Second Chances

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Medical / Health

“For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. … Fear the LORD your God and serve Him.” Deuteronomy 10:17–18, 20.

In a culture where conformity is almost necessary for survival and the competition for resources is instinctive, those who are different, weak or suffer from misfortune are quickly marginalised and cast off without the hope of a second chance, compassion or love. But because of people who fear our God and wish to love as He loves, hope can become a reality and transformation a daily part of life.

Sarah* is mother to a nine-year-old boy with a physical disability. He is unable to walk steadily on his own without a walking frame. But Sarah is reluctant to let him use the walking frame as it would mark him out as a ‘crippled’ person. Sarah has struggled to come to terms with her son’s condition and holds on to the hope that he could be totally cured one day. As a result, Sarah carries him in her arms wherever they go, causing her stress and exhaustion.

Sarah and her son live alone in the city with no connection to family or friends. Her husband is in prison and they are far away from family support. There is neglible government assistance available, and schools can refuse a child enrolment because of their disability. Not only does Sarah need to manage her son’s therapies by herself, she lives in constant fear of debt collectors. In a society where marriage and children are upheld as every woman’s happiness, Sarah is ostracised by those who were once her friends and by strangers who throw insults when they see her son struggling to walk upright. There were many days when Sarah would lock herself and her son at home, avoiding any contact with the outside world and not knowing when or how relief might come.

By chance, Sarah heard about a group of local Christians who had set up a resource centre specifically to support children with disabilities and their parents. This group, in turn, has been supported by the work of Interserve Partners.

Sarah reluctantly attended one event. She was overwhelmed by the support, love and understanding shown to her. For the first time she didn’t feel despised or discriminated against. Gradually Sarah started to smile more, chat with other parents and, most importantly, enjoy her relationship with her son. As Jesus’ love surrounded her, she began to see her son for his strengths rather than his disabilities.

It would be so wonderful for Sarah, and for the people ministering to her, if this was where her story ended. But the road ahead is long and at times very uncertain. Sarah will need to continue to struggle against battles both from without and within. I feel privileged to have had the chance to share, in a very small way, a part of Sarah’s life and the lives of those who continue to minister to her.

*Name has been changed

The author is a psychologist who recently served On Track with Interserve in East Asia

God the Master Craftsman

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Education

A month and a half into my time in South Central Asia, standing by my door ready to go to work and looking at the snow covered trees and the crisp blue sky, I knew, with a heavy certainty, that my life would never, could never, be the same again. My whole view of the world had shifted. I can’t put my finger on what exactly prompted the shift but the epiphany was profound and would endure through a range of experiences.

In the weeks and months that followed, I was evacuated twice to different cities. My little house was rocked by a bomb blast and gunfire reverberated all around my compound. I heard stories of fellow workers gunned down. I saw my long-term colleagues grapple with the death of friends and the genuine security threat it heralded, but more so, with the implications of having to leave as all non-essential personnel were evacuated. What would happen to the men and women they employed? What would happen to local families? What would happen to the people being served through various projects? What would happen to their friendships? The minds and hearts of my colleagues were for the people they love and serve.

I was privileged to see some of the work being done. I visited a hospital that had served the country through some incredible regime changes. Not only had the hospital brought healing to thousands, locals were equipped and empowered to take over the hospital’s management. I had seen groups of women meeting together in homes learning, for the first time, to do basic mathematics and to read. I saw hope and dignity in their eyes as they too were empowered to use their gifts and talents to run their own businesses and help their families. I saw university students and professionals alike, learning to speak English and engaging with global issues in a country that had been sheltered from the outside world for years. I heard stories of prison ministries and classes on hygiene and parenting. Work was being done amongst counselors and psychologists to help a generation traumatized by years of war and by the mistreatment of women in particular. This is just a sampling of the work being done.

“I don’t understand. I heard that none of you get paid. You are volunteers. You leave behind your comfortable lives in the west and come here to work with us. Why would anyone do that?” It was a question one of my students asked me and it was a sentiment I heard echoed in various ways. After the second evacuation and when I settled into the new city where I would see through the remaining two months, I had the opportunity to run literature circles with a range of professionals and businessmen. Together, we studied a graded version of Les Miserables. It was fascinating to see them grapple with the extraordinary acts of kindness and forgiveness and grace as presented in the text. Self-sacrificial acts of grace were considered “utter foolishness”. It made no sense to them whatsoever and yet there was something undeniably life-giving about not only the actions but the people practicing it. Why do people do this? Because they are compelled by a greater love.

I imagine it was primarily this love which made it difficult for some of the long-termers to leave. Ultimately, this love comes from above and since our trust is in a God who is not swayed by circumstances, we can rest assured that He will complete the good work He has begun.

