Realising you are the problem

Community Development

Realising you are the problem:
A necessary, rewarding (somewhat embarrassing) process.

I work for a local Christian NGO that provides ongoing extended-family and foster care for Cambodian kids. One of our most helpful tools is the case management and record-keeping software package we’ve developed and nicknamed OSCaR. The initial concept for OSCaR was simple but ambitious: create a system that would facilitate strong case management and case-noting, reinforce those processes for our staff, and store client information naturally in an easy-to-use database for program revision and reporting. All this was to be done in English and Khmer.

Having worked on the original design of OSCaR, I had grown increasingly protective of it—not out of some misplaced sense of ego (at least, not entirely!), but out of a desire to make it as successful as possible. I wasn't really aware, though, that I was holding too tightly onto the project and preventing others from contributing as much as they could. This was especially a problem for the newest member of our team.

Sokly came on board the OSCaR team at Children in Families (CIF) about a year ago as our Technical Liaison, that is, the person who was to help with our communications with our software development company.

Like all new employees, it took Sokly a little while to figure out her place with CIF—where she could fit, how she could contribute to the team. Once she did, however, she began making suggestions and recommendations. Like many people in Cambodia, though, she was held back by something that she had very little control over: the influential foreigner she had to share office space with. Yes, that would be me. She hadn't really had a chance to prove herself, but with me hanging on to things so tightly, how could she?

Just recently, Sokly asked me directly to help her integrate more with our development team by advocating for her to spend more time with the developer. Culturally, as a woman speaking to a man, as a Khmer person speaking to a foreigner, as an employee speaking to a supervisor, that was incredibly challenging for her. Fortunately, I did what she asked, and she has started communicating with the software developers directly every week. She coordinates our team to work out our priorities for development, then gives that information to the developers.

That took a job away from me, which was a blessing since I was feeling pretty over-stretched with everything on my plate. I didn't anticipate, however, how much our work process would improve as well. Our developer is now more efficient and new features are being completed more quickly and accurately. Even our software project manager is much clearer about their work priorities now that they have such a definite model to follow.

Everyone has been really nice about it, of course; no-one has said, “Wow Chris, things are going much better now that you’re not constantly managing every little element of this project”. My team are gracious people, not just competent ones!

Still, it was initially painful to realise that many of my stresses over the past six months were due not just to being busy but also to my unwillingness to trust people, and my insistence on doing tasks that I'm just not that good at. But I'm glad to now be working with someone who stepped outside her cultural norms to push me to do what needed to be done. Our team is stronger as a result. Our project is going stronger as a result. And I'm a whole lot less stressed!

It’s been a privilege to contribute here, but even better to see Sokly step up and make her own important contribution.

Chris and Stacie, long-term Interserve workers, advocate for family-based care for children. Their family lives in Cambodia.

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Heart in colours

Community Development

We are a small group. Women whose hearts dream in different languages, trying our best to communicate with gestures and borrowed words. Some wear colourful headscarves. Some have immaculate makeup and stylish haircuts. Some bring children. One brings homemade snacks. There is a warmth here which seems, for a time, to soothe their loneliness and grief. We greet each other with kisses, pour tea, sit down and get out the art supplies.

Our table is in a creaking upper room of the refugee centre. We can see the sky and sunlight through the wood-framed windows—the light and openness seem to mirror our purpose for being here. We create art together and, in doing so, I hope these refugee women will feel a lightness in their weighed-down spirits and have a safe space to bring their pain-filled stories into the light. I long for them to experience the love of the one who called himself “Light of the World”.

We spread out paper and simple art supplies. Nothing is complicated or technical, but to these women whose daily lives are shaped by displacement and feelings of helplessness, gentle guidance is necessary as we begin to transform blank pages with colour and form. We talk briefly about an idea around which we build our art-making activity: identity, happiness, home, hope, fear. We gently shape a space where sharing is allowed and start with a reminder that whatever we create or say will be met with kindness, not criticism.

This is not a class, I find myself repeating. The beauty and benefit of our shared art making is in the process of creating together, not in the product. This is a new idea for many of them. One young woman softly confides that she loved to draw as a young girl but her stern father discouraged such childish activities and forced her to marry at fifteen. Now, as she holds her breastfeeding daughter in one arm and watches over her three-year-old son, she sketches and tells me there is no time in everyday life for drawing. I can tell, though, by the way she carefully moves her pencil over the page, and the tired, wistful look on her face, that she would sit here with these pencils all day if she could. I know that tugging feeling in my own creative spirit as a mother of small children and my heart goes out to her.

I pour more tea (our intercultural love language) and watch as the women depict their hearts in images and colours. I see a lot of black and red—symbols of death and destruction, of lost homes and difficult journeys. There are also usually green or yellowish glimmers of tenacious hope, simple joys or love. Some talk about finding joy in the sunshine or trees, things that not even war or murder or displacement could take from them. Some speak of hope in heavenly paradise for a lost child, hope for a home in a new country where they can tend a garden or continue their education without fear. And I share simply why I drew my symbol of hope as an empty tomb in the middle of a rising sun.

