Jackson Jambalaya

Sara Afshari, a Research Tutor at Oxford Centre for Mission Studies, describes herself as, “I am Iranian. I am Christian. I carry scars.”

A friend sent a copy of Sara’s story published in Christianity Today and on the OCMS website titled, “Waiting with Iran: Mission, Resistance, and Hope in a Long Holy Saturday.”

Her story grabbed me from the start. Immediately I thought, “So, you think you have problems?” This morning our pastor had preached about God breaking things He would use to glorify Himself. Wow! God is speaking to us!

Sara began by recounting a phone call she received from her sister in Yazd Iran, Saturday, February 28, a few hours after the war started. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We have supplies. We’ll stay home. We’ll lock the doors.” Then the line went silent. “By the next evening, reports emerged that her area had been bombed. After that, nothing. No messages. No calls. No confirmation. Just silence.”

Sara continued, “Days later, she (her sister) managed to call again briefly, just long enough to say the family was alive. Alive – but still behind locked doors.”

Sara shared a passage of Scripture triggered by those words: “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you!’” (John 20:19)

John 20:19 became her anchor as she heard more reports from Iran. “Widespread destruction of homes, hospitals, and public spaces. Communication blackouts have made it nearly impossible to know what is happening on the ground.” She noted in her story, “John’s gospel does not hide the fear of the disciples. After the Crucifixion, they are not bold or triumphant. They are hiding. Their fear is a reasonable response to violence. They have seen what power can do, so they lock the doors.”

Sara remembered images from growing up in Iran. “That image, behind locked doors, has followed me in the weeks since the war began. It is one Iranians are familiar with. In societies shaped by prolonged authoritarian rule, closing the door is not simply retreat; it is learned wisdom. Private space becomes a fragile shield against surveillance, detention, and violence. And yet even locked doors do not—and did not—always protect us.”

Vivid memories weighed heavily on her. “My childhood unfolded in the shadow of prison. Visiting my siblings in prison was part of ordinary life. I remember one visit when my brother was weeping. He had tried to save a prostitute sentenced to execution by asking to marry her, hoping to spare her life, but his request came too late.”

“I couldn’t save her,” he said. The system was swift and unforgiving.”

Then Sara wondered, “Could this mean change? Could I return? Another part asks, What will be the cost? Will sovereignty be lost? Will Iran become another fractured country in the Middle East?”

For most, the war had been about uranium, oil and world domination. But now the war had become about the innocent, weak, and confounded people, as well as believers of many faiths facing uncertainty. Governments and politics destroy lives indiscriminately. But God is the Great I Am! Sara ends, “Behind locked doors the gospel reminds us, Christ is present.”

Daniel L. Gardner is a columnist who lives in Starkville, MS. You may contact him at PJandMe2@gmail.com.