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Have you heard the expression “Boots on the Ground?” Well our Live Dead Missionaries are the boots on the Silk Road. Here we’d like to take a moment and allow one of them to share a snapshot of their life with you. Some names and details have been changed, but this is a true story from this colorful, vibrant, and sometimes surprising region.

I stood underneath the domed ceiling of a cave church in a unique region of Central Eurasia. It was one of several of these structures that I had entered since arriving on my short trip.

Some are more ornate than others, with the remains of 11th century frescoes depicting familiar Bible stories. Some have simple paintings or crosses etched into the stone from even earlier periods. I thought about the history of these hundreds of caves carved out of rock formations or in stone valleys. Generations of Christians inhabited these places with their praises.

When I took a tour of the area our guide matter of factly stated that this region, once a flourishing center of early Christianity, now contains zero believers. Tourists visit to see the amazing landscape and historical underground cities and hidden churches. I enjoyed all of these things during my visit, but in the midst of it my heart ached for what was dead in this region to flourish again. I encountered so many local people who were incredibly friendly and hospitable.

They embraced me like a welcoming committee into the heart of their nation. My love for them grew even more.

As I stared above me at the depiction of the resurrected Jesus painted in the dome of the ceiling, hope began to flood my spirit. Even in these waste places, these dry and desolate lands, there is hope for restoration. Isaiah 58:12 states, “And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of [buildings that have laid waste for]many generations; and you shall be called Repairer of the Breach, Restorer of Streets to Dwell In.” 

My repeated prayer as I stood in church after church was that God would restore what has been broken down in this land. That the springs of water buried deep would be uncovered and flow to those who are thirsty again.

Once more, that hundreds of churches in this region would be flooded with people. May praise to the resurrected Jesus rise up from this land.

Emma, my friend who accompanied me on this journey, broke me from my musings and said, “We should sing.” So, in a church hundreds of centuries old, we began to sing. Our voices echoed within the walls the words of the song “Forever” by Bethel Music:

The ground began to shake, the stone was rolled away. His perfect love could not be overcome. Now death where is your sting? Our resurrected King has rendered you defeated. Forever he is glorified! Forever he is lifted high! Forever he is risen. He is alive. He is alive! 

He is alive. Even in the seemingly dead places. He has defeated the powers of hell. There is hope for the desolate places in the world, because He has been glorified!

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