Radical love on display in Ethiopia

Where a Christian is no better than a corpse

This part of Ethiopia is majority Muslim and Ethiopian Orthodox. Protestant Christians are a significant minority, and that’s the group the Tadesse family belongs to. While in some parts of Ethiopia, the relationship between the Orthodox Church and other Christians is friendly, in this village, any Christian outside of the Orthodox tradition can be persecuted. Additionally, extremists among the majority Muslim population persecute Christians as well, making the small Protestant community doubly vulnerable. The village is also home to some animist traditions, which can even mix in with the larger faith groups.

“There is huge oppression targeting evangelical Christians in the area,” says Pastor Yohannes*, the leader of the Tadesse family’s local church.. “When a person converts from another religion to Jesus Christ, there are intimidation and threats of killing. They write on a piece of paper, ‘If you don’t denounce this God, we will slaughter you in three or four days,’ and [they] leave the paper outside the converts’ doors.

“From their point of view, an evangelical Christian is as good as a dead and rotting person.”

Pastor Yohannes is tall and walks with self-assurance. He’s beloved by many people in his church, particularly among the teenagers—he’s a father figure to many of them. It’s easy to see that the persecution weighs on him personally. Persecution is not only a historical reality from the pages of Scripture but a living thing that leaves scars on the people he loves most.

This became horrifically clear recently. [Warning: the following contains some graphic descriptions of violence]

“We went out to spread the gospel, and to invite the non-believers to believe,” Yohannes says. “The community in the area came at us at once, some with weapons in their hands, asking ‘Where are these people from?’ and surrounded us.” The men in the group of Christians were beaten and fled for fear of their lives. Some of them spent three days in the forest before they were able to finally get home.

The women in the group of evangelists were dragged on the ground by their hair, and then the attackers urinated on the women. “It is a huge psychological scar for our sisters,” Yohannes says. “It’s hard to believe a person who is born from a women would do such a thing to a woman, but they did it in our area.”

“We have a prayer program on Fridays, and [these extremists] climbed the church wall and saw that we were praying. They started throwing stones; after the stones broke the windows, one stone landed in one sister’s head, and one landed [on] another [believer’s head].” Yohannes can still point out the structural damage from the stones.

Another incident took place during Christmas celebrations.

“As we gathered to celebrate the birth of Christ smoothly, [extremists] were deliberately sent […] they started throwing stones at the church’s roof,” Yohannes says.

You can imagine that this type of environment makes it challenging to try to raise children of faith. But Fasil and Ezana have managed to learn more about Jesus—because of the faithfulness of God, and the courage of their family and pastor.

Growing up in a place of pressure

A school for all—in Jesus’ name

One of the things Open Doors supports in Ethiopia is called a “bridging” project. It’s an effort that creates a “bridge” between the Christian community and the surrounding neighborhood, village or town.
In Fasil’s and Ezana’s town, one of these projects is a school. It isn’t a Christian school per se, though it is owned by Yohannes’ church and used for church needs—Sunday school lessons are held there, for instance. But it provides a safe place for Christian children to get an education.

“The school is in the church’s compound; it’s a familiar place for the children, it’s a place we consider our own,” Ermias explains. “It has many benefits. Economically, it has helped a lot, and it has created a home environment where the children are educated with freedom.

“I am no longer worried about their safety, for the [school’s location] is my own [church’s property],” he continues. “They go there and learn and come back with freedom as they wish; they are used to the compound because it’s where they go to church.” Ermias is overjoyed that the boys have been able to excel and grow academically.

The boys love it, too. “I love going to school, I love playing with my friends,” Fasil says. “I get education from my teachers, and I really like learning.” Ezana echoes the same sentiments, saying he also likes to learn and play with his friends.

Aside from the education for children like Fasil and Ezana, the school has also turned into a way to show the village the light of Jesus. Though most of the staff aren’t Protestant Christians, the school has changed how the small group of believers is perceived. “It has created a platform for us to show Jesus is a Savior,” Ermias says. “Parents of the children and the staff [have a good impression of] us, and for the church. I hope they will one day join us in being God’s children—that makes me happy.”

Ongoing needs, uncertain futures

A ‘platform for showing Christ’

A public witness of love

“God’s love is so wonderful,” 
“God’s love is so wonderful
God’s love is so wonderful
O, wonderful love of the Lord:
So high, you can’t get over it,
So low, you can’t get under it,
So wide, you can’t get around it,
O, wonderful love of the Lord.”