John Stott once wrote that “the gospel is good news of mercy to the undeserving. The symbol of the religion of Jesus is the cross, not the scales” (The Cross of Christ, InterVarsity Press, 2006). As theological educators in Ukraine we now find ourselves in uncharted water, living and working through a full-scale war without precedent in our experience. Since 24 February 2022 every part of our existence has been disrupted, and we learn daily how to adapt and persevere as educators and ministers and as members of our own communities, while the war divides our families and congregations and our society, and presents us with new challenges and ethical dilemmas that often stay unresolved.
Our situation feels unprecedented to us, and we are hardly the first to face such things. Across the history of the evangelical church, from the late twentieth century to the present, many faith communities and seminaries have lived through war and found ways to adapt, to minister and to keep their educational missions alive, so there is a great deal we could learn from their experience and their resilience. Yet our church and educational structures commonly avoid discussing these topics directly, preferring peaceful life or neutral subjects, whether from a wish to preserve normality, or to avoid controversy, or to sidestep complex ethical and theological questions.
The cost of that avoidance falls on other people. By failing to address these matters head-on we leave our students and faculty, our congregations and our communities poorly equipped for the challenges of war, and above all for its aftermath. Our duty as theological educators is therefore to create spaces for honest, open dialogue about what it means to live and minister during a war, drawing on the wisdom of those who went before us while wrestling with our own situation. As Stanley Hauerwas puts it, “the task of the theologian is not to deny the reality of our existence, but to help us live more faithfully in the world as it is” (The Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics, University of Notre Dame Press, 1983).
We have long taken comfort and guidance from the peaceful imagery of Psalm 23:1–2, and the war has forced us into the darker part of that same psalm, verse 4, which admits the reality of walking through the valley of the shadow of death. We struggle across that ground in our own lives and in our work of supporting others, and the suffering and the countless deaths, the endless funerals that have become our ordinary week, press us to find meaning and hope and some purpose inside the darkness. Our responsibility runs toward encouraging and equipping other educators and church ministers to face this directly, to wrestle with the theological and existential questions that overwhelming loss forces on a person, and to find ways of ministering to the grieving and the traumatised. And one task remains entirely unresolved, which is how to reconcile the partnership between those who live on green pastures and those who live on dried ones, a divide that runs considerably deeper than money.
The Croatian theologian Miroslav Volf observes that “in a world of violence, the theologian must become a theologian of the victim” (Exclusion & Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation, Abingdon Press, 1996). During a war it is tempting for theological educators and church leaders in more peaceful settings to retreat into silence, to look away from the harsh realities, or to focus on comforting topics for the sake of those the fighting has not touched. That approach fails to build up the Community of Hope, and it weakens our participation in the Mission of God here and now. Jesus consistently addressed the pressing issues of His own time, challenging the status quo and calling for transformation, and His disciples did the same, tackling the specific conflicts and questions of each community in their letters to the early churches.
As theological educators and ministers in Ukraine today, we are learning to follow in those footsteps by engaging directly with the realities of war and suffering and injustice, so that an authentic and resilient Community of Hope can grow, equipped to take a full part in God’s ongoing mission of redemption even in the darkest times. What remains open is whether the international evangelical community will join us, and whether we are included in that community as communities with our own pain and struggles and inconvenient contexts, rather than as structures.
More than two years into this war, we meet new challenges and hard ethical dilemmas every day, and they test the resolve, the compassion and the theological depth of the global evangelical community, particularly of leaders and educators living in more peaceful contexts. So while Ukrainian theological educators and faith leaders carry the daily realities of this war, we ask our brothers and sisters in Christ around the world to consider the following.
The question of neutrality. In a polarised and politically charged environment, church and educational leaders face the challenge of advocating for peace and justice and human rights while keeping a principled stance rooted in faith and in the Kingdom of God, and avoiding partisan entanglements that would undermine their credibility and their moral authority.
Holistic pastoral care. Ministering to individuals and families who have lived through trauma and loss and displacement on a mass scale requires an approach combining compassion and sensitivity with resilience, one that reaches the psychological and social and financial and material dimensions of healing alongside the spiritual ones.
Moral complexity. War presents faith leaders with dilemmas that resist easy answers, among them the tension between pacifism and just war theory, the ethics of self-defence, and the competing responsibilities of a citizen toward the nation and toward the faith, all of which demand careful theological reflection and contextual discernment.
Bridges in divided communities. War creates deep fractures inside communities and congregations, and inside international organisations and church structures too, along political and ethnic and ideological lines, which challenges faith leaders to work for unity and understanding while acknowledging the legitimate grievances of everyone affected.
Reimagining educational models. Theological educators in war-torn contexts learn to adapt and innovate so that the formation of future leaders continues, developing creative solutions to damaged infrastructure, displaced students and faculty and limited resources, while integrating the lessons that come only from ministering inside a war. And here a question presses back on our partners: to what extent are international church and educational structures actually interested in learning from us, through substantial gatherings and shared work rather than through prayer requests alone?
Existential questions. The realities of war raise profound questions about the nature of God, the problem of evil and the meaning of suffering, and these require theological educators to face them in a way that is intellectually honest and, yes, emotionally attuned to the needs of their communities, modelling a faith able to withstand doubt and despair.
Personal and professional responsibilities. As educational and church leaders in wartime we are learning to hold together the care of our own families and our own wellbeing with the needs of broken and divided congregations, and with our job descriptions, which requires a commitment to self-care and to boundaries, and to building the supportive networks that can sustain us in this work.
Living through these challenges, we still find hope and strength in God’s unwavering love and faithfulness, although you may not always hear that in our words. Though we walk through the darkest valleys and face trials that look unpleasant from a distance, we trust that God is with us, guiding our steps and giving us the wisdom and courage and resilience we need to persevere, even while we cannot honestly say that we feel His presence daily.
Seeking to strengthen the Community of Hope, we hold on to the promise that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5, NKJV). We invite our brothers and sisters in the global evangelical community to join us on this road and to stand in solidarity with us as we bear witness to the light of Christ inside the darkness, and to trust that God is at work even now, bringing hope and healing to a broken world, and building the partnership between us for the flourishing of His Kingdom through the Community of Hope.
Our Mission has not changed, People of the Bridge.
Taras Dyatlik, Ukraine
781 days of the ongoing full-scale russian war against Ukraine
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