Other

“Abdul, have you ever considered becoming a Christian?” I asked a Muslim friend one day.

“Never!” he exclaimed. “But it makes sense to me that you would want to become a Muslim. We believe in one God, while you worship three gods: the Creator, His son and Mary. And our Muslim women behave properly with men, but most Christian women have very loose morals – have you seen Bay Watch, or those images of western women on the internet? I also cannot understand your eating and drinking habits. We abide by the laws that forbid us to eat pork, and we never drink alcohol. Yet I am told Christians love pork and wine, and that you even use wine during your worship services!”

As a Christian involved in holistic mission, I work predominantly in countries with a Muslim majority. I consider that a privilege and, in many ways, easier than working in a Buddhist or Hindu country. After all, Christians and Muslims have much in common. At the same time, working in an Islamic context has its challenges! One of the biggest challenges is the way Muslims perceive me, a Christian. I often feel looked down upon, because Muslims believe we have “doctored” the Gospel beyond recognition. I feel misunderstood when people think I believe in three gods. I get upset when local people think my wife and daughters are immoral because most of the western films they see portray western women in compromising situations.

The importance of holistic mission: Amongst Muslims there is much that pushes them away from Jesus and the Gospel, especially since many hold the misconception that every white person is a Christian, and thus share Abdul’s disdain of what is perceived as Christians’ lack of moral and spiritual values. How can this gap be minimized? Ultimately, only by the Lord Himself, but Christians who are in contact with Muslims can do a great deal to break down prejudices, to rectify misunderstandings and to remove cultural, social and political barriers to Muslims experiencing the reality of the Gospel. Holistic or integral mission combines the practical expression of the Gospel with the verbal proclamation: “Integral mission or holistic transformation is the proclamation and demonstration of the gospel. It is not simply that evangelism and social involvement are to be done alongside each other. Rather, in integral mission our proclamation has social consequences as we call people to love and repentance in all areas of life. And our social involvement has evangelistic consequences as we bear witness to the transforming grace of Jesus Christ.”

Holistic mission is Biblical because it reflects all that God has been involved in since the beginning of time. It takes the whole Bible seriously, not just sections of the New Testament. I believe in holistic mission because that is the way the early church grew. There were no mission agencies, no teams, no church planting plans, no radio or TV ministries back then. There were new believers, whose lives had been turned around completely, many of whom were from the lowest social strata: slaves. Often their masters noticed the difference, became interested and believed in Christ themselves.

Also, in many Muslim countries, holistic mission is the only way foreigners can be involved. And it is effective! We see Muslims’ attitudes to Christians change as we work among them, to the extent where those in positions of authority tell us: “We need more people like you, with integrity and a commitment to the poor.” Others that we work alongside become curious: “By example you have taught us a lot about servant-type leadership. But I get the impression there is more to it — please tell me…” We then have a chance to share our personal story, and to point to our greatest example, the Lord Jesus.

If we want to relate to Muslims effectively, however, we need to try to see the world as they do. Awareness of the context helps us to communicate in ways that are appropriate.

During our first term in Asia we lived in a local village, in a simple bamboo house with no electricity or running water. Just before we left I asked one of our Muslim neighbours why he thought we had left our own country and family and now lived with them. We were taken aback by his response.

“Well, that is quite obvious,” he said. “You could not find a job in your own country, so you came here, and now you earn more than you could ever have earned at home.”

After the initial shock (my wife and I had both given up good jobs, and now lived on a rather low allowance), it did not take long for me to understand where my neighbour was coming from. There was huge unemployment in the country, and many of its citizens lived and worked in the Gulf: my neighbour had just put two and two together. In his mind, noone would leave behind his extended family unless pushed by unemployment and pulled by the prospect of a salary 5 to 10 times more than he could earn at home.

Throughout the Bible we see God speaking to men and women in their own unique context. The way He spoke through the apostle Paul is a good example. When Paul visited Athens, he “was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols” (Acts 17:16). However, when he spoke with these ‘idol worshippers’, he didn’t condemn them, but rather sought to communicate with them in a way they could understand.

“People of Athens! I see that in every way you are very religious. For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. Now what you worship as something unknown I am going to proclaim to you…” (Acts 17:22- 23). He then proceeded to introduce them to the God who made the world and everything in it, the Lord of heaven and earth, and as a result some of them came to faith in Christ.

