Lesson #5- Jesus Is The Risen King

It has not been easy for Rebecca and me to begin learning the lessons which we've highlighted in the last four posts. I expect that many of you might be discouraged simply by reading how two folks who've spent two years trying to help the poor are heading home with the sneaking suspicion that it's all more complicated than they ever imagined. And in the face of our own sin-sick hearts, the sin-sick hearts of the poor folks we want to help, and the sin-sick cultural, political, family, and economic systems in which we live, we need more than the slice of humble pie we blogged about in the last post.

And in the face of all of this each of us has essentially three options. We can give up in the face of the difficulty. Or we can learn more, work harder, give more, try our darndest to love more, and simply seek to live better lives in the face of the pain and brokenness. Both of these are long roads that lead to nowhere, and every world religion basically walks one or the other of them: escape from the world, or become a good enough person to fix it.

Every religion save one. Only in the Christian faith do we find a third answer, the answer to which Rebecca and I find ourselves driven to over and over again. And that answer is simply this: Jesus is the Risen King.

The Biblical narrative tells us mostly what we already sense in our hearts to be true: that though we were made for greatness and glory we ourselves have done something so horrible that at times we can barely find anything good among the wreckage of what we should be. And though God spoke in many times and in many ways to our forefathers, yet all of them fell short of the glory; none were able to save. So God Himself took on the flesh of fallen humanity, overcame the temption of the Satan who had lured Adam and Eve out from under the Father's protection, took on hell face-to-face at the cross, and overcame all the power of sin and death at the Resurrection. Jesus has won the victory against the sin that hides in our hearts, in the hearts of our neighbors, in all of our human structures and systems, and in all the principalities and powers of darkness.

So often we talk about the cross and the resurrection as Christ's saving work on our behalf, that we might have eternal life with him. And oh how true that is! But that glorious truth only makes sense in a larger story, the story of the God whose world ran away from Him, and who suffered death to bring it back. God walked among us in the person of Jesus, declaring the good news of the kingdom of God, the good news that though the world had rebelled, God Himself was bringing it back into its proper obedient place under His feet.

And this is the solution also to so many of the squabbles the church has gotten into lately. Should we do social justice work? Is evangelism more important? What about the environment? Is the gospel directed primarily to me as an individual, or is it a community thing? One side accuses the other of following an other-worldly faith that's no earthly good; the other side responds that eternity matters more, and that it is the saving of souls that matters most. But either one without the other is a half truth! The Christ has come! And as Paul so powerfully declares in Colossians, through Jesus all things are being brought back under the rule of Jesus! All things! He comes to make His blessings known far as the curse is found! This is the solution to all of our broken marriages, to the lusts of our hearts, to the injustice of our political systems, to the brokenness of our cultures, to the sinful hearts of rich and poor alike, and to the groaning created world that cries out around us. Jesus created it all for His glory, and though sin has marred it for a moment, He is bringing it all back to Himself for eternity.

In the cross and the resurrection Jesus won the victory over death, hell, sin, and all the powers of darkness.  So where do we run when feel beaten down by our own inadequacy, or by the brokenness of the cultures or political systems in which we live, or when we're overwhelmed by the sinfulness of the folks we work with, or when we're broken by the blackness in our own hearts? We run to the King. He is reconciling and restoring all of it. And He calls us to work alongside Him.

Robert Webber talked about how the early church fathers saw the Biblical narrative as being creation-incarnation-recreation; they believed that the entire cosmos would be recapitulated, that it would be restored to its former glory under the reign of Jesus. And it is this idea, this belief in Christ as King of the cosmos, reconciling and restoring all things, that has comforted us in our weakness, challenged us in our sinfulness, encouraged us in our efforts, and called us to greater striving alongside our Lord.

And the angels will cry "Hail the Lamb," who was slain for the world, "Rule in power!" And the earth shall reply, "You shall reign, as the King of all Kings and the Lord of all Lords!" Sunday is the first day of Advent, the beginning of the Christian year, and the kick-off for a season of reflection on how our Old Testament fathers waited for the coming of the Messiah, and how we ourselves await his coming again. This Jesus, who traded "sapphire-paved courts for stable floors" is the only hope for creation. And in the face of all the struggle and suffering in the world, our answer is now and ever shall be: the King has died. The King is risen. The King will come again.

