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I have a piece of the Berlin Wall on my desk at home that
someone bought for me in a store in Germany. It’s possible that a
budding East-German entrepreneur newly introduced to the wiles of
capitalism produced it by spray-painting their driveway before jack
hammering the cement for the desired effect, but it looks authentic and
I’m happy to believe it is. It’s twenty years since the Wall came down so suddenly,
unexpectedly and joyously. The edifice that so powerfully symbolised
the might of Soviet Communist oppression is now—in large and small
pieces—a treasured possession of museums, hotels, and universities and
of artists, historians and tourists. Ironically and poetically it has
come to symbolise freedom, beauty and creativity. It reminds me of an earlier time when the Apostle Paul stared through the bars of a Roman prison cell upon an empire he had experienced as immense in scope, lavish in achievement and brutal in dealing with potential opposition. It was to this empire that he took his message of an obscure Galilean teacher being the key to life. His chances of success in spreading this news must have looked as improbable as the gospel he preached. But two-and-a-half centuries later, within the same empire that periodically tortured, crucified and fed to lions adherents of this novel faith, followers of Jesus had slowly and peacefully gained influence and numbers to the point where an ambitious emperor could think it worth converting. The walls of pagan religion and unbelief were inexorably eroded, and the cross—a macabre symbol of cruelty and oppression—came to represent the greatest story of freedom and hope ever told. Simon Smart
(We ask that you please keep all comments to 200 words or less) Over the centuries Christians have taken great comfort and inspiration from Jesus’ ‘Sermon on the Mount’ and his call to his followers to trust God with their lives and not to be anxious about the small stuff: "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” (Matthew 6:25 – 27) These words of timeless wisdom are especially relevant in the West today given the high rates of anxiety that afflict us as we wrestle with the uncertainties and fears of a materially abundant life, or ‘luxury’s disappointments’, as folk singer Billy Bragg once put it. But I’ve always wondered what those same words of Jesus sound like today in the ears of believers in places like Ethiopia, Uganda, or Sudan when a mother holds her dead child whom she has begged God to save; or a father remains helpless while his family wastes away from starvation before his eyes. How could they feel anything but bitterness when coming across those words from the Gospel? But here’s the thing. Believers in places of the world where health, food, safety from violence, comfort and security are scarce do in fact find in these verses immense hope and reasons for joy. I was reminded of this again this week, listening to Greg Clarke’s interview with Agnes Nyamayarwo. Agnes is well known as the Facilitator and founding member of the Mulago Positive women’s Network—a support group for HIV positive women in Uganda, and for her work with Bono from U2 in raising awareness in the U.S. of the African AIDS dilemma. Her life story neatly fits with most people’s greatest nightmares. A family ravaged by death, heartbreak and the merciless affliction of AIDS. And yet, she remains full of purpose and a deep sense of trust in God. I found the same thing a couple of years ago when I interviewed a young Sudanese woman newly arrived in Australia, having spent twelve years in Kenyan refugee camp. She’d lost a brother and a half-brother to the violence of the civil war. Most of her life had been one of imminent danger and loss. ‘God is always with you whether things are dangerous or risky …whether things are going well or not,’ she told me. Like Agnes Nyamayarwo, there was an elegance and dignity about her and the high value she placed on a peace that only God can provide. Some might want to dismiss this as a psychological coping mechanism—wishful thinking to help deal with the trauma of life. They could be right. But sometimes it’s in listening to the stories of the faithful from places less ‘blessed’ than our own, that the meaning of Jesus’ words comes to life. It’s the promise of a Father’s love that won’t go away; of a home prepared for those who believe and, in an ultimate sense, provision and security despite what life will throw at you. It’s a vision worth taking seriously. Simon Smart
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