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REVIVAL 100 YEARS AFTER THE ARMENIAN GENOCIDE
ChristianityToday.com
March 26 2015
My family, displaced by the genocide, returned to see Christ at work
in our homeland.
By Ann-Margret Hovsepian in Yerevan, Armenia/ March 26, 2015
One hundred years ago this April, the first genocide of the 20th
century began in modern-day Turkey. From 1915 to 1923, 1.5 million
Armenians were executed or massacred or died from starvation, torture,
or disease.
The phrase "crimes against humanity" was first used to detail the
carnage, which many scholars and historians label genocide. During
World War I, killing Armenians was the official policy of Ottoman
rulers, who suspected Armenians of supporting Imperial Russia, one
of their long-standing adversaries. (At that time, the Ottomans ruled
western Armenia, and Russia ruled the smaller eastern region.)
"A campaign of race extermination is in progress," Henry Morgenthau,
US ambassador to Turkey, said in a telegram to the State Department
on July 16, 1915. Turkish soldiers took all males ages 12 and older
from their villages and executed most of them. They sent women,
children, and the elderly to concentration camps and the deserts,
allowing them to starve by the tens of thousands. About 200,000 were
forcibly converted to Islam and had their names changed.
The Ottoman government confiscated churches, monasteries, farms,
businesses, and money. Dozens of eyewitness accounts were published
at the time. But Western nations did little to stop the slaughter,
which Armenians call Meds Yeghern ("the Great Catastrophe"). Nearly all
the fatalities occurred in Turkey or border areas. The mass killing
of Armenians was so well known in Europe that many scholars believe
Hitler referred to it one week before invading Poland in 1939.
The Ottoman Empire's extermination campaign ultimately failed. Today,
Armenia is an independent nation about the size of Maryland. The
Armenian diaspora now numbers close to 10 million, including some
who live in Turkey. The Armenian church lives on in hundreds of
congregations worldwide. (In the third century, Armenia was the first
nation to accept Christianity as its national faith.) Countless family
lines were not extinguished. The Hovsepians--my family--are numbered
among them.
In 1919, my great-grandfather, Vartan Deumbekjian, married a teenage
war widow, Annig, who had a 4-year-old daughter, Osanna. Vartan
joined the Armenian freedom fighters and remained behind in their
village. A pregnant Annig and Osanna joined the refugees fleeing to
a safer place. Hungry and barefoot, they walked for about a month,
crossing the mountains and eventually reaching a harbor from which
they sailed to Greece.
Armenian children grow up hearing tragic stories of the war. But
because my grandparents and parents were born in Turkey, Egypt, and
Greece, and I was born in Canada, I was never drawn to my ancestral
homeland of Armenia. Neither was my father, Joseph Hovsepian--until
he was almost 70.
In 2008, my mother visited Armenia to reconnect with childhood
friends. My father, pastor of Temple Baptist Church in Montreal,
joined her, hoping to connect with local pastors in Yerevan,
the capital. Though majority-Christian, Armenia is a spiritually
thirsty land.
Since then, my father has returned to Armenia four times. He's brought
clothing, medicine, reading glasses, gospel tracts, and books he
authored, and has developed solid relationships with many pastors.
Local Christians have taken my father from home to home to counsel
and pray with people.
His efforts became a puzzle piece in the still unfolding picture of the
gospel-based reawakening of Armenia's soul--one person, one household,
and one church at a time. The reawakening is happening amid fresh
violence: Last September, fighters from the Islamic State blew up
the Armenian genocide memorial complex in Der Zor, Syria--close to
the site where Armenian refugees had been forced to march to their
deaths in 1915.
To this day, Turkey's government refuses to recognize the mass killings
as genocide because 5 million perished during the war--Muslims,
Christians, and Jews. Turkey also pressures Western allies not to
categorize it as genocide, and many nations, including the United
States, don't in any official way. Such "denialism" means Armenians
struggle to gain a hearing for the crimes against their ancestors. The
genocide's perpetrators were never convicted.
Because of this, many Armenians lost their faith or were influenced
by communism or secularism. "The genocide has scarred all Armenians,"
said my father. "Many still blame God. Some have become atheists. Our
aim is to rekindle their spiritual heritage."
Reviving a Spiritual Past
About 32 percent of Armenia's population is poor. A family's plight
is even worse if a widow is the head of household and one of her
children has a disability. Annie, 17, lives in a family like that
with her mother, two siblings, and her grandmother in Sayat Nova,
a town in southwest Armenia.