In addition to the tangible love I saw being practiced by our brothers and sisters, I was honored to get a little glimpse into the incredible and powerful way God works in us and through us in the world that He loves. The way God protected His people during a bomb attack targeting believers was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring. Little moments of apparent serendipity illuminated God’s hand, such as the fact that I could stay in country to see out my four months since I am a teacher and a teacher was needed in another city when people were being evacuated. Even the fact that I studied philosophy, arguably one of the most useless of degrees, opened doors to have conversations with people about the problem of evil and sin, grace and forgiveness, the nature of God and other powerful and fruitful concepts.

Although it is hard for me to see it, since I am living it, one of the startling things about my experience there was the reaction of long-term workers to the very fact that I exist. I know that sounds strange and it is strange for me, but you see, I was born in South Central Asia and the emotional connection is still there. My family left when I was two years old and came to Australia. How this all came to be is another story; a story that again illuminates God as a master craftsman of destiny.

As I grew up and saw year after year of war, and later, of oppression as girls were forbidden to go to school, I felt so incredibly privileged to have the indulgent opportunity to study for the pure enjoyment of studying –for the intrinsic value of learning. There was a very real sense that my life could have been so very different. It was encouraging for me to be back in my birth country, to see the genuine progress being made and the years of love and toil that brothers and sisters had poured into the country. There was an understanding too, though, that much remains to be done. The country still has one of the lowest literacy rates in the world, especially amongst women. While the rate of children in school has risen markedly, there is much to be done within the education sector.

The love that has been modeled for me by long-term brothers and sisters over there; the love for the locals and the country that in some sense is mine; and the incredible life-giving love that I have experienced from above, all compel me now to explore ways to serve long term in this place.

The author served On Track with Interserve in South Central Asia

Reflections on Tangible Love

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Theology / Church

Emily is an Interserve Partner, currently preparing to serve long term in a very difficult part of Asia. She hasn’t left yet, but her journey began a long time ago. Here she reflects on Jesus’ call to make His love tangible in the world, and on the people and challenges she’s met along the way.

When I think of the concept of ’tangible love’ I think of my Nan. She passed away a couple of years ago. What I remember most about her was how her life was characterised by a quiet, joyful, servant heart. Even until her last waking moments, she was knitting little booties for the neonatal intensive care unit. She knitted hundreds of those little booties and toys for the babies. She even made tiny hospital gowns for the premature babies. She never got up on her soapbox to ‘go tell the world’ (though she did need one to reach the wool for those booties), yet her motivation for doing these things was never hidden. Unlike her tea (white, no sugar, three dunks of the tea bag please) her faith was strong. Her faith was simple yet deep. She had Jesus and that’s all she needed. She loved Him. Her servant heart and gentle character spoke volumes about God’s love to me and those who knew her.

Nan’s life displayed tangible love. In thinking about tangible love, two prevailing thoughts come to mind.

Tangible love is made possible because Christ first loved us
Nan’s seemingly endless and unconditional love for others was a reflection of Jesus’ love for her. It wasn’t until I made a personal decision to follow Christ with my whole life, and experienced this love that conquers all, that I understood how one could make love tangible without expecting something in return. Now, I know that the source and strength to make love tangible is a response to the love God has lavished on us: that “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). Moreover, I have found that as I grow in my faith and walk closer with the Lord that it grows more natural to live a life characterised by tangible love. My prayer echoes Paul’s prayer for the Thessalonians: “May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else” (1 Thess 3:12).

Christ’s love compels us
There was a time when Christ’s love was so tangible it was overwhelming. There was a little old lady in a hospital in Kolkata, India. She looked downcast when I walked in the room. She had lost all her fingers as a result of leprosy. I was filled with compassion for her, a love that was not my own, but Christ’s love.

I wrestled in my mind for a moment, then I looked into her eyes and took her fingerless hands in mine. It was the first time I had touched a person with leprosy. Although I didn’t know a word of her language, as she told her story our hearts connected and her eyes welled with tears. Love was tangible in that room.

I was compelled to reach out that day and take her hand. That day, 2 Corinthians 5:14–15 took on new meaning for me: “For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again”.

Tangible love accepts risk and sacrifice
Tangible love is an expression of agape love, which by definition is unconditional and self-sacrificial.

Whenever we love in tangible ways, there is some sort of sacrifice, whether it is time or money that could have been spent in other ways. However, for those called to serve the Lord overseas, counting the cost of following Jesus can be much more. For some it can mean losing your life because of and while loving in tangible ways. This became the story for Tom (surname withheld) in Central Asia. His wife, Libby, has also counted the cost, yet in the midst of her loss continues to live her life as a living sacrifice for God’s glory.