So our time comes to an end. Kisses, hugs, “Inshallah* we shall meet again next week”. I marvel at the gift of God in art making as a way of bringing healing and building community. Beauty from pain, creation from destruction, community from isolation. Isn’t this the stunningly paradoxical way our redeemer God works?

The author is serving long-term in West Asia. She is passionate about melding art and loving community for therapeutic and kingdom-building purposes.

*If God wills.

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Taking a back seat

Community Development

Stumbling out of the train in pitch darkness, I’m bundled unceremoniously into a rickshaw. “Don’t show your face. Don’t speak. Keep your head down.” My companions and our luggage on board, the rickshaw jolts off through the night. Arriving at our destination, I’m rushed inside. Three days later, still inside, I have full-on cabin fever. Frequent requests for a walk are politely declined: “It’s not safe.”

Eventually I protest: “Why is it unsafe? What’s so dangerous?” The answer follows a long pause: “To be honest, it’s not your safety that
worries us. Our concern is for ourselves and our work. People here know we are Christian. They tolerate us as long as we are thoroughly Indian Christians. This was a colonised country. In some ways it still is. Please understand, it would not go well for us if people saw you here… You are our guest, if you insist on walking we won’t stop you.”

Fast forward and cross the map to another country, never successfully colonised, that has endured decades of military occupation and the cultural, economic and political domination that accompanies it. The world leaders who initiated the international intervention self-identified as Christian. One described the country as a “Godforsaken hell-hole of a place.” All proclaimed a salvific gospel (liberation for women; education, prosperity and democracy for all) interspersed with oracles of retribution and pre-emptive strike.

In this country, local Christians are not tolerated and never have been. Now, after decades of occupation, associating with foreigners puts local people of all persuasions under suspicion and exposes their communities to danger. Experience shows that well-intended attempts
to contact local believers and work alongside the local church often alienate the church from its community and are as likely to prevent
transformation as to promote it.

Anthropologist James C Scott explains that we cannot begin to gauge the depth of a people’s anger until we understand the cultural shape
of their humiliation.1 Only then will we begin to realise that our sincere attempts to serve with love and compassion risk stripping those we
would serve of their last vestiges of dignity and pride. Only then will we begin to sense how difficult it is for good news to be heard when spoken by those associated with forces of domination and oppression.

Vinoth Ramendchandra warns us not to assume that nothing is happening unless we or our team engage in all dimensions of integral mission.2 The challenge is not to balance our activities (words, mercy, social action) but to refuse to draw unbiblical distinctions between different aspects of mission. It is God’s mission, not ours! We are not the only people involved. Anyone and anything that serves God’s purposes
contributes. Putting aside our strong desire for personal connection and
us to step back from front-line tasks confident that local folk are quietly going about Kingdom business even though we don’t – and shouldn’t!
– know what is going on, where and how.

So what roles are appropriate for Interserve Partners in contexts like these?

1. We may counter the violent ‘Christianity’ visited upon subjugated nations by living as locally visible foreign Christian communities that refuse to serve worldly power, renounce violence and coercion, and respect all people.

2. We may create a somewhat safer space for local believers by working alongside but not with the local church, praying for them without associating with or otherwise drawing attention to them.

3. We may celebrate the many things Muslims and Christians share (our fundamental conviction that God is good, just, merciful and compassionate; our confidence that God created the world and loves all people; our recognition that all have sinned and need salvation) rather than reinforcing walls of distrust and suspicion.

4. We can partner with and work alongside local people of faith and action from the majority religion.

Authentic partnership becomes possible when we invite other-faith friends and colleagues to teach us about their faith experiences rather
than assuming that we know what their faith entails. Such partnerships
Christendom mindsets. Many questions arise.

Missiological certainties fade in the light of individual stories and actual experience. When expatriates working with our agency spent a week together, we shared stories: stories of disappointment and failure, stories of bewilderment and confusion, and stories of discovery and joy. Some of us confessed to being humbled by the courage, dignity and
wisdom of local neighbours and colleagues. Others were sceptical. Some recalled conversations through which they glimpsed a Muslim brother or sister’s intimate relationship with God. Others doubted this was even possible. Some shared their admiration for Muslim colleagues, people of faith and action, who lived out their vocations to bring healing,
alleviate poverty and seek justice, sometimes at great personal cost. Others questioned how people who did not themselves know Jesus could possibly facilitate transformation. Personally, I’m amazed at how God’s Spirit works through cross-faith partnerships to transform communities and individual lives – including our own.

Judith* has lived and worked in the hard places since 1992.

*Names have been changed.

1 Scott, J. C. (1990). Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts. New Haven: Yale University Press.

2 Ramenchandra, V. (2006). What Is Integral Mission? In: Micah Network Triennial Consultation on Integral Mission and Violent Conflict. [online] Thailand: Micah Network. Available at: www.micahnetwork.org

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Towards an Unshakeable Kingdom

Community Development

Towards an Unshakable Kingdom

I am lightly jolted as I kneel at the cupboard in my office in Kathmandu and the earthquake alarm dings briefly. I ignore the aftershock as it is so small but a Nepali colleague starts to yell loudly and rushes outside where she gets on her motor scooter and rides off to her small sons’ school to make sure they are safe. From a nearby college there is a great hubbub as students move outside in response to the slight quake.

