I had never thought much about the image’s chest of silver in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream—that is, until I was teaching in a living room crowded with Persian Christians recently escaped from Iran. Suddenly, stories of Cyrus the Great literally became a “treasure chest of silver.” These wide-eyed Iranians with Farsi Bibles on their laps grabbed up every detail of the prophecy I unfolded to them like it was a trove of ancient coins. I went through every detail of the magnificent prophecies and stories from Isaiah and Ezra about the Medes and the Persians and Cyrus the Great. Though I was the mouthpiece, that night the Holy Spirit taught me new things in Daniel 2 I hadn’t seen before.

There were fifteen eager learners in the Bible study. They had gathered at about 9 p.m. after working 12 hours in a sweatshop stitching clothing. We met in a small, undecorated apartment. Each person had a unique story to tell of how they had risked their life to flee Iran. In Turkey they had found both refuge and slavery. They wouldn’t be jailed for their beliefs, but the grim reality of being a refugee—not knowing Turkish and exploited by greedy employers—made life miserably difficult. Some had accepted Jesus in Iran, and some had found Jesus while in Turkey as recently as a month earlier. They were truly babes in the faith, eager to better understand all they had inherited in Jesus. 

Earlier that day I had spoken to a lawyer who had escaped from Iran. This highly educated man took a brief break from his sewing machine to talk to us about his recent conversion. “I know Jesus is love, and I have accepted Him as my Savior. My whole life has been turned upside down for Him. But I know almost nothing about Him. I need to be taught.” (Here I pause the article to appeal to someone who is contemplating coming to Turkey to be an AFM missionary. Won’t you please consider making that decision soon?)

How did I come to this eastern city in Turkey, and why was I meeting with Iranians? It is a long story, but in short an Iranian man, Akbar, had traveled through Afghanistan and Armenia and had become a Christian. In Armenia he met an Adventist pastor, studied with him for three months and became enthused by the full message of the Bible. He came to Turkey and began teaching and preaching the Advent message to other Iranians. Soon he had a group of 15 in a house church. How surprised I was when I got an email saying, “Please come and help us establish an Adventist group.” I asked Paul Massey to accompany me, and we went to see how we could help.

Akbar and a friend met us on our arrival. Akbar is a joyful, industrious young man with a broad smile. In addition to supporting himself with odd jobs, he was studying with dozens of people and sharing the good news of Jesus’ coming. However, he himself was not yet baptized! Akbar pleaded for us to baptize him the Sabbath of our visit. We called his teacher in Armenia to confirm his completion of advanced Bible studies. It was quite clear that he was qualified for baptism. 

God made every detail fall into place. I wish I could summarize all the divine appointments of those few days. At the end of each day, we were in awe at God’s providence. We saw such spiritual hunger and such beautiful hope, humility and love for Christ among the Iranians we visited. 

On Friday night, we gathered for the Daniel study. A woman who had been a Christian for two years said, “I am so happy you are here. In the last two months, I have read Daniel through three times. It was difficult, so I prayed, ‘God, please send someone who can explain Daniel to me.’” Smiling at me, she continued, “And now you are here. God has answered my prayer.” I thought back over the long, long chain of events God had used to seat me in that living room in the middle of Asia Minor on that night. Never could this lady have imagined all the preparation, the hundreds of donors, the prayers, the circumstances and the combined determination that put me on that sofa that night with my Bible in hand. God is truly the Master Planner.

On Sabbath morning, a Turkish Protestant pastor friend lent us his church for our worship. Afterward we traveled by bus for an hour to the Mediterranean Sea where the Protestant pastor joined us. After a little picnic together near the sea, Paul Massey spoke a few well chosen words challenging Akbar to be faithful. Then Akbar and I waded out into the calm sea. I felt the Spirit descend on the two of us as we stood in the water only a few miles from Paul’s birthplace in Tarsus. As I spoke the words, “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” I silently thanked God for this faithful young man. Then I plunged Akbar into the sea and held him under for a lingering moment to let him savor this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Akbar arose jubilant. 

As I waded out of the water, I thought, _How sweet a privilege to be a frontier missionary! _

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