Whoops of delight follow the Mongolian village children sliding along the frozen river. Their laughter is as bright as the sun glowing on the white landscape. Gathering handfuls of snow to rub on their cheeks, they shriek and scream. Despite the knifing cold and their apple red faces, the children revel in simple freedoms in this vast landscape.

              Of course, they have jobs to accomplish. They tend cattle, collect and prepare firewood and must carry water from the quiet springs that remain unfrozen. Their boots get wet, their toes and fingers freeze, but nothing seems to dampen their rapture and sense of fun. This is their home, their entire universe, where they have all they need.

Yet, one day they will leave and travel far away. They are nomads with naturally restless souls. Souls that desire to extend their horizons beyond the next hill, that want to see bigger, more sophisticated places. They dream of experiencing city life, of a better life, education and a good job.

But Ulaanbaatar doesn’t always fulfil its promises. New buildings crowd the skyline, casting long chilly shadows over icy pavements. Shopping malls bustle with world brands, luring innocent buyers towards expensive purchases while, outside, heaving traffic fills the streets with toxic fumes.

Behind towering glass facades, tension and anxiety lurk. There is disillusionment and instability here. Many struggle to provide for their families and care for them well. City life seems more complex and less community minded. Even family life is starting to look different. Many are weary, tired of the empty promises and the soaring ambitions of the elite, the lack of transparency and the way they see the country’s resources plundered in spurious schemes.

With longing, countryside folk remember the tranquillity of living close to nature and the feel of the land under their fingers and feet. They remember the breeze on their faces, the bleat of the sheep and the nicker of horses, even the fact that they are known by their neighbours and there are no secrets. But it seems like there is no going back. City life has turned their thinking. By emphasising the harshness of countryside life, it leaves few with the desire actually return. When they knew no other life, countryside folk were content, but ‘knowledge’ has opened their eyes, promising happiness if they pursue dreams which take them far away.

But the city is fickle, dashing people’s hopes and pushing them towards the next step, as they seek new opportunities aboard. Even Christians, focusing their eye on the world rather than God, can get sucked in. However, some Christians, thinking more deeply, speak words of encouragement to one another: God is steady and reliable, steadfast and unchanging, an immovable anchor, our strong refuge. If we put our hope in Him, then He will not cause us to enter despair or lose our confidence. Neither will He allow the world to crush us.

In the rapidly changing world of Mongolia, Christians realise the importance of articulating the truth that God does not change, that His promises endure forever and His purposes last for eternity. There is a swell of prayer rising, a recognition that the church must intercede for the people of the nation, to stand together and let the gospel do its work of bringing God’s true, steadfast, living hope to a people whose fragile hopes lay shattered on the ground.

© copyright Gillian Newham 2023