It is months since the 7.8 magnitude earthquake that devastated large areas of Nepal on 25 April, and for most people life has now taken on normality, albeit an altered one. However, the emotional scars have not yet healed and some people react badly to even the smallest of the continuing aftershocks, which trigger memories of frightening experiences.

Recently a Nepali man recognised me in the street in Kathmandu and called out. He was someone I had worked with in the hills at Okhaldunga Hospital in 2004. He told me his wife and two daughters had been killed in the earthquake and his 19-year-old son had had both his forearms amputated because of a crush injury. I asked about another man I had worked with at the hospital and whose daughter’s wedding I had attended – he was killed in the earthquake my friend replied. All quite shocking for me.

I work for International Nepal Fellowship (INF) and, although it is not a relief organisation, immediately after the earthquake it quickly formed a disaster response group that organised relief supplies and utilised government and other community contacts to offer medical aid and make distributions of emergency food and shelter to some of the worst hit areas. INF liaised with the Pokhara Christian Community (PCC) and its social welfare arm, Asal Chimekee (meaning ‘good neighbours’). As well as PCC supplying and distributing much aid, it also provided volunteers, mostly from youth groups, who worked tirelessly with INF, packing goods, loading trucks and distributing the relief items. Many local church and para-church organisations were also involved in relief work.

At a feedback meeting in one village, the people told the Asal Chimekee team that they were happy with the quality of food, materials and training that had been given to them. One leader asked if the team were there to convert people to Christianity. The team took the opportunity to explain why they, as Christians, were doing disaster relief and explained how many people around the world loved the villagers and had contributed generously. These misconceptions are not uncommon and it is also frequently assumed that Christian organisations will only help Christians. The media often does not report on what is being achieved by Christian organisations but this does not deter the ongoing work.

The initial relief efforts are over but many in the hilly regions where destruction was worse than in Kathmandu are still suffering badly as whole villages were shattered and the roads needed to bring help are impassable due to landslides and the monsoon rains. A new phase has begun now, one of rebuilding. INF has been allocated an area in Ghorka District by the government to work in; its immediate focus has been the provision of materials for emergency shelters and the building of Temporary Learning Centres to replace the many destroyed schools, as over one million students have not been able to attend school since the earthquake. INF is also working with local churches to respond to community needs.

Likewise, Asal Chimekee is continuing its work and practically providing for people with such things as seed distribution, constructing health posts, schools and toilets and running children’s health camps. It stepped out in faith with $7,000 and God provided one hundred times that in the weeks that followed but future plans require that much again. Please remember the people of Nepal and organisations like INF and Asal Chimekee that are showing Christ’s love under adverse conditions.

Rowan Butler is an Interserve Partner serving with INF's Communications team.

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UMN Earthquake response

Community Development

Everyone who was in Nepal on 25 April 2015 will remember that feeling – the horror of the solid ground beneath you rolling like surf, cries of fear, buildings crumbling, clouds of choking dust, the shock and the confusion that followed.

For villagers near the epicentre, the experience was even more deadly. In some communities, most of the houses were reduced to rubble, the few possessions of families already very poor buried and destroyed, food stocks and precious animals lost, and in some cases, family members lost too.

The United Mission to Nepal has been working in Dhading, one of the most affected districts, for more than 20 years. We have strong relationships there, competent local partners, and a track record of working with the poorest and most disadvantaged. So it made sense to focus our relief activities there, in three Village Development Committee areas (VDCs) in the south and four in the rugged, mountainous north.

The challenges were many. The northern VDCs have little or no road access at the best of times – just narrow walking trails snaking through the Himalayas, crossing steep gullies via sinuous suspension bridges. Landslides and rockfalls made the trails virtually impassable, and broke or damaged the bridges. Getting relief to the villages in the north meant negotiating access to scarce helicopter transport, or long, dangerous road journeys to drop-off points to which affected families walked, sometimes for days. UMN and its partners managed to distribute comprehensive relief packages to more than 12,000 desperate families.

Now the work of reconstruction is beginning. Over the next two years, UMN will be providing training and assistance to communities so that the new houses built will be more earthquake resistant; we'll be providing temporary buildings for schools, repairing damaged water systems and toilets, restoring livelihoods through seed and tool distributions and replacement livestock, training people in disaster preparedness, and helping deal with the psycho-social impacts through trauma counseling groups.

There are huge challenges ahead. Thank you for your prayers and support – they are much needed, and much appreciated!

Lyn Jackson is Communications Director at UMN.

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Learning the Language of Discipleship

Community Development

It’s an exciting stage of the journey. Interserve has accepted us as Partners, we know where we are going and have some idea of what we might be doing. We have thoughts about how we might meet people in our neighbourhood, build relationships in our community, engage with the local church and, God willing, see lives transformed through encounters with Christ. Then comes the rollercoaster ride of visiting churches, hosting information nights, raising support, packing up our home and, of course, saying goodbyes.

