Bloody Palm Sunday

By now everyone pretty much have heard about the suicide bombings at Coptic churches in Alexandria and Tanta in which 44 worshippers were killed on Palm Sunday which comes the week before Easter. My heart was moved when I heard the news.

A few years ago I was in Cairo attending a church on Palm Sunday.

It was a moving experience to say the least.

When I arrived at the church, I recall seeing military police with guns guarding the church. We all had to walk through airport style metal detectors and subject ourselves to a search before we could even enter the church. If I remember correctly, there were one or two tanks sitting in front of the church as well.

I didn’t understand much of what was being said or sung that Sunday in church. But one thing I was able to understand that Sunday was how costly their worship was. It was beautiful. It was heart felt. It was sincere. It was filled with hope. It was real.

We in the West don’t understand what it means to be persecuted. Baking cakes for same-sex weddings and whining about how God has been taken out of public schools is nothing compared to what these Christians in Egypt have gone through.

I have a lot to learn from my Egyptian friends on what it means to follow the way of Jesus.


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