A Need to Feel Useful

Medical / Health, Arab World

My patient, swathed in layers of black including a cloth wrapped firmly over her lower face, was indicating the problem that had brought her to clinic today. I could not understand the words, but the actions were clear enough as she clutched almost every joint in her body one at a time.

'And has she got a headache?' I asked my translator.

'Yes,' she answered, 'she has a headache all the time, for the last six years.'

'And what makes it worse?'

'It's worse when she works.'

It took me more than two months of living and working in that rural community to begin to understand what 'work' meant to the women there. Two months of hearing over and over again about chronic neck, back, knee and arm pain. Two months of watching anonymous black shapes mounting impossibly steep paths with brightly coloured objects on their heads, before I realised those objects were 20-litre containers of water and that the women were carrying them uphill two or three times a day as well as working the fields, cooking the meals, baking bread and looking after their many children.

I felt embarrassed that I, supposedly open-minded and aware, could be so ignorant of how hard these people's lives really were. We can never know what it is like to live the way they do. I finally realised how dependent we need to be on God and his guidance to have any positive impact in such communities.

One of the most ancient lands on earth, this country is also one of the world's poorest nations, with high maternal and infant mortality. Despite this, the population is burgeoning, stretching already stretched resources further and further. Most of the illnesses we saw were due to water-borne diseases. Our medicines were only a temporary solution to deep-seated problems. Slices of modern medicine have made an impact, but sophisticated scans and the latest antibiotics do not seem the best solution. We felt like an ambulance parked firmly at the bottom of the cliff struggling to keep up with the injured fallen.

We needed to lean on God the whole time we were away. We had many questions. Why had he called us to this country when we were able to offer so little? What are the best ways to help break cycles of poverty and improve health? How does he regard their religion? How far should we conform to strict standards of dress and protocols that may identify us as members of the religion ourselves? How should we cope with our own feelings of inadequacy and sometimes of not being wanted by certain people there?

God used the time to challenge us too. Why did we need to feel useful? Why did we need to feel that we had made a difference? Although God calls us to be agents of change in a broken world, he wants to do it through us rather than have us take it all on ourselves.

This has two implications. One is that we can let God take on responsibility for the problems that are just too big for us to cope with. His power is sufficient and we can rest in that knowledge. The second implication is that any success in our work is God's success, not ours; we should be pleased to give him the glory. God used our time in this country to teach us humility and the need to trust in his power and goodness. We are now working on the application of this lesson!

/작성자:

Captives of Fate

Other, Arab World

Abdullah, 28, got married about a year ago, and he and his wife are expecting their first baby. They still live in his family home, as Abdullah hasn’t got a hope of scraping enough money together to rent a place of their own. They live in a small flat with Omar – Abdullah’s brother – and his wife, who might also be expecting.

Not that Abdullah experiences the inside of the flat that much. He has two full-time jobs – mornings 8 until 2 and evenings 5 until 10 – and he is trying to fit in English classes in the afternoons in the hope that one day he’ll get a better job. Like most of his countrymen, neither of his current jobs pays enough to cover the bills.

He’s a nice guy; he doesn’t smoke or chew, which saves a lot, but he’s up to his neck in debt to relatives who helped pay for his wedding, and has to give back a little each month.

Abdullah prays five times a day. He visits the graves of his parents every Friday to pray for them – to make sure that they are allowed into heaven. He greets people as he walks along – there is a tradition that each greeting earns him extra blessing. He is always kind to children, and gives as much as he can to beggars. Yet despite all this good work, God still feels distant and life is still hard.

In need of blessing, Abdullah decided to go on the Hajj to Mecca this year. His evening job is at a travel firm, and they gave him a very generous discount. It felt good to be doing what the prophet commanded. Praying in that esteemed place, he could almost feel God to be close.

But life is still hard. Abdullah believes that all of life is a test and then we face judgement. All his efforts to earn God’s blessings seem to be falling on deaf ears.

Fatima Fatima was worried to death about Faaris – her 15-month-old. He hadn’t been putting on weight properly since he was born. His twin sister seemed able to feed all right, but Faaris just wouldn’t suck properly. She’d tried all the food options: her own mother had told her to give him water to drink instead of breast milk; her neighbour had suggested mixing water and baby rusks and giving these to Faaris in his bottle.

He had become so weak that whatever he did eat he vomited. And then there was the constant diarrhoea. The stress was beginning to affect her other children too.

When he was six months old she had taken Faaris to see an old midwife who advised heat treatment – multiple small burns on his abdomen and buttocks to release the evil. It didn’t work.

The foreign doctor had been useless – he just gave advice. She would have taken Faaris to see the real witch-doctor, only he was too expensive. Perhaps he was being affected by Genies. Perhaps someone had cast the evil-eye on him when he was born – the power of the jealousy of an aunt or neighbour could inflict this sort of problem. Perhaps Umm asSubyan, queen of the Genies, or some other controlling spirit was involved. A good witchdoctor could solve these problems.

