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Serving Jesus among the Poor OR Serving the Poor in the Name of Jesus

written in 2018

Since its founding, the vision of Word Made Flesh (WMF) has been to serve (or discover) Jesus among the poorest of the poor. While we are more likely today to talk about “our friends” rather than “the poor” or about those experiencing poverty so as to not identify people with their need or exploitation, this vision has been a distinctive of WMF. (Of course, there are other organizations who share this vision – many from whom we continue to learn – but a major distinctive nonetheless.) This vision statement, while still being listed in print and digital literature about WMF, is not always named as the vision of each WMF community. Perhaps this shift is symptomatic of mission drift.

Mission drift is the slow shifting of an organization’s focus and culture, which eventually becomes something different and pursues a mission other than that for which the organization was initially created. While some shifts may be improvements, I would argue that a drift from WMF’s original vision is not. The case for holding on to our initial vision statement is not so that we maintain a strategic differentiation from other mission organizations. Rather, this vision has and continues to be a prophetic stance: every Christian is called in one way or another to serve Jesus among the poor (i.e., Luke 10:25-37; Galatians 2:10).

The fact that not all WMF communities hold to the same vision statement is not the only symptom of our possible mission drift. The reflections that our staff publish in prayer letters, social media posts, and the Cry journal depict fewer narrations about the life of those who are poor, the signs of the Divine revealed through them, and of our discipleship through them. Similarly, our plans and reports may speak of what we are doing for those who are poor, but less about faithful service to Jesus among the poor.

There may be justifiable causes for the drift. Our staff have less interaction with other organizations (be they Catholic, Protestant, or Orthodox) that share our vision. Many former WMF staff would point to those experiences as being inspirational for their vocation. Many of these staff may have left WMF without ensuring that new staff understood WMF’s vision and ethos. We have also subsequently integrated other existing organizations into WMF who do not share WMF’s vision. In fact, many current staff have never visited another WMF community or like-minded organization.

So, it is not an unnatural step to be in locations with extreme need and to structure service in order to alleviate poverty. This tendency is perpetuated by funding that is designated to poverty alleviation and holistic development. Or, where WMF has set up local businesses, it is challenging to focus on our vision when most of our energy is spent trying to keep the business afloat. Thus, the drift is not always a conscious one, and some WMF communities may have experienced little drift while others more. Still, we must recognize the real possibility of drifting from serving Jesus among the poor to serving the poor in the name of Jesus.

Of course, there is something positive to be said for serving the poor in the name of Jesus. For instance, Jesus commends his disciples to give a cup of water to the vulnerable in his name (Matt. 10:42). This, however, is not enough.

There are significant problems with only serving others in the name of Jesus. First, it assumes power. I have something to give, and it feels good to be in the position of giver rather than the one in need. I give it in Jesus’ name. But does not all that I have already belong to Jesus? Am I not also receiving through the one I serve? Am I not also in need of the cup of water and called to bless those through whom Jesus meets my need?

Second, it tends to objectify the poor. By serving the poor in the name of Jesus, I make the poor the beneficiaries of my service. On the other hand, when I serve Jesus among the poor, I increase proximity and minimize distance with those who are poor, and I see myself as one among the poor rather than above or outside their ranks. Jesus and not the poor is the focus of my service, which instills a humility about what we can realistically accomplish for the poor and entrusts all of our actions of service to Jesus who alone can ultimately meet human need.

Third, when we serve the poor in the name of Jesus, our service may quickly become a job or a profession, and we give the poor our work hours. Contrarily, by serving Jesus among the poor, service is a vocation, and it is offered more through our lives than through our job descriptions.

What is worse than the problems mentioned here is the loss of all that the vision promises. While the oft-cited text from Matthew 25 about serving Jesus in “the least of these” inspires us to loving action, that pericope is first a call to faith. It summons us to faith that Jesus is actually identifying with those in need and rejected. We also act in faith that Jesus receives from us through our meager deeds. What is surprising is that when we walk by faith in serving Jesus among the least, God reveals more of the person of Christ, the character of the kingdom, and the intimacy with the Spirit. This means that I am not only trying to witness to the goodness of God through my act of service to those in need but that I am experiencing the revelation of Christ to me through those in need. I am being discipled and changed through those I’m called to serve among.

This step of faith is not easy. The WMF communities do not idealize those who are poor. In fact, we are profoundly aware of the hurt of those who have experienced rejection, exploitation, and neglect. Many also carry great potential to hurt others. Yet, precisely in these relationships we affirm the image of God in those who have suffered.

On my visit to Romania this past summer, I was reminded of this in my conversations with Loredana*, a young woman who grew up in our Community Center. Loredana has endured great difficulties: witnessing the drowning of her father in the Danube, wrestling with her sexual identity, rape, drug addiction, anxiety… The litany of hurt could go on. Loredana’s son is now part of the Community Center, and Loredana brings him and picks him up every day, demonstrating thoughtful and faithful motherly love. During my afternoons at the Center, we sat on the bench as she reminisced about her past with our community, recognizing how formative it was. She shares with me about how she prays and still sings the songs that she learned with us. Loredana also offers to help with any tasks that need to be done around the Center, finding peace, love, and stability in our presence.

I was struck by the presence of God active in the life of Loredana. While it is deeply encouraging to see the obvious work of the Spirit in Loredana, it is a temptation to identify the image of God in those in whom the signs of God’s work and life are present. Loredana continues to wrestle with anxiety, finds it difficult to be around strangers or to hold down a job. Her sexual identity provokes a reaction, especially in those who do not know her. Yet, the call is to see the image of God in those who are poor – precisely in the brokenness and barrenness and in those moments when one’s behavior is irritating, wrong, or even criminal. In nakedness, imprisonment, hunger – there Jesus says, “Clothe Me, visit Me, feed Me.” Can we see the image of Christ in those with profound and evident needs?

This is the direction in which the initial vision of WMF leads. And this is the gift. When serving Jesus among those who may be dirty, “misbehaving,” carrying parasites, earning money through immoral means, attracted to the “wrong” gender, self-medicating with drugs, and so on, we can begin to see the image of God in ourselves. We realize that it is not our “proper” behavior, our “positive” change, or our “spiritual” practices that form the image of God in us. The image is formed in us by God. We are God’s handiwork. We receive it in faith.

WMF staff continue to serve with great sacrifice in some of the hardest places in the world. Many staff continue to reaffirm their commitments to community and to a lifestyle that goes against the grain of the world. Over the years, Word Made Flesh communities have been bearers of this prophetic message. Perhaps today, however, we need to tune our hearts to hear it again for ourselves: to serve Jesus among those who are suffering from poverty and exploitation.

*Name is changed to protect identity.

An Identity Crisis: Reflections from an International Missions Conference

Recently, I was at an international conference with mission leaders from around the world. I haven’t participated in many international mission conferences. At one of the first of such conferences that I did attend, in 2004, the conference organizers were discussing security measures to protect the mission leaders (largely from the global north) who assumed, in the wake of 9/11, that they could be targets of terrorism and a great loss for the global church. While there was some debate about whether this would be a loss or, in some ways, a gain for the global church, the conference I attended in 2023 had a strikingly different tone. The purpose of this conference was to look at current missional challenges and to think about the future of missions. The question was not “how to protect the mission leaders for the sake of the global church?”, but rather “what is the purpose of the mission leaders in the global church?” As I mentioned, I haven’t participated in many conferences like these, so I am limited in my ability to evaluate them. Yet, it seemed to me that one feature of this conference was a sense of identity crisis.

The crisis revolves around the established role of missionaries (or, if that terminology is too tainted, Christians working cross-culturally for churches and para-church organizations) in the face of major global shifts. Let me outline some of these shifts for missionaries:

• From missions directed by the West to missions directed by the global church and, increasingly, the Majority World church
• From being the center of the missionary narrative to being a part or even a marginal part in the story
• From leadership positions and decision-makers to nodes in a network in which they consult and advise
• From being a ministry leader to being a fundraiser and networker
• From one who takes the gospel to another (receiving) context to being one who supports those taking the gospel to their own context or back to the sending context

These shifts for the missionaries relate to changing desires, capacities, and phenomena in local contexts:

• From foreign leadership and expertise to local leadership
• From wanting people (outsiders) and the power (money, education, networks, etc.) they bring to wanting shared networks, money, and power
• From doing mission that is sensitive to colonialist tendencies to mission by locals in their own context or by locals becoming missionaries and going back to original sending context (often through migration)
• From limited mobility (especially among impoverished countries) to high-speed mobility and globalization (through migration, internet, media, etc.)
• From static contexts to constant change and instability
• From missions in which the church in the global north is involved to a withdrawal of the church in the global north from global missions (evidenced by the decreased number of missionaries; decreased disposable income of the middle class and funding for missions; decreased numbers of Christians in churches; politics of isolation, etc.)
• From language of missionary and missions to language of Christian worker

In light of these shifts, missionaries are asking about their role and about how to relate in different ways. While they are largely supportive of the dismantling of colonialist and paternalistic practices, of sharing power, gifts, and skills, and of the growing identity of the global church and mission from everywhere to everywhere, missionaries are unsure of their role. How do they use their gifts and strengths without imposing, exploiting, or subjugating? How do they relinquish control while also promoting accountability?

While those who are suffering the loss of power, this may seem like an identity crisis. Yet, it appears to be an opportunity for missions. While the relative power of the global north gave power to missionaries from the global north, missionaries are now having to adjust to having less power. Perhaps, the church from the global north was able to accomplish much, missions that ride on the back of political, economic, social, or cultural power normally contribute as much bad as it does good. With less power, missionaries can rediscover missions in the way of the cross, discovering the power of God in weakness. An example of missions in the way of the cross is the posturing of missionaries as bridge-builders, ambassadors, or in-betweeners. Cross-cultural missionaries often feel like misfits – out of place in their new home and never in place in their country of origin. In this out-of-placeness, missionaries can serve as translators of culture and ideas, mediators of difference, and models for engaging otherness. Missionaries can embrace a more marginal posture and serve “from below.” Missionaries can theologically reflect on the shifts, emphasizing coming as well as going, receiving as well as giving. Instead of holding onto projections of what the missionary is, they can hold to a vocation that looks to imitate and reflect the life of Christ.

The Questionable Call to be World-Changers: Reflections on Urbana – Part 3

While naming the overwhelming positives of the Urbana gathering of students, I have also identified some negatives. In my previous post, I discussed the supernatural/natural divide in our metaphysical understanding of reality. Here, I want to discuss the problem in calling students to be “world-changers.”

Again, we must start by recognizing the strong positives in challenging young people to say “yes” to the high call of the Father, to be courageous and even risky, in following the radical path of the Messiah, and to being open to promptings of the Spirit that lead us outside comfort zones and against our cultural tides. Every young person is on a “heroic journey.” Yet, as Christians, the heroic journey goes through the cross and it is never taken alone but in communion with the church.

So, there are some fundamental problems with framing the vocational goal of being a “world-changer.” This was an obvious theme of the Urbana conference and mentioned by various plenary presentations and prayers. At the very least, the concept of “world-changer” needs a lot of caveats; at most, the social script needs to be rewritten. Here are some ways to (re)consider changing the world as Christians:

• While every action (and inaction) may have a ripple effect that results in change, we do not want to put unrealistic expectations on the shoulders of anyone, especially young adults.
• We need to differentiate change. For example, every conversion to Christ – whether it is the first yes or the daily turning to Christ – involves change, which may be cosmic in and of itself. Personal change is different from social, cultural, or ecological change (among others). Where are we looking for change?
• We need a critique of power. Otherwise, our action, in the name of Jesus, may ride the wave of worldly power (that tends to compete and exclude) instead of the way of the cross (which uses power to lift up and care for others). The idea of “world-changer” assumes power. But, in the light of the cross, change may not look like success. How can we contribute to change through weakness or lack of power?
• We need to avoid a messiah complex. Change is not the prerogative of young adults. While we participate in God’s mission and cooperate with God’s actions, change is ultimately initiated and achieved by God. This frees us from believing that change is our burden to carry.
• We need to discuss theories of change so that they do not succumb to western assumptions and formulas (i.e., if I do this, then I will achieve that change…). Instead, our theories of change must all follow the way of the cross, trusting in God’s lifegiving change and the promise of resurrection.

Rather than calling students to be world-changers, can we better draw on biblical imagery:

• Seekers of the kingdom of God;
• Be witnesses of Christ, in imitation of Christ;
• Moving in the presence of Christ to all creation and all peoples;
• Make disciples;
• Remember the poor;
• Live as a holy, royal, priestly people giving an account for the good.

Rather than projecting our visions to change the world, this imagery speaks more to a faithful presence in the world, which is a high and beautiful vocation and one to which young students should be called.

The Supernatural/Natural Divide: Reflections on Urbana – Part 2

While noting in my previous blog post a seeming increased disinterest in global missions, I also named some of the positives of Urbana: ethnic, gender, and even ecumenical diversity; broad envisioning of mission activities and expressions; and gathering, challenging, and discipling students. It really is, in my view, an overwhelmingly positive movement for the church and particularly for university students. Still, there are two negatives that I would like to name: the assumption of a two-tiered supernature/nature cosmos and the framing of disciples as “world-changers.” I’ll start with the first in this blog post.

Considering the diversity of speakers and participants at Urbana, I wouldn’t want to make sweeping generalizations. However, one phrase that I heard repeatedly was “supernatural.” Although I heard it from different people in different occasions at the conference, I can reference various sermons from the evening plenary by Bishop Claude Alexander. He uses it in reference to Pentecost and the disciples’ ability to speak in tongues and of God’s empowerment so as to fulfill God’s purpose (see evening plenary 1 minute 10). Alexander explains that the disciples were given a “supernatural ability,” that “God super-met our natural.”

There certainly is an important aspect in distinguishing the Creator (though I wouldn’t call it “supernatural”) from creation (the natural), of receiving from God power to transcend inhibitions, fears, and opposition, and to accomplish what we in ourselves are unable to. That said, the characterization of cosmos in terms of supernatural/natural realms that are disconnected may cohere with the western worldview, but it is at odds with the Christian view.

This view of the supernatural/natural divide is not particular to Intervarsity or Urbana. It is normative in much of western Christianity. It is actually promoted by certain Thomist schools and part of much of Protestant of theology, which holds strongly to a division between (supernatural) grace and nature. Some Protestant missiologists (like Paul Hiebert) have responded to this dichotomy by identifying the “excluded middle” in the western worldview, that sees God and spirits above and humans, creatures, and the earth below, but miss the middle, which most cultures see as the sphere of shamans, priests, and spirits. However, missiologists tend to look at this anthropologically, asking how humans understand the cosmos. For the early church and its theology, it was not just a matter of how a particular culture understands the cosmos but about what is true about the cosmos, reality, and metaphysics. While the discussion can quickly become philosophical and abstract, let me try and describe the dualism and then state as simply as I can what is at stake and why we should resist this supernatural/natural dichotomy.

Eminent theologians like John Milbank, David Bentley Hart, and John Behr have long criticized the supernatural/natural dualism, but Hans Boersma clarified the issues for me. In his book Heavenly Participation, he shows how the early church held a participatory ontology in which all of creation is distinguished from the divine Trinity but exists in, through, and toward the Triune God. The church moved from this metaphysic of ontological participation to one of nominalism and voluntarism in the late Middle Ages. While some discern the seeds for a supernatural/natural dichotomy in Augustine’s thought on predestination (Hart) or in Aquinas, Boersma focuses on Duns Scotus and William of Ockham who moved from the equivocity of being (humans correlate to God by analogy) to univocity (God is one being among beings), from realism (the earthly realities correspond to their heavenly Source and Sustainer) to nominalism (each individual being exists in and of itself) and to voluntarism (in which God’s action is a decision of the will rather than an expression of the Good). While discussions about metaphysics are abstract, they have concrete repercussions. Let me just list some of the consequences of the supernatural/natural dichotomy:

• God and the world are separated (leading to Deism and a distant God). God must come down from heaven. God must intervene in the world. This is in contrast to a participatory ontology in which the world exists in and through God. Whereas the participatory ontology asserts that God’s engagement with creation (i.e., through the incarnation) is a revelation and affirmation of God’s intention, presence, and purpose rather than a supernatural/miraculous intervention.
• God is a being among beings rather than the source of all being. The difference between God and other beings is God’s power (to create, to will as God wills). Rather than holding an analogy of being (analogia entis) in which power is the ability for God to exercise love, truth, and goodness, power is the dominant attribute of God and is exercised arbitrarily and capriciously.
• The salvific value of humans, creatures, and non-creaturely creation is based on God’s will and not on their existential participation in God (in whom we live, move, and have our being). This means that creation holds extrinsic value but not intrinsic value.
• Individual humans no longer exist or participate ontologically in the universal species of humanity but only in their particularity. Thus, we understand salvation as individual rather than corporate and common to all of humanity. This means that there is no ontological investment of one in the salvation of another.
• Because there is no common humanity but only individual humans, there is no ontological sharing of humanity and the ontological connection between, say, the rich and the poor or the Jew and gentile, is broken, leaving only genetic or relational connections.
• The detachment of humanity from ontological participation in God leads to the possibility of seeing them as deprived and then maltreating them.
• If grace is not foundational for being, there has to be a secondary cause (like works, merit, predestination, etc.), which leads to a view of human existence based on merit or God’s arbitrary judgement.
• By conceiving of humans as separate from God rather than existing through God and becoming partakers in the nature of God, access to God can be controlled by the powerful rather than given to all, especially the most vulnerable.
• We lose the metaphysical basis for affirming the Church Creeds (which assume the participatory ontological ideas about being, substance, sharing), and we recite them only in an act of tradition or fideism.
• God and matter are viewed as separate. The created world is “naturalized” and made distinct from God. Creation loses the notion of being a sacrament and is disenchanted (Weber). Matter is no longer enchanted or imbibed with God’s spirit. If nature is just matter and needs the supernatural, then caring for creation is based on human choice and done in relation to human consequence rather than God’s purpose. Thus, the treatment or stewardship of matter belongs to the realm of human action and ethics rather than responsibility to God and God’s authority. (Much too could be said about time, which Charles Taylor responds to in The Secular Age.)
• Viewing matter as “natural” limits our ability to name and engage powers and principalities (are they natural or supernatural?) or interpret the works of the Spirit (are healings, speaking in tongues, fruit of the Spirit natural or supernatural?)
• Human beings are individualized, and the will (and power) becomes a determinative feature of the individual. In terms of mission, this means that a Christian understands this call individualistically and needs to willingly (voluntarily) respond. This can be contrasted to a Christian community’s discernment, sending, supporting, and receiving of those given to God’s mission.
• The response to mission and to those in poverty is through the act of a person’s will and their power, rather than it being a responsibility due to the reality that we share in a common humanity.

When the metaphysics of the early church are recovered and the natural/supernatural dichotomy rejected, we can affirm:

• The interaction between supernatural and natural (divine-human, heaven-earth) is natural.
• “The sole sufficient natural end of all spiritual creatures is the supernatural, and grace is nothing but the necessary liberation of all creatures for their natural ends” (Hart).
• God, in the Son, becomes human (the supernatural for the natural).
• Humans are created for participation in divinity (the natural for the supernatural).
• Mission is participation in what God is doing in the world (“natural”, created, matter) through the Body of Christ by the Spirit.

Reflections on the 2022 Urbana Student Missions Conference – part 1

In between Christmas and New Year’s Eve 2022, I was glad to participate in the Urbana Student Missions Conference for the first time. I had heard the legends about Urbana and had friends participate, and we have had many WMF staff connected through Urbana. My hope was that WMF would make many new contacts with prospective students, to network with other organizations and especially the New Friar organizations, and to learn how university students are thinking about mission.

The conference was a success in many ways. Intervarsity deserves kudos for cultivating diversity. The speakers and worship leaders were of different ethnicities and genders. The participants were also extremely diverse. This manifest diversity has the potential to create a positive ethos for the imagination of the global church and of global mission.

I confess that I personally have a hard time worshiping in spaces that have smoke machines and laser shows. But if it fits anywhere, it fits for young students at Urbana. I participated in the opening evening plenary, which was more emotive than substantive, which led me to skipe the other evening plenaries. I did attend the morning plenaries, which had more substance with speakers from World Vision (Alexia Salvatierra) and IJM, among others. They also began with teaching on prayer practices (silence, breath prayer, etc.), which I enjoyed while perhaps it may have been challenging for the students.

There were many other positives. We were able to discuss study abroad options with the folks from InterVarsity. We were able to spend time with staff from New Friar organizations who share much in common with WMF. We stayed in a community house, hosted by the Englewood church who do inner city work, intentional community, and publish book reviews. And we created connections with other organizations.

A declining interest in global mission?

A disappointment was what I perceived to be a lack of students’ interest in global mission. Previous Urbana conferences had 20,000 participants. This one had 5,500. They also reduced the conference time by a day. I have some theories about this decline. Was the conference so diverse because white students have dropped out? Is the decline representative of the exodus of this generation from evangelical churches? Are other institutions (i.e., Passion, Justice, Southern Baptists, New Room, etc.) organizing their own conferences and drawing students to those instead? Or is there less interest in global mission due to its perceived connection to colonization, to possibly missteps (i.e., When Helping Hurts), to the changing demographics of where the church is in the world (i.e., The Next Christendom), or to students having lower horizons (i.e., focusing on the missional needs of their local community, increased student loan debts, etc.). Most likely, all of these factors, along with wintery weather and a Covid spike, contribute to the diminished interest in mission at this Urbana Conference.

According to Urbana’s accounting, 684 students committed to go on short term mission (less than 1 year); 308 committed to go on midterm mission; and 329 committed to serving more than two years. Interestingly, I would consider anything less than 3 years as being short or perhaps midterm mission as it is only after 3-5 years that one learns language and culture, is established in the location, and begins to make a strong contribution. By calling long-term missions anything more than two years, I think Urbana does a disservice to long-term missions as well as to the students and the expectations they create.

I was curious to learn what the students were thinking. I was able to go to two seminars and tried to listen to the questions students are asking. In my discussion groups, the students were thinking about short-term mission trips or about missions to their university campus or church neighborhoods. The seminar content was on base communities and on wealth and mission. Perhaps those interested in global missions chose to participate in other seminars.

Still, I think a lack of interest in global mission was felt throughout the conference. A sign of the lack of interest was that it seemed to me that few participants spent time in the Connections Hall where we set up our exhibit and tables. I expected that students who self-select and pay for a missions conference would be leaning toward careers in missions. I did speak with students interested in serving in “unreached” locations, in church-planting, and in internships in inner city work. So, there was some interest. However, I spoke with other universities and organizations, and many said that they got few contacts and much fewer than previous Urbana conferences. It seemed to me that there was little foot traffic to the tables. While the position of our table in our shared space with the New Friars may also be a reason for fewer contacts, the overall numbers of contacts of the New Friars was low.

As I departed from the conference, I hypothesized that the students still are interested in engaging in global mission. However, this engagement looks very different. My observation may be specifically about students in the US, but they seem interested in doing mission from where they are at (i.e., being “globally minded”), rather than by going somewhere else. This certainly is a missional posture – albeit different than one that goes, is immersed in a different culture, builds relationships with those of other cultures, and becomes a bridge for the global church. What are the potential gains and possible losses from such a posture?

Fight Like Jesus with Jason Porterfield

We are in the season of Lent, a time in which we rehearse Jesus’ walk to Jerusalem, his suffering, and his death on the cross. Often, we participate in Lent by giving up certain pleasures (i.e., meat, alcohol, chocolate, social media, etc.). Sometimes, believers celebrate by adding something to their daily practices (like silence, generous giving, meditation, etc.) Our Lenten practices help us remember our baptismal vows, lead us to grieve the cost of our sin, and move us to change patterns of behavior. Yet, rarely, does Lent cause us to consider our relationship to violence. Jason Porterfield, in his book Fight Like Jesus, invites us to reflect on peacemaking, especially during Holy Week.

Interestingly, I got to know Jason through his acts of violence. We were at the Urbana conference in December, sharing an exhibition space where we invited university students to consider urban mission among impoverished communities. As I sat at the table, I was frequently bombarded by pieces of candy. After a little investigation, I discovered that I was being pegged by Jason. Was he trying to teach me to fight like Jesus?

In his book, Jason Porterfield walks us through Holy Week, providing insightful biblical commentary, demonstrating Jesus’ intention to bring peace, and raising provocative questions about how we as Christ-followers emulate Jesus’ peace-making way. Jesus reveals practices of peace in the middle of a most violent week.

Palm Sunday: In the midst of waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!”, we fail to notice Jesus’ tears. He weeps over Jerusalem for failing to know what would bring it peace. Porterfield discerns Jesus’ lament, amid the crowd’s joy, as an interpretive key for Holy Week. The struggle for peace is understood as the central struggle of Jesus’ march to the cross. Rather than riding the gleeful expectations for a messianic liberator to bring a righteous revolt, Jesus weeps for peace.

Holy Monday:  Contrary to popular notions of the cleaning of the temple being violent or spontaneous, Porterfield shows how this was a methodical act, which took time and preparation (i.e., trips to the temple for reconnaissance, making a whip, etc.). The act was not designed or used to harm people, but to purify space meant for the “gentiles” and being used instead for money-changers and the selling of animals for temple sacrifice (in contrast to the Maccabean violent reaction to abuse of the temple). When discussing the temple cleansing, we often overlook the fact that after the money changers and animal sellers went out, the blind and lame came in and were healed (Matthew 21:14). For these marginalized people, their admittance into the temple was just as miraculous as the physical healing they received. Matthew goes on to write that children also entered the temple courts and praised Jesus (21:15). Their presence in the temple is equally astonishing, for, as theologian Stanley Hauerwas notes, “children had always been excluded from the temple” (p. 24).

Holy Tuesday: “Give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.” The listeners realized that Jesus was alluding to the central Jewish tenet that all of humanity is created in God’s image. The implication is this: since the coin has Caesar’s image imprinted on it, give it back to him. Although the coin made claims for pax romana, Jesus intimates that he did not look to the face of Caesar for protection and peace. If everything belongs to God, what’s left for Caesar? What do we owe the Caesars of this world? The logical answer seems to be nothing.

Tuesday also includes the “seven woes to the Pharisees” (woe being a term of grief) and the “little apocalypse” in which Christ-followers are told to flee the immanent war with the Romans rather than defend Palestine. Christlike peacemakers follow Jesus in nonviolent love, speak truth to power and listen with humility when such truth is spoken to them, break the cycle of violence by routinely engaging in small acts of radical love.

Holy Wednesday: This day includes the anointing of Jesus’ feet (as a preparation for burial) by an unnamed women, the prophecy that one man should die for the sake of the nation, and Judas’ actions to betray Jesus. The anonymous women from the margins of society and vulnerable to violence of society, acts in ways that those around her find suspect or of disrepute, but Jesus defends her.  Jesus contends for peace on the margins of society. He refuses the mythology that violence is redemptive (that believes that violent means can bring peaceful ends). His efforts to make peace would result in his death, not the death of his enemies.

Maundy Thursday: This is the occasion of the Last Supper or the Passover meal – the breaking and giving of the Messiah’s body, not the enemy’s body; this is where Jesus washes the disciples’ feet; Jesus commands them to love one another as he has loved love. This new mandate is new as it commands us to become a newly formed community, loving like Jesus love and making Jesus known by this love. As violence encroaches and prompts the violent cutting off of an ear, Jesus heals the servant who intends to capture him.

Good Friday: Jesus is before Pilate, representing a kingly challenge to Caesar; proclaiming a kingdom that is not of this world’s violent kingdoms; prompting a choice between Jesus and Barabbas, the violent insurrectionist; and experiencing torture and death on a cross – suffering for the sake of sinners and enemies that breaks the cycle of violence.

Holy Saturday: Jesus is lain in the sealed tomb; later epistles tell us that Jesus descends into Hades, trampling on death with death and setting the captives free.

Easter Sunday: the women visit the tomb and find it empty; the first encounters with the resurrected Jesus, who commissions the disciples to make peace.

We do live in a violent world. Conflicts in central Africa, Myanmar, and Haiti disturb our deepest notions humanity and survival. The communities of Word Made Flesh are intentionally present in places where people are vulnerable to violence, whether that is in poor neighborhoods, helping abused women, or responding to Ukrainian refugees. At times, violence may be a last resort to the threat of violence – and then always regrettable. However, most often, our choice is not between abuse or abuser, victim or victimizer, fight or flight. There are creative choices in the space between. Jason’s book invites us to practice peacemaking, to image loving and helping those who threaten us rather than harming them, to cultivate communities of security rather than sharpening our aim with guns, and to envision a future shared by us and those considered threats and enemies.

While violence is often negative and almost always to be regretted, one thing I do not regret is suffering the attacks of flying candies from the hand of Jason (and perhaps retaliating), getting to know him, and being led by his book to becoming Christians that better resemble the way of our Messiah.

Some Brief Thoughts on the Outpouring at Asbury

With our proximity to Asbury University, many have asked me about what has been happening. Our home is a 3-minute walk to the Asbury University chapel, which I see from my back window. I taught classes at the university last year and am in a doctorate program across the street at Asbury Seminary. Also, Word Made Flesh was founded by Asbury students, and our US office is based in Wilmore. It is surreal to see the cars overrun this two-traffic-light town and to see lines of thousands and thousands of people wrapped around the university, waiting to get into the chapel. For the moment, this is what I will say about the events:

Celebrate the experience of the students. I have heard testimonies of many who struggle with depression or anxiety, with acceptance and isolation, or without having heard God’s voice ever or for a long time. Let’s suspend our evaluations of the event and simply recognize the students’ intense encounters with God as a good in and of itself.

Prioritize the voices of the students. While many are trying to name or explain this movement of God, it began with students, has been led by students, and has been the primary experience of students. So, let’s let them articulate this experience for themselves. Time will come for analysis but let us continue to be sensitive to the students and to listen to them and to what they are hearing from God.

Recognize people’s hunger for God. This past week there was a shift of focus from the AU students to those who are visiting. The long lines in the sun, in the downpouring rain, and in the cold speak of the genuine hunger that people have to encounter God. This too is a good to be celebrated.

Pray for the leaders. The leadership of the university as well as the student leaders have done an excellent job of facilitating this spontaneous movement, maintaining a safe space, limiting access to fringe groups or those who want to coopt the event, focusing on students and young people, and organizing all the volunteers needed to sustain this 24 hour prayer and worship for almost 2 weeks. Hats off to them. They are certainly exhausted, and they are aware of the hard work that will follow.

Expect this to be a beginning and not an end. While some may be coming to witness this movement, hoping for healing, salvation, deliverance, or an experience in the Spirit, what is happening is only a starting point. What follows is discipleship, formation, counseling, the long work of healing and recovery, institutional change, reconciliation, and mission. Students who I’ve spoken with are aware of this and excited for what’s next.

Interviu cu David, fondatorul fundației Cuvântul Întrupat din Galați – Pană Bogdan

Source: Interviu cu David, fondatorul fundației Cuvântul Întrupat din Galați – Pană Bogdan

March Update

It’s about time that I update you on all that is happening with us. Compared to past years, our Christmas season was much more relaxed. We still did a lot of caroling, but it was spread out over many days. We still had a big Christmas party, but we held it on the 23^rd, rather than the 25^th, and we finished it at midnight rather than the following morning. All things considered, the kids had an enjoyable time and we were able to fully celebrate the season.

After celebrating a relatively quiet New Year’s Eve and Day, I got on a midnight bus to Bucharest – the first of 5 red-eyes I would suffer in January. 32 hours later I arrived in Sierra Leone, grateful to be in the warmth and to be among friends. We spent the first few days on a community retreat that I led on “Kingdom Community” – reflecting on God’s purposes, covenant community, lament and hope, vulnerability, and particular missiological challenges. After the retreat, we spent another few days reviewing 2016 and making a tactical plan for 2017. I was grateful to see their ongoing growth and maturity as
a community and the amazing ways that God is using them.

I departed Sierra Leone for a weekend in the UK, where I met with friends, updated supporters, and spoke at St. Mary’s church of England.

After the quick weekend, I traveled on to Rwanda, my first visit ever in that part of the world. WMF sent Shelbye, the first staff person in October of 2015, after she had done a 3-month internship with us in Galati. In the autumn of 2016, Annie arrived as the second WMF staff. Together, we took a few days to put together a tactical plan for the coming year. I was also able to see some of the beautiful country and meet with some of their friends and partners and was very grateful to visit the weekly meeting in a poor community with women who are responsible for their own savings and loan project.

After Rwanda, I returned to England where I participated in a little golf fundraiser and then shared with friends at Kingsway Fellowship in Liverpool. Then, finally, I was back to icy Romania.

Of course, there was lots of catching up to do in February. We continue to look at ways to help our new staff integrate well, to develop life-giving activities for the children and families at our centers, and to find ways to connect our activities and relationships to the local churches. In addition, I led another local organization with whom we partner through an annual tactical plan, which I’ll review with them throughout the year.

Lenutsa and I have also started planning our sabbatical. This is something that we practice in WMF every seven years. Most likely, we will begin this time in September. We would appreciate your prayers for wisdom and guidance for this time.

Dorin is the third born of 8 brothers and sisters. His mom lives with his biological father, but it seems that the father didn’t want to claim him as his own, as another man’s name is written on Dorin’s birth certificate. The family atmosphere is tense because the father drinks and is often physically and emotionally abusive. Dorin’s mom cannot cope with the situation and confessed that she wished that the man would move out. Recently, she went to the police after a violent fight. The police gave Dorin’s dad a fine for disturbing the peace, but Dorin’s mom had to pay it because he does not work. In the end, Dorin’s mom has given up going to the police. So, the incidents continue to happen and affect the whole family.

Dorin is extremely intelligent and sensitive, but his home life affects him more than he allows to show. He rarely talks about what happens at home. The last time he did, it was about a violent episode at home in which his dad’s head was severely injured. Dorin missed a number of days at school and at our community center because he was spending time with his dad at the hospital.

Although you can see the marks of sadness on his face, Dorin is happy to be at the center where he knows that he is loved and appreciated. He is a bit awkward whenever he is shown any positive affection, but we hope and pray that the love that surrounds him here will help him overcome any obstacle or barrier and that his many God-given talents will be able to show and grow in his life.

• Please pray for Dorin, his family and all the families in similar situations with whom we interact daily.
• Pray for our communities in Sierra Leone and Rwanda as they respond to those who are severely vulnerable.
• Pray for the health of the kids and the staff as many came down with flues and colds during the cold winter.
• Pray for the integration of new children received into the Centre this month.
• Pray for the accommodation of our new cook and two new social workers.
• Pray that the kids would consistently attend school and the Centre during these cold months.
• Pray that all our financial needs would be met.

The ballad of Miorita | The defining Romanian myth

The Miorita ballad, is perhaps, the most eloquent Romanian folk poem ever created, summing up the most important beliefs of this nation.

Source: The ballad of Miorita | The defining Romanian myth