Ivan Petrovich Fedotov: From Faith to Accusation
Christian
I was given the address of a prayer house in Riga. Our unit was stationed then in the capital of Latvia. And so, with a Komsomol card in one pocket and a Gospel in the other, I served out my last, fifth year and was demobilized in 1954.
Through heartfelt repentance and acceptance of the Lord, I entered into eternal life. The Komsomol card was disposed of and replaced by the Gospel, which became my strength and life. The “bright falcons” flew away to waterless places, and I ceased to idolize them. I desired to be like that yoke-bearing donkey on which Jesus Christ rode into Jerusalem, so that He might use me for His work as He pleased.
What great joy, what great freedom were revealed to me, what a wonderful heavenly light, the light of Jesus Christ, illuminated my path! In the Baptist church I heard the preaching of the living word, which has the power to circumcise and purify everyone who believes in Jesus Christ. This word led me to repentance, a complete break with darkness, and baptism in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
I began to attend the Riga congregation at 90 Slokas Street. When I first went there after I had arrived to finish my service, believing young men surrounded me. One of them, Vladimir Lotosh from Zaporozhye, who was also serving in Riga, introduced me to a group of local young people. Our fellowship was cemented by prayers, and often after the meeting we had sincere conversations and sought new meetings with one another. The unit’s political officer, as he saw the sailors off on leave, would tell us:
- Look, don’t go into houses, you could be recruited or killed!
I don’t know, maybe among worldly people it happened that way, but the people to whom I directed my first steps on the Christian path – these are holy people, who both feed you and teach you good things. «Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious oil upon the head, running down upon the beard, Aaron’s beard, running down upon the edge of his garments; like the dew of Hermon, descending upon the mountains of Zion, for there the Lord commanded the blessing, life forevermore»
(Psalm 132). Not for nothing do they say that birds of a feather flock together.
On the thirteenth of September 1954, I turned 25 years old, and on that day I went on leave. After the meeting, a kind elderly sister invited us to her home, prepared a feast in honor of my birthday, and set the table, and we rejoiced, and prayed, and sang hymns. The first hymn that penetrated my heart was called: “Lord, My Savior”. Later in life there were many different good hymns, but this one remained in my heart forever:
«Lord, my Savior, I cry to Thee, Hear my plea! At Thy holy feet I lay my need And all my sorrow indeed.
Thy love found me, set me upright, Said to me: “Go!” And made me hasten to eternal joy, Kindled in my breast a fire’s glow.
With tender voice Thou saidst to my soul: “Fear not storms on the way, Thou shalt not go alone, for I will be With thee always, alway.
And if thou grievest and weep at times Amid struggle and distress, I will comfort thee and point thee then To My blood-stained trace.
Or if thou faintest amidst darkness and vain strife, Bow before Me in prayer: I will light thy path, lest thou fall in the fight, And give thee strength to bear.”
And the word of truth sounds so sweetly In my wounded soul, And peace reigns in my heart, and my spirit joyfully Sings praise to Thee, full.»
Brother Vladimir Lotosh gave me for my birthday some Scripture verses: «…Remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee…» (Deut. 8:2), «Only let your conversation be as it becometh the gospel of Christ…» (Phil. 1:27), «Do all things without murmurings and disputings: That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world…» (Phil. 2:14-15), «As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him…» (Col. 2:6). Brother Vladimir also gave me, as a wish, the poem “Be a Christian Everywhere”:
«If you’re in a large assembly, Where the Lord and Sovereign Speaks to us for edifying, Remember: you are a Christian! Be the Lord’s son everywhere, An example to all living, Be a Christian everywhere And an evangelical one to boot. Before His holy Word Be attentive as a son. Be ready for obedience, Be a Christian everywhere. Surrounded by sons, A family man with many children, Or burdened with cares— Be a Christian everywhere. At home, at school, at work, Or in the forest, midst the plains, Or in a train carriage— Be a Christian everywhere. As a worker in a factory Amid the machines and engines And among the working people— Be a Christian everywhere.»
This Christian soldier Vladimir Lotosh remained in my memory as a good mentor during my first steps. Everything he wished for me, I tried to fulfill with all my heart, with all my understanding, with all my strength, for it was taken from the Word of God. To this day, the instructive poems and biblical wishes he gave me are dear to me:
«When testing befalls you, And you grow very weak in the struggle, Do not fall into despair, my brother, But humbly hasten to the Lord in prayer. And He alone will help you Find peace and joy, He knows your sorrow and grief, He knows how to lead you. Many years ahead, much evil on the way, But with prayer and Christ it is all nothing. There is a holy guardian, day and night He is with you, Trust in Him, fear nothing!»
The Lord watched over me very attentively during my service in the navy. One day, a sailor-crane operator was sent to our unit and settled in our section. In the morning he washed and dried himself with a towel for an unusually long time, and the thought came to me to ask him if he was a Christian. The sailor confirmed it and said to me:
- I noticed that you look like a believer. Is that so?
