It’s hard to think of a better place to see the contrasting worlds of a country like Uzbekistan collide. 

Beneath the Samarkand night sky, the majestic and historic Registan complex was before us, a paragon of Islamic architectural excellence, power and pride. Our gaze was fixed on the illuminations from the light show that danced across its walls as various images and scenes from the nation’s past were garishly put on display. With the unmistakable whiff of propaganda, the organisers had us consider the enduring legacy of the Silk Road, the pioneering achievements of Islam and science, and, of course, the centrality of the Quran. Many young people sat around us watching on. Some of the women were dressed conservatively in hijabs, others like they’d taken their fashion cues from Top Shop or Urban Outfitters. The men, clustered in groups, seemed sold on just shirts and jeans. Behind us, pressing in, was the roar of inner-city traffic. An endless flow of cars washed by. It was full of daredevil drivers weaving in and out and contained the very Central Asian hodgepodge of old bangers from the 90s and brand spanking new Chevvies from Uzbekistan’s monopolising car factory. Above us, little flashing lights shot up, then floated down – cheap toys sold by street kids for a pittance before they were driven away by the whistle of the local police. One little boy’s ingenious sales strategy was to nutmeg us with a bottle and then innocently hold out his wares. Before long, the light show was over, a rotating selfie-machine providing the only fluorescence and contrasting awkwardly with the deep sense of history all around. With that, the chattering crowds thinned and ebbed away. 

Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan are strange and beautiful places seemingly in between worlds. Each has its own distinct character and, as such, I’m wary of lumping them together as one. In some ways, they’re strikingly modern: think perfumed, designer shopping malls and glitzy municipal districts. In others, they feel more traditional and unfiltered: think chaotic, raw-smelling bazaars and vast, yawning potholes. Islam is clearly a significant cultural force, evident in large mosques and public expressions, yet its presence in daily practice can seem limited, with few people actually attending those same mosques. Soviet influence still lingers, especially in Kazakhstan (quite fondly, in fact, among the older generation) where Russian connections remain strong. At the same time, there’s a noticeable and growing pull towards the West, especially among social-media-savvy young people. 

What were we doing there?

When seven of us Oak Hill students travelled to Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan this June, it was hard to define what we were really there to do. As this blog’s writer, I’ll have a stab at such a definition, but acknowledge that others might have seen it differently. We were there as missiologically-minded tourists, keen to experience life in a cross-cultural setting and to theologically understand what is going on in this corner of the Muslim-majority world. At times we were much more like Western, camera-happy tourists (“Ah, American, yes?!”) and indeed we were invited into the country on tourist visas. We honoured that and did our level best to help out the local economy – eating out for ever lunch and dinner certainly helped! At other times, however, we delved into the world of local missionaries and spent substantial time reflecting missiologically on serving Jesus in such a place. Whatever we were there to do – led by Steve, a man with huge experience in Central Asian life and culture (and with some serious organisational and accounting skills to boot), and accompanied by Chris our Oak Hill faculty member and walking, talking, missiological commentary – we were in good hands.

Tourism, missiology-style

On the touristic level, it was clear in Uzbekistan at least that Westerners and their money were most welcome. There was a glut of historic sites to visit, and each of them gave crucial insights into the Uzbek mind – an essential background to have if one is to serve there cross-culturally. In the capital, Tashkent, a surprisingly stunning Soviet-era hotel gave way to a park over which the statue of Amir Temur looms. The motto in English reads, ‘Strength in Justice.’ Temur is lionised by Uzbeks as a devout Muslim and empire-builder, yet he was also a man whose imperial strength and ruthlessness left very little justice for the thousands upon thousands he put to the sword. In Bukhara, a place of dusty roads, yellowish brick and blistering 43-degree heat, we discovered an ancient city centre full of Islamic treasures. Its centrepiece is the Kalon Tower and adjacent mosque, with the Tower being the only surviving remnant of Genghis Khan’s ravaging of the city 800 years ago. It was too beautiful for him to destroy. The aesthetic quality of the Islamic architecture, however, belies the lack of spirituality that is often found within. Tourist sites as many of these buildings now are, ducking inside away from the heat reveals stall after stall of souvenir sellers and carpet traders where haggling (and still probably getting a rum deal) is the only game in town. 

This dynamic is illustrative of Islamic spirituality more widely in this part of Central Asia. Although there are many outwardly impressive signs of Islam’s dominance, and people certainly outwardly consider Islam to be core to their sense of identity, the inner and lived reality is far more nominal and superficial. Local believers informed us of the lack depth of knowledge of their own faith which many Muslims possess, and the almost complete absence of overt calls to prayer in the cities we visited spoke volumes. What’s more, a mock-up Registan complex (original in Samarkand) on the edges of Tashkent’s ‘Magic City’ – essentially a playground of consumerism and materialism presided over by the ever-present branding of Pepsi – capped off the sense that Islam doesn’t have quite the grip on the people’s hearts that many would like to think. Even in Kazakhstan, a brand new and statement-piece mosque in the city of Shymkent was outwardly big and bold and beautiful. However, inside, the thin-layered marble façades inadvertently symbolised the thinness of Kazakh devotion to Islamic practice. Not just that, but one missionary masterfully told us in story-form of the ‘five pillars of Kazakh Islam,’ whereby Kazakh Muslims put their own, localised spin on supposedly rigid key tenets of the faith. Islam here is nominal, changeable, folk-infused, and according to local believers (and excitingly for us as Christians), becoming less and less attractive to the younger generations.

A door of opportunity

This trip, therefore, has left us with a fantastic sense of opportunity. It is not just the iron-grip of Soviet Communism that has receded here and continues to be peeled away. The dominance of Islam suddenly doesn’t seem so wholesale after all. Another missionary, one visiting the region but very familiar with the Islamic world, told me of the drastic effect the internet and social media use is having upon young Central Asians’ faith in Islam. For those who have access to smartphones, which are increasingly ubiquitous in this part of the world, they have a steady stream of information that casts serious doubts on Islamic beliefs that had previously been taken for granted and on trust from respected elders. Likewise, they are being exposed to new ideas and ways of life – admittedly, as we know from the UK, some of which aren’t great – among which, still, the gospel pearl of great price is just waiting to be discovered.

All this being said, the great sense of opportunity also comes with a serious note of caution. Local believers noted how conversion from Islam (however nominal) to Christianity often comes at personal great cost. Persecution such as threats, attacks and ostracism from friends and family is commonplace, and the Uzbek authorities in particular still like to keep a very close eye on gatherings of Christians. Moreover, local believers also reported that an alternative response to nominal, half-hearted Islam is to double-down on a more conservative and fundamentalist form of the faith. By all accounts, this stricter kind of Islam is becoming increasingly attractive to local people and Muslim leaders from other parts of the world are wasting no time in sending imams to propagate it. Exciting as spiritual opportunity may be, it is very clear that Central Asia, spiritually-speaking, hangs in the balance. 

“M-work” in Central Asia

For those who are giving their lives to serving the people of Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan with the gospel of Christ, the on-the-ground approach to winning souls is deeply relational. This is eased along in no small part by a wonderfully entrenched culture of hospitality in the region. Despite Islamic nominalism, sensitivities about Islamic beliefs and values render any overt critiques counterproductive at best, and outright dangerous at worst. Instead, becoming deeply intertwined with the local language and culture enables genuine friendships with local Muslims to flourish, through which hearts are softened and the good news of Jesus more organically shared. One local missionary told us of a long-term friendship whereby her good friend’s eyes were spectacularly opened to the truth that only a sinless substitute could pay for her sin, which is exactly what God incarnate was willing and able to do. And so another entered the Kingdom, a precious Kazakh sister. 

This relational emphasis also made the short-term nature of our trip quite stark; we were on a learning experience but (apart from one team member) were still completely like fish out of water, depending on translation apps, locals speaking English, and on being given grace for our cultural clumsiness. To truly serve somewhere like Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan, so much more investment and sheer dedication is needed before fruit is seen. Perhaps some of us who went will be called upon to give just that. Nevertheless, God gave us some precious reminders of his presence with us on this trip and of his providential care over and around us. There were various gospel opportunities and surprising conversations with locals that reminded us beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is powerfully at work in this part of the world. 

Closing thoughts

There are so many more details I could mention in this blog. From a human stampede at the Kazakh-Uzbek border, to eating flayed sheep’s head, to early morning prayer walks around Samarkand, we had an intense, exciting, exhausting and spiritually invigorating time. Our experiences in Central Asia have been formational and significant for each and every one of us, whether we sense a call to overseas missions or not. That said, I think there’s an even better note to leave things on. Despite its nominalism and superficiality, Islam’s presence in Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan is still highly visible and permeates much of life there. It likes to see itself as grand and dominant. Yet, as we met some local believers in Kazakhstan, we saw the humble marks of the Spirit of the true and living God at work. There was no grand architecture, no proud history of military largesse, no obvious displays of external religiosity. But in their home we witnessed joyful hearts, vibrant family life, abundant food and humble prayer. We heard testimonies of sharing Jesus when you’re essentially the only Christian around. We enjoyed listening to husbands and wives singing in Kazakh a simple worship song, praising our Lord Jesus. We saw, in essence, a tiny but powerful branch of the Kingdom of God bursting out of the mustard seed in a faraway land. God is there. God is on the move.

As our host told us as we closed the evening off, “Tell people at home that there are Kazakh Christians. We are here. Pray for us.”

Our team is committed to exactly this. Might you be? 

Written by Tim, a second year student at Oak Hill.