The
Rev. Frank Logue Losing Your Life to Find It I heard our Gospel reading for this morning in a broadcast on
our local Christian radio station, WECC, about 2 months ago. An interviewer was speaking
with Heather Mercer and Dayna Curry about their arrest and imprisonment by the Taliban
government. Heather said that this reading from Matthews Gospel had a profound
affect on her during her time in prison. Since hearing that interview, I read the two
relief agency workers book about their ordeal. I want to share their story with you
as an example of what it looks like to live out this Gospel.
Though they did not convert anyone, answering questions about
Jesus led to sharing some printed materials about Jesus and showing a family The Jesus Film on a computer screen.
The Jesus Film is a video created by Campus Crusade and translated into 758 languages and
counting. The film has been viewed by more than 1 billion people. But in the case of
Heather and Dayna, showing the film to one family led to their arrest, together with
fellow Shelter Now workers. They were held in prison for months, awaiting trial and a
possible death sentence. Heather wrote that after two months in prison, the bombing
campaign against Afghanistan started. Prison life, combined with the stress of daily
bombings caused her to lose hope. She writes that she deteriorated emotionally
under the weight of the circumstances. She went on to say, I faced a crucial decision: Either I could quit wrestling with God and trust him, or I could continue fighting against fears unyielding grip on my life and in the end surely die from the anxiety and grief. I feared that if I gave God the power to decide whether I lived or died, then he would take my life from me. I was not certain God wanted me to live as badly as I did. In the end, the exhaustion served me well. I was too tired to keep wrestling. Though I could not see the way ahead, I chose to surrender to God. I gave up. I threw myself into Gods hands. I wrote [in my journal]: Lord, all I can do is throw myself in your hands and say have your way. I am utterly desperate and I can do nothing, so I put my life in your hands. By now Ive gone numb. Its as though I cant take any more, so I just have to shut down. God, I trust you! Lord youre my only hope. I resign now and ask for your grace to endure .Oh God, I want to live, but my life is in your hands. If I live, I live for you. If I die, I die for you. In the end, you are in control and you have the last word. My
resignation released incredible freedom. The grip of fear began to loosen. I still
struggled, but my spirits lifted and hope for my future returned. At times I even believed
we might make it out alive. Even so, I ceased putting my hope in the end result of our
crisis. My hope rested in the promise I had for eternity
.Though the Taliban could
imprison my body, they could no longer imprison my spirit. I experienced freedom within
and I could go on.[1] On November 12, Dayna, Heather, and their fellow prisoners were
loaded on a truck and driven south from Kabul. In the darkness well south of the city,
their driver pulled over to consult with some other men. The came back and told them they
had just slipped out of the city just 30 minutes before it fell to Northern Alliance
forces. Heather started singing, There is a light in the darkness
and his name is Jesus. Then by flashlight she opened a Bible and alternated between
reading scripture and leading singing scripture songs. Heather, who had been the most
fearful before she turned her life over to God was leading praise songs as they drove away
from their hopes for freedom.[2] They slept in a shipping container in the middle of nowhere. The
next day they reached a prison in Ghazni. Bombing persisted. When the gun shots came close
Dayna peeked out the window to see Taliban running out into the street to join the
fighting, leaving them locked in the prison. Heather wrote, Several
minutes later, a violent banging sound reverberated in the corridor. Someone was pounding
with tremendous force on the front door of the prison
.This is it, I thought. The
Taliban are angry and they are coming back to kill us. I swallowed hard, trying to
gain my composure. I lay underneath the desk and prayed: Jesus, help me to die
gracefully. Help me to die honoring you. Let your name be the last word that crosses my
lips. Dayna takes up the story, The pounding noise was
overwhelming
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Seconds later our door flung open. A
scruffy, beardless man in ragtag clothing burst through the entrance. Rounds of ammunition
were wrapped around his chest. In one hand he carried a rifle; in the other, what looked
like a rocket launcher. His eyes were wide open; his hair was wild and coated in dust. He
was panting and looked astonished to see us, a group of foreigners, there in the room at
the Ghazni prison. Hello, he blurted out in
English. That was the only English word he knew. Farsi came next.
Rasti? Kati and I asked.
Really? He assured us it was true. Raft,
raft, he said. They fled. They fled.[3] They walked out into the street, carrying their few belongings
with them. Heather wrote,
Dayna wrote,
Heather, Dayna and their fellow aid workers were still a long
way from home in a very unstable country. It took some negotiations to arrange for US
troops to come in to pick them up. They wanted to arrange with local leaders for the pick
up, but everyone wanted either a large sum of cash for the deal or feared that other
leaders would think they had been bought off. In the end, the US Special Forces swept in
to a pick up point by night, with no assurance that the local militia would hold their
fire. Huge helicopter gunships thundered overhead making passes over
the area, not seeming to see the group. The now freed aid workers lit a blanket on fire
and waved it in the darkness. Shapes emerged out of the darkness as gear covered soldiers
called out Do you speak English? The next thing they new, they were running toward a Chinook
helicopter. Heather climbed into the helicopter. A soldier leaned down to be heard over
the noise, I want you to know that since your first day of captivity on August 3, my
family and I have never stopped praying for you. Another soldier approached Dayna,
I just want you to know that my family and I have been praying for you since the
first day you were taken captive, and most of these guys in here have been praying too.
Its an honor for me to be on this operation and to be used by God to help get you
guys out.[6] The real freedom had arrived for Heather much sooner, on that
day early in the US bombing campaign, when she gave her life back to God. Heather put her
trust in God and experienced the release of the hold fear had on her life. Thankfully none of us face such a dire choice. Yet, each of us
can find ourselves in the grip of fear. We dont dare let God take control. We
cant trust God and let go of our hopes and desires. Yet, if we dont let go,
then God wont be free to act in ways we could never foresee. Heather, Dayna and their fellow prisoners trusted God and found
the results were more than they had asked for or imagined. Even if they died, then that
too would have been to the best. It was only when they saw that whether they lived or they
died, they were in Gods hands that they could really live. That deep trust when the
situation said, Dont trust, allowed the two to fall free from fear into
the grip of grace. If you want to stay bound up in fear and uncertainty, you can
stay that way. No one will stop you. But, if you want to find the way to peace, then you
will have to lose your life. For losing you life is the only way to find it. Amen. [1] Prisoners of Hope: The Story of Our Captivity and Freedom in Afghanistan by Dayna Curry and Heather Mercer, with Stacy Mattingly (Doubleday, 2002) pages 226-227. [2] Hope, page 260. [3] Hope, page 271-272. [4] Hope, page 274-275. [5] Hope, page 275. [6] Hope, pages 298-299.
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King of Peace Episcopal Church + P.O. Box 2526 + Kingsland, Georgia 31548-2526