Breaking The Ice
The ice lay like a thick, impenetrable casing over the narrow streets. Layer upon layer of frozen water mixed with soot and dirt had built up during the cold, frigid months of winter. It was hard to tell where the ice ended and the underlying street began. Walking down the sidewalk in this drab and dreary city, I saw no evidence that spring had arrived. No tiny blades of grass; no sprigs of green on the barren trees; no twitter of happy birds; just tall, foreboding apartment buildings keeping their woeful watch over this dismal city in southern Russia.
On this chilly, spring afternoon, a poignant sight caught my eye. By the side of the road stood an old woman dressed in multiple layers of rags, with an old scarf on her head and wrinkles lining her weary face. She held a long, bent pole in her woolen gloves and was trying to break up the ice. Up and down she’d bring the pole, with what little strength she possessed. The dull thud of the pole was matched by the despondency in her eyes. I stood watching for some time, saddened to see this old woman working at such a hard and tedious task. A failed government had left her without a retirement and this was the only employment she could find. Occasionally, you could see the thick ice begin to chip, but how could one woman ever hope to break through the layers of ice that covered the city?
The picture of this old woman burned deep into my heart. Several days later, I joined a group of Russian believers to celebrate Easter Sunday. Passing through the doors of an old gray church, I discovered there was nothing gray about the inside of the building. The contagious joy of this lively group of Christians brightened every corner of the sanctuary. My American preconception of stolid, cold Russians was shattered by their smiles. I had been invited to join their worship team, and as I stood side by side with the other musicians, a new picture filled my heart, causing my eyes to flood with tears. Worshipping beside me stood Russians who had once been branded my enemies.
Throughout the years of the Cold War I had been taught that this nation was ready to annihilate America at even the slightest provocation. I remember crawling under my desk in elementary school during an air raid drill, with the picture of Russian missiles flying through my mind’s eye. As a little girl I had been indoctrinated to fear the hammer and sickle, symbols of the Russian threat to dominate the world.
Now here I was standing with these “enemies,” worshipping our Risen Lord together. As we sang “How Great Thou Art” in English and Russian, I found myself filled with a new love and awareness. On this Easter morning, Jesus had broken through the ice of prejudice, hatred, fear, and distrust. With the power of His love and resurrection He had shattered the frozen layers that once separated us. Ephesians 2:13, 14 (NKJV) states, “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He Himself is our peace, who has made both one, and has broken down the middle wall of separation.”
And then I recalled the old woman. The world is often like that old woman, standing in rags, futilely attempting to break through the layers of ice. But no government, no well-meaning law, no economic reform, no earthly king or president can break the ice that separates nations and peoples. Only through accepting Jesus and the power of His Resurrection can people be brought together and the ice broken once and for all.
On that chilly Sunday morning in Russia, a deeper understanding of Easter warmed my heart. As I joined in the chorus of “How Great Thou Art,” a new song of praise welled up within me. Through Jesus enemies can become one, cold wars can be defeated, and the ice can be broken.
Copyright 2009 Xulon Press. All rights reserved.
Originally published April 08, 2009.