As my husband and I prepare for serving the Lord overseas we have grappled with the concept of risk and sacrifice. We have chosen to leave our well-paying jobs and comfortable home to live in one of the poorest and least developed nations in Asia. In fact, when my passion started to come alive for this country, it was home to the fourth most persecuted church in the world. It was this church’s ‘counting the cost of following Jesus’, this acceptance of risk and possible sacrifice that enlivened my heart to pray for this nation. I admired this faith that had counted the cost, and this people’s conclusion that choosing to love Jesus was worth it. I desired that my faith would grow strong like theirs and that one day I could serve the Lord alongside them.

Perfect love casts out fear
People ask me whether I have thought about the sacrifices we have made in our decision to serve in a developing nation or whether we fear for our safety or health. In this journey we have considered many potential situations and our response to them. We are also aware that our decisions affect others, and that our families are also making sacrifices over which they have no control. When we are faced with these questions, we choose to follow Jesus and His plans for us. When we focus on Him and his love for all people, our fear of risk subsides because “there is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18) and “God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline” (2 Tim 1:7).

We know that we can trust Him because of what we have already seen Him do. We have seen Him protect us, direct our paths and do the impossible in our lives. He is faithful. We remember that God does not promise that we will be ‘safe’, but He is good and promises that He will be with us (Is 41:10, Matt 28:20, Heb 13:5). We know that our eternity is secure in Him. We have come to peace in our decision to follow Jesus and to make His love tangible among the neediest people in the world. We pray that our families will be filled with the same peace, and that they also fix their eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith.

Tangible love points to Jesus
Demonstrating Christ’s love is not possible in our own strength. Rather, tangible love is Christ loving through us. It is a sustainable love because its source is eternal. Christ’s love never spoils, fades or runs dry. Tangible love isn’t motivated by trying to earn approval, favour or forgiveness from God. Nor does it expect to be loved in return. We love because Christ first loved us (1 John 4:19).

As I reflect on tangible love, my desire is that my whole life is lived as a living sacrifice to the Lord in response to God’s great mercy and reflecting His love (Rom 12:1). May the way that we live out our lives be a beacon, a lighthouse, that points to Jesus wherever we are and in whatever circumstances we are in. This, to me, is tangible love.

Do Muslim women need saving

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Other, Arab World

Do Muslim women need saving?[1]

In May 2014, while I was on an extended retreat, God spoke to me from Exodus 3 about women who live in Islamic contexts: “Cathy, I have heard their cry, I know the burden they are under. I want to bring them out from under that burden, and I am sending you.” It was reiterated recently when, during worship, God gave me a picture. I saw the joy of His people worshipping together, dancing and celebrating, and among them I saw some women wearing hijabs and burkas. But then He pointed me to a well, and huddled beside it was a woman who looked poverty- stricken, broken and afraid, and who was being completely ignored by the worshipping community. As Jesus invited me to see this overlooked woman with His eyes my heart was broken with compassion.

Women worldwide experience many injustices, and for women living under Islam there is further injustice when religion is used to justify these abuses. The facts on maternal mortality, poverty, discrimination in education, violence, killings in the name of honour, female genital mutilation, to name just a few, are terrible. Despite the Millennium Development Goals, CEDAW [2], 2 wars,and NGO projects focussed on women, the situation for women who live under Islam is improving only superficially.

Some recent trends in mission strategies have also seen Muslim women marginalised from the good news. For example, the emphasis on ‘reach the male head of the household and you will reach the community’ has made cultural assumptions that have isolated women, as research indicates that the gospel in Muslim communities rarely crosses the gender divide. As one believer from a Muslim background said, when asked if he had shared the good news with his wife, “Why would I? She is just an illiterate village woman.” But, within Islam,women are both the greatest keepers of tradition and the most radical voices for change – this makes them important for transformation in the world of Islam. Even extremists have recognised that empowered women are the foundation of stable and resilient communities [3], and have brutally attacked women and their rights. The Church and mission workers must also recognise the importance of the role of women in the spread of the good news.

There are Muslim women who are calling for change. They are creating a space for conversation and action, challenging accepted norms and casting a vision for changed societies. As a Christian I want to join hands with them; I want to add into that conversation the values, example and good news of the kingdom of God so that, like the woman at the well in her encounter with Jesus, these women too might be invited into friendship with Jesus and become agents of transformation
in their communities.

I dream of seeing Christian women from Asia and the Arab world becoming part of that call for change, advocates for justice, developing their own contextual theology and challenging the conditions for all women who live under Islam. It is the Gospel, and its embrace of weakness and self-sacrifice, and the
power of the Holy Spirit to comfort, transform and heal, that will bring transformation and reconciliation.