The challenge of violence Another major challenge that can come with working in a holistic way is the threat of violence. My wife and I currently work in a country that is at war, and that has a reputation for violence. All our expatriate workers have to deal with the possibility that they may be killed while working out their calling to holistic mission, but knowing that our lives are in God’s hands gives us a solid basis to work from, and a real peace of mind.

However, the violence still affects us – living under threat is not easy and our senses are always on high alert. Even on home assignment a fireworks cracker makes us dive to the ground and one time a jet fighter going through the sound barrier had me with my back against the closest wall.

Part of the challenge that violence poses is the choices we have to constantly make. The people in most need of our help are often in areas with the highest level of violence, and we have to decide when to move into areas of real danger, and when to withdraw. If Christians stay on when most foreigners leave, the local people notice, and interpret our presence as a sign of solidarity, a commitment. However, if we stay too long we may become a burden to them, as they often feel responsible for our safety. Most of us end up finding a balance in this matter, but at best it is always an uneasy balance.

In our organisation we do what we can to prepare people to cope, and even thrive, under the threat of violence. Most of us would not mind dying for the Lord, but we would mind dying out of stupidity. Everyone attends a three day workshop on how to avoid being kidnapped, and if they are, how to survive. We try to be wise as we go about our lives and do not take unnecessary risks. We make sure we know the language and culture and have good relationships with local people.

Do things sometimes go wrong? Yes, sadly they do. If colleagues are kidnapped or killed, we suffer with them. Those who need it can have professional and spiritual counselling and debriefing. To make sure nobody is under any undue pressure we have a rule that anyone can leave the country at any time if they feel the threat or the reality of violence is becoming too much to bear, and we will help make all the necessary arrangements, including support when they arrive home.

The ultimate impact Islam and violence both pose their own unique challenges and opportunity to Christians committed to live to God’s honour and glory through holistic mission. I have stopped worrying about the numbers and about the “quality” of those who turn to Him. I read that it may take up to 200 meaningful moments of contact before someone is ready to turn his or her life over to the Lord. So day by day I make sure that I do not miss the opportunities that I have for such contact to lead people closer to Him.

The biggest impact I have personally seen is amongst the local people who have left the violence and poverty of their home country to seek work or asylum in the West. I remember sitting next to an engineer in a plane; he was going home to spend a month with his family, I was returning to work there in his country for another year. It turned out that we had the same academic degree. With tears in his eyes he said: “Here I am, I have left my own people in order to earn lots of money in the Gulf, but you are going to work with my people. I am deeply ashamed!”

The author and his wife have lived and worked in Islamic countries for decades. They have four adult children who were born and raised in those countries.

Other

The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it. There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe … The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world (John 1:5-9).

As believers, we are called to be a light in the dark places. Unfortunately, though, interactions between Muslims and Christians tend to involve more heat than light. I know people who will happily engage in a debate but who refuse invitations to genuine discussions: they want to win, not to understand.

I have a book containing correspondence between Christians and Muslims, written during the first three centuries of Islam’s development. These letters reveal an amazing lack of understanding of what the other believes. In many ways it can be characterised as:

M: Our prophet is the last and greatest prophet.

C: Oh yeah, well, ours is the light of the world.

M: Oh yeah, well, so is ours. Ours is the light of creation.

C: Well, ours is the word of God.

M: No, he’s a word from God, and to obey the word of our prophet is to obey God himself. So he brings that final word. So there!

C: Well, ours is the Son of God.

M: Oh yuck, that’s a disgusting thought that God would have sex with a woman. Ours is beloved of God from all time.

You get the picture. And, in one form or another, with varying degrees of finesse, this “my prophet is bigger than your prophet” approach to witness has been utilised in much of the dialogue between Muslims and Christians. However, few in each community really know what the other believes. For example, when Christians defend the idea of the Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) to Muslims, they don’t realise that Muslims understand the Trinity to mean “Father, Son and Mary”. And when the tenor of interactions is that of feeling attacked and needing to defend (on both sides), the result is conflict, not relationship.

Many expressions of Islam Persians, Bengalis, Pakistanis, Indonesians: these are all large populations that are mainly Muslim. Indeed in the new Pew Report on Islam in the World we see that most Muslims aren’t Arabs: “More than 60% of the global Muslim population is in Asia and about 20% is in the Middle East and North Africa.”

Each Muslim community has its own flavour and expression of Islam. True, just as going to Catholic Mass or to McDonalds is fairly much the same the world over, Muslims can go to any Mosque in the world and feel at home in the ritual and prayer. But in an unfamiliar community, they may also find outlooks, beliefs and practices that astonish them. In Bangladesh, for example, there are hymns of praise to the prophet Muhammad, which traditionalists in the Middle East are appalled at. And in India there are Muslim holy shrines where people go to pray for children and healing, something which the traditionalists also oppose.

We do ourselves, our message and our Muslim neighbours a disservice when we assume that Islam is a monolithic whole. We need to get to know the individuals and their community, their beliefs, their outlook on the world and who they are in their setting. This will mean asking questions and being willing to listen and learn, and making ourselves available to spend time with them, including sharing meals and attending events together. Don’t be afraid to share the celebration of Christmas, as Muslims honour Jesus and are generally happy to celebrate his birth and share in the Bethlehem story. Similarly, prayer is an expected part of public and private life for Muslims. To offer to pray for your neighbours in their daily experience is usually warmly welcomed. In praying with Muslims we have seen people experiencing healing, peace in difficult times, and provision when it was needed. One man said, “Each time I came here I felt such peace. How could I not respond?”

Called to testify A Christian’s primary role in witness is just that: witness. We testify to what we have seen and heard. We’re not called primarily to argue against someone else’s faith, to counter opposing arguments. We’re called to say what we’ve experienced. We’re called to tell our story.

I have a friend in Bangladesh, whose life was turned around by joining a Sufi group (kind of like a charismatic group headed by saints within Islam); he went from a life of violence and alcohol to one of piety. He discusses Christianity with many people and hasn’t been at all convinced by any arguments.

There is one thing about Christianity, however, that gives him pause for thought: when he asks expatriate Christians, “So, what brought you to Bangladesh?” and they reply, “Because God told me to come”, that rattles his cage!

My friend would dearly love to hear the voice of God. He prays, he practises meditation and follows his saint, but he has never experienced God being with him. And that is the same for many Muslims: although they long to experience God, He is so great and powerful – and distant – that the idea of actually knowing Him, particularly as Father, and hearing from Him, is beyond what they can imagine.

Our witness is our story – are we willing to share it? How did we come to know Jesus? How does He relate to us today? What happens when we pray? Yes, we must know our Bibles, and yes, the more information we have on their faith and ours the better, but the heart of our witness is our story: our experience and our relationship with Jesus.

We are not called to combative oneupmanship; any discussion along the lines of “my prophet is bigger than your prophet” will be fraught with defensiveness and aggression. However, as we build relationships with Muslims, and start to share our story, our testimony, we will be making claims that challenge their beliefs. To say that “I prayed for my neighbour and he was healed” is to say “Jesus heals”. Our Muslim friend will be struck by the idea: “Wait a minute here – Jesus heals. But Muhammad doesn’t.” Similarly, to say “Jesus led me” is to say that Jesus is alive; for a Muslim, Muhammad is dead. We must let these comparisons arise naturally, in the course of our everyday interactions with Muslim friends: if we start to push them, then we will see walls raised very, very quickly. However, with gentle honesty and a simple telling of our ongoing story, we can be public about our faith in a way that expresses our love, and still allows the light of Christ to shine.

Colin Edwards is Team Leader of Interserve’s Urban Vision in the UK. 1http://pewforum.org/docs/?DocID=450

Other

The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it. There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe … The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world (John 1:5-9).

As believers, we are called to be a light in the dark places. Unfortunately, though, interactions between Muslims and Christians tend to involve more heat than light. I know people who will happily engage in a debate but who refuse invitations to genuine discussions: they want to win, not to understand.

I have a book containing correspondence between Christians and Muslims, written during the first three centuries of Islam’s development. These letters reveal an amazing lack of understanding of what the other believes. In many ways it can be characterised as:

M: Our prophet is the last and greatest prophet.

C: Oh yeah, well, ours is the light of the world.

M: Oh yeah, well, so is ours. Ours is the light of creation.

C: Well, ours is the word of God.

M: No, he’s a word from God, and to obey the word of our prophet is to obey God himself. So he brings that final word. So there!

C: Well, ours is the Son of God.

