Driven underground
The persecuted church
Across the twentieth century, more than one regime set out to crush the church for good, and they had the machinery to try. They seized the buildings and turned them to other uses. They jailed the pastors and scattered the leaders. They banned the printing of Bibles and hunted down the ones already in circulation. The forced break was severe and deliberate: believers cut off from public worship, from their shepherds, from any safety the open practice of faith had ever given them. And the church did not die. It went down into homes and prisons and whispered prayers, into Scriptures copied by hand and passed in secret, into a life the authorities could not see and so could not fully reach. In many of the very places where the assault was fiercest, the faith grew faster underground than it ever had in the daylight. Persecution is a break inflicted with the intent to destroy. Again and again in this century it accomplished the opposite of its aim, pressing the seed down out of sight and only driving it deeper into the soil, where it took a root that could not be pulled up.
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Could oppression, or anguish, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?”
— Paul, to the Romans — Romans 8:35 (WEB)
“Remember those who are in bonds, as bound with them; and those who are ill-treated, since you are also in the body.”
Perhaps your own faithfulness has cost you something, has driven your faith into hidden, unsupported places where no one is watching and no one applauds. A conviction you hold quietly because holding it openly would cost too much. A obedience that has isolated you, set you at a distance from people whose approval you wanted. If so, you are in older and larger company than you feel: the company of the underground church, the believers who held on where the cost was everything. Hear what Paul insists, writing to people facing the sword: nothing can separate you from the love of Christ, not persecution, not peril, not the loss of every visible support. The break that has driven your faith into the dark, that has isolated and unsettled you, has not severed the one cord that actually holds. It cannot. The buildings can be seized and the comforts stripped and the company taken away, and still the thing underneath all of it, the love of Christ for you, remains exactly where it was, uncut and uncuttable.