I answered: - Yes!
Thus help came to me, and now I was not alone in the navy. This was a gift of fate, or rather, an act of God’s providence for my spiritual strengthening. For I was just then getting on my feet, and the Lord cared for me. While that sailor was here, we often talked together, read the Gospel together, examined the Scripture to understand it correctly, prayed together to God, and rejoiced in the Lord.
Once it happened that a sailor was convicted of some offense and had to be taken to Tallinn, to a disciplinary battalion. I was the escort, and an officer accompanied us. They chose me as the sailor with great physical strength. The offending sailor gave us no trouble; he could have traveled by himself without us, but such was the procedure. After handing him over to the commander of the disciplinary battalion, we went to a hotel for the night.
The officer went into the city and stayed there for a long time, while I decided to read God’s Word, and then I hid the Gospel under the pillow and fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, the Gospel was already lying on the nightstand, and the officer was asleep. Everything was clear: the vigilant officer had
In Civilian Life
Demobilized and stepping into civilian life with God’s parting blessing, I embraced everything new with ease. Five years in the navy is a substantial span of time and a thorough preparation for life. By age twenty-six, one’s reasoning is different—the reasoning of a grown man. Nowadays, an eighteen‑year‑old youth is considered an adult, yet he is still foolish. In our time, the age of majority was a year later—nineteen. And in Canada, a person is not considered an adult until twenty‑one. A moustache already under your nose, but you cannot buy cigarettes at a kiosk—you have to show your passport. When such a person marries, the families that result are more stable and spiritually strong. Of course, exceptions occur there too, but far less often than in other countries.
The authorities followed in the footsteps of the young Christian: the KGB* accompanied me right from the ship. At first they tried to settle the matter peacefully: they sent athletes who campaigned for me to return to sport, predicting world fame, medals, and honours. But in water baptism I had buried myself to this world and risen for the heavenly world, promising the Lord to be faithful to Him to the end. And now, looking to Jesus, I was strengthened by the Lord, and by the great multitude of brothers and sisters who had become an inseparable part of my life and my service to the Lord. I began to labour in His field, desiring to run His race with Him to the very end.
- KGB — Committee for State Security. The name of this repressive organ changed, but its essence remained the same. In December 1917, the Council of People’s Commissars created the All‑Russian Extraordinary Commission for Combating Counter‑Revolution, Speculation, and Sabotage (VChK), which was vested with great powers. From February 1918, on the basis of the CPC decree “The Socialist Fatherland Is in Danger,” the VChK received additional, extraordinary powers and began to apply severe punitive measures (up to and including execution on the spot). The VChK’s right to apply the supreme penalty without trial or investigation was confirmed by the CPC resolution “On the Red Terror” of 5 September 1918. In March 1920, the functions of the VChK were limited to preliminary investigation. Two years later the VChK was abolished, and its functions were transferred to judicial bodies and to the State Political Directorate (GPU) formed within the NKVD of the RSFSR. In 1923, the Unified State Political Directorate (OGPU) was created under the CPC of the USSR, to which the border troops were also subordinated. In 1934, the OGPU was renamed the Main Directorate of State Security (GUGB) within the system of the NKVD of the USSR. Later, corrective institutions were placed under the jurisdiction of the state security organs, and the system of so‑called corrective labour camps (GULAG) was created. In February 1941, the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs (NKVD) and the People’s Commissariat for State Security (NKGB) were formed in the USSR. In July 1941, these two commissariats were merged into the unified NKVD of the USSR; in April 1943 they were again divided. In March 1946, the NKVD and NKGB were renamed respectively the Ministry of Internal Affairs (MVD) and the Ministry of State Security (MGB), which in March 1953 were merged into the MVD of the USSR. In March 1954, the KGB was formed under the Council of Ministers of the USSR; in November 1991 it was transformed into the Inter‑Republican Security Service (MSB), the Central Intelligence Service of the USSR, and the Committee for the Protection of the State Borders of the USSR. In December 1991, with the dissolution of the USSR, questions of state security fell entirely within the competence of the member states of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS). The state security organs were mainly charged with the functions of intelligence, counter‑intelligence, combating economic sabotage, and so on. These same organs carried out a policy of mass repression, organised political trials against “enemies of the people,” conducted investigations, and fabricated cases for so‑called counter‑revolutionary crimes (Article 58 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR), and persecuted dissenters.
I would like to tell a little about my earthly kinship. My mother was born into the family of a peasant who had sixteen children. Of the four sons and four daughters who survived, all except my mother and her sister Valentina joined the party and were communists. When my mother came to faith and began to serve the Lord zealously, she had to contend with them because she affirmed that God exists. What they especially disliked was that in the light of Jesus Christ their sinful deeds were exposed. And although Mama never reproached them for anything, her holy and pure life itself served as a reproof to them. They came to hate her so much that they could not endure her and treated her with utter contempt.
The communist relatives did not want my brother and sister also to follow Mama after the Lord, and they erected all kinds of obstacles, spoke haughtily and disdainfully, trying in every way to humiliate her. To their shouts and threats she replied meekly and humbly, as the Lord teaches. In this way we were divided from our relatives, from the people dearest to us. So the words of Jesus Christ were fulfilled in our life when, pointing His hand at His disciples, He said: “Here are My mother and My brothers! For whoever does the will of My Father in heaven is My brother and sister and mother” (Matthew 12:49‑50).
My mother’s brother, Pavel Nikolaevich, served as an officer in the Pacific Fleet, and after the army he worked near Moscow, in Vodniki, as the secretary of the party organisation. One Sunday he and Aunt Maria came to visit us. We were not at home, because every Sunday we were at our post. Mama and I never missed a single service—we were constantly in the meetings. They had to wait for us for several hours, and they spent that time at the neighbours’, drinking vodka there, and in a drunken state they came to do battle with us. Oh, what a scene that was! Drunk people have much strength but little self‑control; we grew weary of listening to them, and I said to Mama:
—Let us bow down and pray to the Lord, because we have no more strength.
It was the devil advancing against us through them, and when we began to pray to the Lord, Uncle Pavel jumped right over Mama and me—and that was the last of him, as if someone had swept him out with a broom. Aunt Maria, a communist, also bolted out, and they were never in our house again.
The last meeting with my relatives took place about thirty years later, when I was invited to the funeral of that very Aunt Maria. I met Uncle Pavel and the other uncle, Petya, the former director of a factory in the city of Grodno, in the elevator. During that time we had changed greatly. They recognised me only when I told them I was going to the funeral and asked on which floor the apartment I needed was located. In the apartment, Uncle Pavel opened his heart to me:
—Yes, Vanya, you have defeated us: the party is no more, the power is no more, their little gods are no more. One—and he is dead—has been lying for many years already, not seeing us and not hearing us. Indeed, I think he never heard us before, either…
But we walked the harsh path of struggle, remained faithful to the truth, and our God is eternal, and having risen once from the dead, He never dies again. We have not been disappointed in Him. He both sees us and hears us.
“Do you suppose that I came to give peace on earth? I tell you, not at all, but rather division. For from now on five in one house will be divided: three against two, and two against three. Father will be divided against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother‑in‑law against her daughter‑in‑law and daughter‑in‑law against her mother‑in‑law” (Luke 12:51‑53). That is exactly what happens in reality.
The Beginning of My Ministry
Thanks to my prior training in the Riga congregation and my knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, I was quickly able to become a member of the Moscow Baptist church in Malovuzovsky Lane. This officially registered congregation was intended primarily as a demonstration to foreigners of freedom of conscience in the USSR: religion is not forbidden here—there you are, please go and see for yourselves. True, abroad the church is also registered, but there is a great difference between registration here and registration there, overseas. Our church was fully managed and controlled by the KGB organs. They appointed the ministers, monitored all sermons, kept track of the arrival and departure of visitors. The presbyter of the church gave reports on the spiritual condition of every church member. Yet, nevertheless, those two years were not empty; they served to purify the heart, to increase thirst, and to prepare for the reception of the Holy Spirit.
I was a sincerely and deeply believing person and at that time did not yet know the true state of the church, though I was already beginning to guess. Comparing it with the church of Jesus Christ, which was not registered with Pontius Pilate, who was then procurator of Judea, and was not subject to any Roman laws—even though Judea was then a province of the Roman Empire—I began to feel in my soul a disagreement with the existing situation. The KGB organs, meanwhile, continued to supervise me, as I soon became convinced.
I recall the sermon of Ilia Grigorievich Ivanov, a follower of the teetotallers, a man baptised in the Holy Spirit. As I entered the prayer house and was coming up the stairs, he was standing behind the pulpit, and a vision was shown to me. The pulpit disappeared; in the air there hung a head and a right hand, then the hand also disappeared, and only the head remained. From this head the Holy Spirit flowed forth, which like a wave swept over me. Sailors understand this sensation, only it was deeper and absolutely safe, and I trusted myself to it. As I now understand, it was a visitation of the Holy Spirit; He touched me, and my spirit trembled.
Ilia Grigorievich was very favourably disposed toward me. When the church was choosing candidates for training as preachers at a university in England, my name, at his wish, was also included in the list. But the KGB let through only Mikhail Orlov, Mikhail Zhidkov, and the son of the Kazan presbyter, whose surname I do not remember—and my name disappeared from the list. For the KGB, these were their own people, while I was a stranger. The Lord was looking at something else for me, and for the time being I continued to grow spiritually in that church.
In 1957, a blessed man of God, Ivan Vasilievich Sizov, returned to Moscow from bonds. For the name of God he had served ten years in camps. During that time he lost his wife, who proved unfaithful to her husband—for such things also happen. There was neither impressive looks nor majesty about him. He was small of stature, lame in one leg, his speech was not striking, but the mind of this man was highly original, and he possessed an enormous memory, so that one might call him a walking encyclopedia. This true Pentecostal, baptised in the Holy Spirit, would quote the Gospel without looking at the book. Ivan Vasilievich was himself the Gospel. I had the opportunity to commune with him, and my soul grew together with his soul. He answered all my questions, unfolding the depth of Holy Scripture, pointing out to me those passages which the Baptists somehow deliberately avoided.
Before my baptism in the Holy Spirit, I attended several apartment meetings where the Holy Spirit burned with fire and Christians bathed in His grace. My heart told me that here were my teachers, and this was better than studying in England. There, students received diplomas that could be taken away, but here God was preparing for me His own diploma—not a hand‑written booklet with a stamp, carried in the pocket, but a diploma given to me by God, which I carry in my heart and which no one can take away from me.
But it was not Ivan Vasilievich’s lot to remain long in Moscow. The authorities were already on his trail, and this time they sentenced him to five years of exile and deported him to Kazakhstan. There he worked as an accountant on a state farm; they trusted him: he was literate, did not lie, sought no gain or advantage for himself.
But it was already impossible to hold back water; under pressure it erodes dams, and other people appeared on my path: Vladimir Govorushko from Byelorus sia, who was then serving in the army near Moscow and later married a local sister in the Lord, Vera, and settled in Tomilino; Vladimir Semenets, who had served five years for refusing the oath and became a preacher and a choir director; Vladimir Plotskikh, who was passing through from a camp after serving ten years—a Jew whom his parents had disowned. For faith in Jesus Christ he became an orphan in the flesh while his parents were still alive, but in spirit he gained far more relatives than he lost.
He told many things about himself, about his life and experiences in the camp. In winter, convicts like him would strip him naked, take him out of the barracks, pour ice‑cold water over him in the frost, and keep him that way for several minutes, and only then allow him to go back inside the barracks—and this was done repeatedly. In medical terms, this is called hypothermia of the organism: tuberculosis—and the person is no more, and there is also no guilty party; he died of illness. Had he stayed longer in the frost, he could have died, but then he would have died unconquered, and that is tantamount to defeat. “No, we cannot kill him; just let him renounce God and live freely—we’ll even release him from the camp,” the authorities reasoned. But he did not renounce. That is exactly the problem for the persecutors! And the Lord preserved Volodya from tuberculosis—glory to Him!
Volodya had very poor eyesight, but God gave him excellent spiritual eyes. Moreover, he had the gift of prophecy. Once he suddenly said that we must urgently disperse, because the militia was coming. We barely had time to go outside when a police car drove up. We saw them, but they paid no attention to us on the street. That day we were neither put on a list nor fined. Besides spiritual gifts, Volodya was distinguished by an excellent knowledge of the Old Testament and its interpretation.
The Moscow house in which we gathered to pray was two‑storey and made of wood. During those services, such great power of the Holy Spirit descended upon us that the neighbours would knock on the wall and ask us to stop praying, because they feared the house would collapse—for it actually vibrated, just as it says in the Gospel: “And when they had prayed, the place where they were assembled together was shaken; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit…” (Acts 4:31).
God in those days was moving me to burn with zeal for the baptism of the Holy Spirit. With me was a group of young people whom the Holy Spirit was also preparing to receive the spiritual baptism. At that time, Vasily Vasilievich Ryakhovsky was released from bonds. He was a believing Orthodox youth when he was called up for army service. There he constantly rebuked the Komsomol soldiers who would return from leave and tell how they deceived girls and then laughed at them; how they swore love and faithfulness, and then abandoned them, without even leaving their address. And the commanders were no better. For those rebukes, Vasily received ten years under Article 58, paragraph 10, and served five years. Here is how A. Solzhenitsyn characterises this article in his book The Gulag Archipelago: “The famous Article 58 contained fourteen paragraphs and four sub‑paragraphs to the first paragraph (1a‑1g). Hundreds of thousands of people were convicted under this article. Besides the ordinary courts, so‑called ‘troikas’ tried cases under this article. But no paragraph of Article 58 was interpreted as expansively and with such ‘fervour of revolutionary conscience’ as the tenth. It read as follows: ‘Propaganda or agitation containing a call for the overthrow, undermining, or weakening of Soviet power… as well as the distribution or preparation, or possession of literature of the same content.’ And this paragraph specified, in peacetime, only the lower limit of punishment (not less than! not too leniently!), while the upper limit was not restricted! The extensions of this notorious paragraph were as follows:
- under ‘agitation containing a call’ could be understood a friendly (or even conjugal) private conversation face to face, or a private letter; and the call could be personal advice. (We say ‘could be, could have been,’ meaning that is exactly how it happened);
- ‘undermining and weakening’ of the power was any thought that did not coincide with or did not burn with the same intensity as the thoughts of today’s newspaper. After all, anything that does not strengthen, weakens! Anything that does not fully coincide, undermines!
- under ‘preparation of literature’ was understood any written note in a single copy, whether a letter, a note, or an intimate diary.
Expanded—so happily—what thought, whether conceived, spoken, or written, would not be covered by this tenth paragraph?
Having made this survey of the great article, we shall henceforth be less surprised. Where there is law, there is crime. In the camp, those convicted under Article 58 had no protection whatsoever. LAWLESSNESS” (A. Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago, Vol. 5, p. 56).
It was under this paragraph that Vasily Vasilievich Ryakhovsky was convicted—guilty, in fact, only of rebuking his fellow‑servicemen for their sins, because he was a religious man and wanted to save the soldiers from hell, wishing them good. In the camp he met believers who had been baptised in the Holy Spirit, conversed with them at length, diligently studied the Holy Scriptures, and came to understand that this was important for him and that he needed it. Soon he was baptised in the Holy Spirit through the prayer of his brother‑prisoners. Having married a sister in the Lord, Antonina Bykovskaya, he settled at the Sokolovka station on the Yaroslavl railway. Soon afterwards, Brother Vladimir Ivanovich Bogun, endowed with the power of the Holy Spirit, came to Sokolovka from the Ukrainian city of Berdichev. It was there that I brought our group of young people, and literally at the very first prayer the Lord baptised us with the Holy Spirit! This happened on the night of 15–16 January 1957. It was cold outside, but inside we were ablaze.
One may say that this was the beginning of the organised Moscow church, which united into one whole the groups of Biryulyovo, Vystavka (the VDNKh district), Reutov, Pavlov Posad, Drezná that had not previously had common services. Personally, together with the presbyter Aleksei Egorovich Frolov, I put maximum effort into this, and we united with Mikhail Afonin from Drezná, Vladimir Govorushko, Vasily Ryakhovsky, and Vladimir Semenets. In this way, one could consider that the Moscow region was covered by us. Of course, no house could have contained us, and we moved into the woodland areas. Thus God gathered His scattered children into one Moscow church.
When the Baptists heard that the Lord had baptised me with the Holy Spirit, they began summoning my mother and impressing upon her that I would perish, that I had the wrong spirit. Mama was then a member of that congregation and, naturally, was very attached to it. She was distressed and prayed earnestly about me in private. A struggle began in our home. Mama had a double right over me—as the mother who gave birth to me, and as the one who turned me to the Lord.
—What more do you need?—she would ask.—Such distinguished brethren—Karev, Ivanov, Zhidkov, Motorin… And you—well, who are you, really?
“O God,” I prayed, “give me patience and humility.” I resolved to save my mother, and Mama resolved to save me. The closest people found themselves spiritually divided. She even prayed: “Lord, put my son to death and take him to Yourself.”
Once, shortly after I was demobilised, I became seriously ill and was already almost dead. In the hospital they laid me in the corridor, awaiting my passing. There was no treatment at all—even painkillers were not always given: “He’ll die faster anyway; he’s hopeless, almost a corpse—why waste medicine…” They waited ten days, but they never did see my death. In my prayer I said to God: “King Hezekiah asked You to extend his life, and You extended it. With what shall I come to You? Take me; I am at Your disposal. If You wish, You can put me to death, and if You wish, You can give me Your work, and I will carry it out faithfully.” After that prayer I recovered. And Mama’s prayer was not accepted by God, from which she drew her own conclusions.
Some time later, Vladimir Bogun decided to visit those who had been baptised with the Holy Spirit through his participation. He considered himself responsible for these souls, and he was right. Poor is the teacher who is not interested in whether his pupil has learned the lesson correctly.
Our neighbour, whom the Lord had also baptised, dropped in on my mother and invited her to come and see where I was going and from where she wanted to pull me out. A prayer began, and Mama also prayed together with everyone. Suddenly the Holy Spirit turns to her through a prophet and says:
—My daughter, you are praying about your son, asking “put him to death so that he will not perish,” but he is My vessel through whom I will accomplish My work!
Mama fell to the floor, for no one knew about that prayer—only the Lord alone was her witness. Thus an end was put to the struggle in our home. Mama was baptised with the Holy Spirit and began going with me to our Pentecostal meetings. She brought me to the Baptists, and I brought her to the Pentecostals. The Lord did this. “Pentecostals” is the common name for our church, but its true name is Christians of Evangelical Faith.
And Already Persecuted
My zeal for God grew from struggle to struggle, from victory to victory: prayers for spiritual baptism, sermons, various trips. I did not miss a single service—those held on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and three times on Sunday. I did not slacken in diligence, I burned in spirit like Apollos, and I also tried not to miss an opportunity to do good—building houses, digging gardens, visiting the sick. And God gave strength for all of it.
I remember, in Biryulyovo we were told that in a certain private house lay a lonely old man whose son had gone north to earn money and left him. I went with brother Nikolai, found the house, which turned out to be unlocked. We entered; no one was home. We began loudly asking if anyone was home, but there was no answer. I noticed that a lot of winter clothes were lying on the bed. We approached, dug through them, and underneath lay the old man. He was very glad and quietly asked who we were. We told him who we were and why we had come.
Without lengthy deliberation, we got down to business. We brought firewood, lit the stove. The house grew warm, and the old man took off his extra clothes. We heated water, brought a washtub, sat the old man down, and washed off the dirt for a long time. How many months he had not washed, he himself could not remember. We changed him into clean underwear. The next day we invited a sister who was a hairdresser, and she cut his hair and shaved him. We began keeping watch over him, and the old man came back to life. He kept asking us who we were. We said we were ordinary people who believed in the living God. But the old man said: “No, you are not ordinary, you are angels…”
He felt good with us, and we felt good with him, for we understood that we must bear one another’s burdens. But then the Komsomol members found out about it and pushed us out. Caring for an elderly person, useful activity—you can put a checkmark in a report and receive glory, they’ll clap their hands and praise you at a meeting. They organized a watch, but this evil zeal did not last long; gradually they abandoned him. We heard that the old man soon died and was buried.
I began zealously preaching about the Lord in Biryulyovo, and a community of about fifty people formed there. Time passed, I went deeper into the teaching and into personally fulfilling this teaching. I especially liked that Jesus Christ fasted and prayed in solitude on the Mount of Olives, and I began to practice this myself. Fasting is a great ministry; through fasting and prayer, demons come out of the possessed. The more I served the Lord in this way, the more I was visited by joy from the Holy Spirit. I began gathering young people in the forest, and there we were zealous, prayed, sang.
This reached presbyter Alexei Nikolaevich Karpov. I was called beneath the pulpit (there is such a room downstairs) and there they gave me a stern admonition, saying that it was illegal and the authorities were already troubled by my behavior. I did not know that there were certain people in the prayer house—so-called Spirit-baptized people, who were also called Pentecostals. They indeed were such; they were members of the Baptist church, but after the service they would gather in apartments and pray in other tongues by the Holy Spirit. They were afraid that I, by my behavior, would bring trouble upon them. I lived by the principle: “God, what will You command me to do?” but they lived by the principle: “We listen and obey you, Caesar”—that is, the authorities.
I constantly had problems with work. I never stayed long anywhere—workers were needed, specialists were lacking, but I always turned out to be superfluous. Once they arranged a job for me at a radio factory, in the carpentry shop. The collective quickly learned that I was a believer. A lit candle is placed in plain sight so that it gives light to all, and so it was. A young man, recently from the fleet, yet his conduct differs from everyone else’s. As usually happens: “Give me a smoke,” “Let’s go drink…” But here there was a misfire. This young man does not drink and does not smoke—probably he’s sick. No, doesn’t look like it; he can lift two men at once by strength, and they only take healthy people into the fleet. Ah, so that’s it: it turns out he believes in God… Of course, division immediately arose in the collective: those “for” were few, those “against” were more, and some “abstained”—those were usually the simple workers. The management falls into the “against” category. And a radio factory is a connection with the whole world. And, maybe, he’s a spy, because he’s not like everyone else? And why doesn’t he curse? Reconnaissance by fire.
Gradually a group of believing workers formed, who listened to me and were later baptized in the Baptist prayer house. The collective grew to like me and treated me well. I lent them money until payday, took part in everyone’s needs and problems, but not in their sins. For vodka, of course, I did not give.
Soon I was excommunicated from the Baptist church for the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Almost simultaneously, the director received an order to find out who this Fedotov was. The director summoned me to have a conversation and look at me. He was an educated man, a deputy’s badge on his chest—meaning he was smart, by their standards. He tried to dissuade me, but met from my side not only resistance but also counter-offensive. Realizing it was all in vain, the director changed the direction of the conversation: “You and I are talking to no purpose, but here’s the thing: some people arrived who were interested in you and gave instructions to fire you from your job. So I suggest you leave my factory of your own accord.”
I caught him on his words: “This factory is also my factory.”
He understood, became embarrassed, and said: “I’m simply asking you. I know it would be better to keep you in one place, because if we dismiss you from this factory, you’ll get a job at another, and there too believers will appear…”
After this conversation, a trade union meeting was announced in the shop. Attendance mandatory for everyone without exception. I, however, was an exception, since I was not a trade union member. But special care was shown for me, and I, probably as an honored guest, was also present at this meeting.
They quickly finished with the first question; I don’t even remember what it was about, something trivial. The second question—concerning the behavior of the sectarian Fedotov—was examined under the leadership of the secretary of the Komsomol organization and his assistant, who, like me, had served in the fleet, but here he was not in solidarity with me, though there we had stood shoulder to shoulder.
The question was raised about my dismissal from the factory. The management needed the decision of the collective, since I had no infractions. Everyone was quickly called to a vote, to comply with the formality. “Who is in favor of Fedotov being dismissed from the factory?” The workers did not raise their hands, but the management did. Complete silence fell; everyone was silent. So, a failure—the dismissal did not take place. But the confusion was short-lived; soon a new meeting was announced on the question of the sectarian Ivan Fedotov. My worker friends told me how all of them, one by one, were summoned to the secretary of the party organization and subjected to ideological processing.
To one, for example, they said: “You are on the waiting list to receive an apartment. Do you wish to get housing? And why didn’t you vote for Fedotov’s dismissal?” Or like this: “You wish to get a vacation voucher to a sanatorium? So what’s the problem? The trade union issues the vouchers, and you, see, didn’t speak out against Fedotov! You don’t even have to speak out, just raise both hands at once; they’ll count them as two people, and your voucher is guaranteed.”
A third was asked: “You’re on the list for expanding your living space—your son got married? You must vote for Fedotov’s dismissal; I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Everyone underwent such processing. For the second meeting, two more men from the KGB arrived, who sat behind the workers’ backs and exerted pressure on them. This time the scale tipped a little. Then they asked who was against—there proved to be no such citizens—and they resolved to dismiss me from work. Yet I was still listed there as a worker for some time.
The day after such a meeting, some “hid” their eyes from me; they were ashamed. And others, on the contrary, began looking at me with defiance. But the promised apartments the workers never did receive. And the sick man did not go to the sanatorium; in his place went a healthy man, but with a party card in his pocket. Having deceived their own conscience, they themselves turned out to be deceived. They could not grasp that you cannot give apartments to all who wish for them if there aren’t any. Those apartments still have to be built, and even then it’s a question whether they will give them to you.
Afterwards I was summoned to the director. There a solid-looking man awaited me; he introduced himself as Sergei Dmitrievich. “Ride with me to the Lubyanka, to see Andropov,” he said.
While we rode, he showed me the new high-rise buildings under construction and said: “If you want to work here as an engineer, that can be arranged. You will become a great man; for that, very little is needed from you: just don’t speak about God anymore, that’s all.”
This is what it means to be a believer; after all, Satan also offered Christ: “All these things I will give You, if You fall down and worship me” (Matt. 4:9). Glory to the Lord that I had read His Word and knew that when brought before kings and judges, I need not worry what to say. I answered him: “I am already a builder of Christ’s house and thank the Lord for such a lot.”
At last we arrived. In a long office, a table stretched its entire length, at the end of which sat the KGB chairman. He began to interrogate me. Without long deliberation, I raised my hand upward and loudly said: “As the Lord lives, before whom I stand!”
Taken aback, he flinched and, standing opposite me, shouted: “Get out!” From another door two men immediately ran out, seized me by the arms, and dragged me through that door. The room was small, with only one leather sofa. When I was left alone, without thinking long, I lay down on the sofa and immediately fell asleep. A jab in the side—their astonishment knew no bounds: he’s even sleeping! Well, excuse me! Sleeping there, where you’re summoned! That’s just not normal! It is normal to tremble, to fear, to shake, to grovel—that is normal. But to simply sleep the sleep of the righteous like that—that is too much!
But in God’s Word it is written: “…Do not be afraid of their terror…” (1 Pet. 3:14). Glory to the Lord, that is just what I believed. And for them it was a sign of their destruction, unless they repented.
This time I was released; they lacked material for the case. They began gathering it. But I was dismissed from the factory, and I began looking for other work. One day a summons came home: to report to the district executive committee. There, by decision of the administrative commission, for breaking trees in the forest (this was clearly when we held meetings there—not some little branches, but whole trees!), I was given a month of compulsory labor and sent to a brick factory to clean soot from the chimneys.
When I appeared at the factory, the man I was supposed to assist immediately asked me upon meeting: “What are you here for?”
Only those who had committed offenses were sent to this hard and dirty work, involving great danger. I was silent; and what could I say to this good man? But he kept probing: “Drank too much?” “I don’t drink.” “Then what for? Beat your wife good?” “Still a bachelor.” “Then tell me, what for?” “For preaching about Christ.” “Who are you? A preacher?!” “Yes,” I answer.
He jumped up and ran off. He brings the shop foreman, a young woman, and says to her: “Here, he’ll tell you everything—whether you can have an abortion or not.”
And in a commanding tone to me: “Go, tell them, I’ll do the work without you.”
It was the night shift; the machines were turned off, it grew quiet, and the whole shift listened to my sermon about Christ until morning.
In the morning the director reports to the authorities: “Who is this you sent me to clean the chimneys?! His Christ cleaned out the workers’ brains and their seared consciences.”
Again they reported to the KGB, and they are gathering material on me… They organized a public trial at the workplace. This was something new—not a general meeting, but a public trial—but I went through this as well. The Lord told me in a revelation: “Take with you the brochure ‘Lenin to the Village Poor’.” And so I did.
The meeting began; the speakers began to rise. All the women raised a cry in my defense—and this after I had rebuked them for their abortions, laid out all their sins in neat categories, and called them to repentance.
I stood up and said to all those gathered: “We live in a communist country founded by Lenin. He denounced bourgeois Russia and wrote in his brochure that only in Turkey and Russia do shameful laws regarding religion and sectarianism exist, while in other countries this is not so.”
On the back bench sat two men; one jumped up and declared: “That’s not true; Lenin never said that!”
Then I took the brochure from my pocket and loudly read what Lenin had said. Silence fell, and then—an explosion of shouts directed at those two men. In fact, I had not yet really managed to start working at the factory before I was already thrown out.
And so began my wanderings through the wide world. Vasily Ryakhovsky suggested that I work with him underground, in the metro. Work of what is called rapid response. The last train passes, the electricity is switched off, and we go down for three hours to repair the track. We are the scum of the earth; there is no place for us alongside the people of this world. But “let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation…” (Jas. 1:9).
For about a year we worked together with Vasya on one section underground. How good and pleasant it is for brothers to live and work together! Vasily is a childishly sincere, deeply believing man and a good family man.
We were loved in the metro and valued—until the all-seeing eye of the KGB spotted us here too, underground. One day they announced to us: “This morning there will be a trade union meeting. Attendance at the meeting is mandatory for Fedotov and Ryakhovsky.” “I am not a trade union member,” I say. “It doesn’t matter; you must be there without fail.”
I immediately told Vasily that this was about us, but he was still not “beaten” then and answered me: “Come on, brother Vanya, you’re making it up.”
And so we sit on the first bench and hear them announce that the meeting is being held concerning the “sectarian preachers Fedotov and Ryakhovsky.” By design and instigation of the KGB, the people at the meeting supposedly demanded that we be handed over to the court—at least, that is what was written in the protocol. In reality, however, things were somewhat different, but the protocol is already a document that can be added to the case file, and the rest does not matter. So what if people expressed themselves otherwise; their words flew away and left no sound behind, but those who spoke were noted down for future reference.
The times were hard. The ruler was Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev, a man of special ambitions, who resolved to expose Stalin’s cult of personality. At the United Nations he banged a shoe on the podium, wishing to show the West “Kuzma’s mother,” promised to build communism by 1980 and to show the last believer on television. What a terrible plan for the extermination of the Church! Oh, if it were not for the Lord, they would have swallowed us alive!
Vasily and I watched and marveled at how malicious some young people were against us—workers guilty of nothing—though we had not crossed their path. Thus the innocent Jesus stood before Pilate, but the chief priests and Pharisees, the lawyers and Sadducees, with their shouts incited the senseless crowd, which had just been spreading its garments and glorifying Jesus, crying “Hosanna,” but now was already shouting: “Crucify Him, crucify Him!” Their fury poured out on me more than on my brother Vasily; therefore, when they asked me a question, I expected it, and an answer was prepared in my heart. Coming to the podium, I said: “Respected colleagues, for nearly a year I have been with you, and not one of you can tell me that I treated you badly; yet now, without any cause, you are so inflamed and making noise. So, I will tell you not about Christ, of whom you do not wish to hear—though that is in vain—I will tell you about Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev.”
The hall fell silent, and I continued: “Nikita Sergeevich, a universally respected and beloved man, flew to America. The head and representative of the very best country in the world wanted to tell them about the life and freedom of the Soviet person: to believe—please; to study—also please. This, after all, is progress. But incited youths pelted him with rotten eggs and tomatoes. What can you say when they won’t listen to you—and is it even possible to speak at such a time? Of course not. And so Nikita Sergeevich put two fingers to his right temple, turned them this way and that, and fell silent: as if to say, believe me, they’ve gotten to me; they don’t understand any other way.”
And I likewise fell silent, demonstrating the same gesture to them, twirling my fingers near my temple. And suddenly an explosion erupted. Oh, what happened then! “What, are we the same as Khrushchev showed them?!” “Judge for yourselves,” I tell them. “To you Russians this is understandable, but for Americans to understand, they had to hurl rotten eggs. Every country has its own manner of expressing feelings.”
The Chekists, sitting in the back, jumped to their feet. “Don’t you know Fedotov?! He must be judged!” they shouted, inciting the people with their cries. A forest of hands rose up: “Judge him, hand him over to the court!” With that, we all went home.
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