I have just experienced a chain of events so wonderful and puzzling that I am still trying to sort out their meaning. I suppose Peter had such a feeling when men came from Cornelius telling him to come to this Gentile’s home to baptize him. Turkey is a land where Christianity once was but now is not, so native Christians are scarce. Therefore it was a great curiosity when my partner, John Smith, ventured to eastern Turkey last month and found a village that was entirely Christian. The rest of this article is about our follow-up to John Smith’s efforts of a month ago. But it is only chapter two in what I sense is a vast, unfolding spiritual drama. It seems very clear that God has only started His work in eastern Turkey.

I will attempt to give an orderly account of the events Esther, Sadaattin our blind guide and I encountered over the last week together. I say blind guide because Sadaattin’s sight is so poor that he must cling to my arm when we walk and holds books an inch from his face to read them. From the day he first stepped foot in our church, Sadaattin committed himself to Adventism. Since then, Paul Massey has faithfully taught him, and he was re-baptized last month.

Sadaattin has been a Christian for more than 25 years and once worked for the Gideon Bible Society. He has sincere Christian friends dotting Turkey, people he has met at secret camp meetings and other events over the years. Now that he has become an Adventist, he is determined that these old friends share his new convictions. So, while we were on furlough, he asked John Smith to visit them. For details on that trip, don’t miss John Smith’s article next month. Because of the eagerness John encountered for learning about the Sabbath and other prophetic issues, our team decided Esther and I should head east and follow up while the trail was still hot.

As we disembarked at the airport, two Christian men met us. We were to spend a few days in this city before going to the Christian village a few hours away. One of the men, Sabit, led us to his home where we would be staying, an apartment above a steel workers’ shop. Not your typical bed and breakfast!

Life here is a patchwork of wealth and poverty stitched together by sweat, hopes and failures. One man we visited in the city was a self-taught dentist. The entrance to his dental office looked like a windblown garbage heap. People care little for what isn’t theirs, so streets are broken, curbs are broken, building projects sit half completed for decades, and litter is everywhere. House numbers are spray-painted on the grey concrete walls. No beauty, only functionality.

Sabit’s apartment building gave an impression of 40 years of neglect. The entrance was filthy, and the stairway handrail was iron rebar. The furnishings in Sabit’s apartment were pieced together of mismatched hand-me-downs. A new study Bible and a shiny laptop computer stood out in contrast to the dreariness.

Nonetheless, we found Sabit and his family warm and gracious. They immediately put a folding table in the living room, spread a tablecloth on it and filled it with salad, rice, green beans in tomato sauce, and stuffed grape leaves. They treated us like long-lost family.

Truthfully, they were as curious about us as we were about them. They knew nothing of us other than that we were Sabbath keepers. One month earlier, Sadaattin had led John Smith to a retired mathematics teacher. John gave the man a condensed version of The Great Controversy, and he devoured it. Then the teacher brought it to his friend Sabit, elated with the story of the reformation and the ancient thread of a holy Sabbath tying together God’s kingdom from Creation to the end of the world. “I knew it was true immediately,” Sabit told me. This man of peace and his wife were now fully awake to receive new truth and under spiritual conviction that keeping the Sabbath would not be easy.

Sabit and his wife have a son named Solomon—17 years old, intelligent and handsome. He asked me during a meal, “Since the Bible says to keep the Sabbath, why do people keep Sunday?” It was certainly an open invitation. Empty plates disappeared, and Bibles opened. I started slowly and methodically, beginning with Genesis 2 and God’s holy character. I talked about how the Sabbath was made for human happiness, and how it was a sign of relationship between Jesus and His people. We looked at about six other texts. Sabit’s teacher friend was with us, and he frequently inserted bits of information. His conclusions were 100-percent on target and greatly assisted the Bible study. At 10:30 p.m. the doorbell rang, and two more Christian friends entered. Knowing it was unwise to continue such a serious study with new people, we set it aside and simply enjoyed hearing these people’s beautiful testimonies of conversion.

After a short night’s sleep, I was awake at 6 a.m. building several Bible lessons and sermons. Sadaattin had told us we would just be meeting people and making friends, but it was clear to me now that these people were hungry for teaching, so I needed to prepare. These were Christians who knew their Bibles well, and they had serious questions.

At about 11 a.m. we met another friend of Sabit’s. His name was Strength, and it was a very appropriate name. He attended a Pentecostal church, and I think he would have joined a modern crusade if the opportunity arose. He punctuated each sentence with a pointed finger, and he spoke in powerful words about being willing to die for his faith, which seemed like a very clear possibility given that he wore a big ring on his finger with a cross and a sword—not a very wise thing to wear in Turkey. Esther and I were surprised when he said in the middle of his testimony, “I quit smoking because the Bible says my body is the temple of God.” We hadn’t heard a Turkish Christian speak with such enthusiasm about health. Sabit invited Strength and his wife to his home for a Bible lesson that night. That afternoon, we had a powerful lesson covering Revelation 12 with a group of seven people.

When Strength arrived at the house that evening, it was obvious he had come prepared for a verbal duel. The house was full of guests who were still weighing my words, and trust was just beginning to form—not an environment where I wanted to court an argument. “What are your doctrines?” Strength began bluntly. When I began setting them out in a general way, he interrupted. “No! I want to know what is different.”

The Lord gave me real wisdom at that moment. Soon after Strength’s arrival as we had been singing hymns, I had picked up his Bible and glanced through it. I happened to notice that he had underlined Leviticus 11. “Well,” I began, “we differ from other Christians in a few distinct areas. However, like you, we love the Bible and follow it. That means we live our lives differently from some who take it more lightly.” Making a Spirit-led gamble, I said, “For example, I imagine you don’t eat pork. Why? Because you have found the Bible forbids it. Is that true?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Well, I don’t eat pork either. But if you were to observe a hundred foreign Christians, as soon as they get on the plane and leave Turkey, they are eating pork.” Strength suddenly found himself firmly in my camp. “Let me show you another difference,” I said. “Turn to Isaiah 58.” I really felt the Holy Spirit directing me. Starting in verse seven, we worked our way down through the verses about sharing food with the hungry and providing for the poor. Still in an argumentative spirit, Strength made a big statement about verse 10, jabbing his finger aggressively. “Notice,” he said, “it says, IF you do those things, THEN your light will rise. See that IF. That IF is so, so important.” He went on for about three minutes as if nailing the idea to a wall.

I sat back smiling inside, knowing the Spirit was helping him wind up the spring on his own trap. Finally, in mercy, I interrupted. “You hit the point exactly. Now let’s notice the last if/then statement of three in this passage.” I had him read aloud verses 13 and 14. “IF you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
. . . THEN you will find your joy in the Lord.” The poor man had just preached his own sermon. He could hear his own “IF” still echoing off the walls, and the “THEN” fluttered about the room like a dove. He sat in silence thinking deeply.

To be continued. 

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