Every family has a story – and for Afghan families crowding
refugee centers served by Southern Baptist workers in Europe, it usually is
a sad one.
For instance, one ethnic Hazara woman was hit twice by Taliban
bullets as she fled the Afghan capital of Kabul. She survived – barely
– in her home village. She could not seek medical treatment, since no male
doctors under the Taliban were allowed to see a womans body, much less
touch it and any women doctors had been exiled long ago.
Every family has a story – and for Afghan families crowding
refugee centers served by Southern Baptist workers in Europe, it usually is
a sad one.
For instance, one ethnic Hazara woman was hit twice by Taliban
bullets as she fled the Afghan capital of Kabul. She survived – barely
– in her home village. She could not seek medical treatment, since no male
doctors under the Taliban were allowed to see a womans body, much less
touch it and any women doctors had been exiled long ago.
The womans husband – a well-to-do businessman –
was arrested two years ago. The Taliban demanded a high ransom for his freedom.
The woman paid it, but her husband never returned. Instead, another group of
Taliban thugs came in the night, demanding to know where he was. When the womans
12-year-old son insisted his father was still in jail, they shouted, “You
lie!” and threatened to cut off his feet.
They left after terrorizing the family, beating the boy and
jabbing a bayonet into his knee. He has been traumatized ever since, the woman
says, wiping away tears.
The woman paid a smuggler to take her to Pakistan the same
week terrorists attacked the United States. Then, she flew to an unidentified
Western European country.
Today, she sits in a narrow room in a nondescript dormitory,
waiting for action on her asylum application. She asks that her name not be
used; the Taliban may be on the run in Afghanistan, but she says she still fears
for the lives of her relatives there.
Her 9-year-old daughter stays close by her side, gripping her
with one arm and a teddy bear with the other. Her son offers a crooked smile,
but has a faraway look in his eyes. His knee bears the red scar of the bayonet.
Three other children remain in Afghanistan, hiding with their grandmother.
Is the womans husband alive or dead? Only the Taliban
knows. They took his brother, too, but eventually freed him – after putting
his eyes out, the woman says. “They beat him so badly he couldnt
move any part of his body. I know nothing of my husband.”
Such stories are as common as despair among the thousands of
refugees flocking to this European country for sanctuary.
They come not only from Afghanistan but many other places full
of war, oppression, ethnic turmoil or other miseries – Iraqis, Iranians,
Palestinians, Algerians, Kurds, Azerbaijanis, Syrians, Chechens, Gypsies, even
Burmese. They arrive by plane, in the backs of trucks and inside crates and
rat-infested ship holds.
“One of the best things we can do is listen to their stories,”
says Andrew (not his real name), a Southern Baptist worker who spends most days
among the refugees. “They just need someone to listen.”
They need a lot more than that, and Andrew and his co-workers
provide a lot more. However, listening is a start.
Andrew has heard some painful things in the centers. But he
also has heard Iranian young men eagerly ask about Jesus and a little Uzbek
girl say, “I love God!” after inviting Christ into her heart. “Its
so open,” Andrew says. “You can share the gospel with all these unreached
people groups without worrying about getting arrested.”
Andrew prays for power as he drives into refugee centers, the
back of his minivan loaded with clothing, food, toys and Bibles in various languages.
The kids come running first, shouting and jumping into his arms. Parents and
other adults follow. His visits count among their few bright spots.
He takes refugees to doctor appointments or outings to parks
and fast-food restaurants, plays with the children, recruits helpers to clean
up trash around the centers, introduces himself to new arrivals. He even has
broken up a few fights between members of rival ethnic groups.
He also spreads the good news of Jesus at every opportunity.
At the main refugee center, he sets up chairs and a snack table in the kindergarten
room, brews coffee and invites people in for a simple worship service.
On Friday nights, he screens a comedy or family movie, and
invites people to stay for another film – the “JESUS” film. Sometimes,
the mood among Muslims in the room gets tense when the movie reveals Jesus as
the Son of God, Andrew admits.
Some will leave. However, to date, more than 1,200 persons
have stayed for the entire showing, and at least 50 have committed their lives
to Christ as a result.
Andrew originally came to the city two years ago to help evangelize
a people group – but ministry with refugees quickly developed. “God
did his thing,” Andrew says.
Now, he leads a four-person missionary team concentrating on
refugee ministry.
One challenge is locating them. The government does not divulge
the locations of the refugee centers in order to protect families from foreign
agents seeking escapees – and from local racists targeting foreigners.
Most of the refugees eventually will be denied permanent residency
in the country. But many remain in the centers for years, until asylum requests
are finally decided. However, when they go home, some will carry the gospel
back to their peoples. That is the ultimate goal, Andrew says.
Meanwhile, the people keep coming.
In addition, Andrew and his team members keep ministering. “Sometimes
I ask God, What can I do?” he says. “And God keeps telling
me, Just love them.” (BP)