May we all acknowledge the rule and reign of Christ in our hearts more and more every day of our lives.

Peace,
Michael

Lesson #4- Humble Thyself In The Sight of the Lord (and the farmers, and your neighbors, and your work, and . . .)

One More Farewell Party

The last three posts of this series will focus on the power of the gospel, both through individuals and through the church. But before we get there, Rebecca and I can’t help but mention what must be one of the most dramatic lessons of our time here in our own lives. It could be summed up this way: we know less than we think we know, we can do less than we think we can, and we’ve messed it up more than we thought we did. Or in our oft-repeated phrase, “(Fill in the blank) is just really, really complicated.” But in light of the previous posts on what the poor have to offer us, and about how complex the culture and structures are, if we want to use Biblical language, I think what we’re really talking about is the importance of humility.

So you show up thinking, “Hey, I’m educated, I’m a “doer,” Jesus is on my team! Let’s help some poor folk!” And then you actually meet some of those people, and their authentic faithful dependence on God shines light on your own materialism, and shames you in your spiritual whininess. And then you see how hard they work, and how the system is stacked against them so that your projects and plans somehow seem very small. And then you find out that your thoughts, your attitudes, your involvement in the world is actually part of the problem, that you’re part of the system, that you’re “the man!” And suddenly you find yourself feasting on a fat ‘ole slice of humble pie.

And the complexity of it all becomes overwhelming! And you begin seeing that all your simple solutions don’t work, mainly because you don’t understand as much as you thought you did, nor are you as smart as you thought you were. At least that's our story. And I think for us, and for lots of fairly well-intentioned folks like us, you come to an almost existential crisis.

So what do you do? For starters, you take off the Superman outfit, put away your Messiah complex, and start afresh. And as far as we can tell, the only place to start is where the earliest Christians started: “Jesus Christ is the Risen Lord.”

And that’s what the next post is all about.

Peace,
Michael

Lesson #3- Culture: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Cross-cultural bible story telling with our missionary friend George Mixon

Every missionary everywhere deals with culture. While sometimes in our home countries we can remain so blind to our own cultural assumptions as to forget that we have any, the moment you get off the plane in any other place you’re smacked in the face with the reality that groups of people think differently from other groups of people.

Broadly speaking, missionaries tend towards one of two poles in dealing with cultural differences: either you tend to see the cultural differences positively, as unique expressions of other image bearers from whom you can learn a great deal, or negatively, as a unique set of sin patterns and habits which a given group of people has.

Or, in case that sounds real technical, you either say: “Wow, these Kenyans are so hospitable and kind, I can really learn from that!” Or you say, “Why don’t these crazy Kenyans learn how to drive?”

Rebecca rocking some cross-cultural garb with friends Hash, Deepa, and Aman

Rebecca and I have trekked from one pole to the other and back on this spectrum (and many other missionaries do as well), and our conclusion is this: People are fallen. People are made in God’s image. Culture reflects both of these theological points in powerful, visible and hidden ways. In other words, love it or hate it, culture is a big stinkin’ deal. Ignore it, embrace it completely, or reject it totally, only at your own peril.

My marriage counselor Robby Holt predicted two historic days that I should expect in my marriage, but he made it very clear that there’s no way to predict which day will come first. One day is the day when I would say “Oh my goodness, I never knew Rebecca was such a HUGE SINNER!” And the other day would be when I would wake up and say “OH my goodness I never knew I was such a HUGE SINNER!” In a sense this is what happens to people who spend time in a foreign culture as well. For a while, maybe, you just see all these sin patterns and habits ingrained in a culture. Then one day you wake up and see new, equally horrible, sin patterns in your own.

