On Petrol, Providence and Prayer
I was a
missionary in Africa once. In Botswana, to be specific. One summer, my very
best friend brought her Sunday School class from Texas for a mission
trip/safari. We spent the first week of their trip doing children’s camps in
the villages where I worked. For the second week, we were off to Chobe National
Park in northern Botswana and Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe.
the morning of our departure the nine of us made our way to the airport with
our oversized piles of luggage and supplies. We arrived to discover that our
nine-seater rental van didn’t come equipped with a trailer hitch as we’d
assumed, so American ingenuity married the folly of youth and we crammed all
our supplies plus nine people (three of whom were great, strapping lads) into the
van: three in the front seat which was made for two, four in the middle seat
which was made for three, and two valiant souls who volunteered to ride, flat
on their backs in the 45cm space between the luggage and the roof.
(Incidentally, those two heroes—who hadn’t met before the trip—have now been
happily married for nearly 20 years!)
With our fearless leader—that was me—behind the wheel, we set off for the bush, eager to taste the delights of rural Africa. The journey was meant to take 13 hours, which to us Americans was a perfectly reasonable one-day drive. We travelled, happy and carefree along the A1 toward Francistown, breezing through villages and small towns along the way. At Francistown, we turned left and followed the less populated A3 toward Nata. At Nata we had a little lunch and carried on, now into the 200 miles of unbroken “proper bush” between Nata and Kasane at the northern tip of Botswana. What a delight for my passengers to be hurtling through this barren landscape, ever on the lookout for elephants and giraffes, even here, outside the national parks! What a delight to be so isolated, so alone, so empowered by youth and ambition and ignorance of the dangers that could so easily overtake us if not for the petrol in the tank and the water in our jerrycans.
And what a moment
of fear and trembling for me when, over two hours from our destination, with nothing
but empty bush for 100 miles in every direction, the petrol light came on.
Somehow in my youthful enthusiasm, I had neglected to fill the tank in either
Francistown or Nata. We had about 45 minutes of petrol left for a 2-hour drive.
My best friend, who was sandwiched next to me, shot me a look. I gave her one
back. We said nothing to the others, but both started praying silently. Suddenly,
our carefree adventure had become very, very real.
We flew on toward
our destination: seven of us enjoying the scenery, two of us growing our first
grey hairs. The minutes passed, the miles slipped by, the petrol levels
dropped. We had been below empty for about an hour when I became convinced that
we were driving on the power of the Holy Spirit. Then, at the two-hour mark,
joy! The outskirts of the town loomed, and at the crossroads, the promise of
petrol and salvation. Just as I spied the petrol station about 300 meters ahead
at the top of an incline, the engine sputtered and I rolled to a stop. We were
out of petrol.
everybody out!” I said, and told them the story of how far we’d come on no petrol.
My big Texas lads (and my little but hearty Texas ladies) weren’t daunted in
the slightest. “Let’s get this thing up the hill!” they shouted, and with me at
the wheel, the eight of them pushed that heavily laden metal miracle up the
hill and into the petrol station. We’d made it. Only just.
It was just
a matter of fuel. I didn’t have enough. I didn’t get it when I should have. I
didn’t respect the bush and the dangers it possessed, and I didn’t take with me
what I needed to get myself and my friends safely to our destination.
It has long
been known that prayer is the fuel of mission. Paul knew that his mission was
sustained by prayer, and urged the Philippians (1:9), the Colossians (4:3), the
Thessalonians (1 Th 5:25) and the Ephesians (6:19) to pray for him. If he knew
he needed prayer, how much more the rest of us?
field is a dangerous place, and our missionaries aren’t just in danger from
those who would oppose their message and cause them harm. They’re in danger
from spiritual forces, from disease, from natural disasters, from temptation,
from car accidents, from burnout, from relationship breakdown, and even from
running out of petrol in the middle of the African bush in the dead of summer.
possible that we’re sending our field workers out without the fuel they need?
We expect them to have hardships, yes. The Bible promises that things won’t
always be easy. But if we who stay home are claiming to be obedient to the
Great Commission, but are not praying for those who Go, we’re kidding
ourselves. Prayer is the fuel for mission, and it is our job to make sure our
missionaries have the fuel they need. Otherwise, they may end up having to push
their ministry up a hill in harsh and dusty conditions. Or worse, they may end
up stranded and in real danger.
very good to us that day in the bush of Botswana. It’s never been more than a
funny story about a silly 25-year-old American and a miraculous self-filling
petrol tank. But it could have been a very, very different story. All for lack
Let’s not risk our missionaries’ lives and ministries because of a lack of fuel. We have a responsibility and a call to pray. Let’s commit to pray for them and give them the fuel they need, not just to make it from day to day, but to flourish in even the most barren of places.
Photo by Jacques Bopp.
The Race Marked Out for Us
is a special place any time of year, but it was particularly stunning on Sunday,
the 3rd of November. The sky was blue and endless, the air was crisp
and chilly, and the pavements were packed with bright-faced well-wishers,
cheering their hearts out for the 60,000 runners who had made it into the New
York City Marathon that day. My best friend is no marathoning novice—NYC was
her fourth marathon, so she went into the morning confident. So confident, in
fact, that she’d had no qualms about walking 11 miles the day before, taking in
the sights with her husband and 17-year-old daughter, and me and my new hubby.
and I had risen early on Marathon Sunday to catch her at mile 5, not too far
from where I used to live in Brooklyn. She was running at a steady pace, and
when she saw us at our pre-planned meeting spot, she threw her arms in the air
and started talking a mile a minute. Her eyes were bright and her energy was
high. A great sign of things to come.
off, and we ran for the subway. We had about 90 minutes to get back to Manhattan,
meet her husband and daughter, and make our way to the marathon route to catch
her at our second meeting spot. She arrived not long after we’d settled in, and
though she was still in good spirits, she looked tired. We gave her some food
and a few hugs and sent her off again.
have a planned meeting spot for our third rendezvous, but we told her we’d text
her to let her to know where to look for us. We dashed for the subway again and
ended up in Central Park halfway between miles 23 and 24. But by the time we
settled on a spot, her phone had died and our texts weren’t going through. We
were tracking her progress on the NYC Marathon app so we knew where she was, but
she had no way of knowing where we were, or when (or if!) she would see us
We waited a long time for her to come. When she finally rounded a corner into view, we started shouting her name and waving our arms with glee. She ran to the side, but this time there were tears in her eyes and she dared not stop. “I just need it to be over,” she shouted as she passed us with heavy feet.
We watched her carry on around the bend and my husband looked back at my best friend’s 17-year-old daughter. Her face said it all: she just wanted to be with her mother. He said, “Shall we catch her?” She said, “Yes.” And before we knew what had happened, they sprinted off down one of the many winding paths of Central Park, leaving the rest of us behind. Neither of them was familiar with Central Park. Only one of them had a working phone. They barely even knew each other. But they took off with a common goal. They couldn’t let her run alone.
caught her! They cheered her on from the sidelines again and again the last
three miles of the race—sprinting and cheering, and sprinting and cheering. They
refused to stop until they could see the finish line.
As she was
limping back to the hotel that evening, her finisher medal swinging from her
neck, she said, “All I wanted to do was stop running. I wanted to walk. But
then I saw those two running next to me and cheering me on. They gave me the
strength to keep going.” She crossed the finish line 18 minutes earlier than she
there was a real-life example of how we should be supporting our missionaries,
I lived it in New York on the 3rd of November. You see, my best
friend’s daughter was not a runner before that day. My husband is a runner, but
he’s never (yet) run a marathon. But they saw an experienced marathoner
struggling and they both upped their game to help her to the finish line. They
didn’t make excuses like “I’m not wearing running clothes,” or “I’ve already
walked 10 miles today,” or “I don’t know the way.” They just went. And their
going not only helped my best friend finish the marathon; their going also
inspired her daughter to start running. Now, back in Alabama, my best friend
and her daughter run together.
So let’s get
alongside our missionaries! Let’s not make excuses like “I don’t know them that
well,” or “I don’t have enough spare cash to give,” or “I don’t have time to
pray,” or “I couldn’t possibly do what they do.” Instead, let’s up our game and
get running so that we can all cross that hard-earned finish line together.
Is More Prayer the Answer?
Raise your hand if you understand how prayer works. Now look at your hands. If one of them is raised, I’d very much like to meet you, because I have a few questions for you. I just don’t get it. I know it does work; I have some ideas about why God has asked us to pray; but I haven’t the foggiest how it actually works.
How is it possible that I can pray day after day for something—something God has commanded us to pray for in scripture, and something that I know He wants even more than I do—and yet, after years of praying, my very godly request still hasn’t been fulfilled? And yet sometimes, I can pray for something once…just breathing out a prayer…and it happens! The arithmetic just doesn’t add up. The system doesn’t work. It makes no logical sense.
I’ve been reading lately about some of our Christian brothers and sisters in a part of the world where becoming a Christian is dangerous, and where leading others to Christ is, if not always a death-wish, at least a prison-wish, an ostracism-wish, a disowned-by-your-family-and-everyone-you-know wish. Yet, even with all the very real threat hanging over their heads, they’re seeing spectacular things happen. Hundreds, thousands of people are turning to Jesus. Entire communities are leaving their old religious system and becoming Christians. And then those very new Christians are turning around and venturing into new places, hostile places and reproducing what they’ve experienced at home.
And how do they do it? You guessed it: prayer.
They pray and fast weekly for their friends and neighbours who don’t know Jesus. They gather monthly (if not several times a month) to pray ALL NIGHT, interceding for people in their communities. They gather every day at midday to pray as churches or ministry teams. They pray on their own for hours each morning. They regularly have family devotionals and prayer time.
Why? Firstly, because Jesus asked us to. But perhaps more practically, because it’s working! They’ve seen what happens when they pray. They know that God is at work when they pray. So they pray more. And God works more. It’s all very dramatic and obvious what’s happening in those dangerous places, and perhaps the results are more obvious because the risk is greater and the pray-ers are more willing to take that risk because, when you weigh it all together, the payoff is astonishing.
I don’t know how prayer works, but it is clearly part of God’s equation. Which makes me wonder…should we be taking a leaf out of their book? We want God to do amazing things like that here in the UK as well as around the world. We want him to push back our very Western brand of darkness—the apathy, skepticism, materialism and self-satisfaction that blind people to the light that Christ has to offer. Is what we might consider an extreme commitment to prayer the key to seeing God move in larger-than-life ways?
I’m going to stick my neck out and say no. It’s not following a particular pattern of prayer that enables miraculous things to happen. Our brothers and sisters in dangerous places don’t wake up in the morning and start ticking “morning devotion with family”, “midday prayer meeting” and “fast for two meals” off their daily to-do lists. They wake up in the morning hungry for God and desperate to see his love poured out on their friends who don’t yet know him. That passion drives them to prayer, to fasting, to bold evangelism, to selfless devotion to discipleship and mentoring. The supernatural element of prayer is undeniable—we’ve all seen prayer work in ways we can’t fully explain or understand. But following a prescribed pattern of prayer that “works there so it must work here too” won’t necessarily produce the same results in every situation.
What we need is a hunger for God and a desperation to see his love poured out on those who don’t know him. That passion will drive some of us to wildly committed prayer and fasting. It will drive others of us to give generously, even sacrificially, out of our abundance. It will drive still others to teach and encourage and spur God’s people on toward greater and deeper commitment to Christ. And still others it will drive to leave what is familiar and go to the next village or the next hemisphere to boldly share Christ’s love.
Our brothers and sisters in dangerous places don’t sit around praying all day. With the rest of their day they risk life and limb to share Christ with religious leaders, to bring the gospel to villages and towns where Jesus isn’t known, to encourage believers in far-flung and isolated places, to smuggle Bibles across hostile borders. Their passion for God fuels their prayers, and their prayers provide the shield and the power for their bold movements in spiritually hostile places.
So whether or not we ever find out how prayer works, let’s do it, and do it boldly and passionately. God uses it in ways we don’t understand to do amazing and miraculous things. But let’s also cultivate the kind of hunger for him that can only be satisfied by an all-night prayer meeting or a three-hour devotional. Let’s care so much about those who don’t know him that bold evangelism is the only appropriate course of action. That’s when our prayers grow hands and feet, and that’s when things start changing.
Photo by Lesly Derksen on Unsplash.
A Lesson in Community
I must’ve looked a bit funny, my bike crumpled beneath me, picnic-laden backpack askew, lying on my side in the middle of the road with one knee digging into the asphalt and the other in the air. But no one dared laugh. The people around me were all wide-eyed, mouths hanging open, stopped in their tracks, thanking the sweet Lord they hadn’t just witnessed the horror of a cyclist getting squished by a bus. It was only a skinned knee and a shattered ego, and all I wanted as I picked myself and my bike up off the road was to disappear into anonymity.
You see, on this particular day, I’d decided to be brave. My soon-to-be-husband, a keen cyclist, had been trying to get me to use my bike more in town, rather than walking or driving. He’d taken me on several bike rides on country lanes in the Peak District and in other parts of the country, and I’d followed him through Sheffield traffic plenty of times before. But whenever he suggested I meet him somewhere in the city on my bike, I always balked. I was too afraid to brave the traffic myself. I was too unstable, too road wary, and not very quick-thinking on wheels. So I’d always say no, forcing him to come to my house first before I would go anywhere in town on my bike.
But not this day. This day I decided to be brave. I was going to meet him at the Botanical Gardens for a picnic, and as my car was being fixed and the Botanical Gardens was close to his office, I knew what I had to do—I had to ride my bike on my own. My route took me through neighbourhoods and along little-used roads, and though I was nervous, things were going well. (Not counting the moment I had to stop at the top of a hill and instead of putting my feet down and putting on my brakes to keep from rolling backward, I grabbed a bollard and hung on to the bike with my knees—it was very unglamorous, and elicited a smirk from at least one passerby.) Unfortunately, my route also took me along one of the busier streets in Sheffield, and getting into the Botanical Gardens required a right-hand turn across oncoming traffic.
I attempted to balance there in the right-hand lane, waiting for a gap in the traffic. I’d signaled appropriately so that the people behind me knew my intention to turn—but the traffic kept coming and I became more and more unstable as I slowed down. Unbeknownst to me, a bus had come up behind me and decided not to wait. He silently crept up behind me and came around my left side, very close to me. The bus startled me, which threw me off balance and the world slipped into slow motion. I knew I was going to fall into the bus. I was getting closer and closer, and I was praying that God would hold me up until the wheels had passed me. And He did. As the back wheels drew even with me, I fell into the side of the bus and ricocheted off it and onto the road.
Everything came to a halt. Traffic on both sides of the road stopped. Pedestrians froze in their tracks. The bus, full of passengers, pulled over to the side of the road, and the trembling bus driver alighted, certain that he’d killed me. It took a substantial amount of reassurance to convince him and the others who stopped to help that I was indeed fine except for my skinned knee and my bruised pride.
I was shaky for a while afterward, and I’m certainly not keen to do any more solo city cycling just yet, but I learned an important lesson: We need each other, don’t we? I don’t just mean that I need other people to lead me through traffic on my bike because when I go by myself I get hit by busses. I mean, we need each other. We humans. We Christians. We obeyers of the Great Commission.
The fact is, I’m not road ready. I’m not prepared, mentally or physically to ride solo. Maybe one day I will be, but it will only be because I’ve been taught and guided and helped by someone who is more experienced than me. And even then, it’s generally better not to go on my own. We individualists place a high value on doing things ourselves. From the two year old who insists on pouring her own milk out of a jug that’s as big as she is, to the project manager who genuinely believes that to get something done right he has to do it himself, we are all victims to one degree or another of this belief—this lie—that we can do it by ourselves.
The fact is, we weren’t made to be individualists. We were made for community. Made to help and guide and learn from and bless each other. When it comes to our call to fulfil the Great Commission, it’s even more vital that we do it in community. The church was called AS A BODY to take the Gospel to those who haven’t heard, and it is a call that each one of us is meant to heed, according to our gifts.
My fiancé wasn’t with me when I got hit by a bus and ended up on the road with a skinned knee. But a lot of other people were there. The man from Sheffield council who stood with me, talking with me until he was sure I was ok. The women who stopped and offered to get me a drink. The bus driver who was prepared to kick everyone else off his bus and drive me home, or to the hospital. Even the drivers who managed to stop in time and not run over me as I lay on the ground. People were there. And had it been worse than a skinned knee, people would have looked after me.
The moral of the story is twofold, I suppose: 1) I should wait until I’m road-ready before I strike out on my bike alone in city traffic and 2) If I do get hit by a bus, it’s much better to do so in a crowded area, where people are ready to look after me.
And as for the Great Commission, let’s do it together. Let’s learn from and follow the people who are more experienced than us, and let’s make sure we have plenty of people to walk beside us as we carry the Gospel to those who haven’t heard. Then, when we bounce off life’s busses and skin our knees, we’ll at least have someone to help us up.
Photo by Carl Nenzen Loven.
South Asia: A Melting Pot of Religion
BY ALFIE, A PIONEERS UK WORKER IN SOUTH ASIA
Bells. Today, like most days, our day starts with the sound of bells.
This is not the sound of our alarm clock or our doorbell but of the puja** bells ringing in worship to the Hindu gods. As we step out of our flat, we see the now familiar sight of red and yellow paste mixed with a red flower carefully placed at each entrance to the house. We pass the remnants of the incense burnt earlier this morning in the potted plant by the gate.
Puja. Our landlord’s daughter-in-law has been busy, as she is every morning, ensuring she fulfils her duty of offering puja to the gods on behalf of the household. She carries the burden of the spiritual wellbeing of the family; if something bad befalls them, she simply must not have worshipped enough.
This mindset also pervades the Christians here. One morning a Christian driver let his children sleep instead of waking them in the early hours to pray with him before he set off. Only he and his wife prayed. That day, he was involved in a collision when a motorcyclist made a poor decision and cut in front of his car. The motorcyclist was injured but received no lasting damage. The Christian driver wonders whether the accident would have occurred if he had woken his children to join him and his wife for morning prayers.
Walking through our small town it is impossible to forget that we live in a predominantly Hindu area. There are constant reminders surrounding us – the temple at the end of the main road; the man offering worship at the shrine; the Hindu swastikas that decorate so many houses, calling for prosperity and good luck; the red and yellow paste that adorns the homes, the shop fronts, the shrines, the Hindu statues and the faces of the people we pass in the street – a tika on the forehead of the woman selling us fruit and vegetables or an intricate design on the face of the man walking by.
As we head out of town and travel to a village in the foothills of the Himalayas, we leave Hinduism behind and move into an area of Buddhism. Buddhist prayer flags hang from many houses, large flagpoles stand proud within the village. As we admire the stunning views, we can see them fluttering in the wind, offering up prayers on the householders’ behalf. Having been invited into a neighbour’s home and enjoying their generous hospitality, a peculiar object catches our eye – are goats sacrificed on this object by the head of the household, the witch doctor?
Christians, Buddhists, Hindus. Neighbours, colleagues, friends. All appears to be amicable but below the surface, tensions simmer. Legal proceedings when Hindu neighbours complain the church building is too tall or prevent access unless the church purchases more land at an inflated price; anger when a family member converts to Christianity; new Government laws designed to prevent conversion and prevent foreign influence. Persecution takes many forms. All is not harmonious. On Hindu festival days, most Christians remain indoors to avoid any involvement. Integrated yet segregated.
But there is hope. We met a man, a talented artist, creating beautiful, intricate paintings. He once painted mandalas and other Buddhist imagery but when he became a Christian he prayed that God would show him what he could do instead, as painting was all he knew. A few weeks later, a lady commissioned him to paint a Christian alternative – a mandala incorporating a Bible verse. He praised the Lord! God had given him back his art which he now uses to further God’s Kingdom.
Migrant in Our Midst
BY A PIONEERS MISSIONARY IN EUROPE
The world’s population is on the move. The latest UN figures suggest that 258 million people are currently living in a country other than their birth country. 78 million of these are settled in Europe, where they have joined the millions of descendants of those migrants who arrived in the last few decades. This gives unique opportunities for Gospel witness, as significant numbers of migrants come from countries traditionally closed to the Gospel.
However, not everyone is excited about the growing global movement of people. Most European countries have seen a growth in political parties advocating stricter immigration policies, and greater control of immigration was one of the reasons put forward in support of Brexit leading up to the 2016 referendum. Similar concerns are seen in other parts of the world. In the US, Donald Trump was elected president partly on the back of a promise to put Americans first, and a range of countries throughout the world are introducing tighter immigration policies.
The presence of foreigners tends to raise two significant concerns in the minds of many:
Firstly, there are concerns that migrants and their descendants have an adverse impact on the indigenous population’s access to jobs or welfare benefits. Every job occupied by a foreigner is one less job for an indigenous person, and every time a foreigner accesses welfare benefits, healthcare or schools, it puts greater pressure on these resources to the detriment of indigenous people.
Secondly, indigenous people often express real concerns that foreigners will have a negative impact on culture. Most cultures have an expectation that foreigners will conform to the dominant culture, and a perceived lack of willingness to conform to the host culture (including language, dress and interpersonal interactions) creates confusion or anger, and possibly fear that foreigners will permanently change the culture in a given neighbourhood or city. Members of the host culture can fear becoming strangers in their own country.
Naturally, the idea that foreigners have a negative influence on a country is not uncontested. For example, strong arguments can be made about the benefits of foreigners providing a necessary workforce in the context of an ageing indigenous population. Many will testify to the quality-of-life improvements brought about by a richer cultural tapestry in a given country – who doesn’t like a good curry?!
Nevertheless, concerns about ‘those’ people taking over ‘our’ country can run deep, and the sentiment can impact Christians and non-Christians alike. This has significant implications for diaspora ministry – ministry to the migrants among us. For no matter how great the potential for diaspora ministry might be, it is unlikely to be realised if indigenous believers primarily view those arriving from traditionally non-Christian nations as a threat to their country. Frustrations or fears related to real or perceived negative consequences of migration can often act as a significant deterrent to any genuine attempt to share the love of Christ with the foreigner. It is hard to love your perceived enemy.
However, Scripture is emphatically clear that we MUST love our brothers and enemies alike, and love should be expressed in both word and deed. That does not mean we necessarily must support an immigration policy that provides free passage to everyone wanting to enter our country. But it absolutely means we must seriously wrestle with heart attitudes that are not in line with Scripture, so that we are ready to genuinely love and share Christ with whomever we meet, including those from other cultures.
This is a daunting task, but thankfully the Holy Spirit and Scripture are formidable resources to us and can help us in at least three ways:
Remind Us Of The Grace We Have Received
I live in a neighbourhood that is roughly 70% Pakistani Muslim, and I remember walking down the street a couple of years ago feeling thoroughly frustrated with an aspect of Pakistani culture. I was getting on my high horse about the deficiency of Pakistanis, when the Spirit reminded me that I was a wild olive shoot that was grafted into the true vine (Romans 11.17). I’m not better than Pakistanis. I am not less sinful. My European culture does not make me more deserving of God’s grace. I am on a completely level playing field with Mohammed and Ahmed – we are desperately in need of God’s grace and mercy. Being reminded of God’s grace should act as a healthy antidote to the sense of superiority that can easily be formed by our ethnocentric view of the world. God’s love for the migrant in our midst is as relentless and passionate as it is for us.
Remind Us That ‘Our’ Country Is Not Ours
This country does not belong to us. It does not belong to immigrants either. This country, and every other speck of the earth belongs to God. No population has a divine right to a particular territory. Even Israel’s control of the Promised Land was conditional – obey the Lord and enjoy the land, disobey and go into exile. We don’t deserve to enjoy the benefits of our country. As a continent, Europe has turned its back on God. When we consider the sinfulness of our own lives, and the societal rejection of God, our first response should not be anger that migrants have come to our shores. Rather, we should marvel that God has allowed us to continue to enjoy peace, prosperity and freedom to the extent that we have. This does not take away the challenges of engaging cross-culturally on our ‘home turf’, but it might dampen our misplaced sense that we are being unfairly ‘robbed’ by undeserving foreigners. Exactly what have we done to deserve living where we do?
Remind Us That This Is Not Our Home: We Seek The Kingdom
Christ told us to pray for God’s kingdom to come, for our Father’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. Scripture also reminds us that we are sojourners passing through – we now long for, and belong to, a heavenly country. Our desire should therefore not be to see our national culture prevail, but for God’s kingdom to grow. And with that in mind, we should feel free to challenge aspects of any culture that does not conform to our Father’s will. So if an incoming culture shines a light on aspects of our own culture that is not in line with Scripture, e.g. our Western hyper-individualism, then we should receive that influence as a gift and be open to grow.
Similarly, at times, members of different cultures may be allies, where our prevailing Western culture is pushing us down a road we don’t want to travel. For example, my daughters are in a primary school with predominantly Muslim children, and I know their Muslim parents would stand shoulder to shoulder with us if the school wanted to introduce significant teaching on gender fluidity and sexual ethics contrary to scriptural commands.
And of course, there will be times when aspects of a migrant population’s culture run counter to Scripture, in which case we should also seek to find opportunities to influence this culture in a different direction. But in all these matters, our benchmark is the Kingdom of God, not our own national culture.
The growth in migration provides unique opportunities for Gospel ministry among diaspora populations, but without the Spirit’s help, we are unlikely to take them. May God continue to shape us in the image of Christ, open our eyes to His heart for all people and prepare us to reach out in love to the foreigner in our midst. ~
A Veteran’s Guide to FUNraising
BY MARK, PIONEERS UK’S PARTNERSHIP DEVELOPMENT MANAGER
Jill B, retired professional, but more importantly, mum of Lynn and mother-in-law to Piet, who work with Pioneers UK in Southeast Asia, has spent a lifetime raising funds for her daughter and other causes close to her heart. If, like me, you’re wondering how you might ‘do your bit’ for a Pioneers worker you know or for the office team who help hold everything together, then we can take inspiration from Jill’s experience and sense of fulfilment! She sat down (for two minutes!) to tell me about her experiences running stalls and hosting activities…
Mark: What do you enjoy most about your days manning the stand at a village fête or hosting fundraising days at home?
Jill: Meeting so many great people – the sense of working together, the friendships that grow, meeting the donors. Often, I’m told of another good cause someone is supporting and can encourage them in doing so. When fundraising for Lynn and Piet, I hear about other young people doing wonderful things in the world and know that if talking to me reminds them of others’ need of support, lots has been achieved. I’m grateful for the welcome I’m always given, the help offered when I’m on my own, the “good spots” saved for me, the visitors who come looking for me year after year.
Mark: What’s your main motivation for fundraising?
Jill: In many ways it’s to raise awareness – of Lynn and Piet and the work they do or whatever the important cause is. I’ve been to Hope Show [a popular village event in the Derbyshire Peaks] for at least 5 years and visitors often come to catch up on Lynn and Piet’s news and give generously for them. I go to a ‘Senior’ Ladies’ Knitting Group each year with an up-to-date PowerPoint of the family and their work and they ask lots of questions and they too give generously. People sort of ‘take ownership’ of them. The money is always welcome, but the interest and prayers are by far the most important. I always have boards, photos and maps on display. They catch attention too.
Mark: Does it matter to members of the public that it’s a Christian mission you are raising funds for?
Jill: No! The average members of the public identify with them as people who help others to have a better life, to have an income to meet their needs and to give their children a better future than they themselves have known. We have leaflets etc. for anyone to pick up. We’re Gideons too and take pocket sized New Testaments to give away, and usually find that 20-30 of these are either given or just disappear at most public events.
Mark: What advice would you give people wondering where to start in community fundraising?
Jill: Pray about it and then do something definite. Identify with the good cause so that you make all you say very personal – “My nephew Joe”, “Tom from our church” etc. Look at your own skills and resources and use these. Perhaps you love walking or baking – turn it into a way to raise money. Grab a stall at a community fair. Look for others who are (or may become) likeminded to help and support you. Sometimes you have to be bold and ask or even beg for an opportunity to fundraise or for equipment to use or goods to sell.
Mark: If people are working only by themselves, what activities or events would you recommend they do to get started?
Jill: Just start selling things to friends – plants/cakes/crafts/ handmade jewellery/jams – especially at times like Christmas and Easter. If you’re a tombola person, hunt out prizes – it’s often surprising how many things you have, still in mint condition, that you don’t use. Clean second hand books go down well – look in charity shops. One charity shop sells me grubby soft toys cheaply – a wash in the machine, a tumble dry, the odd stitch and they’re as good as new!
Mark: Any final words of advice, Jill, before I set up my stall or bake my cakes?
Jill: The main thing is to enjoy yourself and to enjoy all the people you meet – a smile takes you a long way to success! And to remember that success isn’t the amount of money raised – though this is always good – it’s the seeds you’ve sown, all the people you’ve talked to, all the kindness that’s been spread, and much more!
Photo by Park Troopers.
From the Ends of the Earth
AN INTERVIEW WITH WAIRIMU
DIRECTOR OF PIONEERS EAST AFRICA
Pioneers: Hi Wairimu! Thanks so much for agreeing to chat with us today. Tell us a little bit about yourself—who you are, where you’re from etc.
Wairimu: I am a Kenyan missionary in my mid-fifties, a widow with one daughter whose family has two sons. I was born and raised in Nairobi from independence after my parents’ migration to the new capital. I coordinated youth and children’s ministry in two churches for a total of fifteen years before going to seminary to study missions. I have worked with refugees in this region for about eight years. I am now finishing doctoral studies in missional theology and development. I am also serving as the first Pioneers mobilisation office director for the East African region.
Pioneers: Who is the East Africa mobilisation office looking to train and send to the mission field? And where in the world are they going?
Wairimu: In theory, we are set up to send people from Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Rwanda, Burundi, South Sudan, Congo, Zambia, Malawi, Madagascar and Botswana, based on geographical and cultural affinity. French-speaking people from Congo are often drawn to North Africa; Kenyans seem to have quite an interest in the Middle and Far East. Ideally, they should be able to go to any destination the Lord has called them to if they can effectively raise sufficient and sustainable resources from their home communities. To that end, we normally encourage them to reach unreached peoples within their own country first.
Pioneers: You’ve implied here that one of the challenges in mobilising Africans is the lack of financial resources in the local churches. What are some other challenges that Africans face in answering God’s call to mission?
Wairimu: I have been involved in missionary care for a number of years and have seen first hand the challenges that indigenous missionaries face in part due to negligence and perhaps ignorance on the part of their sending churches and agencies. God has called many people to missions through local missions events, but a large number of them don’t reach their mission destinations because there are very few viable sending agencies and churches, if any,
Pioneers: So as a general rule, the local churches don’t have financial resources to support indigenous missionaries, but are there other ways the African church is contributing, or could contribute?
Wairimu: The church has made some effort in planting diaspora churches (for instance, Kenyan churches in the UK), mainly to meet the needs of Africans in other countries. These are maintenance churches that have potential for outreach, if given sufficient training, motivation and guidance. Church and mission leaders need to support missionary sending much more than they are doing, especially among unreached peoples where the need is great but the workforce is small.
Pioneers: More and more of the global Church’s missionary efforts are coming from the Global South. What do you think are the contributing factors to this increased sense of calling in people from the Global South?
Wairimu: There are a lot of teaching, training, envisioning activities happening in Kenya these days. Kenya is a global missions, business and public service hub so many mission strategies and ideas get tested here first. There is also a growing number of well-discipled Christians who are venturing into missions even though the sending efforts are still low.
Pioneers: What can people in the “traditional” sending nations (the UK, the US, Germany etc.) do to facilitate the sending of Africans, South Americans and Asians?
Wairimu: It would be good if they could come and visit and see that their financial endowment is being used in God’s work, regardless of who uses it. In addition, they could share their expertise and be willing to work under indigenous leadership. The challenges of local resource mobilisation make it difficult to send those who clearly are ready to go but don’t have the financial muscle to sustain themselves. Trade imbalances continue to keep the Western nations rich at the cost of Southern economies so we may never really be able to compete at the same level.
Pioneers: When we think of the word ‘missionary,’ a European or North American face usually springs to mind. But the fact is, God has been calling Africans to missions for a long time. We’ve been told missions runs in your family…
Wairimu: Yes! I just found out recently that my grandmother, who I didn’t get a chance to know, was a missionary. I hope to start writing her story in another year or so. Many intruiging stories are told about her but what is clear is that she and her husband were commissioned to reach many in the Kenyan highlands, she built a church in her compound and was non-denominational in her work. She is my current hero.
Pioneers: What’s going on in the East Africa mobilisation office these days? What do you need prayer for?
Wairimu: I have spent most of this year recruiting and training potential volunteer staff. I have learnt the hard way a lot about the aspirations and expectations of volunteers in Christian service. Those who have experience in the positions we require are looking for jobs and not for volunteer positions. Those who are willing to volunteer don’t tend to have the discipline to learn what they need to contribute meaningfully. I am praying for God to bring those whom he has called to commit to this work. I need urgent prayers for this office team to come together. We are open to staff members coming from any part of the world if they feel called to serve in a mobilisation office in admin and accounts, training facilitation, resource mobilisation, research and publications, and in missionary care.
I have had the opportunity to walk with about fifteen people who expressed interest in being mobilised. It turns out that many of them are looking for paid positions. I am learning that we will need creative sending ideas such as sending people as students, business people and professionals for mobilisation to succeed. Also, we will need locally to engage young believers who are indigenous to their own unreached people to make it sustainable.
Pioneers: Thank you for your insights, Wairimu. You’ve given us a lot to think about! We will keep you and our Kenyan brothers and sisters in our prayers, and who knows, maybe one of us will be called to come serve alongside you to mobilise Africans to the nations!
The Power of the Gospel in the Global South
BY SIMON, PIONEERS AUSTRALIA DIRECTOR
If you hear someone say Western missions is over, don’t you believe it! Western missions (and mission from anywhere) is over when Christ returns, and the end has come (Revelation 22:20-21; Matthew 24:14). That said, there has been a radical shift in recent years in terms of the centre of mission activity.
Until fairly recently, Christian mission was predominantly “from the West to the rest”. Today, the number of cross cultural gospel bearers from the Global South is on the rise… and the rise is significant. South Korea, Brazil and Nigeria are now major missionary-sending countries, and Christians in China, India and Indonesia, among others, are poised to send large numbers of Christ-followers to countries near and far, including to the post-Christian West.
An example of how God is stirring His people in the Global South to engage in mission is seen in the story of Pioneers’ influence in Pacific countries such as the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea.
A Catalytic Ministry and the Solomon Islands
In 1886, a small group of indentured Solomon Islanders working in the sugarcane fields of Queensland, Australia, were being discipled by a young Australian Christian woman named Florence Young. This ministry developed into a significant mission when Solomon Islanders returned to their home country with a new message for their people – salvation through Jesus Christ. In the early 1900s, this group became known as the South Sea Evangelical Mission (SSEM), spreading the gospel throughout the islands of Melanesia and giving birth to the South Sea Evangelical Church in the 1960s. This church today has more than 90,000 members.
From Headhunting to Worship in Papua New Guinea
In the mid-1900s, another small Christian mission was formed with a strong vision to engage peoples on the islands of New Guinea. This was a time when tribal fighting was bloody, and headhunting was the norm. Aussies and New Zealanders built airstrips, established medical outposts, taught literacy, started Bible studies and, by God’s grace, established churches. The work of Asia Pacific Christian Mission (APCM) contributed directly to the formation of the Evangelical Church of PNG and the Evangelical Church of Indonesia. It is virtually impossible to count the number of believers in some 700 ECPNG congregations throughout PNG today. In the late 1990s, SSEM and APCM linked arms to become Pioneers of Australia.
From Receiving to Sending
This year, 30 leaders from Pioneers and Pacific churches convened at the request of the Pacific leaders to pursue a partnership for the mobilisation of Pacific Islanders into the Pioneers global movement. We now have the beginnings of two mobilisation teams forming to support this partnership; several discussions with new workers; and our first Fijian family has recently been appointed to serve among Indigenous Australians. We celebrate new members and partners joining our growing global family.
This is a new era. The Lord is at work in the Pacific Islands – stirring the hearts of His people in the Global South to reach others in nearby countries and in lands elsewhere! It is a privilege to watch this story unfold, and to affirm such an important historic relationship for God’s glory and God’s story in the Pacific and beyond. ~
This. Now. Here.
BY NAM, A PIONEERS UK MISSION MENTOR
Some called me a missionary, others a church planter, still others a volunteer worker, the children in the villages called me “teacher”.
Whichever hat they saw me wearing, I was there because I wanted to make God known in the places where he is least known. Spending the last 4 years in Isaan, Northeast Thailand had been the coming together of dreams and preparation for the prior 6 years.
I spent my days learning the tonal Thai language, teaching English to school children and oral Bible stories to villagers, prayer walking, praying for and sharing love with patients in a cancer hospital. I was passionate to see the driest soils ploughed up and sowed with seeds of God’s word. Every seed scattered was a source of joy, whether or not I saw an immediate result. I knew this was a work of years, not months. I was in for the long haul.
Yet the time came when everything in me seemed torn. It seemed like God was signalling the close of one season and the beginning of another, back in the UK. It was far from easy, but through months of seeking God, I had a sense that it really was time to return for a period. I struggled then, as I do now, with questions about the future that God didn’t provide answers to. But this February, I returned to the UK with 2 suitcases, having sold or given away everything else. I’d said my goodbyes well and left with many hugs and many tears.
Back ‘home’, the past 5 months have been a re-settling. It seemed God had everything planned, and I felt His hand in so many grace gifts – a time that could have been fraught with grief, conflicted emotions and pain has been painted with joy over and above all those. God has opened so many doors to me that only He could open: work, connections with Thai people locally, places of rest and life-giving relationships. One of these was the opportunity to continue serving with Pioneers UK as a Missions Mobiliser.
As part of this role I recently helped facilitate our Mission: Next orientation weekend. It was a time of stirring up zeal. To give a taster of the innovation and flexibility that characterise Pioneers, we watched video snapshots of how Pioneers teams around the world interpret ‘living out loud’, being contextual yet counter-cultural; accessible yet distinctive. We entered the subculture of skaters in Southeast Asia, and the church planting efforts by sacrificial families in remote Chad and closed Pakistan. When my Thai team’s video was played, it brought my two worlds crashing together and I was in pieces.
At that moment, I questioned this new start again for the thousandth time. Transition stress comes to us all with each new start. Although my personality seems to be well suited to the many and frequent transitions I’ve experienced (21 house moves; 7 country moves), major transitions take a toll. New starts are exciting, but angst isn’t. My passion for the unreached is as great as ever, my desire is for the day when all have an opportunity to hear, when worship rises to Creator God from every language and colour, age and ethnicity. I long to be a part of that – that greatest goal that any of us could give ourselves for, that great ingathering into the Kingdom of God, whatever the cost.
Yet I am just as sure that there is a season for everything, and sense God’s pleasure on this season of returning to my home culture. I know Him personally – this is not some contrived theological argument to make things okay, this is the deep seated peace that transcends my unanswered questions and frequently mixed emotions; this peace that passes understanding, it is real.
He tells me to trust my choice, too. He seems to be a great fan of this free-will thing. While I may wrangle and wrestle over the fear that I may somehow ‘miss it’ (the ‘it’ of His Will, or my Calling, as if it was a single red line through the tangle of choices that is life), Father seems to value my relationship with Him in this over and above anything I do for Him.
Never minimising the importance of a real faith that is lived out by works, He is rather calling me back simply to hear His heart first. And His heart is love. Loving acceptance of who I am, my desires, my choices.
“Live in the present,” He urges gently, insistently. “You hanker after your rose-tinted memories, or live in your dreams and fears of what may be next and after that and after that. But what about this moment? This, now, here, is precious to Me.” He knows my heart is to serve Him, to do for Him, to win for Him. But, He pushes deeper, “Will you be more excited about being with Me than doing things for Me?”
What about the need for harvesters? What about the unreached millions? He knows them each by name. He is passionate for each heart. Whatever part each of us play in His Story, He is pleased. Right now, for me this means praying zealously for those He has laid on my heart; sharing my passion with the Church and helping those who are also responding to His invitation to build the Kingdom, as they take steps to where He is leading.
But as pleased as He is with this, I believe He is already pleased before we begin. We are His children! Will we be abandoned in worship to Him, snatch glimpses of Him through our busy today and just enjoy His presence? Anything else is the outflow of that worship. And so I am re-learning Pioneers’ first core value – the value of passion for God, here, today.