This requires a new missiology for inviting women who live under Islam to friendship with Jesus. It needs to be one that connects with their reality, challenges injustice and offers transformation through encounter with Jesus Christ.

Dr Cathy Hine is our guest speaker for Interserve Day on 2 May 2015. Register and pay at www.interserve.org.nz or call us on 0800 446 464.

[1]: From title of book by anthropologist Lila Abu-Lughod;
[2]: Convention to Eliminate All forms of Discrimination Against Women;
[3]: Women are the best weapon in the war against terrorism, http://foreignpolicy.com, 10 February 2015.

An MK perspective on community

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Other, Other

GO asked two missionary kids to reflect on what community means to them – the strengths and highlights of growing up on the field, their experience of community as they transitioned to living in Australia, and how the Christian community in Australia can support MKs.

Sophie

We lived at a boarding school for missionary kids in the north of Pakistan, where my parents were teachers, and it was incredible experience doing church and community with such a range of nationalities and church backgrounds. It was great to learn from each other and see Jesus as such an important commonality. It was a blessing to be part of a close-knit Christian community, all living onsite or close and sharing so much of our lives with each other. We called everyone who wasn't a teacher auntie and uncle. I really missed this coming back to Australia where we have very individualistic tendencies, not really knowing our neighbours or inviting people into our homes as much.

Transitioning to living in Australia was a little bit of a shock. It felt hard to connect with people, even as a teenager, and now with hindsight I can attribute feelings of isolation to this less-involved community life, even in our churches. I think we need to work harder to be culturally different here. The MK network was my closest and most-at-home-feeling community for a number of years when we got back, and it's hard to explain why, other than that we have shared experiences and it’s easier to just ‘get’ each other.

What is helpful for one family or individual might not be helpful for the next, but in general the Christian community can support and encourage MKs by keeping in communication and taking an interest in those who are on the field in a two-way capacity; don't just ask them questions but let them get to know you too. Don't treat them as a phenomenon when they return, but give them room to be who they are and feel as ‘mk’ as the want to feel, while exploring who they are in other capacities, most importantly as a child of God hopefully.

Alison

I spent nine years in Nepal as an MK with my parents. Nepali people tend to be quite community oriented and there were kind people from our church, from the hospital where my Dad worked and people who worked for our family who welcomed us into their lives. The missionary community was also a highlight. With on average seven kids in the small school, the one teacher was more like an auntie than just a teacher.

I also attended a Christian boarding school for a couple of years while my parents were on the field. Though I found it hard to be away from my family at times, being at boarding school was great fun. With about 350 kids, it was also a helpful transition between my small village school and my school in Australia with 1000 students. Starting at the Australian school was overwhelming; a couple of the students tried deliberately to shock me in my first few days, but it was generally a fairly accepting place, which contributed to me settling in.

I found some great support in my church youth group and a girls’ Bible study group. It was in this group that I grew a lot in my faith and understanding of God. Another great source of community for me was the Missionary Kids Network. My brother, sister and I caught up with MK friends at annual camps and Interserve weekends. From our common experiences we could share about leaving ‘home’ to come back to our parents’ ‘home’ that was not really home for us at all. I often did not feel very Aussie … in fact my feelings and reactions often seemed to be much more Nepali.

My family was also a great source of community for me, and we helped each other when it was tough. During the time we’d been in Nepal our extended families had been great at keeping in touch with us, so when we came back our cousins were already our good friends. Church friends or people in the mission agency can play a significant role during home assignment, which is a busy time for parents. Taking MKs out to do special, fun things with them is helpful. On one home assignment I remember a wonderful lady from Interserve taking us out ice-skating with her children.

The fruit and joy of gospel mission: the church

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Theology / Church, Other

Stuart Coulton is the Principal of Sydney Missionary and Bible College (SMBC). He was key-note speaker at the Interserve Encounters Conference in New South Wales in July 2014. This is an extract of his address.

Paul’s first letter to the church in Thessalonica reveals both the fruit of gospel mission – the community of God’s people, the Church; and also the joy of gospel mission – the community of God’s people, the Church!

In 1 Thessalonians 1:3 Paul picks up a common theme: faith, love and hope. “We continually remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labour prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.” John Calvin called this “a brief definition of true Christianity”.

Firstly, the Thessalonians had faith which produced work. It was by God’s grace that they were saved – through faith. But genuine faith produces genuine good works that adorn the gospel.

Secondly, they had love which produced labour. The difference between work and labour is more rhetorical than substantial; however, labour here carries with it the idea of weariness, an exhaustion that flows from hard and unceasing labour. That is helpful; the labour produced by love wears itself out for others.