For instance:

(1) Abusive authority, corruption, and haughty attitudes toward the poor reign supreme in this culture sometimes. (2) A cultural aversion to shame keeps what I would call Biblical confrontation from happening very often, and also often keeps parents and pastors from preaching about Biblical sexual standards. (3) The cultural practice of dowry makes it nearly impossible for poor folk to get married, which means that parental commitment to tradition encourages promiscuity and co-habitation: take marriage as an option off the table, and sexual fidelity becomes mighty difficult. (4) And a cultural complacency about asking for money means I get hit up for cash by people from the wealthiest to the poorest on a regular basis.

On the other hand (picture Tevyan from Fiddler on the Roof now), (1) my culture doesn’t even know the poor anymore. White flight, zoning, suburbanization, segregated churches, and just downright personal effort make sure that the rich hardly ever even see poor people; oh, we’re more politically correct most of the time, but Kenyans almost across the board live among and help support the poor in their midst way more than we do. Which is worse? To be friends and family with the poor and occasionally let pride get the better of you, or to escape pride over the poor by making sure you never see them? (2) Compared to the rest of the world our “upfrontness” and “forthrightness” is just a code word for being a jerk; we’re ruder, meaner, and downright crueler on average for all of our “openness.” We leave churches, families, friends, whatever, at the drop of a hat because of our constant quarreling. (3) Dowry may be outdated but it was meant originally to bind families together for their mutual benefit. Compare that to our own totally individualized, “me-oriented” society in everything from family to church. See above: we leave churches, spouses, whoever, assoon as it doesn’t fit us, and, as a young person I can say confessionally we don’t hardly give any respect to anyone older than us or other than us unless they happen to agree with us, whereas here, a greater sense of respect and admiration for the old means that wisdom gets passed down more effectively. And (4) I don’t like people asking me for money because I live in a society built on greed! Kenyan culture lives by this crazy idea that “to whom much is given much is required” (who said that again?) and everything in me hates it! Why? Because my culture idolizes money to such an extent that it tells me I have money because of my hard work and I get to do what I want with it! Which is more Biblical? Give to those who ask? Or make sure you’re totally financially self-sufficient and learn how to get rid of beggars and borrowers who want to take what’s rightfully yours?

And these are just a few examples.

Cross-cultural fire instructions (Appliances? Tackling?)

Culture makes communication, relationships, worship, and everything else that matters much more difficult. But cross-cultural involvement also makes all these things richer as well, by reminding us that some of the things we assume are Biblical aren’t. At best, a cross-cultural community allows each culture to bring its strengths to balance another culture’s weaknesses and to have the reverse done to them in their turn. And, when this happens, it’s beautiful.

Which leads me to one of the most prevalent sins worldwide, a sin that crops up in every corner of the globe, and goes oh-so-often-unnoticed even in the church. I’m talking about racism.

See, as soon as we think about culture as both a danger and blessing, then we realize how damning it is to look at another culture or ethnic group with disdain. And one thing that’s obvious in Kenya is the power of doing just this; racial stereotypes are so powerful here. “Kikuyus are thieves,” “Luos are just violent,” “Indians steal our jobs.” And I shouldn’t have to remind any American reader that we do the same thing to each other back home all the time. You can’t have the body of Christ without having cultural collision. And so racism not only leads to violence and hate and injustice, but it deprives us of the very person of Jesus, who reaches out to us through his church.

And, honestly, that’s one of the number one reasons we’re coming home. Being in Kenya has given us the opportunity to see the devastation of racism, and also to see the incredible resurrection power released through Biblical racial reconciliation in the context of our time at New City Fellowship Nairobi. But it has not given us an opportunity to participate fully in that reconciliation. We’re outsiders. Kikuyus don’t like Luos, and none of ‘em like Indians, and maybe a few folks are still ticked at the Brits, but nobody’s got any problems with us. But that’s not true everywhere. There are places where confessing with Nehemiah our sins and the sins of our forefathers takes us right into the heart of racial conflict. And having seen where the Spirit of God leads His church in the context of racism here, we want to be led into new places back in the neighborhoods where we are participants in real and living racial tension and strife.