When Annie's mother was pregnant with her youngest child, Mary, her
husband killed himself. He'd had an affair with a woman, who became
pregnant. Unable to face the fact that he had broken his marriage
vows, he took a lethal dose of poison. Annie's mother was overwhelmed,
faced with adultery and suicide all at once. The stress caused severe
health problems. Mary was born with multiple disabilities and is
unable to walk.
Annie's mother had a family to support but few ways to earn a living
wage. Her grandmother was in shock over the loss of her son and the
condition of her grandchild. Annie was depressed and withdrawn. "I
did not want to talk to anyone," she said.
Then Annie read a book my father had written. After meditating on
its message, she was overcome. "I had suffered from the thought,
I don't have an earthly father," Annie said. "Suddenly, God told me
that he is my friend, my Father, and my Lord and Savior."
Some weeks after Annie's conversion last summer, my father and I
arrived in Armenia to minister through local churches. Annie was
ready for baptism. A natural evangelist, she already had introduced
her best friend to Christ. Then my father shared the gospel with
Annie's grandmother, who agreed she needed Jesus.
This one-to-one grassroots outreach is effective across the board
in Armenia. Larger ministries such as Cru (formerly Campus Crusade
for Christ) also use it in urban settings. Cru arrived in Armenia
16 years ago, about 9 years after the nation gained its independence
after the fall of the Soviet Union.
Vardan Blbulyan, the Armenian national leader of Cru, said the
ministry's goals are to build relationships among churches and
ministries, multiply disciples, and, when possible, befriend Muslim
neighbors in the region. "At the end of the 18th century, Turkey
wanted to make Armenia an Islamic country," he said. "Islamic people
thought of Armenians as a bone in their throats." But today Armenia
and Georgia are the only Christian-majority nations in the region.
Relations with Turkey continue to be poor.
>From 1922 to 1991, the Soviet Union ruled Armenia and suppressed the
church. But in 1988, an under-the-radar revival among Armenians began
that grew many congregations and launched new ones. It occurred around
the time of the devastating earthquake in Spitak that killed about
30,000 people. During those years, Blbulyan came to know Christ. "It
was as if the earthquake destroyed the gates and the Holy Spirit's
wind began to blow in Armenia."
Since independence in 1991, Armenia has struggled economically and
spiritually. American researcher Anie Kalayjian has found evidence
that the postgenocide generation of diaspora Armenians struggles with
anxiety, "inherited anger," and helplessness. "The scar is there,"
said my father. "We acknowledge the genocide and then bring people
the good news of the love of God. The spiritual past of the Armenians
who were persecuted needs to be revived."
"Today there are signs of spiritual revival again in Armenia," said
Blbulyan. "The number of believers is increasing, and people are
responding to God's Word." More than 90 percent of Armenia's population
is culturally Christian. The majority belong to the Apostolic Church;
a minority are Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, or evangelical. Operation
World estimates that, while there is an annual decline of 0.3 percent
among Christians in general, evangelicals are seeing a 1.4 percent
growth per year.
As one of the most influential Protestant missions, Cru has organized
its outreach under the banner of the New Life Armenia movement. In
its 16 years of operation, it has seen steady growth and sponsored
more than 1,000 events and operates 28 fellowship groups, organized
generationally. The movement has created new relationships with other
Christian groups for coordinating outreach.
More than 8,000 young adults have made decisions to follow Christ
through these efforts. "People who come to Christ through New Life
Armenia can choose which church to attend," said Blbulyan. "New Life
Armenia is like a bridge between different churches, organizations,
and people. We don't compete but cooperate. My motto is: success
needs everyone."
'God Has Visited You'
Those individuals who respond to the gospel are returning to church in
greater Yerevan and its surrounding villages. Pastor Tigran Muradyan
serves with his wife, Valya, and their teenage son, Timothy, in Horom,
a farming community about two hours outside Yerevan.
Village life is hard all year round. The hot, typically rainless
summers dry out the countryside. Women and children are plentiful,
but men are scarce. Husbands and fathers who once provided for their
families through farming have gone to Russia for work. A few men
return home occasionally; others remarry and never return.
The Muradyans live like their neighbors. They have no running water in
their house, which they heat with a wood-burning stove. Their church
is heated by burning dung bricks. They grow their own food and don't
own a car. Valya disburses funds that church members give to help
local families. One impoverished family, a mother with three preteens,
lives in a rusty rectangular container, a remnant of the Soviet era,
with one door and two windows. The family, abandoned by the father,
responded to the Muradyans' invitation to attend church and Sunday
school. Over time, they all decided to follow Christ.