After an exciting, sometimes stressful, extremely emotional deputation period, we finally arrive at Bangkok International Airport with 3 kids and more than 150kg of luggage safely in tow. In the first few days, the excitement of catching up with old friends, eating favourite foods and revisiting favourite parks keeps our spirits high. And then, when the initial excitement has worn off, we find ourselves living out of quite a lot of suitcases with nowhere to hang our wet clothes, sick children and, something I never thought I’d see, my husband desperate for fresh vegetables! The first few weeks of living at a guest house while trying to find a home, a school for the kids, a school for language and a suitable doctor, are difficult but to some degree expected and thankfully, only short term. But often, after this initial and intense phase of setting up home in a foreign country is over, it is easy to believe that life will settle into some sort of routine and we will be able to get on with what we came here to do.

So why are we here? Well, the official reason is to work in the national church’s Office of Child Protection. But we also hope to use our time here to get alongside the local church. To encourage believers and non-believers in their understanding and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ and to be one more light, a witness for Christ, in a country where more than 80% of the population is Buddhist and less than 1% is Christian.

Fortunately for us, when we arrived this second time around, we already knew a few locals; we had experienced, long term missionaries to help us out; and quite a lot of the people at our church speak English very well. This initial transition phase was perhaps easier for us than for some, as we had already done a little of the groundwork, building relationships when we came to Thailand as OnTrackers in 2010. So although we initially thought we could hit the ground running, it would appear life has come to a grounding halt or at least moving very slowly – a lot like the Bangkok traffic! And like sitting in a taxi through three changes of lights and not going anywhere, this has been, at times, quite frustrating and sometimes even disheartening. Dan is still doing full time language study, while I am looking after the kids, doing part time language study and helping out at the kids’ school. Perhaps with the exception of natural linguists or extreme extroverts, language learning is slow, hard work. We often feel like we are progressing at the rate of two words forward, one word back. Eight months down the track, we still can’t understand a sermon at our Thai church, I can read the hymns but I can’t read and sing them at the same time, in time with the rest of the congregation. Even on a good day, I often struggle to converse fluently with my Thai friends in their language. And then of course there is the unavoidable embarrassment of language faux pas. Surely they just cause misunderstandings and offense!

Language learning often seems better at breaking relationships than building them. Dan told a man he had just met to ‘go away’, I told a girl putting on make up that she was ‘bad luck’ and, most embarrassingly, the son of a church elder that he ‘had many breasts’ instead of ‘many turtles’! There are plenty of people in Bangkok that we can witness to in English and Dan could probably get by doing his child protection work in Thinglish. So why put ourselves through the embarrassment, literal pain of fortnightly exams, headaches and sore eyes (Thai script is very intricate!)?

Well for one thing, language learning teaches humility. There is nothing like asking for an extra plate at a street café so that you can share a meal with your daughter and ending up with a whole extra meal to teach you that you are not in control of the situations in your life, even when you think you are. Then there is wounded pride that comes with answering the phone in Thai, and giving what you think are clear directions to your home, only to be told, “I can speak in English”. I am not sure that when Paul exhorted the Christians in Philippi to have the same attitude of humility as Jesus Christ, he had language learning in mind. However, being in a country where you are learning the local language does lower you to the same level (at least communicatively) of a one year old. A fairly humbling place to be! So whilst it is easy to come into a new culture, especially one where the church is either small or still young, thinking you have all the answers and knowledge about the best way to do ministry. Language learning reminds us that we are also learners, mere babes in understanding and in need of help in order to grow. It is also a humbling reminder of Paul’s words to the Corinthians and something the Lord is still teaching me. So often I rely on my own wisdom or my own capabilities to serve the Lord. However, in God’s wisdom, He chooses to work through the foolish and weak things of this world to shame the things of this world. So that our boasts may not be in ourselves but rather in the Lord; so that our faith might not rest on man’s wisdom but on God’s power. (see 1 Corinthians 1:27-2:5)

Secondly, I think language learning demonstrates and often tests the commitment we have to the people we wish to work with and live amongst. As most foreigners living in Bangkok do not bother to learn much of the language, people are often pleasantly surprised to learn that we can converse with them in their own language. I only have to ask a taxi driver how many children he has and how old they are and he usually comments on how well I speak Thai. Unfortunately, at this stage I don’t understand much else of what he says to me, so the temptation to feel proud of my linguistic abilities is short lived. I hope though, that even though I can’t (yet) understand all that the taxi drivers, shop keepers and language instructors are saying to me, that I am demonstrating that I value them and are willing to invest time into learning how to communicate with them in their own language.

I think testing our commitment is also important. As one of the main goals of all this language learning is being able to disciple people and discipleship is not always easy. Like language study, it is often slow, it involves sacrifice of personal time and there are times when results are seldom seen. In times of frustration over the language learning process, when we feel we can’t possibly learn one more exception to the rule, it is easy to doubt and wonder whether it is all worth the effort. It is at these times that we need to look to the cross and the demonstration of God’s love and commitment to us. “But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8 NIV) (If you are not sure how to pray for Partners in language study, perhaps you could pray that we would continue to be compelled by Christ’s love to persevere through what sometimes feels like a testing of our commitment to serve overseas).