We don’t know what that actually looked like in the Thessalonian context but there was something conspicuous about their love because news of it spread throughout the region. Whether it was forgiving those who wronged them; treating women with respect in a society that generally did not; caring for the poor; making themselves servants of others; replacing anger with gentleness, malice with kindness and greed with generosity – the opportunities for love were everywhere.

Thirdly, they had hope. Every chapter of Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonian church draws to a close with Paul speaking of the return of Jesus (1:10, 2:19, 3:13, 4:17, 5:23). Our Christian hope is not incidental to our faith. Our hope produces endurance that endures hardship and persecution for the sake of an eternal crown.

How did this all happen?

The gospel was preached to them (1:5). It is the gospel that motivates and shapes all Christian behaviour. Our future pastors and church planters, church workers and cross-cultural missionaries, those we send out to overseas mission field and we ourselves must be men and women who are Christ centred, gospel centred.

The Holy Spirit came with power (1:5). John Stott said:
We must never divorce what God has married.
The Word of God is the Spirit’s sword.
The Spirit without the Word is weaponless;
The Word without the Spirit is powerless.

FRUIT: the result of Spirit-anointed gospel ministry

The Thessalonian community turned from their worship of idols to serve the living true God! (1:9). A fundamental reorientation occurred that changed forever the direction and character of their lives.

They became imitators of Christ (1:6). What a stunning evidence of faith in Jesus! Love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, self-control, goodness, kindness, faithfulness. People who had led self-centred lives, lives that ignored even rebelled against God, were now living lives that yielded the fruit of the Spirit.

They became a model to others (1:7–8). Like the sound of a trumpet or the roll of thunder that reverberates through the mountains in an echo, so the model of faith set by the Thessalonians as they imitated (mimicked) the Lord Jesus reverberated everywhere!

When the north-African city of Alexandria was stricken with plague in the middle of the 3rd century, Dionysius a Christian bishop wrote that:
Most of our brother-Christians showed unbounded love and loyalty, never sparing themselves and thinking only of one another. Heedless of the danger, they took charge of the sick…drawing on themselves the sickness of their neighbours and cheerfully accepting their pains. Many, in nursing and curing others, transferred their death to themselves and died in their stead … The best of our brothers lost their lives in this manner … The heathen behaved in the very opposite way. At the first onset of the disease they pushed the sufferers away and fled … treating unburied corpses as dirt, hoping thereby to avert the spread and contagion of the fatal disease… (HE 7; 22:10)

Even the 4th century non-Christian Roman Emperor Julian complained that Christians cared not only for their own poor but for the unbelieving poor also: a community of God’s people, born out of gospel preaching by the power of God’s Holy Spirit.

JOY: Paul rejoices in the church

It is this community of God’s people, the church, which is the source and focus of Paul’s joy. In the New Testament the Church is spoken of as the body of Christ, the Bride of Christ, sheep for whom the shepherd lays down his life, God’s own family, His adoptive sons and daughters. God’s affection for His people, His love for the church is everywhere in the Scriptures. And Paul shares something of that affection. Notice the language he uses:

In 1 Thessalonians 2, Paul uses the imagery of both mother (vs 7) and father (vs 11–12) to speak of his relationship with the believers in Thessalonica. He writes that, “We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us” (2:8).

Later in chapter 2 Paul speaks of being torn away and of his intense longing (2:17) for the community of believers, and describes the church as “our hope, our joy … the crown in which we will glory …” (2:19).

It is the language of love! And it is the church that Paul is speaking of. Is that how you feel about the community of God’s people, formed out of the preaching of the gospel and by the power of the Spirit?

So what is the reason for Paul’s joy? Paul sees the church not from a human point of view but from God’s point of view. His perspective is an eternal, heavenly one rather than a temporary and earthly view.

PRAYER: the fruit of joy

Finally, what is the fruit of joy? In 2:17–3:8 Paul has been describing the deep-hearted affection he has for the church, his fears for their well-being when persecution forced him and his companions to leave at short notice, and his perspective on the church as a work that will last into eternity.

In 3:9–13, Paul prays! The fruit of our joy in the community of God’s people is prayer (3:9). Notice the substance of his prayers:
• the opportunity to visit and supply what is lacking in their faith (vs 10–11)
• increased love for one another such that it breaks the banks and overflows to deluge everyone (vs 12)
• strength to be holy and blameless as they wait for the return of Jesus (vs 13).

These are big pastoral prayers that will have an eternal impact. Paul’s prayer is a reminder that it is our work as Christian men and women to pray.

JI Packer says, “… prayer is the measure of the man, spiritually, in a way that nothing else is, so that how we pray is as important a question as we can ever face”.

Seeking community: the church and the refugee

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Hospitality, Other

“I’m not in a good situation right now.”

Daryush stares at the floor of the church hall with glazed eyes, cup in hand (two teabags, four sugars). The words slowly spill out in broken English. He had just spent the last of that fortnight’s money on antibiotics when his caseworker called. “They move me again. I have to be ready tomorrow morning. He not explain why.” Moving means leaving his only near-culture friend and finding his way in yet another neighbourhood – his fourth since arriving in Australia three years ago. Then came an email from his family in his home country. Daryush’s parents, who are strict in their faith, know he has become a believer and want nothing more to do with him. He blinks back tears. I ask what he will do now. The cup quivers. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

*

We still haven’t become used to the weight of stories like these, a common part of our work with asylum seekers, refugees and new migrants in Sydney’s northwest. Of course, there are the stories of cruelty and oppression we expect for asylum seekers – of torture, arrest, police brutality, religious hatred. There is the constant heartache of those who have left everything and everyone to make that perilous journey to seek safety in Australia. We expect to hear that much. What we weren’t prepared for were the ways these stories continue within our own borders.

It wasn’t so long ago that our Prime Minister launched his policy of deterrence of so-called ‘illegal’ attempts at asylum with these words: “This is our country. We determine who comes here, and the circumstances in which they come.” Since then, we’ve learned what that word ‘we’ – that tiny, yet powerful word – can mean for asylum seekers, and what it betrays about Australia’s sentiments. ‘We’ decides who comes here. ‘We’ are not obliged to assess ‘you’, accommodate ‘you’, or tolerate ‘you’. When asylum seekers, refugees and others from across the seas are so framed, the gap between settled Aussies and these unsettled others begins to widen.

For friends of ours like Daryush, that gap is only getting wider. After years in a detention centre, he was released and given permission to live ‘in community’; two years later, though, I remain his only Australian friend. When I express my surprise at this, he tells me story after story of trying to strike up conversations on trains, at the shops, or waiting for the bus. “Nobody talks to me.” He laughs. “Maybe because I’m brown. Maybe they think I’m a terrorist.” For Daryush, and for thousands more, this is the distressing irony of life ‘in community’. Surrounded by Australians, there is no-one to welcome him home, no-one to talk to over a cup of chai, no-one to show him the best picnic spots, no-one to listen. Instead, unable to meaningfully structure his days, he spends most of his time alone, thinking of a family far away and waiting, perhaps, for the phone to ring.

The church of God stands ready to resist this gap between ‘we’ and ‘you’. We ourselves live in a community carved out by the unrelenting beat of God’s heart for the unworthy; while “…all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23), God saw fit to pursue us and to give us new life at the cost of His dear Son. ‘We’, like the refugee, could contribute little, but stood to gain so much through that love and the love of His people. And, so loved and transformed, we are now able to love and include others in the same way – not plagued by anxiety about our resources or our national security or even our awkward post-church morning-tea conversations. Instead, we are to be haunted by the stories of our spiritual ancestors (themselves a displaced people – Deut 10:18–19), by our Lord’s words of welcome for all who bear His image (Matt 25:35–40).

In our corner of this city, we’re having a crack at being this kind of welcoming church community for the asylum seekers and new migrants among us. At times, it means providing bags of groceries, mobile phone credit and other essentials, but we’ve been most surprised and encouraged by what happens when we gather around the dinner table. In this, the ministry of the roast chook and prefab pavlova, the refugee and the student can mingle with locals, and friendship and trust begins. We’ve laughed, we’ve shared, we’ve learnt new things. Occasionally, we’ve cried. Almost always, we’ve planned to meet again. And through these meals, we’ve seen people from far-off lands draw closer to the One who Himself became a refugee, if only for a little time (Matt 2:13–14).

It’s not always easy, and we are never far away from rehearsing those same tired divisions between ‘we’ and ‘you.’ But we are convinced that our commitment to both ‘word’ and ‘deed’ cannot be delegated to an NGO or a faraway mission agency. Our church – and yours – has a rich opportunity to invite refugees and new migrants into our community. Why not have a go?

*

Steam fogs the windows as we open the crockpots and serve up. Daryush, along with four other asylum seekers and two international students, has joined us to mark Persian New Year. There is red wine, kebabs, and even our feeble attempt at Persian rice. Many hours of comparing cultures and faiths follows. Daryush is quiet – this is meant to be a time when the pain of the old year is forgotten, though there is little chance of that when no-one knows what might happen to him tomorrow, or the day after. But, as he leaves that evening (leftovers in hand), he smiles and embraces me. “Thank-you”, he whispers. “Thanks, God, for you, my family.”

If you would like to know more about how you and your church can connect with asylum seekers, refugees or new migrants in your area, contact CultureConnect via cultureconnect.isa@gmail.com

The authors are Interserve Partners, serving in Australia with CultureConnect.

