On this particular Easter morning, I woke up with a sinking feeling in my stomach. As I prepared to drive our nice minivan, to our nice church in our nice clothes I couldn't help but think about the global plight of our brothers and sisters in Christ. I prayed that morning—a prayer that God didn't seem to answer. An unholy foreshadowing of the events to follow crossed my mind and I whispered a faint prayer against attacks. I grabbed for my bright green scarf and threw on my yellow earrings for a pop of color and asked God to save his people from death and persecution on Easter Sunday. After…