Learning the local language also helps with understanding the culture. Apart from all the practice reading exercises about family relationships, religious practices and the news and media, the vocabulary and sentence patterns used in language often gives insights into what a culture values and the way its people think. For example, a common phrase in Thai is “mai bpen rai” which translated into Aussie means “no worries”. This is an attitude I need to develop more of when we invite people over for dinner and they arrive over an hour late because they oversleep then get stuck in Bangkok traffic. Rather than getting annoyed or becoming judgmental, God is teaching me to be more gracious, flexible and understanding of others. This is an important lesson in godliness in any part of the world, but particularly in a culture where relationships are far more important than keeping to a schedule or plan.

Finally, time spent in language study also gives us time to build relationships. While there is a desk and plenty of work waiting for Dan in the Child Protection Office, going to language school and meeting up with the team for lunch most days, has allowed him invaluable time getting to know them before he has to work with them and help manage team projects. It has also allowed him time as an ‘outsider’, to see and understand a bit better how the politics of the church denomination work (sadly even here there are church politics). For me, practising language is an excellent excuse to meet up with a Thai friend for coffee, chat to taxi drivers or sit down and talk with the lady who comes to look after Lilla while I teach. It is only after relationships are built that discipleship can effectively take place. Just as Dan will, God willing, be able to do a better job as project manager knowing how the team works and what they value and prioritize. Hopefully, they will respect his opinions more knowing who he is and what his values are. I believe the same is true for discipleship. I think it goes without saying that we value advice more from people we know and respect. Likewise, we are better able to encourage and advise those that we know well.

Humility, commitment and understanding are all characteristics that are refined in us through the process of language study and are essential for effective discipleship, mutual encouragement and the building up of God’s church, in which we are all equal members, still in need of purifying through God’s grace. And of course, none of this can happen outside the context of relationship. So, during those times when we despair at the seemingly countless number of rules required to determine whether the word we are reading is said in a high or low tone, it is helpful to remember that we are not just learning to speak another language. We are building relationships, practising humility, demonstrating commitment and gaining a better understanding of our new culture. So that we ourselves will be better disciples of Jesus and better able to disciple others as followers of Christ.

Rachel and Dan are Interserve Partners in Thailand.

But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, in order that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’

When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.
1 Corinthians 1:27-2:5

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From Fatalism to Hope

Community Development, Arab World

When I first met Basma six years ago, I was immediately drawn to her sense of humour and positive outlook. Like many other women in this small Muslim nation, Basma married young and soon had six children to provide for.

Basma made a small income through sewing simple dresses for her neighbours but when her husband, Ahmad, lost his job, they struggled to make ends meet. Although unhappy, they resigned themselves to the life they had been given, with the fatalism typical of Islam. They also both chewed qat (an addictive narcotic leaf) regularly, an addiction which contributed to their financial hardship.

Finding the best way to help About four years ago Basma needed to have some urgent dental work done. When she approached me for money, it was awkward: I could see that my friend was in pain but I didn’t want to just start handing over money, as it inevitably leads to dependency and loss of dignity. So I gave Basma some paracetamol to help with her immediate pain, then made her a proposal – she had already been making bags out of local embroidered cloth for a friend, so I told her I would pay her costs, plus give her a fair hourly rate, if she could make some bags for me to sell to other foreigners.

Basma borrowed money from relatives to fix her teeth, but made enough money from her first production of bags to start paying them back. The opportunity to earn her own money not only helped Basma through an embarrassing and desperate situation but also provided her with more independence.

A dream comes true Basma had once had a dream that we would end up in business together. Even though great importance is given to dreams in Islam, I thought little of it when Basma told me about her dream… yet within a year, our micro-enterprise had begun.

An expat colleague had already started a little craft business with her local friends using traditional embroidery, so we teamed up together. We had no formal business experience but it seemed an enjoyable and helpful way to generate regular income for our local friends. We decided to name our little business ‘Patience’ in the local language… and we certainly needed lots of it to get the product ‘just right’. Because work is seen as a curse, there is often no pride in finishing things here, and we have returned products multiple times for reworking to make them suitable for selling.

Our business sells three types of products. The first is qamariya, small, decorative halfmoon windows that are made out of plaster, cement and coloured glass. The second group includes embroidered pillowcases, mobilephone bags and pencil cases. One woman cuts the fabric and coordinates the colours, gives the pieces to six other women to embroider, and then the products are sewn by two other women. The third is what grew out of my response to Basma. Her three daughters help her sew the bags, and this gives them some money for clothing, schoolbooks, the bus, and social events.

Encouraging giving Even though our business is very small, it helps local craftspeople generate income to support their families. The women in particular have benefited, as it enables them to earn an aboveaverage income in a country where opportunities for employment outside the home are not common.

We display the products in our guesthouse, a guesthouse in the capital city, and in a café. We also encourage other Christians to take the products at cost to sell to their own friends or through stalls at meeting places or markets. We have even set up a website, but postage in and out of our country is a problem so most goods are carried by hand, which places a big limitation on the development of the business.