But gospel outreach at the grassroots rarely goes so smoothly.
Muradyan said many Armenians already see themselves as Christians. The
challenge is to help them see Christianity as a living faith,
not just a cultural tradition. "Few have any idea about being born
again. If you ask them whether they have eternal life, you will get
many confused responses," he said. "Our people know how to endure,
but they forget that God is the one who has rescued them."
Last year, my father helped the church in Horom renovate its building
to provide a warmer, safer worship space during the winters. He never
expected that financing the rebuilding of a rundown structure would
bring spiritual reawakening. Laborers from 16 families managed to find
work because of the renovation project and have been able to take care
of their families' needs. Many Horom villagers watched the renovation.
One said, "God has again visited you."
Grief and Celebration
Personal testimonies and addressing unmet spiritual needs are crucial
for spreading the gospel in Armenia. "Every single Armenian needs a
unique approach," said Blbulyan. "You have to reach each person in
his safe environment. When you share the gospel with your friend,
that friend will share it with his friend."
After a baptismal service for five people in Horom last summer,
an elderly woman who said she was an atheist publicly challenged my
father for half an hour. She gradually let down her guard and suggested
she might yet become a believer. "Perhaps I am a lost sheep," she
declared. Another woman, bedridden for ten months, covered in open
sores and close to death, listened to him explain the gospel.
She was barely able to speak but managed to call out to God to forgive
her sins.
Evangelizing a postgenocide people group is not comfortable or easy,
but it can be fruitful. "I'm a child of genocide, but I have not
allowed the genocide to hinder my future," said my father. "I believe
God will raise workers to rekindle the flame of the gospel in Armenia."
On April 24 and 25, millions of Armenians around the world will grieve
the horrors of 1915 and recall the names of lost ancestors. But in
places like Horom, believers will also look toward their future:
renewed life in Christ.
Ann-Margret Hovsepian, author of three devotional books for preteen
girls, is a women's ministry leader at Temple Baptist Church in
Montreal. Her latest book, Truth, Dare, Double Dare, was published
in 2014.
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2015/april/revival-100-years-after-armenian-genocide.html
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
ChristianityToday.com
March 26 2015
My family, displaced by the genocide, returned to see Christ at work
in our homeland.
By Ann-Margret Hovsepian in Yerevan, Armenia/ March 26, 2015
One hundred years ago this April, the first genocide of the 20th
century began in modern-day Turkey. From 1915 to 1923, 1.5 million
Armenians were executed or massacred or died from starvation, torture,
or disease.
The phrase "crimes against humanity" was first used to detail the
carnage, which many scholars and historians label genocide. During
World War I, killing Armenians was the official policy of Ottoman
rulers, who suspected Armenians of supporting Imperial Russia, one
of their long-standing adversaries. (At that time, the Ottomans ruled
western Armenia, and Russia ruled the smaller eastern region.)
"A campaign of race extermination is in progress," Henry Morgenthau,
US ambassador to Turkey, said in a telegram to the State Department
on July 16, 1915. Turkish soldiers took all males ages 12 and older
from their villages and executed most of them. They sent women,
children, and the elderly to concentration camps and the deserts,
allowing them to starve by the tens of thousands. About 200,000 were
forcibly converted to Islam and had their names changed.
The Ottoman government confiscated churches, monasteries, farms,
businesses, and money. Dozens of eyewitness accounts were published
at the time. But Western nations did little to stop the slaughter,
which Armenians call Meds Yeghern ("the Great Catastrophe"). Nearly all
the fatalities occurred in Turkey or border areas. The mass killing
of Armenians was so well known in Europe that many scholars believe
Hitler referred to it one week before invading Poland in 1939.
The Ottoman Empire's extermination campaign ultimately failed. Today,
Armenia is an independent nation about the size of Maryland. The
Armenian diaspora now numbers close to 10 million, including some
who live in Turkey. The Armenian church lives on in hundreds of
congregations worldwide. (In the third century, Armenia was the first
nation to accept Christianity as its national faith.) Countless family
lines were not extinguished. The Hovsepians--my family--are numbered
among them.
In 1919, my great-grandfather, Vartan Deumbekjian, married a teenage
war widow, Annig, who had a 4-year-old daughter, Osanna. Vartan
joined the Armenian freedom fighters and remained behind in their
village. A pregnant Annig and Osanna joined the refugees fleeing to
a safer place. Hungry and barefoot, they walked for about a month,
crossing the mountains and eventually reaching a harbor from which
they sailed to Greece.
Armenian children grow up hearing tragic stories of the war. But
because my grandparents and parents were born in Turkey, Egypt, and
Greece, and I was born in Canada, I was never drawn to my ancestral
homeland of Armenia. Neither was my father, Joseph Hovsepian--until
he was almost 70.
In 2008, my mother visited Armenia to reconnect with childhood
friends. My father, pastor of Temple Baptist Church in Montreal,
joined her, hoping to connect with local pastors in Yerevan,
the capital. Though majority-Christian, Armenia is a spiritually
thirsty land.
Since then, my father has returned to Armenia four times. He's brought
clothing, medicine, reading glasses, gospel tracts, and books he
authored, and has developed solid relationships with many pastors.
Local Christians have taken my father from home to home to counsel
and pray with people.
His efforts became a puzzle piece in the still unfolding picture of the
gospel-based reawakening of Armenia's soul--one person, one household,
and one church at a time. The reawakening is happening amid fresh
violence: Last September, fighters from the Islamic State blew up
the Armenian genocide memorial complex in Der Zor, Syria--close to
the site where Armenian refugees had been forced to march to their
deaths in 1915.
To this day, Turkey's government refuses to recognize the mass killings
as genocide because 5 million perished during the war--Muslims,
Christians, and Jews. Turkey also pressures Western allies not to
categorize it as genocide, and many nations, including the United
States, don't in any official way. Such "denialism" means Armenians
struggle to gain a hearing for the crimes against their ancestors. The
genocide's perpetrators were never convicted.
Because of this, many Armenians lost their faith or were influenced
by communism or secularism. "The genocide has scarred all Armenians,"
said my father. "Many still blame God. Some have become atheists. Our
aim is to rekindle their spiritual heritage."
Reviving a Spiritual Past
About 32 percent of Armenia's population is poor. A family's plight
is even worse if a widow is the head of household and one of her
children has a disability. Annie, 17, lives in a family like that
with her mother, two siblings, and her grandmother in Sayat Nova,
a town in southwest Armenia.
When Annie's mother was pregnant with her youngest child, Mary, her
husband killed himself. He'd had an affair with a woman, who became
pregnant. Unable to face the fact that he had broken his marriage
vows, he took a lethal dose of poison. Annie's mother was overwhelmed,
faced with adultery and suicide all at once. The stress caused severe
health problems. Mary was born with multiple disabilities and is
unable to walk.
Annie's mother had a family to support but few ways to earn a living
wage. Her grandmother was in shock over the loss of her son and the
condition of her grandchild. Annie was depressed and withdrawn. "I
did not want to talk to anyone," she said.
Then Annie read a book my father had written. After meditating on
its message, she was overcome. "I had suffered from the thought,
I don't have an earthly father," Annie said. "Suddenly, God told me
that he is my friend, my Father, and my Lord and Savior."
Some weeks after Annie's conversion last summer, my father and I
arrived in Armenia to minister through local churches. Annie was
ready for baptism. A natural evangelist, she already had introduced
her best friend to Christ. Then my father shared the gospel with
Annie's grandmother, who agreed she needed Jesus.
This one-to-one grassroots outreach is effective across the board
in Armenia. Larger ministries such as Cru (formerly Campus Crusade
for Christ) also use it in urban settings. Cru arrived in Armenia
16 years ago, about 9 years after the nation gained its independence
after the fall of the Soviet Union.
Vardan Blbulyan, the Armenian national leader of Cru, said the
ministry's goals are to build relationships among churches and
ministries, multiply disciples, and, when possible, befriend Muslim
neighbors in the region. "At the end of the 18th century, Turkey
wanted to make Armenia an Islamic country," he said. "Islamic people
thought of Armenians as a bone in their throats." But today Armenia
and Georgia are the only Christian-majority nations in the region.
Relations with Turkey continue to be poor.
>From 1922 to 1991, the Soviet Union ruled Armenia and suppressed the
church. But in 1988, an under-the-radar revival among Armenians began
that grew many congregations and launched new ones. It occurred around
the time of the devastating earthquake in Spitak that killed about
30,000 people. During those years, Blbulyan came to know Christ. "It
was as if the earthquake destroyed the gates and the Holy Spirit's
wind began to blow in Armenia."
Since independence in 1991, Armenia has struggled economically and
spiritually. American researcher Anie Kalayjian has found evidence
that the postgenocide generation of diaspora Armenians struggles with
anxiety, "inherited anger," and helplessness. "The scar is there,"
said my father. "We acknowledge the genocide and then bring people
the good news of the love of God. The spiritual past of the Armenians
who were persecuted needs to be revived."
"Today there are signs of spiritual revival again in Armenia," said
Blbulyan. "The number of believers is increasing, and people are
responding to God's Word." More than 90 percent of Armenia's population
is culturally Christian. The majority belong to the Apostolic Church;
a minority are Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, or evangelical. Operation
World estimates that, while there is an annual decline of 0.3 percent
among Christians in general, evangelicals are seeing a 1.4 percent
growth per year.
As one of the most influential Protestant missions, Cru has organized
its outreach under the banner of the New Life Armenia movement. In
its 16 years of operation, it has seen steady growth and sponsored
more than 1,000 events and operates 28 fellowship groups, organized
generationally. The movement has created new relationships with other
Christian groups for coordinating outreach.
More than 8,000 young adults have made decisions to follow Christ
through these efforts. "People who come to Christ through New Life
Armenia can choose which church to attend," said Blbulyan. "New Life
Armenia is like a bridge between different churches, organizations,
and people. We don't compete but cooperate. My motto is: success
needs everyone."
'God Has Visited You'
Those individuals who respond to the gospel are returning to church in
greater Yerevan and its surrounding villages. Pastor Tigran Muradyan
serves with his wife, Valya, and their teenage son, Timothy, in Horom,
a farming community about two hours outside Yerevan.
Village life is hard all year round. The hot, typically rainless
summers dry out the countryside. Women and children are plentiful,
but men are scarce. Husbands and fathers who once provided for their
families through farming have gone to Russia for work. A few men
return home occasionally; others remarry and never return.
The Muradyans live like their neighbors. They have no running water in
their house, which they heat with a wood-burning stove. Their church
is heated by burning dung bricks. They grow their own food and don't
own a car. Valya disburses funds that church members give to help
local families. One impoverished family, a mother with three preteens,
lives in a rusty rectangular container, a remnant of the Soviet era,
with one door and two windows. The family, abandoned by the father,
responded to the Muradyans' invitation to attend church and Sunday
school. Over time, they all decided to follow Christ.
But gospel outreach at the grassroots rarely goes so smoothly.
Muradyan said many Armenians already see themselves as Christians. The
challenge is to help them see Christianity as a living faith,
not just a cultural tradition. "Few have any idea about being born
again. If you ask them whether they have eternal life, you will get
many confused responses," he said. "Our people know how to endure,
but they forget that God is the one who has rescued them."
Last year, my father helped the church in Horom renovate its building
to provide a warmer, safer worship space during the winters. He never
expected that financing the rebuilding of a rundown structure would
bring spiritual reawakening. Laborers from 16 families managed to find
work because of the renovation project and have been able to take care
of their families' needs. Many Horom villagers watched the renovation.
One said, "God has again visited you."
Grief and Celebration
Personal testimonies and addressing unmet spiritual needs are crucial
for spreading the gospel in Armenia. "Every single Armenian needs a
unique approach," said Blbulyan. "You have to reach each person in
his safe environment. When you share the gospel with your friend,
that friend will share it with his friend."
After a baptismal service for five people in Horom last summer,
an elderly woman who said she was an atheist publicly challenged my
father for half an hour. She gradually let down her guard and suggested
she might yet become a believer. "Perhaps I am a lost sheep," she
declared. Another woman, bedridden for ten months, covered in open
sores and close to death, listened to him explain the gospel.
She was barely able to speak but managed to call out to God to forgive
her sins.
Evangelizing a postgenocide people group is not comfortable or easy,
but it can be fruitful. "I'm a child of genocide, but I have not
allowed the genocide to hinder my future," said my father. "I believe
God will raise workers to rekindle the flame of the gospel in Armenia."
On April 24 and 25, millions of Armenians around the world will grieve
the horrors of 1915 and recall the names of lost ancestors. But in
places like Horom, believers will also look toward their future:
renewed life in Christ.
Ann-Margret Hovsepian, author of three devotional books for preteen
girls, is a women's ministry leader at Temple Baptist Church in
Montreal. Her latest book, Truth, Dare, Double Dare, was published
in 2014.
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2015/april/revival-100-years-after-armenian-genocide.html
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress