“Time to go, guys!” my husband calls as I sweep up Sabbath breakfast crumbs. I’m thankful that renting a villa in the city for Sabbath worship means I don’t have to prepare our house for visitors. The dishes in the sink can wait until sundown.
I pull out the soup and salad prepared the day before and put them in a reusable shopping bag. Shopping bags became a commodity here a few years ago when stores started charging for disposable bags. I brought colorful ones from the U.S. to give as gifts and brighten up my weekly trip to the market.
Getting out the door with our four sons is still complicated after 15 years of parenting. We wrangle bags and shoes in the cool marble corridor, itself a little world between our 2-story home and the village outside. It is a haunt for pill bugs, beetles, mosquitoes, and the occasional 40-leg centipedes that entertain our boys.
This corridor was recently the site of a tick infestation, thanks to our pooch taking refuge here from the heat. As my husband attacked them with the fury of an Ottoman raid, dozens plunged out of the cracks in the marble and fell victim to the pesticides and vacuum faster than the Byzantines before swords and horsemen. This Sabbath morning the floor is littered with fat spider carcasses, innocent victims of the poisonous attack.
Through the city
About half a mile separates our village from the nearest suburb, teeming with university students. We travel through the school campus to avoid a police checkpoint on the main road. Getting pulled over and questioned about driver’s licenses and residency status is never a pleasant delay. Jacob has been fined for minor infractions and was once harassed about the boys not being in school.
The city looks like most any industrialized nation. McDonalds and Burger King sit alongside local restaurants, and urbanization results in constant construction of tall cinderblock apartment buildings in various shades of grey and pastels. Farming has been discouraged, and the cities are rapidly growing. Rural land purchases by wealthy Arabs may be keeping the economy afloat—at least for now.
The people strolling the sidewalks wear a mixture of European and conservative styles. Nearly 100 years ago, the nation’s founder discouraged fundamentalism. Headscarves were banned in government offices and higher education, leading many women to lose work and education opportunities. Today conservatism is thriving, and it seems women have a great influence over the religious climate of the country. More women than men attend religious universities, preparing to teach children’s Qur’an courses and operate groups for adults. Nominal and secular Turks resist the change and are fighting to elect a secular party. Big changes may be on the horizon.
Meanwhile, I watch people and wonder, how will they ever know? How will they know Jesus Christ lives and loves them and offers salvation without their needing to earn merit or fear hell? I’m often overwhelmed by the thought. Few will even pursue knowledge without a catalyst like a dream or meeting a Christian. It’s rare to even approach faith in conversation without stirring up conflict. We primarily cast small seeds where we can and prepare online resources for those who may search.
Anyone can discover and share the vital truths of the Bible. The central theme is always the beauty and grace of Jesus.
Circle of faith
In a quiet neighborhood we pull up to a blue house with a small yard, a gazebo, and jasmine and wisteria growing on the fence. Residential land is expensive, and most lots are filled with apartment buildings built as tall and wide as allowed. People on top of people, close together, many in structures which will crumble if hit by an earthquake. A few can afford single-family villas, and we were blessed to get a deal on this rental.
For most of the past seven years, we worshiped in our home, first in our city apartment and then in our village home. We didn’t come here expecting to purchase a home but discovered it would be the only way to secure a renewable residency permit. Finding and refurbishing the village home is a story of its own, and in the process, we were talked into adding a third floor. We didn’t really need the extra space, but Jacob eventually built a recording studio on that level, and the rest of the space we used for our church group.
Over the years people came and went—mostly local men, students from the university, and the two couples who labored with us. Some came briefly out of curiosity or to practice English, while others stayed longer, impressed by the beauty of Christ and the love in our little group. Hasan, a retired gentleman who saw Jesus in vision became a steady part of our family. After four years, Gengis was baptized into our group, and last year he brought Kemal, who was baptized in April. Kemal is learning English in hopes of studying for the ministry.
This Sabbath, Gengis and Kemal are here with our teammates, two African students, and two gentlemen visiting from the Catholic church. We start our worship with singing. There is no cultural context for group singing, so local music is limited, and what we do have can be difficult to follow. As with every aspect of our worship, we have carefully discussed the music, always seeking to find the path of relevance and biblical applicability. We decided it was appropriate to sing our timeless hymns of faith, translated by a local believer, along with the local songs we have.
“Does anyone have prayers and praises?” Denver, an African student, asks while leading out. He comes from an Adventist family and brings his African-Christian friends with him. Our host country offers many scholarships to African students, and those who are Christians appreciate the chance to meet with other believers. Various people share, and then we kneel on the colorful carpet for a “popcorn” prayer.
After a short break, the men open their Bibles to the reading for the week. We are going through the Gospel of Mathew, unpacking a chapter each week using an inductive Bible study model. One of our Turkish friends will read the chapter before we discuss what lessons can be gleaned. This simple method allows the biblical narrative to take shape for the reader and speak for itself. Besides unpacking its content, we want our attendees to recognize the Bible as the only textbook absolutely necessary for perpetuating this movement. Anyone, regardless of experience or education, can discover and share its vital truths. The central theme is always the beauty and grace of Jesus and the plan of salvation. For those ready for deeper study, we have a set of contextualized Bible studies developed by our sister team in another city and the E. G. White materials. But for our worship times, when anyone may show up, we follow a multiplier mindset: a simple format that is easily replicated.
While the group is studying, I take my boys downstairs to color and listen to stories on the computer while I slip back upstairs or work on the meal with my teammate. For most Sabbaths, we make rice, salad, and beans or lentils. The fellowship meal is more than food and fellowship—it is an opportunity for those serious about supporting this movement to contribute. Our single men don’t do much cooking, but they can bring packaged sweets, drinks, and yogurt, and they can help serve and clean up. For those who had mothers and wives who waited on them hand and foot, this doesn’t come naturally. With a little patience and encouragement, our faithful attendees are learning to give back, and it is beautiful.
Home and village
In the evening, we leave our little bubble of faith in this teeming city of over 2 million and drive back to the village and our own world at home. After the boys are in bed, I hear a strange guttural noise coming from their room. “What’s that?” I ask, pausing to listen.
“It’s the sheep outside,” my 13-year-old responds from the darkness.
Oh, yes. Behind our wall is a ram tied securely to a tree in the neighbor’s yard, awaiting sacrifice. Tomorrow is Kurban Bayram (Eid in Arabic), when our neighbors will be remembering Abraham’s near-sacrifice of his son. Cars will be lining the streets of our village, come to select a sheep or a cow to have butchered, or some will butcher their own. The sound of frightened animals and the smell of death will fill the air, and the people will be excited. They will spend the three-day holiday feasting and making social calls.
There are so many different worlds. This country is a different world. The city and the village are different worlds. Worlds exist between believers and unbelievers, conservatives and liberals, and even between neighbors. Our home is a different world, with our messes, family worship, homeschool, and pancakes. We navigate worlds, learning where to adapt or take a stand, where to give or set boundaries, ever longing for the Holy Spirit to work among this people for whom Christ died to give them a future and a hope!