M: Oh yuck, that’s a disgusting thought that God would have sex with a woman. Ours is beloved of God from all time.

You get the picture. And, in one form or another, with varying degrees of finesse, this “my prophet is bigger than your prophet” approach to witness has been utilised in much of the dialogue between Muslims and Christians. However, few in each community really know what the other believes. For example, when Christians defend the idea of the Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) to Muslims, they don’t realise that Muslims understand the Trinity to mean “Father, Son and Mary”. And when the tenor of interactions is that of feeling attacked and needing to defend (on both sides), the result is conflict, not relationship.

Many expressions of Islam Persians, Bengalis, Pakistanis, Indonesians: these are all large populations that are mainly Muslim. Indeed in the new Pew Report on Islam in the World we see that most Muslims aren’t Arabs: “More than 60% of the global Muslim population is in Asia and about 20% is in the Middle East and North Africa.”

Each Muslim community has its own flavour and expression of Islam. True, just as going to Catholic Mass or to McDonalds is fairly much the same the world over, Muslims can go to any Mosque in the world and feel at home in the ritual and prayer. But in an unfamiliar community, they may also find outlooks, beliefs and practices that astonish them. In Bangladesh, for example, there are hymns of praise to the prophet Muhammad, which traditionalists in the Middle East are appalled at. And in India there are Muslim holy shrines where people go to pray for children and healing, something which the traditionalists also oppose.

We do ourselves, our message and our Muslim neighbours a disservice when we assume that Islam is a monolithic whole. We need to get to know the individuals and their community, their beliefs, their outlook on the world and who they are in their setting. This will mean asking questions and being willing to listen and learn, and making ourselves available to spend time with them, including sharing meals and attending events together. Don’t be afraid to share the celebration of Christmas, as Muslims honour Jesus and are generally happy to celebrate his birth and share in the Bethlehem story. Similarly, prayer is an expected part of public and private life for Muslims. To offer to pray for your neighbours in their daily experience is usually warmly welcomed. In praying with Muslims we have seen people experiencing healing, peace in difficult times, and provision when it was needed. One man said, “Each time I came here I felt such peace. How could I not respond?”

Called to testify A Christian’s primary role in witness is just that: witness. We testify to what we have seen and heard. We’re not called primarily to argue against someone else’s faith, to counter opposing arguments. We’re called to say what we’ve experienced. We’re called to tell our story.

I have a friend in Bangladesh, whose life was turned around by joining a Sufi group (kind of like a charismatic group headed by saints within Islam); he went from a life of violence and alcohol to one of piety. He discusses Christianity with many people and hasn’t been at all convinced by any arguments.

There is one thing about Christianity, however, that gives him pause for thought: when he asks expatriate Christians, “So, what brought you to Bangladesh?” and they reply, “Because God told me to come”, that rattles his cage!

My friend would dearly love to hear the voice of God. He prays, he practises meditation and follows his saint, but he has never experienced God being with him. And that is the same for many Muslims: although they long to experience God, He is so great and powerful – and distant – that the idea of actually knowing Him, particularly as Father, and hearing from Him, is beyond what they can imagine.

Our witness is our story – are we willing to share it? How did we come to know Jesus? How does He relate to us today? What happens when we pray? Yes, we must know our Bibles, and yes, the more information we have on their faith and ours the better, but the heart of our witness is our story: our experience and our relationship with Jesus.

We are not called to combative oneupmanship; any discussion along the lines of “my prophet is bigger than your prophet” will be fraught with defensiveness and aggression. However, as we build relationships with Muslims, and start to share our story, our testimony, we will be making claims that challenge their beliefs. To say that “I prayed for my neighbour and he was healed” is to say “Jesus heals”. Our Muslim friend will be struck by the idea: “Wait a minute here – Jesus heals. But Muhammad doesn’t.” Similarly, to say “Jesus led me” is to say that Jesus is alive; for a Muslim, Muhammad is dead. We must let these comparisons arise naturally, in the course of our everyday interactions with Muslim friends: if we start to push them, then we will see walls raised very, very quickly. However, with gentle honesty and a simple telling of our ongoing story, we can be public about our faith in a way that expresses our love, and still allows the light of Christ to shine.

Colin Edwards is Team Leader of Interserve’s Urban Vision in the UK. 1http://pewforum.org/docs/?DocID=450