I have a book in my possession “Armenian Massacres and Turkish Tyranny” published in 1896, written by Fredrick Greene, MA. He was an eyewitness to a lot of what he wrote about and the rest came from compiling articles that British journalists had written. These journalists were so incensed at what they saw happening to the Armenian people they wrote this book to try and bring the atrocities to the attention of the world. I turned a few pages and saw the dedication says, “To the memory of the Christians Massacred in Armenia by the Sword of the Mohammed this book is dedicated”, by the Publishers.
There are a number of pictures, gruesome portrayals of terrible deeds done to innocent people but that is not what is I want to talk about right now.
As I flipped through the book my breath caught as I saw pressed between the pages of 378 and 379 the perfect form of a tiny orchid, now browned by time and too delicate for me to touch even though I felt the small dried flower calling out to me as if it wanted to tell me its story. I looked it and tears sprang to my eyes as I wondered about the hands that had placed it there, what was the sentiment attached to it? Was it from a wedding bouquet, or a corsage given to a young lady preparing for a dance? Did this girl lose someone in these massacres or in the World War that followed, the one where Hitler took a page from the plans of the Sword of Mohammed to slaughter Armenians and used it against the Jews?
There are bones and blood crying out for vengeance from people who were sold by human traffickers to masters who beat them and put them in chains of slavery; Christians convinced to give up their weapons by the government under the promise of protection and then boarded up in churches and burned alive and worse; those that were cooked in the ovens of a dictator trying to rid the world of every Jewish person that could be ferreted out of their hiding places and killing anyone willing to try and hide them.
It would be horrible to remember these things even if we knew that nothing like that would ever happen again, but my friend, it is still happening all over the world. Christians are being killed for their belief in Jesus Christ the Son of God, men, women and children are being kidnapped in this country and used as sex slaves, made into drug addicts in order to gain their cooperation, taken to cities that are hosting conventions and major sports events and sold. All for the pleasure of some depraved person willing to take the advantage of a poor lost soul.
Are we guilty?
I don’t know, have you ever hired a prostitute, bought drugs on the street, let someone make fun of a person because of their color or religion? If you answer yes to any of those things then you are guilty of helping to perpetuate this type of thing. Hebrews 11:38-40 “There were those who, under torture, refused to give in and go free, preferring something better: resurrection. Others braved abuse and whips, and, yes, chains and dungeons. We have stories of those who were stoned, sawed in two, murdered in cold blood; stories of vagrants wandering the earth in animal skins, homeless, friendless, powerless—the world didn’t deserve them! —Making their way as best they could on the cruel edges of the world. Not one of these people, even though their lives of faith were exemplary, got their hands on what was promised. God had a better plan for us: that their faith and our faith would come together to make one completed whole, their lives of faith not complete apart from ours.”
If anyone finds a piece of my history after I am gone, I would hope they would know I tried to help the lost at any cost.
Pray for your fellowman, not just your own countrymen but also your Earth Mates and while you’re at it, pray for peace!