Singing the Lord's song in strange lands

The Psalmist writes, ‘How shall we sing the LORD’s song in a strange land?’ (Psalm 137.4).

This is a beautiful question springing from the heart of a poet struggling to live out in a strange land (Babylon) what he knows to be true in a more familiar context (Jerusalem). This question has stimulated missional communities of grassroots leaders in Latin America under the banner of the Center for Transforming Mission (CTM).

We are learning how to read the Bible, not to or even for those we serve, but with those we serve — those who have been wrongly labelled the least, last and lost. Behind this approach is the belief that grace is like water; it flows down hill and pools in the lowest places. We are learning to see God’s grace pooling in places of extreme poverty and violence.

Incarnational mission

The core theological values of CTM are formed by the incarnational mission of Jesus Christ. In the incarnation of Jesus — all he did and said, his death and resurrection to save us from our sins — the intimacy of human and divine is fully realised. The incarnation unites what the world divides. Ministry that spiritualises away the real problems we face in the physical world is not true to the doctrines of Creation and the Incarnation. Biblical, incarnational ministry is radically holistic. It touches the body and the soul. It calls forth personal transformation and systemic change. It invites righteousness and justice. It connects God and humanity, heaven and earth, and, perhaps hardest of all, ‘us and them’.

Our concern to incarnate Jesus among the least, last and lost has introduced us to some amazing grassroots leaders who are singing God’s song in some very strange lands — such as among populations of street youth, families in extreme poverty, prostitutes, women in the throes of domestic abuse and incarcerated gang members in the prisons of Central America. We have learned that ‘misfits’ are critical to the mission of the church. Let me try to illustrate.

Hagar’s story

There is a men’s prison in Central America with a surprising group of residents. Sleeping around the cement slab tables of what used to be the dining hall is a rag tag group of girlfriends, wives, sisters and mothers of one of the major Central American street gangs. During a recent visit, their ‘chaplain’ (an ex-gang member) and I led a conversation centred around the person of Hagar in Genesis 16. These women quickly made personal application to the story. They heard the Angel of the Lord pay respect to Hagar — the angel was the only character in the narrative to address her by name. The angel then empowers her to tell her own story: ‘Where are you going and where have you come from?’

The women in the prison could relate to being unnamed and used as property by people in positions of power. They knew what it felt like to live in deserts of loneliness caused by marginalisation. In Hagar’s story they found their story. Reading the Bible with those we serve makes us begin to read it from the perspective of those who have been crushed by life. Hagar’s story is often neglected by the church and it is no small matter that she is the first person in Scripture who has the privilege of giving a name to God. She calls God El Roi (the God who sees). That element of the story seized these present-day Hagars with surprise and wonder.

A few weeks after the study, a wall was built to separate the women from the men in the prison. The women unanimously decided to paint the story of Hagar on their side, with the words, El Dios que me ve (the God who sees me) as the focal point of the piece.

Hagar grasps something about God that Abraham doesn’t confess until six chapters later. In Genesis 22.14 Abraham announces Jehovah Jireh (God sees/provides), using the same verb, ra’ah, that Hagar used in naming God. Perhaps the Hagars of the world arrive at a vision of the gospel long before the Abrahams do.

Engaging with pain

We see three gateways to transformation: prayer, praise and pain. The widest of all is pain. Ironically, pain is the most personally guarded gateway among those in power yet the most accessible gateway among the people we serve.

Perhaps this is why reality and authenticity are the currency of those at the margins. The gospel begins with seeing things as they are, not as they should be. So we are learning that the primary task of the Church is not to build the Kingdom of God — that is God’s work. Our job is to see God at work in the world and to name and celebrate what we see God doing.

The institutional church in Latin America often stands aloof from the people who could provide the kind of vision it so desperately needs. Some incarcerated gang members shared these thoughts:

‘Frequently we have seen growth in church buildings, leaders with a competitive attitude seemingly choosing to “compete” with other churches, while abandoning the need that exists in prisons, neighbourhoods, slums and rehabilitation centres. The priority of these churches seems to be the comfort of their members, so they have forgotten the vision of Jesus Christ who said, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…” We don’t want to simply criticise, but, while churches are constructing sanctuaries in which to be comfortable, there are children dying of hunger, gang members killing one another and prisoners suffering greatly.’

Outsiders

In a sermon focused on Luke 23, Tim Keller notes that the ‘outsiders’ gathered around the cross. There is Simon of Cyrene, a ‘cultural outsider’; a convicted criminal is a ‘moral outsider’; a centurion, a ‘racial outsider’; and the women witnesses, ‘social outsiders’. Luke locates only one ‘religious insider’ at the cross who seems to be able to grasp the full significance of Jesus’s death — Joseph of Arimathea. ‘Due to the way salvation is accomplished’, Keller says, ‘those on the “outside” tend to understand/see things before those on the inside; but all are welcome.’

Walter Brueggemann wrote that the job of the prophet is to free people from their numbness. The church exists to wake people up, to bring them to consciousness, and not just to comfort them in their unconscious state. This is often a lonely task. It puts us in very hard places interacting with ‘outsiders’ who often become scandalous and surprising sources of numbness-breaking hope. Let me try once again to illustrate.

Getting real in the street

Pastor Francis Montas and his wife Loly pastor a church of young people — Casa Joven — that meets on Saturday nights in a converted Santo Domingo nightclub. Their work with street kids, incarcerated juvenile delinquents and prostitutes serves as a prophetic wake-up call to many others.

About two months ago, Francis and Loly held a special prayer night near one of the most infamous streets for prostitution in Santo Domingo — La Avenida Sarasota. Their prayers for one another led them to pray for the girls on the street outside and, when I joined them, it was their seventh consecutive night on the streets with the girls.
What we experienced over the next three hours was a numbness-shattering picture of God’s scandalous grace. The face of each ‘girl’ lit up as the young women from the church called out to them by name and hugged them. The women on the street responded to their beautiful questions, updating us on their weeks, sharing stories about their children and receiving prayer with eager anticipation, all the while completely ignoring potential ‘clients’ who passed by.

We had just finished sharing and praying with a group of three prostitutes when one of them, whom I will call Gloria, asked if she could pray for us. I held hands in a circle with my Dominican friends on a sidewalk on ‘Avenida Sarasota’ at 2.30 am and heard one of the most beautiful prayers of my life. When Gloria uttered her ‘Amen’ a smile exploded on her face. She sheepishly confessed that it was the first time she had ever prayed out loud. I pretended to cough while trying to wipe the tears from my eyes. Gloria received more hugs from the ladies and an awkward handshake from me. That Saturday night, she came to church where she was welcomed by me with a hug!

How blessed

It would be impossible to detail here how blessed this church in Santo Domingo has been and how their vision and mission for their city has been recalibrated through these prostitutes. Churches like Casa Joven, which engage the Hagars of their cities, teach the rest of us how to sing God’s song in some very strange lands.

Joel Van Dyke serves in Central America as the director of Estrategia de Transformacion (Strategy for Transformation), which is a strategic alliance between the Center for Transforming Mission and Christian Reformed World Missions. Kris Rocke is Executive Director of the Center for Transforming Mission.

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