This blog has been submitted by ICC representative Sylvia Thompson.
“Look at all of this food,” exclaimed Selma! “I think there is enough rice and salad to feed the entire city of Cairo!”
“Well, it is a day of celebration,” said Noora, filling up plastic cups with iced tea. “This beautiful addition to our church has taken months to build. It is a miracle that we were able to construct this extension.”
“You are right,” said Selma shaking her head. “For the past 18 months we have been harassed and threatened with death from the Muslim radicals living in Cairo.” Selma walked over to Noora, lowered her voice, and said, “My husband told me that he caught many Muslim fundamentalists urinating on the church walls. Can you believe that, Noora?”
“Why do they do such things?” asked Noora, wringing her hands. “Why are they so angry?”
Before Selma could answer, the sound of a window shattering into a million pieces reverberated through her ears. “What’s happening?” cried Selma as the church walls began to shake and shift.
“I don’t know,” screamed Noora, taking Selma’s hand and pulling her toward the sanctuary. “We must find the others!”
Selma and Noora ran into the sanctuary amidst a barrage of shattered windows and crumbling walls. Inside the worship room they found the rest of their congregation huddled together—praying for protection. Selma and Noora ran over to the terrified group and fervently clasped their hands together, “Heavenly Father, please have mercy on us,” whispered Noora.
As the congregation lifted their voices, the chants of 8,000 angry Muslim radicals began to emanate throughout the church walls. “We will demolish the church,” they screamed. “Islam is the solution! The army of Muhammad is coming,” they wailed while hurling large, destructive stones.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the church congregation heard the familiar shriek of police sirens. “Thank you, Lord,” whispered Noora, grabbing Selma’s hand. “Thank you, Lord.”
Yet the arrival of police officers and riot tanks did not deter the 8,000 Muslim radicals. Instead of backing down, their chants grew louder, their stones larger, and their thirst for destruction intensified. Cars were set on fire, and nearby Christian shops were reduced to rubble, causing police to call for reinforcements. Finally, having no other choice, the overpowered officers launched grenades of tear gas into the streets—causing immediate dispersement.
Selma, Noora, and the rest of the congregation stayed huddled together in prayer until the sounds of breaking glass, wailing sirens, and lapping flames could no longer be heard. In the wee hours of the night, they quietly emerged from the demolished church– their eyes could hardly comprehend the destruction surrounding them. “Months of hard work,” said Noora, beginning to cry. “Why did they do this? Why?”
Selma reached over and pulled Noora into her arms. “This will pass,” she whispered. “Have faith. Do not let them steal your joy.”
The congregation returned to their homes that night shaken and confused—unsure of the future of their beloved church. Yet in the midst of their sadness they found peace—peace in knowing that their ability to worship the Lord could be done with or without four walls.
Crossing The Bridge