Capturing Nepal

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Since 2008 Rowan Butler has worked in Kathmandu as part of the communications team of International Nepal Fellowship (INF), a Christian development organisation. His main work is in photography, promoting INF’s worldwide profile to raise human and financial resources so it can serve the people of Nepal through health and development work. Rowan, who previously worked as an electrical engineer with the United Mission to Nepal, is also occasionally consulted on engineering problems.

These stories recount Rowan’s interaction with two very different Nepali children: one in the course of his normal work, photographing an INF medical camp; and the second in a chance encounter, part of living life together with Nepali friends.

Ram
Eight years old, undernourished at 15kg and sad looking, I met Ram* as he waited on a chair along with his uncle before he went into surgery to remove a bladder stone. No one could cheer him up. The operation was done at an INF medical camp by a surgeon from New Zealand who had volunteered for the medical camp and paid all his own expenses to come to Nepal, travel to a remote location and stay in a local hotel.

This camp had the luxury of being run in a small hospital, but some take place in remote areas in ordinary buildings and without the benefit of wards for patients to recover in. They are run specifically for the poor and sometimes people like Ram walk for days over steep country to get treatment.

Finally, a smile from Ram! He was feeling much better and his mother had bought him a toy digger and he was enjoying playing with it.

The Kumari

She was being carried down the street at night, a small party accompanying her. Ahead walked a man carrying a burning torch and above her was held a large parasol, trimmed in red and gold. This was the Kumari of the Patan area, the living goddess, that Hindus believe is the incarnation of the goddess Durga. She was on her way to visit my friend Ritesh’s relatives, as they are descended from the ancient Malla kings of the Kathmandu Valley. There are a number of Kumaris in the Kathmandu Valley, all representing the same goddess. She remains set apart until she reaches puberty, at which time she returns to normal life and another girl is chosen.

On another occasion, she was in public for a festival and I took pictures of her. Then after she was taken inside and I was packing up my camera, I was asked if I would like to go in and take more photos of her.

On telling one Nepali friend that I had photographed the Kumari in private, he seemed to barely believe it, and Nepali colleagues at INF seemed astounded. Perhaps it is like being invited in to photograph the Queen!

The Kumari’s mother had asked if she could have copies of the pictures, so I went back later with prints and took two items to give the Kumari as a gift; one a game, because she is really just a girl, and the other, a small Nepali book in comic form about the life of Jesus. It's not often that one has the chance to present the gospel to someone who is considered a god.

Rowan is an Australian Presbyterian World Mission missionary with Interserve, which in turn seconds him to the International Nepal Fellowship.

*Names have been changed

From one community to another

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“Beloved, it is a faithful thing you do in all your efforts for these brothers. You will do well to send them on their journey in a manner worthy of God.” 3 John, 5–8 ESV.

“We are to grow up…into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.” Ephesians 4:15–16 ESV.

The team in Central Asia has a beautiful cultural and denominational diversity. We are supported by dozens of sending communities from places as far-flung as Germany, New Zealand, Korea, and even China. Despite such varied backgrounds, there is a palpable sense of unity and shared vision when we come together for our annual conference. This year, through a series of talks by Dr Chris Wright, we were encouraged to consider the importance of community in the context of God’s redemptive mission. As we studied Ephesians and worshipped together, I found myself reflecting on the strength and love of my sending community back in Australia, who support my work and generously allow me to invest in this place.

When anyone starts thinking about leaving their passport country for overseas mission, the first question that must be asked is how their church community can support them. The early church provides some wonderful examples. One of my favourites is in Acts 15 where the congregation in Antioch rejoices over the encouragement in a letter from the Jerusalem church. I think I know how they felt, having rejoiced in a similar way over letters and emails! With this in mind, I decided to ask some of my co-workers about their experiences.

Sent by community

R has been in Central Asia for nine years, involved in theological education. She was in her early fifties when she first considered taking her work overseas. “When I first thought of going, my friends and colleagues resoundingly said, ‘Yes! Go! We’ll support you in every way we know how’.” That support has been unceasing; for example, there is a group of women clergy that has met for many years to pray for missions. When I go back on home assignment we always have a meal together. I hear about what they’re doing and it‘s wonderful. Such funny stories! We share our joys, difficulties, hopes. It is a source of mutual encouragement.’

There are many other practical ways that the church can remind its overseas workers that they are valued members of the sending community:

“Receiving care packages is a big deal. Some of my favourite things are coffee beans, handwritten notes and nice stationery. It’s not just the material blessing of small things – sometimes by the time I get the parcel other people have gone through it and it’s always sad if something’s missing – but it’s knowing that someone has cared for me and carefully considered what I’d like. And gone to the expense.” (B, from Holland)

“I had a group from my church come and visit. It was the best thing they’ve done for me. Even though there’s cost involved on both sides, you can’t put a price on a shared experience. They saw how I lived and who I worked with, and had direct experience of my daily challenges and relationships. Now they can pray for me and visualise my life, and I feel deeply satisfied to know that.” (C, from the UK)

“I’m awful at writing letters and am always behind with my emails, but I still love hearing from people. It opens up my own perspective in various ways, as lives are shared. I can think of them as I pray for them, as they pray for me. It’s a shared thing.” (R, from Australia)

On the whole, our workers in Central Asia seem to feel well-supported by their churches; so, does this influence the way they contribute to their new community in Central Asia? After all, part of the role of a partner is to foster our team on the ground.

Building new community

This can be a difficult reality. Central Asian life is rarely easy and never simple, and the routines we used to take for granted now require a surge of effort: finding ingredients for a balanced meal, catching public transport, paying bills, communicating basic concepts in a second language. Life takes a lot of energy. And yet, building community doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, it can be as simple as offering friendship and caring for people. The tried and true buddy system, where an experienced partner helps to orientate a newly arrived worker, is the first step in this important process.

“I make it my business to meet new people and do what I can for them. When I first arrived, I remember someone telling me not to expect anyone to invite me to dinner because they’re all too stressed themselves. And yet I’ve been enriched by being an orientation buddy to so many people, and connecting them with others. I want people to feel like they belong because we are all very scattered with our work: women’s evenings, for instance, young parents, different ethnicities. It’s not easy here! We must provide a sense of belonging.” (R, from Australia)

“Arrival can be very traumatic. Experienced partners need to meet people, go with them to new places. You have to do community on the ground; one of the most important things is just being a friend. Why not invest in new arrivals? They’re God’s people. You miss out if you don’t.” (S, from America)

For my part, I’m profoundly grateful to be part of the community here. It is manifested in different ways: in my small group that meets to eat, pray and share together; in a wide variety of friendships; in the pastoral and professional care that I receive.

But it doesn’t end there.

Bridging communities

My relationship with my sending community is not one-way. They have sent me out with financial support, prayers and blessings; how can I bless them in return?
• By communicating a vivid, honest picture of this country and its needs, so that they can pray in an informed and specific way, with love in their hearts.
• By encouraging them to see a broader picture of God’s work in the world, and communicating as much as I can about the work of our company.
• By sharing good news and answers to prayer, so that they can rejoice.

Whether we are serving God in our passport country or overseas, we can’t do it in isolation. The body of Christ is called to be in community, and it is the particular blessing of workers to participate in numerous communities. When the time comes for me to return to Australia, I’ll have an enriched understanding of the sending church’s role; I’m pretty excited to see what my part will be.

Transition

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It felt like ages but it was such a short time…That time between seeing the support come in and leaving.
The uncertainty.
To pack or keep going with life as it is.
To move around or stay put.
To organise one more visit or have time for yourself.
To invest in new relationships – or not.
To communicate with supporters and not to spam.
To research, understand or be overwhelmed and pause
To watch relationships change – yours with others, others with others, groups and organisations that you care about shift and bend.

With one email, it changes.
“Congrats guys, you can buy tickets.”
The excitement and the fear.
The packing and unpacking.
The suitcases and scales.
The cleaning and dumping.
The coffees and the crying.
The times to meet people.
The people you have no time to meet.
The crowds and commissioning.
The solitary and the sad.

It takes a community to raise a child. It takes a community to do life. It is in community that the kingdom is glimpsed, a future hope present today.

It is community that is ripped away.
No shared history
No inside jokes
No common understanding
No one with the same experiences.
No one.
Ever.

Old friendships are like a favourite jumper. Warm and familiar. Comforting and secure. Loved, patches healed and memories stored within the stretchmarks.

But summer is here and the times for wearing jumpers is few and far between.

The summer wardrobe awaits.
New. Unfamiliar. Ill-fitting in places.
Clean and unweathered.

And so tears come.
Grief for relationships changed and friendships lost.
Grief for potential friendships that never had time to grow.
Grief for people that don’t seem to understand
Grief for the friendships that know the heart without having to use words.
Grief for stuff once owned, once valued, locked away or discarded.
Grief for childhood experiences never to be experienced.
Grief for knowledge unlearned.
Grief for organisations and structures continuing and changing without us there.

But summer is coming and beneath the heat, a seed germinates. A promise of the kingdom now and to come. A seed that needs to sit in the soil for a while. To grow from the life that has been before. To push through the dark-yet-safe. To reach for the sun.

Stacie is an Interserve Partner, serving with her family in Cambodia