Our customers appreciate being able to easily buy genuine gifts from the region, and feel good about the fact they are helping families directly with every purchase. Also, the products are portable, making them a very convenient gift to take to families, friends and supporters to help them remember our country in prayer. Any extra money generated is used for product development and for giving non-monetary bonuses to the craftspeople involved, from schoolbooks up to computers.

Growing hope and confidence Life is harder now in the city than it was six years ago. However, the perseverance of Basma and her family has paid off. Her husband now has regular work as a security guard, two of their daughters are in higher education – and are being encouraged by their father to finish before getting married – and the other four children are doing well in school. Basma and Ahmad have even stopped chewing qat, after realizing that every leaf was money that could be used for education instead.

I have grown to love Basma and her family. Although it is against the law to share Jesus openly here, and conversion from Islam can mean the death penalty, we have had many “God” conversations that have all come through developing a business together. Basma’s sewing continues to improve – last year she even taught herself the traditional embroidery and within two weeks was doing a professional job – and she now has a hope and a confidence that I believe comes from God. Although she has not confessed, she now knows life can be greatly different from what Islamic fatalism expects. Pray for her to be brave and to start reading the Bible. Pray for all her family to read it also, and together make a decision for Him.

Sue and her family have been serving in the Arab world since 2004.

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Security Risk

Community Development

Paul Bendor Samuel, the Interserve International Director, looks at the changing face of suffering in mission.

I recently heard from a friend working with a mission in Africa. An Ethiopian missionary friend of his recently died from cerebral malaria. He and his wife had fled their work three times due to warfare and constant attacks, but always felt called to return.

It is humbling to see the sacrifice of people working with these young national mission movements. They ask us difficult questions: What is our view of risk? How do we assess it? How do we decide when to go, or not go; to stay or to leave?

Cross-cultural mission has always involved elevated risks. Here are a few:

Health and personal security: occasionally leading to death, generally the risks are greater for our national brothers and sisters.

Impact on our children: yes, children are resilient but they are vulnerable to emotional traumas at various stages of the mission life cycle.

Ministry cut short through forced exit: the destabilising effect of not knowing when you will be asked to leave, sometimes at such short notice there is no time for proper closure.

Professional deskilling: This is a particular risk in today’s fast moving world. Nor is there guarantee of getting suitable employment on return to the passport country.

Financial insecurity in older age: long term service will likely mean little savings and limited pension.

In recent years mission agencies have had to grapple with the realities of risk and suffering in a fresh way. At least two factors have brought this about.

Firstly, mission is being done in a context of increased hostility. For most of the twentieth century, western missions operated in a relatively protected context. Colonial governments provided security. Emerging nationalism was as yet not generally allied to religious ideology. The past twenty years have seen that change. The search for identity in a globalised world has fed the rise of fundamentalist expressions of Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism, matching the totalitarianism of communism. This change has come largely as a surprise to the Western mission movement, used to ministry from the privileged position of power.

This leads to the second reason why mission agencies are thinking about risk and suffering. Increased risk in mission come as a stark contrast to the prevailing church culture: ease, comfort and security. This culture is not simply a western church phenomenon. It dominates wherever the church is experiencing the affluence generated by capitalism. Present in many parts of the world, it is the dominant culture in the church in the West. Attitudes to life expectancy are a reflection of this. Today, life expectancy in richer nations is around 80 years. Long life is the expected norm in those countries that have provided most of the mission work force until recently. Long life is seen as our ‘right’.

Contrast this with those missionaries that left carrying their possessions in wooden boxes that could also double as coffins. Britains in the 18th and 19th centuries generally did not expect to live past the age of 40.

Our view of risk is so culturally conditioned. Many in the mission force from the global south do not come from cultures where ease, comfort and security are taken for granted. Does this in part help explain the bravery and boldness of some of our colleagues in the newer mission nations? Views of what constitutes ‘acceptable risk’ will be challenged in agencies like Interserve as we open ourselves up to partnership with those who come with very different cultural assumptions.

How, then, are we to hold together obedient, sacrificial discipleship with appropriate risk taking, recognising our cultural conditioning? For us in Interserve it means at least three things.

1. Recognise and own the risks: Jesus warns his followers of setting out in discipleship without recognising the cost. As we recruit and select mission Partners, it is our responsibility to discuss the cost of cross-cultural mission. Selection and preparation must involve the church family and, where possible, the family of the person going. Orientation must involve reflection on the Partner’s theology of risk and suffering in the light of scriptural teaching.

2. Identify and reduce unnecessary risks: At times we bring problems on ourselves through our lack of planning or unwise behaviour. Those who join Interserve join a missional community with much collected wisdom. We cannot eliminate risk, nor should we attempt to do so. However, there is now a mass of understanding about how to reduce the kinds of risks mentioned at the beginning of this article. Much of this wisdom is what is now known as good ‘member care’. This should now include training in personal security, given the contexts in which most Partners work in Asia and the Arab World.

3. Reflect on the cost of taking the risks: When considering the questions of risk and suffering, we focus on the risks that occur because we go.

If we do not take the risks, on the other hand, there will be those who continue to live with a distorted view of Christ, prejudiced against the gospel because they have never seen or experienced the transforming love of Christ in action.

If we do not take the risks, there may be individuals, families and communities that never have the opportunity to become disciples of Jesus Christ.

If we do not take the risks, there will be those who continue to lack community development, employment, health care, discipleship, theological education and who will live in environments that continue to suffer degradation.

If we do not take the risks, there will be those who continue to live under unjust and oppressive structures with no one to advocate for them.

But the risks of not going are not simply borne by the peoples we have been called to serve. It is we who will suffer. We will miss out in joining God in His redemptive, reconciling and recreating mission. Our churches will miss out on the renewing work of the Spirit that occurs when we step out in faith and obedience in mission. By not taking the risks now, we will risk our life’s work perishing in fire of God’s judgement as we settle for security and comfort now. (1 Cor 3:12-15).

We recognise risk. We work to reduce risk. Yet the question remains:

Do we embrace the security risk, or has security become our greatest risk?

/작성자:

Security Risk

Community Development

Paul Bendor Samuel, the Interserve International Director, looks at the changing face of suffering in mission.

I recently heard from a friend working with a mission in Africa. An Ethiopian missionary friend of his recently died from cerebral malaria. He and his wife had fled their work three times due to warfare and constant attacks, but always felt called to return.

It is humbling to see the sacrifice of people working with these young national mission movements. They ask us difficult questions: What is our view of risk? How do we assess it? How do we decide when to go, or not go; to stay or to leave?

Cross-cultural mission has always involved elevated risks. Here are a few:

Health and personal security: occasionally leading to death, generally the risks are greater for our national brothers and sisters.

Impact on our children: yes, children are resilient but they are vulnerable to emotional traumas at various stages of the mission life cycle.

Ministry cut short through forced exit: the destabilising effect of not knowing when you will be asked to leave, sometimes at such short notice there is no time for proper closure.

Professional deskilling: This is a particular risk in today’s fast moving world. Nor is there guarantee of getting suitable employment on return to the passport country.

Financial insecurity in older age: long term service will likely mean little savings and limited pension.

In recent years mission agencies have had to grapple with the realities of risk and suffering in a fresh way. At least two factors have brought this about.

Firstly, mission is being done in a context of increased hostility. For most of the twentieth century, western missions operated in a relatively protected context. Colonial governments provided security. Emerging nationalism was as yet not generally allied to religious ideology. The past twenty years have seen that change. The search for identity in a globalised world has fed the rise of fundamentalist expressions of Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism, matching the totalitarianism of communism. This change has come largely as a surprise to the Western mission movement, used to ministry from the privileged position of power.

This leads to the second reason why mission agencies are thinking about risk and suffering. Increased risk in mission come as a stark contrast to the prevailing church culture: ease, comfort and security. This culture is not simply a western church phenomenon. It dominates wherever the church is experiencing the affluence generated by capitalism. Present in many parts of the world, it is the dominant culture in the church in the West. Attitudes to life expectancy are a reflection of this. Today, life expectancy in richer nations is around 80 years. Long life is the expected norm in those countries that have provided most of the mission work force until recently. Long life is seen as our ‘right’.

Contrast this with those missionaries that left carrying their possessions in wooden boxes that could also double as coffins. Britains in the 18th and 19th centuries generally did not expect to live past the age of 40.

Our view of risk is so culturally conditioned. Many in the mission force from the global south do not come from cultures where ease, comfort and security are taken for granted. Does this in part help explain the bravery and boldness of some of our colleagues in the newer mission nations? Views of what constitutes ‘acceptable risk’ will be challenged in agencies like Interserve as we open ourselves up to partnership with those who come with very different cultural assumptions.

How, then, are we to hold together obedient, sacrificial discipleship with appropriate risk taking, recognising our cultural conditioning? For us in Interserve it means at least three things.

1. Recognise and own the risks: Jesus warns his followers of setting out in discipleship without recognising the cost. As we recruit and select mission Partners, it is our responsibility to discuss the cost of cross-cultural mission. Selection and preparation must involve the church family and, where possible, the family of the person going. Orientation must involve reflection on the Partner’s theology of risk and suffering in the light of scriptural teaching.

2. Identify and reduce unnecessary risks: At times we bring problems on ourselves through our lack of planning or unwise behaviour. Those who join Interserve join a missional community with much collected wisdom. We cannot eliminate risk, nor should we attempt to do so. However, there is now a mass of understanding about how to reduce the kinds of risks mentioned at the beginning of this article. Much of this wisdom is what is now known as good ‘member care’. This should now include training in personal security, given the contexts in which most Partners work in Asia and the Arab World.

3. Reflect on the cost of taking the risks: When considering the questions of risk and suffering, we focus on the risks that occur because we go.

If we do not take the risks, on the other hand, there will be those who continue to live with a distorted view of Christ, prejudiced against the gospel because they have never seen or experienced the transforming love of Christ in action.

If we do not take the risks, there may be individuals, families and communities that never have the opportunity to become disciples of Jesus Christ.

If we do not take the risks, there will be those who continue to lack community development, employment, health care, discipleship, theological education and who will live in environments that continue to suffer degradation.

If we do not take the risks, there will be those who continue to live under unjust and oppressive structures with no one to advocate for them.

But the risks of not going are not simply borne by the peoples we have been called to serve. It is we who will suffer. We will miss out in joining God in His redemptive, reconciling and recreating mission. Our churches will miss out on the renewing work of the Spirit that occurs when we step out in faith and obedience in mission. By not taking the risks now, we will risk our life’s work perishing in fire of God’s judgement as we settle for security and comfort now. (1 Cor 3:12-15).

We recognise risk. We work to reduce risk. Yet the question remains:

Do we embrace the security risk, or has security become our greatest risk?

/작성자:

Steps on a Ladder

Community Development

“I remember when you came to help out at summer camp,” Dana said. “We played that game… baseball.”

“You do?” I was a little surprised. Not only had that been over two years ago, before I moved here, but many people had come in different years to assist with the summer camp programmes – why would she remember me?

But as we continued our conversation over chai, it turned out I wasn’t the only one she remembered. She and all the other young people remember at least the faces and some of the names of those who helped out with the programmes over the years.

I work with an Orphanage Project in an industrial city in Central Asia. I first visited this Project back in the summer of 2008 (as Dana remembered) to check it out, to find out whether I wanted to join in the work that was being done among the children from two local orphanages. I was so impressed by the way the Project majored on relationships – how these attention- and love-starved kids were being treated like real people – that I moved here in April 2009.

The founder of the Orphanage Project, Keri, has been here about ten years. As I understand it, she had been invited to visit a children’s home where she was struck by the poor condition of the children: they were small, underfed, inadequately dressed and timid. Soon after, she was joined by Mary, who is still on staff, and together they initiated programmes to fill some of the severe gaps in the orphans’ developmental, academic and life-skills education.

Being raised in an orphanage leaves most of the children apathetic and highly dependent, with no idea how to function outside its walls. Most of the children are diagnosed with a disability of one form or another, ranging from the relatively minor – such as behavioural problems and developmental delays – through to mentally disabled. For some of the children the main issues are institutionalisation and the barriers they will encounter as they enter life with a ‘mental disability’ label. This not only affects their chances of further education but narrows their options for good employment.

The programmes, including reading, maths, life skills, summer camps, city excursions, Saturday visits, can be loosely described as steps on a ladder reaching towards the ultimate goal of seeing the orphanage ‘graduates’ well adapted to life outside their institutions. We also help the children build a support network by recruiting and training local volunteers to work with us.

The graduate programme After I had been here 18 months, we were approached by someone from the Department of Education who wanted to know what we planned to do for children once they left the orphanage. At the age of eighteen, having completed their mandatory attendance at a technical college, the teenaged orphans step into the big, wide world, usually with no support network, no job and no place to live. So, with the backing of the government, we began our graduate programme, in which we help the graduates through the challenges of moving from institutional care to real life, and provide training and encouragement as they seek jobs, housing and a place in society.

And that is how ‘my place’ became ‘our place’: two graduates, Dana and Indira, moved in with me as part of our formal graduate programme, and that baseball conversation over chai (tea) was one we shared in the months we lived together.

Dana and Indira The girls moved in with me on a holiday weekend, and before it was over, they had written their resumes and, though terrified, were ready to start door-knocking for work. Only an hour and a half into the job search, Dana bounced in the door. “I’ve got a job!”

The next day, Indira was really hoping to come home with the same news. I accompanied her as she went from door to door. She came out of the tenth café with a sigh. “This is just not my lucky day!” she said as she came towards me.

We headed to the next one. With a deep breath she disappeared once more and I resumed my wait on the street. She was gone a while this time. Eventually she came out beaming from ear to ear and jabbering away, not making much sense. Attempt number eleven made that day her lucky day.

This was just over eight months ago. The conversation over dinner that night was all excitement; it was as if they each had the world in their hands. They had been in the city for less than a week, both had jobs, which they had found themselves, and this was just the beginning of much more.

Our life settled into a routine as the girls learned the responsibilities of daily living, how to cook and clean, and how to respect those they lived with. Even more challenging was discovering the difference between needs and wants as they learned to stretch their salary across the whole month. But the hardest part was working out what to do with the weekend, how to behave appropriately in the new world around them, and how to act in social situations.

It’s been about four months since they both moved out into flats and became fully independent. They know, however, that my door will always be open to them if they ever want to swing by.

Dana stopped in the other day. We hadn’t seen each other for three weeks so she wanted to catch up. I had another friend visiting so the three of us had chai together. When Dana was living with me, she tended to demand full attention at all times. Her mouth rarely stopped moving and the topic was usually whatever was on her mind. This time, however, I noticed an impressive change: Dana participated in the conversation without taking it over, offering her thoughts and questions and waiting and listening for responses. It was as if, all of a sudden, she had become an adult.

It has been an amazing, exciting and stressful experience for me, watching over Dana and Indira and growing and learning with them. Those few months gave support at a crucial time as the girls transitioned into life in the big, wide world. We are confident that Indira and Dana will go on to establish themselves as independent, valuable members of society, and we are looking forward to our next group of graduates.

Hope has been working with children and youth in Central Asia for over eight years.

/작성자: