God, Why Don't You Hear Their Prayer?

Standing alone, stripped to my boxer shorts, I shivered in the cold, bare room. I was arrested at the border trying to cross into the then Soviet Union carrying Bibles and Christian literature. I waited to see what my destiny would be. . . 

Three surly guards strode into the room, banging the massive, metal door shut behind them. I was scrutinized with a vengeance. Their fury seemed to become more severe with each question they fired at me.

"What are you intending to do here? Why have you come? Why did you bring these illegal books?" Three sets of icy, uncompromising eyes glared waiting for answers.

"Is it wrong to bring Bibles?"

"Yes! It is wrong to bring Bibles and you are under arrest!"

I swallowed hard, trying not to stare at their clenched fists and massive, coarse knuckles. The pitch in my voice raised a few octaves. "But I read in Soviet Life magazine and other publications that there is freedom of religion here. So your magazines must tell lies."

"No!" A fist slammed down on the metal table top. "You do not understand. We do have freedom, but Bibles are illegal." 

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God, Why Don't You Hear Their Prayer?