Fatima was doing all she could. She had started praying five times a day and she would fast once a month – perhaps this would earn her God’s favour. She hung a tiny copy of the Qur’an around Faaris’ neck to protect him from evil spirits, and recited the bits of it that she had memorised whenever she was with Faaris. She would lie him down so that he was facing Mecca – if he should die, at least he would be facing the right way.

How difficult it felt. If only she had some way of controlling her destiny, and his.

/작성자:

Captives of Fate

Other, Arab World

Abdullah, 28, got married about a year ago, and he and his wife are expecting their first baby. They still live in his family home, as Abdullah hasn't got a hope of scraping enough money together to rent a place of their own. They live in a small flat with Omar – Abdullah's brother – and his wife, who might also be expecting.

Not that Abdullah experiences the inside of the flat that much. He has two full-time jobs – mornings 8 until 2 and evenings 5 until 10 – and he is trying to fit in English classes in the afternoons in the hope that one day he'll get a better job. Like most of his countrymen, neither of his current jobs pays enough to cover the bills.

He's a nice guy; he doesn't smoke or chew, which saves a lot, but he's up to his neck in debt to relatives who helped pay for his wedding, and has to give back a little each month.

Abdullah prays five times a day. He visits the graves of his parents every Friday to pray for them – to make sure that they are allowed into heaven. He greets people as he walks along – there is a tradition that each greeting earns him extra blessing. He is always kind to children, and gives as much as he can to beggars. Yet despite all this good work, God still feels distant and life is still hard.

In need of blessing, Abdullah decided to go on the Hajj to Mecca this year. His evening job is at a travel firm, and they gave him a very generous discount. It felt good to be doing what the prophet commanded. Praying in that esteemed place, he could almost feel God to be close.

But life is still hard. Abdullah believes that all of life is a test and then we face judgement. All his efforts to earn God's blessings seem to be falling on deaf ears.

Fatima Fatima was worried to death about Faaris – her 15-month-old. He hadn't been putting on weight properly since he was born. His twin sister seemed able to feed all right, but Faaris just wouldn't suck properly. She'd tried all the food options: her own mother had told her to give him water to drink instead of breast milk; her neighbour had suggested mixing water and baby rusks and giving these to Faaris in his bottle.

He had become so weak that whatever he did eat he vomited. And then there was the constant diarrhoea. The stress was beginning to affect her other children too.

When he was six months old she had taken Faaris to see an old midwife who advised heat treatment – multiple small burns on his abdomen and buttocks to release the evil. It didn't work.

The foreign doctor had been useless – he just gave advice. She would have taken Faaris to see the real witch-doctor, only he was too expensive. Perhaps he was being affected by Genies. Perhaps someone had cast the evil-eye on him when he was born – the power of the jealousy of an aunt or neighbour could inflict this sort of problem. Perhaps Umm asSubyan, queen of the Genies, or some other controlling spirit was involved. A good witchdoctor could solve these problems.

Fatima was doing all she could. She had started praying five times a day and she would fast once a month – perhaps this would earn her God's favour. She hung a tiny copy of the Qur'an around Faaris' neck to protect him from evil spirits, and recited the bits of it that she had memorised whenever she was with Faaris. She would lie him down so that he was facing Mecca – if he should die, at least he would be facing the right way.

How difficult it felt. If only she had some way of controlling her destiny, and his.

/작성자:

Captives of Fate

Other, Arab World

Abdullah, 28, got married about a year ago, and he and his wife are expecting their first baby. They still live in his family home, as Abdullah hasn’t got a hope of scraping enough money together to rent a place of their own. They live in a small flat with Omar – Abdullah’s brother – and his wife, who might also be expecting.

Not that Abdullah experiences the inside of the flat that much. He has two full-time jobs – mornings 8 until 2 and evenings 5 until 10 – and he is trying to fit in English classes in the afternoons in the hope that one day he’ll get a better job. Like most of his countrymen, neither of his current jobs pays enough to cover the bills.

He’s a nice guy; he doesn’t smoke or chew, which saves a lot, but he’s up to his neck in debt to relatives who helped pay for his wedding, and has to give back a little each month.

Abdullah prays five times a day. He visits the graves of his parents every Friday to pray for them – to make sure that they are allowed into heaven. He greets people as he walks along – there is a tradition that each greeting earns him extra blessing. He is always kind to children, and gives as much as he can to beggars. Yet despite all this good work, God still feels distant and life is still hard.

In need of blessing, Abdullah decided to go on the Hajj to Mecca this year. His evening job is at a travel firm, and they gave him a very generous discount. It felt good to be doing what the prophet commanded. Praying in that esteemed place, he could almost feel God to be close.

But life is still hard. Abdullah believes that all of life is a test and then we face judgement. All his efforts to earn God’s blessings seem to be falling on deaf ears.

