I brought home two artifacts from the Theological Foundations for Youth (TFY) program, held this summer at the Reformed Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Pittsburgh, Pa. The first was a newly adorned psalter, but the second was a book covering a unique topic in church history: the Reformed Presbyterian mission to Syria.

I took away both books with a new understanding of their importance, in large part because of the way TFY taught history. This happened both in academic lectures and in the books Dr. Whitla recommended. He did not merely aim at discourses on theology, but recommended histories and biographies, showing the work and power of God in this world.

My psalter began to mean more as I left the program’s lecture on RP history. What was different about this lecture from almost any other I have heard was that the lesson was not merely cosmetic. Dr. Whitla consistently treated the past as meaningful to the future. He warned that the persecution of Covenanters was not an isolated incident, but instead a mere example of a bloody mark across church history, across much of today’s world, and perhaps even a mark for America’s future. He warned of oaths a Christian cannot make, of immoral leaders, and of the general marginalization of sections of the church.

What was most striking was that Covenanters freely chose this persecution, deciding to live on the run with their psalters rather than comfortably reading the king’s mandated prayers. I realized that my psalter is part of this tradition, and a search for biblical public worship cost our spiritual ancestors far more than it costs me. My psalter now bears the signatures of many friends from TFY, and the program reminded me that, in 17th Century Scotland, and even Afghanistan today, those friends would be signing a death warrant.

The second book was recommended by Dr. David Whitla as part of his never-ending drive to sell us material from the seminary library. A Syrian Mosaic by Marjorie Sanderson records the RP mission to Syria in the days of the Ottoman Empire. While in many ways similar to missionary stories throughout Christian culture, the book hit close to home in certain ways as the author told detailed stories of persecution.

Two boys named Daoud and Hamoud were converted away from their local religion by the RP mission school. This led to death threats and beatings from sheiks, a lockdown in their homes, continued demands from their parents that they reject Christ, and constant pressure from their community for them to leave the Westerners. In all of this, they did not give up their faith. Daoud would become a teacher for the mission and raise daughters, but Hamoud, four years after being baptized and beginning work for the mission school, died of tuberculosis. He died confessing Christ, his only regret that he had not been able to preach to his people; and he is now in God’s rest. The RP mission did not free him to a life of productive work or modern civilization. However, the battle for his soul was won.

Daoud, also, would live a difficult life. He was arrested for teaching at the mission school, imprisoned, and tortured. Eventually forced to join the Turkish army, he was made to fight in the Crimean war and other wars in the Balkans, while being constantly abused by officers. Only after more than seven years of hardship, hunger, and nakedness was he allowed to return to his family. Through all this he confessed Christ.

Both of these artifacts remind me that there can be no lukewarm Christian life. We are continually called to carry crosses and serve God through suffering. Finally, they remind me that this Covenanter spirit of bearing persecution could be necessary in our future. Yet, as the Sons of Korah once sang: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God” (Ps. 42:11).