The story of Babel teaches us that culture has at least some of its roots in sin. But both Isaiah and John’s apocalyptic vision remind us that at the end of the ages the kings of the earth will bring their best gifts to Yahweh and to the Lamb. Culture is a double-edged sword, a spring mixed with salt water and fresh, but that’s not where the story ends. Jesus isn’t content with life as we know it. He has traded the one ethnic people of God for the plurality of the kingdom, and yet he also rejects all “melting pots” as well. Christ is redeeming culture, claiming culture, overcoming culture, creating a symphony of praise out of a cacophony of voices. And it’s time that all of us open our eyes . . . and start singing.

Peace,

Michael

Lesson #2- Poverty Is More Complex Than We Thought It Was

What does it mean to be poor? Why are people poor? Most people would say that to be poor means you lack material possessions. Others might say a lack of knowledge, or maybe even values. Some people might say that poverty is a result of spiritual, moral, or value deficits: bad choices, as a result of bad morals or values, lead to poverty.

If, like me, you take some time to read up on poverty, maybe even study it at school, you come across increasingly complex explanations. For instance some have suggested that poverty is being trapped in a web of various systems, such as cultural, religious, political, family, and economic systems. Others point to history as the cause of poverty. The Chalmers Center at Covenant emphasizes poverty as broken relationships between God, one's community, one's self, with the created world, and with people outside your community ("the other").

But even after all of the books I've read, all the conversations I've had, all the projects I've studied, I have routinely been shocked during my time in Kenya by just how complicated poverty really is! And in this post I don't want to argue for one or other understanding of poverty so much as to show how the causes and effects of poverty are complicated beyond our wildest imaginings.

What caused the poverty of our friend "Magdalene," and what does being poor mean for her? "Magdalene" grew up in a remote Kenyan village that survived through raising small amounts of food on a small piece of land. Because of a patriarchal cultural system, enforced by Kenyan law at the time, she could not inherit land as a woman, so when her mom no longer had money for school fees for her education, she married her off to an older man in her village who she hardly knew.

This husband immediately moved to Nairobi and left her back home. He would come home every Christmas; she got pregnant almost every year, until she had 8 children. Somewhere along the way she began brewing illegal beer to try to pay for her children's needs. Later, she decided to go move in with her husband. When she arrived in the Kibera slum, she found he had, like so many of the migrant workers here, started a new family. She chased away the new wife; her husband beat her, drank a lot, provided nothing for the family. Eventually he tried to kill her, and she ran away to another house with her children. In the new house, her landlord routinely raised the rent double what it had been; she could not keep him from doing so, because he might have the thugs kill her. Later on this same woman got a job with some white friends of ours. She did excellent work, and they trusted her for several years. One day they found out she had been stealing from them.

When her children get sick she goes to the hospital, but the staff are rude, and do not explain anything to her. She thinks they charge too much or want a bribe, but she can't understand because it is too technical for her. In church on Sundays, "Magdalene's" pastor preaches about giving every week, but never about sexual purity, because, as Magdalene says "he is the worst of all." He regularly calls her for big donations, because she works for white people. When the husband spoke to the pastor, the pastor told Magdalene that God was mad at her for leaving her husband, and that if she got back together with him, she could be a part of the leadership team. Even though she explained that her husband had tried to kill her and had never given anything to the family's income, the pastor said divorce was wrong so they had to get back together. Another time the pastor preached on how black people are cursed because they are descended from Ham, but white people are blessed because they have descended from Shem. This pastor is a part of a large church with generally well-educated preachers, but because this is a slum, the worst pastors, sometimes even pastors who have done bad things like embezzle money or sexually harass church members, are sent there.

What caused Magdalene's poverty? Bad decisions? Occasionally. She shouldn't have stolen from her employers, and if she loses her job this will increase her poverty. But bad decisions don't really explain most of it. Is it a lack of knowledge? Sometimes. If she understood medicine more she could get better care, or if she were more educated about the Bible she'd know that her pastor is a wolf in sheep's clothing and wouldn't believe his lies. But even still, would knowledge have solved all her problems? Not by half. Does a lack of material possessions cause her poverty? Again, the answer is sort of, but not really.

