Christians in Egypt have a thing or two to teach us about true worship

“We feel like we are living in a room full of gas, and that any moment someone could strike a match.”

This comment from an Egyptian Christian summed up more than any other how they are feeling in that part of the world at the moment. Let me make clear from the outset that complaints are far from the first words from their mouths.

We had to poke and prod with our questions before the stories came out. This is not what they want to be talking about. They first talk with enthusiasm about their development projects, about their work amongst students, about the passion of Egypt’s young Christians, and the role they feel they have been given as a bridge to the rest of the Middle East.

But you can’t get away from the fact that these are people living under intense pressure. Discrimination has become an everyday occurrence, which has normalised it for them, but that makes it no less unpalatable.

Here is the heartbreaking news. Egypt has a proud history as a moderate Middle Eastern state. Different peoples have co-existed there for thousands of years. But we heard many stories of Muslim and Christian families who used to look after each others’ houses, whose kids used to play together, but where it no longer happens.

Fear is winning. Intimidation and vicious peer pressure is ensuring that Christians are made persona non grata. There are scary echoes of my homeland Northern Ireland, where a majority of well-thinking people became a silent majority through the threat of violence and just wanting “anything for a quiet life”.

We heard stories of church elders suddenly leaving the country in fear of their lives, and their young people wanting to be anywhere but in Egypt. Those who bravely shared with us changed their usually unflappable countenance when speaking of their wives who are unable to go to local supermarkets because of the abuse they receive, or their friends who have spent long nights in the “National Security” Office.

Wandering around Egypt, one is struck by the often-enforced nature of religion; the call to prayer dominating the audioscape at regular intervals, the rules that govern every inch of daily life, and the fear that prevents people making the cross-cultural connections they used to make.

Religion by force is a shocking thing up close. One inevitably feels remorse and disdain for the scandal that was enforced Christianity during Christendom. What is inspiring about the Egyptian church is that they do not succumb to the temptation to fight fire with fire. They continually call their people to be gracious, with many projects and programmes serving both Christians and Muslims. They continually bite their tongues when they could speak up and speak out about the human rights abuses that are taking place.

We encountered in Egypt not a bitter, reactive, fighting church, but a gracious, beautiful, Jesus-like church. We encountered not a siege mentality, but a desire to reach out and serve even when that hand is bitten off. When the pan-African games came to Cairo the church was asked to provide volunteers. And they cleaned the stadium top to bottom. A picture that one of our team members had while praying was that of an army marching and clapping but instead of brandishing guns, they were handing out bread.

While in Egypt we were continually pestered by flies. There were moments when I wanted to scream with frustration, especially while trying to play the guitar! It struck us that this is how the Egyptian church feels permanently, with the much more serious pest of persecution. They continually have the option to snap and swat the flies, but most of them don’t. Instead they wear an insect repellent called the Holy Spirit, which somehow gives them the grace to react in love, and not seek revenge.

Persecution can be an abstract term, so here are some stories which came from the horses’ mouths, to help you understand the daily realities -

One family we visited spoke in hushed tones about a Muslim lady who had become a Christian, only to be thrown off the balcony of their seventh floor apartment by her husband.

Another Muslim-background believer escaped to Dubai and lived there for 5 years but on coming back to see her family has had her passport taken away (after long hours of interrogation), and 6 months later still hasn’t been given it back.

Cars sporting crosses often get parking tickets.

Christians joke that “ID card” in Egypt stands for instant discrimination. One look at your card reveals that you are a Christian, and leads to treatment as a second class citizen.

In Alexandria, a gradual takeover is happening. People are being forced to wear headscarves. When a girl did not, she was beaten up, and when her father complained about this, he was set up by the local police, accusing him of visiting a brothel. They have had to move out of the area.

A lady was waiting for her daughter when an enraged young man came out of the mosque fired up, started calling her names and slapped her face. The police would not take any action against him. She had to leave the country as he had connections to a superior officer who was highly connected.

A Christian family had lived in an apartment block for 35 years, but imams started to question why Muslims should tolerate a Christian family living in the same block. Every time wives and daughters tried to go in or out they would be blocked by gangs of men. They have now had to move out.

Christians aren’t allowed to do any kind of “ministry” unless it is based in church building. This makes buildings important for the Egyptian church. They are also an affront to Muslims. The mere presence of a church in their area brings shame because they are obviously not good enough Muslims.

A recent Egyptian survey showed that 74% of women had been victims of sexual abuse. Can you believe that figure? So much is unspoken in this country because of fear.

MBBs are locked up, starved, and systematically beaten. This represents what they will face in hell for leaving Islam. They suffer hot irons and burns. Attempts are made to brainwash them back by Islamic clerics. Or they are deported. They cannot take anything from home and are often desolate. They can’t find jobs. They are ostracised from families and therefore have nowhere to live.

These things are not happening because of aggressive evangelism. These things are happening to people simply because they are Christians.

It is often said that you have not fully grasped the nuances of scripture until you realise it was written by persecuted Christians to persecuted Christians. Reading certain passages like 1 Timothy chapter 1 through the eyes of our Egyptian brothers and sisters certainly confirms that. But on this visit to Egypt I saw another level. Standing with them singing songs of praise and worship was a powerful experience, affirming that “time is in his hands” and that “he will deliver me from my enemies”, and “we don’t know what the future holds” but he will “hide me when the world presses in against me”. These words are not just metaphors or word pictures for Egyptian Christians. They are not portraying a separate reality. They are a re-telling of their daily lives.

They actually don’t know what the future holds for their families or their country. There may be an Islamic government in 5 years time. Knowing God is in control matters in that context. They do feel crushed on every side. This was an amazingly vital time of worship. Here the words really mean what they mean. These people are on the front line. This reaching out for God is not just to make people who have fairly nice lives feel a bit nicer. No wonder they worshipped non-stop for an hour. Jesus is really setting them free and protecting them from death. Singing “the prisoners will be released” packs some punch when members of your family are behind bars without charge. Psalms feel more like psalms. My desperation seems faked and spun compared to this need and this desperation.

We spend so much time and money in the west trying to make our worship “better”. Better songs, better instruments, better PA, groovy lights and screens. What if we spent that time instead allowing God to make us better – more like him – living more like him. It’s like spending all of our cake-baking time on the icing rather than the cake. The end result is momentary sweetness but no sustenance.

Could we say, “this time is for you, not for me”?

Are we in the west trying to share the stage with a shrunken version of God? Forgive us Lord. Move in power. Make your glory known. Sorry that you have to share the stage. Take your place centre-stage, in the spotlight. Only then will we notice that somehow you are also still serving us popcorn and sweeping up after we leave.

Post-Egypt, I’m not sure I know what courage is anymore. I’m not sure I know what faith is anymore. Are we alive or just existing, playing for time, treading water, playing it safe? This part of the body of Christ inspired me to cry out to the God who suffered persecution for our sake, yet still extends his arms of love to those who persecute him. That would be us.

Do I care more about who finds my Facebook status update amusing? Do I care more about who won X-factor? Do I care more about how England are doing against Australia? Do I care more if I have the newest iPhone? Do I care too much about whether people like me? Am I strong enough in my persecuted Lord to endure persecution, or will I instead delicately sidestep it by staying away from the awkward issues, camouflaging my faith for least disturbance. You know what. I’ve got pretty good at it.

Depart from me. I never knew you. Probably because he couldn’t see me.