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Bulgaria has a long Christian history. As the first Nazarene volunteers prepared to go in 1994, Hermann Gschwandtner sent them a photo. It showed the rugged red-brick ruins of St. George's Rotunda in central Sofia. Originally built by the Romans in the fourth century, the structure was later converted into a Christian church.
So we know the gospel thread arrived long ago in Bulgaria. Tragically, in this century, it has come close to being unraveled from the Bulgarian tapestry. All through the last half of the twentieth century, demonic forces tried hard to yank it out and discard it.
See those statues. That's Cyril and
Methodius,
Matt Robertson told a visitor from SNU one day as they rode by a library on
a trolley. Then he added, Sadly, no one even knows they were missionaries.
Cyril and Methodius were two Byzantine brothers born in Thessalonica, now Thessaloniki, Greece, during the ninth century. Cyril became a scholar and priest, while Methodius entered government service before becoming a monk. In 863, they were sent as missionaries to Great Moravia, where people spoke a Slavic language but had no suitable writing system.
To translate Scripture and Christian worship materials into the language of the people, Cyril devised what became known as the Glagolitic alphabet. After the brothers died, some of their disciples carried their work to Bulgaria. There, the Cyrillic alphabet was developed and eventually spread to other Slavic-speaking lands, including Russia.
Because Cyril and Methodius helped give the Slavic peoples a written religious and literary language, their statues stand in front of that Sofia library. Bulgaria even has a national holiday honoring them. Under communism, however, Bulgarians often celebrated the contribution to literacy of Cyril and Methodius while minimizing or ignoring their work as Christian missionaries.
The communist leaders seriously erred in discarding the Christian threads of Bulgaria's past. By doing so, they created a moral vacuum. That vacuum was evident long before communism collapsed. Today, the signs of moral decay are everywhere. For instance, auto-part theft is very common. Drivers parking their cars on the street routinely remove windshield wipers and lock them in the trunk. That keeps thieves from taking them.
One church building that survived communism's onslaught was St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral in central Sofia. That imposing Orthodox cathedral is crowned by a large gold-plated central dome and several smaller domes and roof sections covered with weathered copper. The Orthodox worship services in that building will differ greatly from what evangelicals are used to. Orthodox theology differs in some respects from that of evangelical Christianity. For all Christians, however, that building proudly testifies that Christ's Church can outlast any political system. Sadly, today, this large structure attracts more tourists than worshipers. It did not become a focal point for spiritual revival when communism fell.
Why? Well, many Bulgarians say Orthodox leaders cooperated far too closely with the ruthless dictatorship. Some accuse the Orthodox Church of betraying the common person during that time. One result is that many Bulgarians turned their backs on organized Christianity. Though tourists flock to see the gilt domes, the magnificent chandeliers, and the frescoes in St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, few worshipers show up.
Several other factors have hampered the re-emergence of historic Christian threads in the Bulgarian tapestry. First, when communism fell, American cults and heretical movements invaded Eastern Europe. It has been hard for Eastern Europeans to understand that evangelicals are not bizarre cultists. Suspicions abound concerning American religious workers in Bulgaria, particularly younger ones.
One day in early spring, Todd Brant and Miles Zinn went to visit an elderly lady. They had been to her apartment the week before and had given her some groceries. She needed them. The previous month, her heating bill had exceeded her entire month's income. When they arrived this time, she startled them by returning the bag they had given her. The groceries inside were untouched. With a trembling lip, she said her son had told her to return it. He surmised the Nazarenes were one of those "sects" against which the government-controlled television had warned.
In addition to battling this negative image, Bulgarian evangelicals also contend with some Orthodox leaders' efforts to keep a monopoly on Christianity in Bulgaria. Bulgaria is supposedly democratic. Even so, many Orthodox leaders insist that there be only one Christian organization: the Orthodox Church. Some would prefer to close Bulgaria's borders to believers belonging to any other Christian group. That stance, of course, reminds me of the old communist regime.
Indeed, that idea of keeping Bulgaria closed to other denominations comes not just from the Orthodox Church. Bulgaria's communist past encourages that mentality. Communist officials—some of whom are back in positions of power—think the government should closely regulate religious organizations. Such regulation and control would be easier if there were only one organization—such as the Orthodox Church—with which to deal.
However, Protestants are not new in Bulgaria. Protestant missionaries began working there during the nineteenth century, and several Protestant denominations had established congregations by the time World War II began. After the communists took power in 1944, the government restricted religious activity, confiscated church property, and persecuted Protestant leaders. In 1949, fifteen Protestant pastors were tried and convicted on fabricated charges of treason and espionage. Despite such persecution, the tiny Protestant movement survived communism.
In contrast to the Orthodox Church, those original Protestant denominations have welcomed the Nazarene volunteers. For a short time, the Nazarene group held weekly services in a small Methodist chapel in Sofia. That unnerved government authorities. They did not understand the spiritual unity the Nazarenes and Methodists felt despite their different denominational labels. The government saw the Nazarenes as a "cult" that lacked official permission to conduct public meetings. Officials could not understand how that group had obtained permission to use a building belonging to what they considered a completely different "cult." The Nazarenes and Methodists didn't see it quite that way. Nonetheless, the government called the Methodists on the carpet. So, to keep from causing problems for the Methodist church, the Nazarene group quit using the Methodist building for its activities.
One day, John Knight and I were hurrying along the street in Sofia. We passed a coffee shop. The weather was blustery and cold. So we decided to go inside where it was warm and get something hot to drink. To our delight, the waitress spoke quite a bit of English. Since we were her only customers, we struck up a conversation with her.
I want to leave Bulgaria,
she said. There is no hope here.
We talked for a while. As we got ready to leave, we asked the waitress if she believed in God.
Yes,
she said, hesitantly and quietly.
She seemed afraid someone would overhear her. As we talked a bit more, it became sadly clear that this young lady's professed belief in God was giving her little reason for hope.
Over the past half-century, communism mangled and tore at the Christian thread in the Bulgarian tapestry. Because of that, many Bulgarians seem unaware that vital Christianity can be authentically Bulgarian. Tragically, some believed the demonic lie that authentic Christianity would hurt the fabric of Bulgarian society. Today, this makes Bulgaria, according to many observers, one of the world's most difficult countries to evangelize. . . . [ continue reading ]
 | Not all the North American threads in the Bulgarian tapestry came from the U.S. heartland. Some came from the West Coast. . . . [ read more ] |