Fatima Fatima was worried to death about Faaris – her 15-month-old. He hadn’t been putting on weight properly since he was born. His twin sister seemed able to feed all right, but Faaris just wouldn’t suck properly. She’d tried all the food options: her own mother had told her to give him water to drink instead of breast milk; her neighbour had suggested mixing water and baby rusks and giving these to Faaris in his bottle.

He had become so weak that whatever he did eat he vomited. And then there was the constant diarrhoea. The stress was beginning to affect her other children too.

When he was six months old she had taken Faaris to see an old midwife who advised heat treatment – multiple small burns on his abdomen and buttocks to release the evil. It didn’t work.

The foreign doctor had been useless – he just gave advice. She would have taken Faaris to see the real witch-doctor, only he was too expensive. Perhaps he was being affected by Genies. Perhaps someone had cast the evil-eye on him when he was born – the power of the jealousy of an aunt or neighbour could inflict this sort of problem. Perhaps Umm asSubyan, queen of the Genies, or some other controlling spirit was involved. A good witchdoctor could solve these problems.

Fatima was doing all she could. She had started praying five times a day and she would fast once a month – perhaps this would earn her God’s favour. She hung a tiny copy of the Qur’an around Faaris’ neck to protect him from evil spirits, and recited the bits of it that she had memorised whenever she was with Faaris. She would lie him down so that he was facing Mecca – if he should die, at least he would be facing the right way.

How difficult it felt. If only she had some way of controlling her destiny, and his.

/작성자:

Captives of Fate

Other, Arab World

Abdullah, 28, got married about a year ago, and he and his wife are expecting their first baby. They still live in his family home, as Abdullah hasn’t got a hope of scraping enough money together to rent a place of their own. They live in a small flat with Omar – Abdullah’s brother – and his wife, who might also be expecting.

Not that Abdullah experiences the inside of the flat that much. He has two full-time jobs – mornings 8 until 2 and evenings 5 until 10 – and he is trying to fit in English classes in the afternoons in the hope that one day he’ll get a better job. Like most of his countrymen, neither of his current jobs pays enough to cover the bills.

He’s a nice guy; he doesn’t smoke or chew, which saves a lot, but he’s up to his neck in debt to relatives who helped pay for his wedding, and has to give back a little each month.

Abdullah prays five times a day. He visits the graves of his parents every Friday to pray for them – to make sure that they are allowed into heaven. He greets people as he walks along – there is a tradition that each greeting earns him extra blessing. He is always kind to children, and gives as much as he can to beggars. Yet despite all this good work, God still feels distant and life is still hard.

In need of blessing, Abdullah decided to go on the Hajj to Mecca this year. His evening job is at a travel firm, and they gave him a very generous discount. It felt good to be doing what the prophet commanded. Praying in that esteemed place, he could almost feel God to be close.

But life is still hard. Abdullah believes that all of life is a test and then we face judgement. All his efforts to earn God’s blessings seem to be falling on deaf ears.

Fatima Fatima was worried to death about Faaris – her 15-month-old. He hadn’t been putting on weight properly since he was born. His twin sister seemed able to feed all right, but Faaris just wouldn’t suck properly. She’d tried all the food options: her own mother had told her to give him water to drink instead of breast milk; her neighbour had suggested mixing water and baby rusks and giving these to Faaris in his bottle.

He had become so weak that whatever he did eat he vomited. And then there was the constant diarrhoea. The stress was beginning to affect her other children too.

When he was six months old she had taken Faaris to see an old midwife who advised heat treatment – multiple small burns on his abdomen and buttocks to release the evil. It didn’t work.

The foreign doctor had been useless – he just gave advice. She would have taken Faaris to see the real witch-doctor, only he was too expensive. Perhaps he was being affected by Genies. Perhaps someone had cast the evil-eye on him when he was born – the power of the jealousy of an aunt or neighbour could inflict this sort of problem. Perhaps Umm asSubyan, queen of the Genies, or some other controlling spirit was involved. A good witchdoctor could solve these problems.

Fatima was doing all she could. She had started praying five times a day and she would fast once a month – perhaps this would earn her God’s favour. She hung a tiny copy of the Qur’an around Faaris’ neck to protect him from evil spirits, and recited the bits of it that she had memorised whenever she was with Faaris. She would lie him down so that he was facing Mecca – if he should die, at least he would be facing the right way.

How difficult it felt. If only she had some way of controlling her destiny, and his.

/작성자:

Captives of Fate

Other, Arab World

Abdullah, 28, got married about a year ago, and he and his wife are expecting their first baby. They still live in his family home, as Abdullah hasn’t got a hope of scraping enough money together to rent a place of their own. They live in a small flat with Omar – Abdullah’s brother – and his wife, who might also be expecting.

Not that Abdullah experiences the inside of the flat that much. He has two full-time jobs – mornings 8 until 2 and evenings 5 until 10 – and he is trying to fit in English classes in the afternoons in the hope that one day he’ll get a better job. Like most of his countrymen, neither of his current jobs pays enough to cover the bills.

