BVOV Magazine 2013 - present

In a communist country where the government ruled that God did not exist, Christians unofficially had limited rights and protections. They could be fired from their jobs for no reason. In Stalin’s day, they could be taken from their homes, never to be seen again. Even now, in 1988, knowing who Konstantin’s grandfather had been, officials would interview Konstantin’s parents threatening them to keep their whole family quiet. For their own safety, the family guarded secrets. Born in 1960, in the middle of the Cold War, frightening stories were recounted in an effort to teach Konstantin, a young child at the time, to guard the family secrets. He spent his childhood in perpetual trouble because he could never remember when it was OK to talk about his family’s faith and when it wasn’t. “If you keep talking about God, who knows what will happen to you and your family,” he was continually reminded by family and friends. At age 5, he was spending time in a state-run child care facility, so his mother could work. Before going to sleep, he knelt in his bed, under the blankets and folded his hands and prayed. “What are you doing?” a booming voice asked. Looking up with wide eyes, Konstantin said the first thing that came to his mind: “Practicing my poem.” “What kind of poem?” “A poem.” “Get up and come with me.” Under the bright lights of the kitchen, he was told to recite his poem. In his pajamas, he knelt on the cold tile floor as he began to recite the Lord’s prayer. Tears slid down his face. He’d done it again. In spite of such mistakes, however, young Konstantin did manage to keep one potentially dangerous secret. At home his parents had a shortwave radio, as did many families. But his family used theirs to listen to Christian programming. They would put the radio in the middle of the house, turn on the television and noisy faucets to muffle the sound, then gather around the radio. If they’d been caught they would have been tried as spies. Know Nothing. Say Nothing. See Nothing. Do Nothing. At age 28, Konstantin stood on the shore with his beautiful city behind him. The sea seemed agitated today, waves crashing against the rocky shore like small explosions. It matched his mood. He churned on the inside with the warnings he’d heard as a boy and the realization that, even now, informants still infiltrated churches and he still guarded every word. Know nothing. Say nothing. See nothing. Do nothing. That was the motto of 99 percent of all Soviet citizens, including Christians. Do nothing. That was part of what had Konstantin so agitated. He was doing nothing. His grandfather had left such a powerful legacy that the controlling regime, so afraid of the truth, would do anything to silence it. Looking out over the pounding waves, thinking about biblical figures who’d heard from God and remembering experiences of his grandfather, Vasili Pavlov, Konstantin felt hopeless. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t done exploits for God. He experienced fears and habits he couldn’t break. He realized the Christian life in his homeland was not much different than that of others in the world. Broken, he made a heart cry to the Lord: God, don’t You have something for me? One Word From God “By that time in my life I’d completed my military service,” Konstantin remembers, “and I’d married my wonderful wife, Nadezhda (Nadia), whose name in English means hope. Raised in a Pentecostal family, she had strong faith. But even after we had five children, I found myself struggling. * * * * continues on next page * * * * BVOV : 13

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