We have been repeatedly asked about a recently published book called The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented a Story of Martyrdom, by Candida Moss, professor of New Testament and Early Christianity at Notre Dame University. In the book, she asserts that early Christian martyr stories (first three centuries of the church) either were forgeries (“pious fraud”) or that the original stories were edited, rewritten, and altered to fit personal, theological, ecclesiastical, and/or political agendas. She writes that stories of an afterlife for martyrs were invented to protect God’s reputation since God did not come through and save them before death. The stories, she believes, are unreliable at best, obscured by being worked over, or were made-up. “The purpose of this book is to show that the foundations for this idea [that there were legitimate martyrs in the early church] are imaginary,” she writes. They are “inspirational fiction.”

She states that Christians were prosecuted (not persecuted) because Romans saw them as disloyal citizens, not merely because they were Christians. In other words, the Romans did not prosecute them for their faith; Roman emperors were barely aware that Christians existed. She plays a semantic game with her readers at this point: Christians were prosecuted because they were atheistic (putting the public at risk of not receiving the blessings of the gods), anti-social (refusing to participate in pagan feasts that were often immoral), and disloyal (refusing to call the emperor “Lord”). “Just because Christians were prosecuted or executed, even unjustly, does not necessarily mean that they were persecuted,” she writes. “Persecution implies that a certain group is being unfairly targeted for attack and condemnation, usually because of blind hatred.” Christians were a threat to political instability, she claims, and were “uncooperative, stubborn, and difficult.” The problem with her argument is that Christians were seen this way because of their faith and loyalty to Jesus Christ—which is a religious issue with broader implications. They refused to go with the program if it was idolatrous and immoral. They were prosecuted because they were persecuted.

Moss makes bold assertions based on less-than-credible documentation (the thrust of her argument is that what she says is true because she says so) and debunks church fathers like Ignatius, Irenaeus, Justin, Tertullian, and the historian Eusebius. She casts negative light upon early Christian writers but speaks positively of the anti-Christian Greek philosopher Celsus and contemporary radical historians like British Marxist historian C.M.E. de Ste. Croix. She uses supposition and insinuation to support her arguments and equates classical hero stories to stories of Christian martyrs (implying that this is where Christians got the idea of martyrdom). “Scholars hypothesize,” she writes, “that this idea of delayed judgment and eschatological reward developed because these promises of immediate reward were constantly unfulfilled [meaning that people died for their faith rather than being blessed]. As a result and in order to avoid the conclusion that God was either notoriously unreliable or fundamentally incompetent, the idea of future eschatological reward and punishment emerged” (47) [Italics mine].

Moss is saying that these ideas emerged to protect the reputation of God! Eusebius was well acquainted with those who were undergoing persecution, but that does not mean he was interested in presenting the facts (216) [Italics mine]! “His portrayal of Christianity as a church of martyrs was strategic. It allowed him to use martyrs to further other claims he wanted to make.” There was, in fact, competition between writers of martyrdom stories (245). She trivializes the stories of martyrs by stating that the gory stories of the deaths of the disciples of Christ were “wildly appealing: they were the campfire stories and bestselling novels of their day” (6). It carried the fictional tradition on from generation to generation, getting gorier until Christians were victorious over Rome (7).

She hits a low point when she says that the Gospel of Mark sought to show Jesus’ “human side.” A little too human according to Moss and also to the great ancient skeptic, the cynical Celsus, whom she introduces as a “well-educated second-century pagan critic of Christianity.” Celsus mocks Christ’s words about asking the Father to let the cup pass from him. Moss comments: “It’s human to die, but to many it seemed a little weak to whine about it ahead of time” (58) [Italics mine].

Although this book does not add to her credibility as a scholar, Moss does make a few valid points that we need to consider:

• Persecution is complex. There may be more than one reason why people are persecuted (e.g., because of their ethnicity, they are perceived as a political threat by totalitarian governments seeking to bring everyone into conformity, or they were born into a minority faith community that the majority will not tolerate).
• Persecution stories should be well documented.
• Some have a “persecution complex” that should not be encouraged. There are those who see everything negative that comes into their lives as persecution caused by their faith. It is a psychological issue based on an unrealistic assessment of the facts.

Reviewed by Roy Stults, Ph.D.

Roy Stults, PhD, is the Online Workshop Coordinator and Educational Services Coordinator for The Voice of the Martyrs. He graduated from Olivet Nazarene University (BA and MA), Nazarene Theological Seminary (M.Div.), Trinity Evangelical Divinity School (Doctor of Missiology), and The University of Manchester (England) with a PhD (theology). A Vietnam veteran, Dr. Stults served as a missionary for 19 years and pastored U.S. churches for eight years. Prior to joining VOM, he was a Professor of Religion at Oklahoma Wesleyan University.

“There is something about experience . . . When somebody becomes a Christian after he has persecuted the church, he knows what persecution is about and it is important to support him to be able to go back and live the Christian life and be an evangelist because he has something to say to persecutors. He can say, ‘I have been there; I know what it means.’ He has a message that is not only theoretical but personal—a message that is out of both the Bible and personal experience that will reach out to the people because of his personal experience.”

Chibundu has pastored seven churches and now works exclusively with Muslims to evangelize them. He cautions others who are dealing with Muslims who seek to harm them: show love, not anger. For God can use anyone to build His kingdom.

“It is very easy for people to become so angry with those who are persecuting them. If you look at it humanly, logically, there is a reason to be angry. But as Christians we need to see them from the lens of compassion,” he explained. “When somebody is lost, when somebody is operating from a point that he’s almost blindfolded, he doesn’t know what he’s doing—he is just programmed and brainwashed. We need to see it from that perspective and have compassion and mercy on this person and see where he is coming from. Our reaction should be to consider what we can do to help this person come to an understanding of what he is doing so that the love of Jesus Christ will show him the light. People like this are blindfolded; they don't know what they are doing. They think this is the only way to heaven, but there is another way and they don't know about it. That's why we need to go and lovingly call them to the One who said, 'Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'" (Matthew 11:28).

“Chibundu" was a radical Muslim persecutor of Christians until he met Jesus. His story is one of those told in VOM’s new book, Saul to Paul: From Persecutor to Christ Follower. Order your copy online.

In 2007, Babasola’s oldest son was attending classes at his university [in Nigeria] when three Muslim men armed with machetes approached him. They called out his name.

“We have not come to rob you,” they said. “We have come to kill you because you are your father’s son.” The men slit his throat.

“It was very difficult,” Babasola said of the loss of his son. “But there is no sacrifice that is too big for God.”

Babasola continues to minister to Muslims. He secretly counsels Quranic teachers, mullahs, and sheiks who want to become Christians. He is a lamb among wolves who has intimate knowledge of the wolf’s lair. So many men in Muslim villages come up to him and tell him they are Christians because of him. He works a lot with persecutors. He even visited the man who had planned his son’s killing to offer forgiveness.

The man rebuffed Babasola, but after hearing about the exchange on a radio program, the man’s son showed up at Babasola’s home seeking to know Christ. “I discovered that love is the ultimate,” Babasola said. “If you want to win Muslims to your side, you have to love them—not with the human type of love, but with the love you yourself have experienced through Christ.”

In our work around the world we have met many Saul-to-Paul conversions like Babasola’s. They cause us to ask, “Who is my enemy?” For if we treat our persecutors as enemies, how will we ever win them to Christ? When VOM founder Pastor Richard Wurmbrand encountered vicious persecutors while locked inside a Romanian Communist prison, he viewed them not as enemies but as harvest. And indeed one of his violent captors became a Christian. Believers like these show a special love—God’s love—toward our so-called enemy.

“Instead of treating them as enemies, pity them, because it’s not them, it’s something that is motivating them,” Babasola said. “Because when I was there I did not know what I was doing. I was once a persecutor, but now through His grace He has forgiven me. This is God’s love. And though we have been persecuted we are not crushed...We are willing to die so that others will live.”

“Babasola” was a radical Muslim persecutor of Christians until he met Jesus. His story is one of those told in VOM’s new book, Saul to Paul: From Persecutor to Christ Follower. Order your copy online.

"Our Lord commanded us to remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy," Florea calmly told the prison guards. "I cannot work on this day."

The Romanian prisoners were forced to labor every day, but each Sabbath Florea refused. For his refusal, the guards routinely beat him so badly he lost the use of his arms and legs. He could only move his head.

Because he could no longer labor, Florea was forced to sit in his cell all day long. He had to rely on other prisoners to feed him. In spite of his situation, Florea was not downcast.

When other prisoners would complain about their situation, Florea would encourage them. "If the outlook is bad," he would say, "try the 'up-look.' When Stephen was stoned, he looked up and saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God. This comforted Stephen's heart, and it will comfort yours too." He encouraged his fellow prisoners not to "look out" to their circumstances but to "look up" at Jesus.

One of Florea's fellow prisoners was Richard Wurmbrand, who was later released from the prison and found Florea's nine-year-old son. He told him what a blessing his father had been in prison.

The boy smiled and replied, "I would like to become a sufferer and encourager for Christ as my father has been."

A Christian is not privileged with a certain set of circumstances. Nice home. Perfect family. Good health. No, a Christian is a person with a certain attitude toward any and all circumstances. A person's attitude makes the difference, regardless of circumstances. A heavenly attitude focuses on God's presence amid trials. Fixating on our hardships distracts us from a heavenly outlook. We feel burdened. Depressed. Hopeless. In contrast, a godly "up-look" on our troubles brings confidence that God is at work. We relax in God's presence, waiting to see how he will work out our concerns. Are you undergoing a trial right now? Where are you focused? Ask God to redirect your energies so you can look beyond your troubles and feel his presence near you.

Excerpted from Extreme Devotion, a daily devotional written by The Voice of the Martyrs. Order your copy online.

"I was called Mr. Insecticide," he says. "I was the only one who could organize the killing of the insects, the killing of Christians. When you are looking for someone to get rid of insects you call me, then I arrange and plan an attack against Christians. This was my life."


Today, "Babasola" no longer kills Christians. Now he tells Muslims about Christ. Just as Jesus called Saul the persecutor and transformed him into Paul, today He is still calling and transforming persecutors into His servants.

Babasola is one of seven former persecutors now serving Christ. You can read their stories in VOM's new book, "Saul to Paul." Order your copy online.

It is a world apart, the world of thieves. I found that they like to talk of their exploits, the riskier the better. They loved the excitement as other men love drink, gambling or women. I wondered at the dedication they brought to their work.

One evening, when most prisoners were outside, the door crashed open and the guards flung in a pickpocket, known to everyone as "Fingers." He rolled on the floor, gasping and groaning, as I helped him to his bunk. Soaking a rag in water, I began to wash the blood from his swollen mouth. It seemed he had been pilfering from the kitchen.

Richard and Sabina Wurmbrand

“You're not a bad sort, Pastor,” Fingers said. “When I get out and make my next good haul, I won’t forget your share.”

I said I hoped he would find a better means of living. He laughed. “They're wasting their time beating me,” he said. “I love my work. I’ll never give it up.”

I put my arm around his shoulder and told him, “Thank you. You've taught me a great lesson.”

“What do you mean?” Fingers asked.

“If beatings don't persuade you to give up your ways, why should I listen to those who want me to change mine? I must put at least as much thought into winning a soul as you do into pulling off your next coup. The more I listen to the stories which you and your friends tell, the more I learn.”

He grinned painfully, "You're joking, Pastor.”

“No,” I said. “For example, you work at night, and if you fail the first night, you try again the next. So I, as a pastor, should spend my night in prayer, and if I don’t get what I want, I shouldn’t give up. You steal from others, but there is honesty among thieves: we Christians should be as united among ourselves. And although you risk your liberty and lives for money, as soon as you get it you throw it right and left; we should not overvalue money, either. You thieves don’t let punishment deter you; nor should we shrink from suffering. Just as you hazard everything, so too, should we, knowing there is a paradise to win.”

The prison at Poarta-Alba consisted of the remains of the labor camp beside the canal project on which my wife had been forced to work. I knew that now she was living somehow in Bucharest. No hour passed without thoughts of her. We lived in long, bare huts which held fifty men each. All around were derelict barracks and vegetable patches which Sabina must have known. This melancholy comfort was taken from me when, after a few weeks, I was told to prepare for another move.

Fingers came up to say goodbye. With him was an associate called Calapod, a villainous bandit who had been feared throughout the countryside. He slapped me on the back, shouting, “So this is the Holy Reverend who likes thieves and robbers!”

“Mr. Calapod,” I said, “Jesus did not mind comparing himself with a thief. He promised, ‘I will come as a thief in the night.’ Just as those whom you have robbed never knew you were coming, so one night Jesus will come for your soul, and you will not be ready.”

Excerpted from In God's Underground, written by Pastor Richard Wurmbrand, the founder of The Voice of the Martyrs. You can order a copy of the book here; it is also available for Kindle
and Nook e-readers.

This month VOM released a new book, Saul to Paul: From Persecutor to Christ Follower, which shares the story of seven men who once tried to destroy the Bride of Christ, but ultimately succumbed to the power of the Holy Spirit. One of those men is Pastor Gowda, a former radical Hindu in India who today passionately serves Christ and His church. Here is a portion of his story, when he decided to read his mother's Bible.

"Where is it?" Gowda asked.

His mother rolled over, rubbing her eyes.

"Go away," she said. "It's midnight."

She cringed, afraid he would hit her again. But something seemed changed, she thought, though she couldn't be sure.

"Where is it?" he repeated.

"Where is what?" she asked, stalling for time. How do I escape? She thought. How do I get away if he becomes violent again?

"Where is the book?" he asked calmly.

She shook her head involuntarily. She would never let him have it. She couldn't let him destroy it.

"Please, mama," he said quietly. "I won't hurt it and I promise I won't hurt you anymore. I just want to see it. I want to read it. To see if what you said is true"

Still she hesitated.

"I will not damage it," he said. "You are telling me that Jesus is God who sacrificed His life, so just let me go through it."

She got up and grabbed it from a secret hiding place. She placed it in his hands. His hands were covered with bruises; his arms had large welts from his many needle marks. His face was drawn, and his eyes bloodshot. This man was not her son, she thought. But he could be soon.

Gowda took the book and climbed up onto the roof of the house. By the light of the moon he read the Gospel of John. He saw the words again: Sin. Forgiveness. Love. Jesus Christ. He read all night without stopping. It was as if he was in a trance.

Gowda thought about all the terrible things he had done. "God is living," his mother had told him. "Jesus died for your sins."

Suddenly, Gowda put the book down and stared at the cross on its cover. He somehow felt unworthy, unclean. He knew he shouldn't touch it. But he couldn't help himself. He searched in vain for all the things the [radical Hindu] RSS camp had taught him about Christ. He tried to find the part where Jesus forced people to convert. He looked for the country Jesus came from, to see if Jesus was really a foreign God. But Jesus didn't come from America. He was born in Israel—but He had a virgin birth. And then he read it—the verse that made all the difference. It was the phrase that clicked, that unleashed in him a powerful desire for the Lord. He knew before he finished reading it that it was the truth.

But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name. (John 1:12)

Hope. Belief was the only price. And another one…

"Most assuredly, I say to you, he who hears My word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but has passed from death into life." (John 5:24)

Hope. Forgiveness was available. Jesus could wash away all Gowda's sin and suffering.

Order your copy of Saul to Paul and read the rest of Gowda's incredible story, and how God transformed him from a persecutor into a pastor.

Over the weekend as I was remembering the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, I was reading this brand new book by the Reverend Eric Foley called These Are the Generations.

This is a relatively short book, about 120 pages, that is packed with the inspiring family story of the "Bae" family.  I found myself wanting to savor every word of this book, as I read the inspiring background of the grandfather in this family.

I have to say that reading about the grandfather and how he not only prayed and fasted and heard the voice of the Lord, but then reading about his obedience to what the Lord told him - including burning his families bibles.  It was like reading from the pages of scripture and seeing how the Lord did miracles straight from the bible.  I even got my husband to buy his own copy to read and he did!

I cannot recommend reading this book enough, which is why it's a great time to get the book since it's our current featured book.  Please click here and get your copy today.  I promise you that you will be inspired and challenged in your faith.

Please also remember the North Korean Christians in your prayers today. 

Here's more about the book These Are the Generations:

This powerful book describes God's work in North Korea through three generations of the Bae family, beginning with a family member during World War II and continuing through to his grandson, who was forced to flee after spending a year in a North Korean prison.

Their faith is unique among North Korea believers--it has been carefully passed on to each generation without outside contribution. The Bae family's story provides a rare, first-person account of life for underground Christians in this isolated nations and offers insight into the many hardships belivers have faced since the founding of communist North Korea.

Christians like the Bae family are extremely rare in North Korea. Most North Korean Christians learn about Christ in China or South Korea and take him--and a fair amount of systematic teaching and resources--back with them to North Korea. But the Baes from an altogether different part of the sheep fold. Born of the martyrs, they are among the remnant 7,000 who have not bowed to Baal (1 Kings 19:18). The Baes are heirs to the bold faith of the ancestors, guardians of the gospel in arguably the most idolatrous country in modern history.

"This may sound like a very unusual ending to a story about Christian faithfulness across generations, but North Korea is a very unusual place to be faithful. In North Korea, faithfulness is not something Christians are while they are busy doing other Christians things. It's what they do with their minds and souls and bodies and strength, and it almost always comes at the cost of their lives. So it is a very precious thing, and it means that our stories oftne have unusual beginnings and unusual endings. Like this one." --Mr. Bae

 

Enjoy this excerpt from the book In God's Underground available here at our bookstore.

The most startling news I gleaned from the cells at Secret Police headquarters was that Stalin had been denounced as a murderer and tyrant by his successor, Kkrushchev. The first reports of how Beria and six of his top men were executed on Christmas Eve, 1953—along with thousands of lesser Soviet secret agents—had just been published, and the process of discrediting Stalin had begun in Romania. Gheorghiu-Dej, the new Romanian dictator, was introducing a more popular policy. Dej liked to live well himself, and his temperament, at least, was an improvement on that of the Pauker circle.

 

The news I took back to Jilava threw the cell into uproar. Everyone was delighted that Stalin had been pushed from his pedestal. They hoped it would hasten their own release.

 

But Popescu said, “I know the Party. They’ll denounce the robber—and they won’t repay the robbed.”

 

“Anyway, Stalin’s finished,” another prisoner said.

 

“May he burn in hell!” shouted a second.

 

Amid laughter and cheers, two prisoners waltzed round together, screaming obscene remarks about “Uncle Joe.” Only the guards were silent. Stalin’s denunciation left their future unsettled.

 

Popescu called to me, “You’re not looking so happy, Pastor!”

 

I said, “I can’t take pleasure in explosions of hatred toward anyone. We do not know Stalin’s fate. He may have been saved at the last hour, like the thief on the cross.”

 

“What! After all the crimes Stalin committed?” asked someone.

 

“Who knows if Stalin had not wept over his sins?” I said. “All who repent, no matter how grievous their sins, can be forgiven. A maniac like Hitler who burns in ovens millions of harmless people he has never met; a mass-murderer like Stalin who kills thousands of his own comrades—even such men can find forgiveness in Christ.”

 

This is an excerpt of In God’s Underground (page 183–184).

IN 1951 MORE and more Communist women began appearing in the camps and prisons. At Cernavoda I met Marioara Dragoescu, who’d been imprisoned by the old regime as a leading revolutionary. Now she was sent to forced labor by her comrades as a “counterrevolutionary.”

 But she would go on fighting for the Communist ideal. The Great Marxist Society was around the corner. In Mislea, the big women’s prison, she had nursed her two-month-old child—then he had been taken from her and put in a State orphanage. She didn’t know if she’d ever see him again.

 She had commiserated with George Cristescu, one of the Party founders, who’d served his first prison sentence for Socialism in 1907. He’d also been the first Secretary-General of the Communist Party. Now, at seventy-two, he worked alongside us in the fields from sunrise to sunset, in snow, rain, and wind.

Sometimes I filled his barrow with earth. He had hitched himself to it like a beast. It was easier to pull than to push up the slopes. I remembered something Richard said shortly before his arrest and repeated it to him: “Under a tyranny, prison is the most honorable place to be.”

A smile lit his face. A guard shouted at him and he hurried off, yoked to his load. The next day when we were out together, I whispered, “I’m sorry to get you into trouble with my speaking.”

“No, speak! It’s like music to hear something different after so long. I’ve hungered to hear a gentle voice as I hunger for color after so much gray.”

Later he told me of his disillusion. “This communism they practice is not the ideal I fought and suffered for. I felt it would be dishonest on my part not to protest.”

Those of us who had faith realized for the first time how rich we were. The youngest Christians and the weakest had more resources to call on than the wealthiest old ladies and the most brilliant intellectuals.

People with good brains, education, wit, when deprived of their books and concerts, often seemed to dry up like indoor plants exposed to the winds. Heart and mind were empty.

Mrs. Nailescu, the professor’s wife from Cluj, said one day, “How happy you must be to be able to think and keep your mind busy and pray! I can’t. I try to remember a poem, and in comes the guard shouting. At once my mind goes back to this everlasting camp. I can’t concentrate. I can’t discipline myself.”

“Society” women were often the most pitiful. Life was harder for them than for anyone. They’d lost the most, in the material sense; and they had the fewest inner resources to fill the gap. A rubble of old games of bridge, hats, hotels, lost weekends and lovers rattled about in their heads like junk in the back seat of a car. Their nerves gave way first, as did their soft white hands.

After work, women came to religious prisoners and asked, begged even, to be told something of what we remembered from the Bible. The words gave hope, comfort, life.

We had no Bible. We ourselves hungered for it more than bread. How I wished I’d learned more of it by heart! But the passages we knew we repeated daily and at night, when we held vigils for prayer. Other Christians, like me, had deliberately committed long passages to memory, knowing that soon their turn would come for arrest. They brought riches to prison. While others quarreled and fought, we lay on our mattresses and used the Bible for prayer and meditation, and repeated its verses to ourselves through the long nights. We learned what newcomers brought and taught them what we knew. In this way an unwritten Bible circulated through all of Romania’s prisons.

This is an excerpt from the book The Pastor’s Wife. To purchase this book, please click here and to purchase the book and DVD, please click here.