What does poverty mean for Magdalene? It means constant fear for her physical safety and the safety of her children. It means she is vulnerable to the Wild Wild West of a Kenyan slum, where gangs run the streets, people are kicked out of their homes, the police beat and rape and take bribes, and where the worst of all services, from electricity, to plumbing, to education, to health are all crammed into one place. It means that her children sometimes go hungry, that she sometimes feels forced to do things she knows are wrong, like stealing.

But more than all of this, being poor for Magdalene means having a perpetually marred identity. Being poor means that everyday she is taught in a thousand different ways that she is not an image bearer of God, that she is less valuable, less important than people who are not poor. Her religious system tells her lies that say she is cursed, and that if she gives money to a corrupt pastor God will give her health and wealth. Her political system tells her she is worthless by "pay-to-play" politics, where justice is bought and sold. Her cultural system tells her she is worth less than men, and should be subject to the whims of a violent husband, and also that she is worthless because she has to do menial labor. This marred identity, this feeling of shame and worthlessness, is at the back of many of the decisions that Magdalene does get to make: being told time and again that she has no value, she begins to believe it and eventually act like it.

Poverty is not mud walls and dirt floors. I have been on small farms with people who I believe live lives closer to the prophetic vision of everyone sitting under their own vine and fig tree than I do in my materialistic affluent life. I have seen people that we would think were "destitute" who are active leaders in their church, who provide for their family with the literal fruit of their labor. No, poverty is not mud walls, but broken identities, it is powerlessness, and entrapment. It is being oppressed, kicked around, constantly taught implicitly and explicitly that you are less. This ain't your Papa's view of poverty, but it's the one we've found here.

And all of this means that solutions to poverty that are one-sided don't work! If we think people are poor simply because they don't have stuff, and we give it to them, often we only increase their sense of worthlessness. We leave feeling like gods, and they leave feeling less than human. If we think the issue is just a job, so we provide a job, but don't address a political system that robs and steals, or an oppressive religious system that curses and embezzles, than we're just feeding the beast. If we address knowledge, or values, without addressing cultural systems that take all decisions about child birth out of the woman's hands, or that turn a blind eye to sexual harassment and adultery, we're sending people out to simply be more aware of how everyone treats them like nothing.

Take a look at the poor in your community and the "reasons they're poor" that you've accepted in your own mind. Take a look at the projects that you're involved in to try to help the poor, and ask yourself: Have we thought about the system? Is the culture, or the church, or the political system somehow contributing to their poverty in some way that we haven't seen? What is the implicit message of our charity? Are we giving people material things while reinforcing the lies they believe about themselves??

This has been a constant theme on this blog, because it has been a constant theme of our lives here. The system is real, if we have but eyes to see! The Bible teaches us that the powers are at work and that they corrupt every human institution! And our charities really do often reinforce lies the poor believe; we put a bandaid on a hand, and then chain feet to the floor.

I'm tempted to end on this fairly dismal note, because I think every Christian and every church needs to take another look at what we believe about poverty. But I won't leave it here for one reason: Jesus is the Risen King. The kingdom is coming. Aslan is on the move, and winter's bite is ended. And when Christ comes he makes his blessings known wherever the curse is found. The kingdom of God brings solutions bigger than Satan's snares. Sin's hidden complexity is over-matched by the kingdom's all-encompassing healing and redemption. And as we draw near to Christ, as we join in the Biblical story as the story of our lives, as we learn to look with His eyes at the poor as image bearers and the systems as corrupt and unjust, we will begin to live out of this kingdom and find ways to really engage with the poor in life-giving ways. And as a reminder of this, we've included a whole bunch of really joyful pictures from celebrations we had with members of our farmers groups this past week. So let's all ask Christ to guide us into true understanding and merciful and just living.

Peace,
Michael

*Most of my understanding of these models comes from Bryant Myer's life-changing but very technical book Walking With The Poor. For a lighter, also life-changing read, try When Helping Hurts, by Brian Fikkert and Steve Corbett.