He’s a nice guy; he doesn’t smoke or chew, which saves a lot, but he’s up to his neck in debt to relatives who helped pay for his wedding, and has to give back a little each month.

Abdullah prays five times a day. He visits the graves of his parents every Friday to pray for them – to make sure that they are allowed into heaven. He greets people as he walks along – there is a tradition that each greeting earns him extra blessing. He is always kind to children, and gives as much as he can to beggars. Yet despite all this good work, God still feels distant and life is still hard.

In need of blessing, Abdullah decided to go on the Hajj to Mecca this year. His evening job is at a travel firm, and they gave him a very generous discount. It felt good to be doing what the prophet commanded. Praying in that esteemed place, he could almost feel God to be close.

But life is still hard. Abdullah believes that all of life is a test and then we face judgement. All his efforts to earn God’s blessings seem to be falling on deaf ears.

Fatima Fatima was worried to death about Faaris – her 15-month-old. He hadn’t been putting on weight properly since he was born. His twin sister seemed able to feed all right, but Faaris just wouldn’t suck properly. She’d tried all the food options: her own mother had told her to give him water to drink instead of breast milk; her neighbour had suggested mixing water and baby rusks and giving these to Faaris in his bottle.

He had become so weak that whatever he did eat he vomited. And then there was the constant diarrhoea. The stress was beginning to affect her other children too.

When he was six months old she had taken Faaris to see an old midwife who advised heat treatment – multiple small burns on his abdomen and buttocks to release the evil. It didn’t work.

The foreign doctor had been useless – he just gave advice. She would have taken Faaris to see the real witch-doctor, only he was too expensive. Perhaps he was being affected by Genies. Perhaps someone had cast the evil-eye on him when he was born – the power of the jealousy of an aunt or neighbour could inflict this sort of problem. Perhaps Umm asSubyan, queen of the Genies, or some other controlling spirit was involved. A good witchdoctor could solve these problems.

Fatima was doing all she could. She had started praying five times a day and she would fast once a month – perhaps this would earn her God’s favour. She hung a tiny copy of the Qur’an around Faaris’ neck to protect him from evil spirits, and recited the bits of it that she had memorised whenever she was with Faaris. She would lie him down so that he was facing Mecca – if he should die, at least he would be facing the right way.

How difficult it felt. If only she had some way of controlling her destiny, and his.

/작성자:

The Alter Call

Theology / Church, Arab World

About five thousand men, that would be my guess. The meeting had all the hallmarks of an evangelistic, revival-style gathering, with preaching, meetings and a theme of ‘Let’s win the world for Islam’. I was visiting friends in town, and across the road from their house was an open playing field which was now the site of a weekend-long Islami (religious meeting). It was jam-packed full of flowing white Punjabis, flowing white beards and flowing with words.

So I wandered over.

I was greeted with enthusiasm, for here was someone with whom to put into practise that which was being preached. A local mullah greeted me warmly and began regaling me with advantages of the unity of Islam. Unfortunately for him, there was a profusion of different headstyles, and I asked awkward questions about why, if Islam was one, there were so many different groupings. Faced with these sticky questions, people passed me up a ladder of seniority till eventually I was sitting with a head mullah from the capital city.

So, here I am, sitting in a tent, face to face with this very pleasant head mullah. We’re surrounded by an eager crowd of about a hundred faces, bearded and unbearded, all spellbound, waiting to see how this would play out. For about fifteen minutes I listen in fascination to a description of the appeal of Islam – its unity, its brotherhood and its goodness. It’s truly an impressive sales pitch. He’s good.

A few questions for the mullah As he ran out of steam, I began. I said that I agreed with him that our life should be oriented toward Allah and his path. Indeed, to be in communion with Allah should be the goal of our lives. A daily goal. But here I had some questions. When we say prayers, we have to wash so that we are clean and Allah will hear our prayers. ‘Yes.’ And at the next time of prayer I need to wash again. ‘Yes.’ Because in that time I will have become unclean. ‘Yes.’ But what if I want to stay in contact with Allah? What if I want to stay in communion with him: how long can I stay clean? ‘Pardon?’ How long can I stay clean so that I can be in spiritual union with Allah? (Here we get into Asian-style bargaining) An afternoon? But surely that’s not very long…? A weekend like this? But what about when I go back home…?

Eventually we settle on the idea that the most disciplined, the most ascetic, holy man could stay clean for forty days.

A suggestion At this I sigh. ‘Sir, it seems to me that we have a problem. We’re supposed to be slaves to Allah (Abd’Allah). But it looks more like we’re slaves to dirt and pollution. We want to stay clean, we want to stay in communion with Allah. But the world and its pollution touches us and makes us unclean. The world’s pollution is stronger than us. Rather than being slaves to Allah, it looks more like we’re slaves to pollution. It has power over us. Wouldn’t it be good if maybe… just maybe… if Allah’s Holy Spirit (Ruh’Allah)* came into our lives; then his holiness would be more powerful. Instead of the world touching us and making us unclean, the Spirit of Allah could flow through us and touch the world, making it clean. Wouldn’t that be a freedom?’

A response Through this my whole concentration had been on the head mullah. Was he getting angry? Was I going too far? I was watching his face closely for any clues that I should back off.

However, as I spoke about being free from pollution, something broke my concentration. This something was a tangible, an audible, response from the crowd of men listening. There was a palpable sense of, ‘Oh Allah, yes! Wouldn’t that be good!?’ The strength of this response came as a surprise to me, and I was just adjusting to it when I had to readjust to the fact that older, wiser men were chastising people in the crowd – ‘Don’t agree with him’, backed up with a forceful clip round the back of the head.

Ah, time to ease off.

‘No, no, no, you don’t understand. You’re a foreigner.’ ‘You’re right, my friend. I’m just a stupid foreigner. I was just wondering… Just wondering.’ After cups of tea, small talk and Salaams, I leave. Hopefully a seed was sown. Hopefully, those with ears to hear will let that seed grow into good fruit.

As I wandered off, I wondered: had I ever heard a gospel message preached like the one I had just been led to give? Not to my knowledge. And yet this is gospel, good news, to my brothers here. It’s not what many of us would naturally think of as the message of the gospel, but it’s a major part of the message we need to proclaim. I think of it as a piece of music. In the West, we hear the tune of the gospel as having a focus on salvation of the individual from sin by Christ’s atoning sacrifice and God’s grace touching our hearts; it’s a message of love and compassion, with overtones of honouring God. Here, however, the main focus is on the status of Christ, his Lordship meaning he is entitled to save, and God’s grace brings a freedom from pollution and gives material provision (such as food on my plate); the main notes are of honour and the overtones are of love and compassion. Played in the right way, this message can resonate in hearts in a palpable way.

Allah?

Through the ages, Christians have tried to convey the Living Word through the everyday language of the people they are reaching out to. Christians took up the words ‘Theos’ and later ‘Gott’ (amongst may others) to talk about the Creator. Both of these originally had connotations not compatible with God as revealed in the Bible. However, we now read them exclusively as ‘God’. When the message goes to new cultures, we need to find terms that start where people are at, whether that’s in New Guinea, Brazil or the Middle East. Do we drop this custom just for a Muslim neighbour?

‘But surely there is a big difference between the understanding of Allah and the true nature of God?’ True! True indeed. But we all start with a poor understanding of who God is. For some of us he was God the policeman, for others he’s God the kindly grandfather. As we get to know him, these misconceptions are replaced by knowing him in relationship. The people I know who have used the word ‘Allah’ all their life but now know him through Jesus almost all say, ‘I knew Allah before, but now I know him so much better. I see him so much more clearly and my relationship is so much deeper through Jesus.’

Very few of my colleagues want to stop using the word ‘Allah’ in their prayers; instead, the word is infused with new, fresh and dynamic meaning.

/작성자:

The Alter Call

Theology / Church, Arab World

About five thousand men, that would be my guess. The meeting had all the hallmarks of an evangelistic, revival-style gathering, with preaching, meetings and a theme of ‘Let’s win the world for Islam’. I was visiting friends in town, and across the road from their house was an open playing field which was now the site of a weekend-long Islami (religious meeting). It was jam-packed full of flowing white Punjabis, flowing white beards and flowing with words.

So I wandered over.

I was greeted with enthusiasm, for here was someone with whom to put into practise that which was being preached. A local mullah greeted me warmly and began regaling me with advantages of the unity of Islam. Unfortunately for him, there was a profusion of different headstyles, and I asked awkward questions about why, if Islam was one, there were so many different groupings. Faced with these sticky questions, people passed me up a ladder of seniority till eventually I was sitting with a head mullah from the capital city.

So, here I am, sitting in a tent, face to face with this very pleasant head mullah. We’re surrounded by an eager crowd of about a hundred faces, bearded and unbearded, all spellbound, waiting to see how this would play out. For about fifteen minutes I listen in fascination to a description of the appeal of Islam – its unity, its brotherhood and its goodness. It’s truly an impressive sales pitch. He’s good.

A few questions for the mullah As he ran out of steam, I began. I said that I agreed with him that our life should be oriented toward Allah and his path. Indeed, to be in communion with Allah should be the goal of our lives. A daily goal. But here I had some questions. When we say prayers, we have to wash so that we are clean and Allah will hear our prayers. ‘Yes.’ And at the next time of prayer I need to wash again. ‘Yes.’ Because in that time I will have become unclean. ‘Yes.’ But what if I want to stay in contact with Allah? What if I want to stay in communion with him: how long can I stay clean? ‘Pardon?’ How long can I stay clean so that I can be in spiritual union with Allah? (Here we get into Asian-style bargaining) An afternoon? But surely that’s not very long…? A weekend like this? But what about when I go back home…?

Eventually we settle on the idea that the most disciplined, the most ascetic, holy man could stay clean for forty days.

A suggestion At this I sigh. ‘Sir, it seems to me that we have a problem. We’re supposed to be slaves to Allah (Abd’Allah). But it looks more like we’re slaves to dirt and pollution. We want to stay clean, we want to stay in communion with Allah. But the world and its pollution touches us and makes us unclean. The world’s pollution is stronger than us. Rather than being slaves to Allah, it looks more like we’re slaves to pollution. It has power over us. Wouldn’t it be good if maybe… just maybe… if Allah’s Holy Spirit (Ruh’Allah)* came into our lives; then his holiness would be more powerful. Instead of the world touching us and making us unclean, the Spirit of Allah could flow through us and touch the world, making it clean. Wouldn’t that be a freedom?’

A response Through this my whole concentration had been on the head mullah. Was he getting angry? Was I going too far? I was watching his face closely for any clues that I should back off.

However, as I spoke about being free from pollution, something broke my concentration. This something was a tangible, an audible, response from the crowd of men listening. There was a palpable sense of, ‘Oh Allah, yes! Wouldn’t that be good!?’ The strength of this response came as a surprise to me, and I was just adjusting to it when I had to readjust to the fact that older, wiser men were chastising people in the crowd – ‘Don’t agree with him’, backed up with a forceful clip round the back of the head.

Ah, time to ease off.

‘No, no, no, you don’t understand. You’re a foreigner.’ ‘You’re right, my friend. I’m just a stupid foreigner. I was just wondering… Just wondering.’ After cups of tea, small talk and Salaams, I leave. Hopefully a seed was sown. Hopefully, those with ears to hear will let that seed grow into good fruit.

As I wandered off, I wondered: had I ever heard a gospel message preached like the one I had just been led to give? Not to my knowledge. And yet this is gospel, good news, to my brothers here. It’s not what many of us would naturally think of as the message of the gospel, but it’s a major part of the message we need to proclaim. I think of it as a piece of music. In the West, we hear the tune of the gospel as having a focus on salvation of the individual from sin by Christ’s atoning sacrifice and God’s grace touching our hearts; it’s a message of love and compassion, with overtones of honouring God. Here, however, the main focus is on the status of Christ, his Lordship meaning he is entitled to save, and God’s grace brings a freedom from pollution and gives material provision (such as food on my plate); the main notes are of honour and the overtones are of love and compassion. Played in the right way, this message can resonate in hearts in a palpable way.

Allah?

Through the ages, Christians have tried to convey the Living Word through the everyday language of the people they are reaching out to. Christians took up the words ‘Theos’ and later ‘Gott’ (amongst may others) to talk about the Creator. Both of these originally had connotations not compatible with God as revealed in the Bible. However, we now read them exclusively as ‘God’. When the message goes to new cultures, we need to find terms that start where people are at, whether that’s in New Guinea, Brazil or the Middle East. Do we drop this custom just for a Muslim neighbour?

‘But surely there is a big difference between the understanding of Allah and the true nature of God?’ True! True indeed. But we all start with a poor understanding of who God is. For some of us he was God the policeman, for others he’s God the kindly grandfather. As we get to know him, these misconceptions are replaced by knowing him in relationship. The people I know who have used the word ‘Allah’ all their life but now know him through Jesus almost all say, ‘I knew Allah before, but now I know him so much better. I see him so much more clearly and my relationship is so much deeper through Jesus.’

Very few of my colleagues want to stop using the word ‘Allah’ in their prayers; instead, the word is infused with new, fresh and dynamic meaning.

/작성자:

The Alter Call

Theology / Church, Arab World

About five thousand men, that would be my guess. The meeting had all the hallmarks of an evangelistic, revival-style gathering, with preaching, meetings and a theme of ‘Let’s win the world for Islam’. I was visiting friends in town, and across the road from their house was an open playing field which was now the site of a weekend-long Islami (religious meeting). It was jam-packed full of flowing white Punjabis, flowing white beards and flowing with words.

So I wandered over.

I was greeted with enthusiasm, for here was someone with whom to put into practise that which was being preached. A local mullah greeted me warmly and began regaling me with advantages of the unity of Islam. Unfortunately for him, there was a profusion of different headstyles, and I asked awkward questions about why, if Islam was one, there were so many different groupings. Faced with these sticky questions, people passed me up a ladder of seniority till eventually I was sitting with a head mullah from the capital city.

So, here I am, sitting in a tent, face to face with this very pleasant head mullah. We’re surrounded by an eager crowd of about a hundred faces, bearded and unbearded, all spellbound, waiting to see how this would play out. For about fifteen minutes I listen in fascination to a description of the appeal of Islam – its unity, its brotherhood and its goodness. It’s truly an impressive sales pitch. He’s good.

A few questions for the mullah As he ran out of steam, I began. I said that I agreed with him that our life should be oriented toward Allah and his path. Indeed, to be in communion with Allah should be the goal of our lives. A daily goal. But here I had some questions. When we say prayers, we have to wash so that we are clean and Allah will hear our prayers. ‘Yes.’ And at the next time of prayer I need to wash again. ‘Yes.’ Because in that time I will have become unclean. ‘Yes.’ But what if I want to stay in contact with Allah? What if I want to stay in communion with him: how long can I stay clean? ‘Pardon?’ How long can I stay clean so that I can be in spiritual union with Allah? (Here we get into Asian-style bargaining) An afternoon? But surely that’s not very long…? A weekend like this? But what about when I go back home…?

Eventually we settle on the idea that the most disciplined, the most ascetic, holy man could stay clean for forty days.

A suggestion At this I sigh. ‘Sir, it seems to me that we have a problem. We’re supposed to be slaves to Allah (Abd’Allah). But it looks more like we’re slaves to dirt and pollution. We want to stay clean, we want to stay in communion with Allah. But the world and its pollution touches us and makes us unclean. The world’s pollution is stronger than us. Rather than being slaves to Allah, it looks more like we’re slaves to pollution. It has power over us. Wouldn’t it be good if maybe… just maybe… if Allah’s Holy Spirit (Ruh’Allah)* came into our lives; then his holiness would be more powerful. Instead of the world touching us and making us unclean, the Spirit of Allah could flow through us and touch the world, making it clean. Wouldn’t that be a freedom?’

A response Through this my whole concentration had been on the head mullah. Was he getting angry? Was I going too far? I was watching his face closely for any clues that I should back off.

However, as I spoke about being free from pollution, something broke my concentration. This something was a tangible, an audible, response from the crowd of men listening. There was a palpable sense of, ‘Oh Allah, yes! Wouldn’t that be good!?’ The strength of this response came as a surprise to me, and I was just adjusting to it when I had to readjust to the fact that older, wiser men were chastising people in the crowd – ‘Don’t agree with him’, backed up with a forceful clip round the back of the head.

Ah, time to ease off.

‘No, no, no, you don’t understand. You’re a foreigner.’ ‘You’re right, my friend. I’m just a stupid foreigner. I was just wondering… Just wondering.’ After cups of tea, small talk and Salaams, I leave. Hopefully a seed was sown. Hopefully, those with ears to hear will let that seed grow into good fruit.

As I wandered off, I wondered: had I ever heard a gospel message preached like the one I had just been led to give? Not to my knowledge. And yet this is gospel, good news, to my brothers here. It’s not what many of us would naturally think of as the message of the gospel, but it’s a major part of the message we need to proclaim. I think of it as a piece of music. In the West, we hear the tune of the gospel as having a focus on salvation of the individual from sin by Christ’s atoning sacrifice and God’s grace touching our hearts; it’s a message of love and compassion, with overtones of honouring God. Here, however, the main focus is on the status of Christ, his Lordship meaning he is entitled to save, and God’s grace brings a freedom from pollution and gives material provision (such as food on my plate); the main notes are of honour and the overtones are of love and compassion. Played in the right way, this message can resonate in hearts in a palpable way.

Allah?

Through the ages, Christians have tried to convey the Living Word through the everyday language of the people they are reaching out to. Christians took up the words ‘Theos’ and later ‘Gott’ (amongst may others) to talk about the Creator. Both of these originally had connotations not compatible with God as revealed in the Bible. However, we now read them exclusively as ‘God’. When the message goes to new cultures, we need to find terms that start where people are at, whether that’s in New Guinea, Brazil or the Middle East. Do we drop this custom just for a Muslim neighbour?

‘But surely there is a big difference between the understanding of Allah and the true nature of God?’ True! True indeed. But we all start with a poor understanding of who God is. For some of us he was God the policeman, for others he’s God the kindly grandfather. As we get to know him, these misconceptions are replaced by knowing him in relationship. The people I know who have used the word ‘Allah’ all their life but now know him through Jesus almost all say, ‘I knew Allah before, but now I know him so much better. I see him so much more clearly and my relationship is so much deeper through Jesus.’

Very few of my colleagues want to stop using the word ‘Allah’ in their prayers; instead, the word is infused with new, fresh and dynamic meaning.

/작성자:

The Alter Call

Theology / Church, Arab World

About five thousand men, that would be my guess. The meeting had all the hallmarks of an evangelistic, revival-style gathering, with preaching, meetings and a theme of ‘Let’s win the world for Islam’. I was visiting friends in town, and across the road from their house was an open playing field which was now the site of a weekend-long Islami (religious meeting). It was jam-packed full of flowing white Punjabis, flowing white beards and flowing with words.

So I wandered over.

I was greeted with enthusiasm, for here was someone with whom to put into practise that which was being preached. A local mullah greeted me warmly and began regaling me with advantages of the unity of Islam. Unfortunately for him, there was a profusion of different headstyles, and I asked awkward questions about why, if Islam was one, there were so many different groupings. Faced with these sticky questions, people passed me up a ladder of seniority till eventually I was sitting with a head mullah from the capital city.

So, here I am, sitting in a tent, face to face with this very pleasant head mullah. We’re surrounded by an eager crowd of about a hundred faces, bearded and unbearded, all spellbound, waiting to see how this would play out. For about fifteen minutes I listen in fascination to a description of the appeal of Islam – its unity, its brotherhood and its goodness. It’s truly an impressive sales pitch. He’s good.

A few questions for the mullah As he ran out of steam, I began. I said that I agreed with him that our life should be oriented toward Allah and his path. Indeed, to be in communion with Allah should be the goal of our lives. A daily goal. But here I had some questions. When we say prayers, we have to wash so that we are clean and Allah will hear our prayers. ‘Yes.’ And at the next time of prayer I need to wash again. ‘Yes.’ Because in that time I will have become unclean. ‘Yes.’ But what if I want to stay in contact with Allah? What if I want to stay in communion with him: how long can I stay clean? ‘Pardon?’ How long can I stay clean so that I can be in spiritual union with Allah? (Here we get into Asian-style bargaining) An afternoon? But surely that’s not very long…? A weekend like this? But what about when I go back home…?

Eventually we settle on the idea that the most disciplined, the most ascetic, holy man could stay clean for forty days.

A suggestion At this I sigh. ‘Sir, it seems to me that we have a problem. We’re supposed to be slaves to Allah (Abd’Allah). But it looks more like we’re slaves to dirt and pollution. We want to stay clean, we want to stay in communion with Allah. But the world and its pollution touches us and makes us unclean. The world’s pollution is stronger than us. Rather than being slaves to Allah, it looks more like we’re slaves to pollution. It has power over us. Wouldn’t it be good if maybe… just maybe… if Allah’s Holy Spirit (Ruh’Allah)* came into our lives; then his holiness would be more powerful. Instead of the world touching us and making us unclean, the Spirit of Allah could flow through us and touch the world, making it clean. Wouldn’t that be a freedom?’

A response Through this my whole concentration had been on the head mullah. Was he getting angry? Was I going too far? I was watching his face closely for any clues that I should back off.

However, as I spoke about being free from pollution, something broke my concentration. This something was a tangible, an audible, response from the crowd of men listening. There was a palpable sense of, ‘Oh Allah, yes! Wouldn’t that be good!?’ The strength of this response came as a surprise to me, and I was just adjusting to it when I had to readjust to the fact that older, wiser men were chastising people in the crowd – ‘Don’t agree with him’, backed up with a forceful clip round the back of the head.

Ah, time to ease off.

‘No, no, no, you don’t understand. You’re a foreigner.’ ‘You’re right, my friend. I’m just a stupid foreigner. I was just wondering… Just wondering.’ After cups of tea, small talk and Salaams, I leave. Hopefully a seed was sown. Hopefully, those with ears to hear will let that seed grow into good fruit.

As I wandered off, I wondered: had I ever heard a gospel message preached like the one I had just been led to give? Not to my knowledge. And yet this is gospel, good news, to my brothers here. It’s not what many of us would naturally think of as the message of the gospel, but it’s a major part of the message we need to proclaim. I think of it as a piece of music. In the West, we hear the tune of the gospel as having a focus on salvation of the individual from sin by Christ’s atoning sacrifice and God’s grace touching our hearts; it’s a message of love and compassion, with overtones of honouring God. Here, however, the main focus is on the status of Christ, his Lordship meaning he is entitled to save, and God’s grace brings a freedom from pollution and gives material provision (such as food on my plate); the main notes are of honour and the overtones are of love and compassion. Played in the right way, this message can resonate in hearts in a palpable way.

Allah?

Through the ages, Christians have tried to convey the Living Word through the everyday language of the people they are reaching out to. Christians took up the words ‘Theos’ and later ‘Gott’ (amongst may others) to talk about the Creator. Both of these originally had connotations not compatible with God as revealed in the Bible. However, we now read them exclusively as ‘God’. When the message goes to new cultures, we need to find terms that start where people are at, whether that’s in New Guinea, Brazil or the Middle East. Do we drop this custom just for a Muslim neighbour?

‘But surely there is a big difference between the understanding of Allah and the true nature of God?’ True! True indeed. But we all start with a poor understanding of who God is. For some of us he was God the policeman, for others he’s God the kindly grandfather. As we get to know him, these misconceptions are replaced by knowing him in relationship. The people I know who have used the word ‘Allah’ all their life but now know him through Jesus almost all say, ‘I knew Allah before, but now I know him so much better. I see him so much more clearly and my relationship is so much deeper through Jesus.’

Very few of my colleagues want to stop using the word ‘Allah’ in their prayers; instead, the word is infused with new, fresh and dynamic meaning.

/작성자: