater than he who orchestrates the terrorist attacks and mass shootings in this world. We stayed because God loves the people of Turkey and we had the privilege to be the hands and feet of that Love to them for that week. Eventually, we had to move on, but I’ve no doubt that God continues the good works that He began there that week.
But now another bombing has occured in Istanbul, leaving over 40 dead and 230 injured in its wake. Friends and family of my squadmates are understandably worried. Some are telling my squadmates to leave Turkey. They aren’t unreasonable for saying that. In fact, I’d be surprised if people didn’t react that way. The danger of the 10/40 window and of radical Islam is real, and we are in the midst of it. Doubtless, most tourists have already left or are currently leaving. I can’t say that I blame them for doing so.
But let me tell you about the bravery of my young Turkish friend. For security reasons, I will change his name and I won’t give the name of the city in which he lives. Suffice it to say, he doesn’t have the option of leaving the city in which he lives right now, much less of leaving Turkey. He is learning English just by watching English movies and T.V. shows, and he knows enough now to converse with me and my teammates. Smart is a bit of an understatement when it comes to describing him. We met because he had the courage to approach my teammates in a coffee shop when he heard them speaking English and he wanted to test his language skills. Later, at a church picnic we invited him to attend, he told us he was searching for God. He doesn’t follow Islam or any other religion – he has seen firsthand the evils of religion. He just wants to help people and to draw close to God. So we invited him to church and he gladly accepted.
After the service, he stayed to talk with some of the members of the congregation and expressed an interest in learning more. So a member of the congregation gave him a Turkish New Testament, or “Incil” as they call it, and said it was a gift. “That’s nice,” I thought. Coming from a country where being handed religious pamphlets was a common occurrence, I figured I pretty well knew how this would go down. He’d smile and take it, but he wouldn’t read it. Then again, I thought, there’s always a chance he might actually glance through it.
The next time we met, I almost couldn’t believe it when he told me he had actually been reading the Bible and wanted to talk about it. He told me he wanted to feel God the way people at the church felt God, some of whom were moved to tears by His presence on the Sunday my friend had visited. He said he wanted his heart to be full and that he believed that it was his purpose to help people. He told me and my team that he loved us because we were peaceful and good. I told him that was because Jesus gives us peace and that He wants us to help people as well. He wants us to make Earth look like Heaven. To this, my friend responded “Maybe one day I help Jesus.” And he invited me to come to his house the following evening.
I took him up on the offer. We walked to his apartment where his mother prepared Turkish coffee with mastic gum for us. He talked about American sports and Turkish politics and I introduced him to the lyrical stylings of Billy Joel, Jimmy Buffett, and David Crowder. (He turned out to be as much a fan of Piano Man as he did of Crowder’s Neon Steeple album. Who’da thunk it?) But when I asked him about the bible, he turned around and pulled it out from underneath his mattress.
“I have to be careful,” he whispered. “I don’t want my mother to know. She talks. Other people might find out and not be peaceful. And my dad is bad man. Very bad man. He believe only Islam. No other religion. If he find out, he would kill me.” He jerked his thumb across his throat for emphasis.
His mother and his father are separated, but even so, the danger of radical Islam is alive and well in his community. And yet, he is willing to brave the danger and accept increased risk just to read the Bible and to hide it under his mattress. That’s how much he hungers for God. He’s willing to risk bodily harm and possible death just to know Him, becuase he’s known His love in me and my team and the local church.
People are fleeing his country because of periodic terrorist attacks, but he stays and then risks even more just to read a bible. That’s a kind of courage and hunger to which all of us should aspire.
We stay because God loves my friend and because He loves the people of Turkey, and so do we. We stay because His perfect love drives out fear, not the other way around. My friend’s story is an example of what can happen when you choose the courage to stay and to love in the face of terror and fear. The hope and the love that my friend feels, and the friendship we share, is an example of what can happen when you leave the safety of the flock and walk with Jesus to go find and love the one who got lost.
My God is bigger than terrorism, and so is His love for His people. There’s danger out there and fearsome enemies and mighty challenges, but that’s where Jesus is walking and I want to be by His side. And if my Turkish friend is willing to risk life and limb to know God, then I can certainly risk the danger to love him and point him toward Christ.
Please pray for my friend, that He would continue on the path of courage and love and find his heart filled in Christ. It’s ok if you don’t know my friend’s name when you pray. God does.
