Closing Reflection: The Church

 In this final article I give the inspiration and intention of the series. 

It began in June of last year when I read Stephen Ambrose’s book, The Victors. Ambrose laid out the seeds of democracy that fed the determination and initiative of the soldiers. He vividly showed how democracy prepared the forces of the West for the destruction of the Third Reich. 

The parallel for me was the power embedded in the church. Against the Body of Christ the gates of hell cannot stand. That power, that divinely established presence of God’s kingdom, could take down the worst evils of the world.  While I was ruminating on this, the lectionary brought the first chapter of Ephesians. There, Paul makes clear that the church reflects the glory of God and the counsel of his will. 

My Premise:

That became my premise: As the church contains the power of the Holy Spirit and displays God’s will, the church confronts the evils of the world and overwhelms them. 

I located the evils of the world in the parable of the Sheep and the Goats. The sheep cared for the needy of the world. The needy and their oppressors were those I wanted to address: the hungry, the poor, refugees, and slaves. To them I added three more: children, the persecuted followers, and those who had not yet heard the gospel. 

God’s Other Children: 

Jesus called these sheep “my brothers,” or in the wider context of the word, “my family.” I refer to them as “God’s Other Children,” a term that sees them en masse. As with any family, some would claim kinship while others depart the fold.

The Least:

Jesus gave a further clarification of the needy. He referred to them as “the least of these.” That meant ones who are too unimportant to make the news, unknown to most. That rationale took me to refugees from South Sudan, the hungry in Chad, slaves from Ghana, and the persecuted in North Korea. 

My model for “the least” has been the Musahar people of the Chitra of Nepal. They are ostracized and mostly ignored—by neighbors, the government, and the church. As a consequence, they have little education, poor health, bad jobs. They offer no advantage to any who help them, they bring no benefit to society, and they live with under the cloud that tells them they are unworthy and undeserving. 

That is what it is to be among “the least.”

The Sheep and the elect: 

There is another image for the sheep, for followers of Christ. This definition describes them by evangelical statement of their beliefs. They have repented of their sins and are saved by the blood of the Savior. But when Paul speaks of these as the elect, the saved, he is talking about the very same believers whom Jesus called the sheep. They are not a separate category of Christians. They are one and the same.

The Sheep are the elect, and the elect are the Sheep.

Christ’s expectation:

This parable is the last one Jesus gave before he left the world.  He impressed these memorable images on his followers to show his favor. What is noteworthy is what he described. There was no message, no admonition, no illustration. Simply this:  He observed that the sheep were feeding, were freeing, were welcoming. That is what drew his attention and favor to the sheep. That was what Jesus expected of his followers.

When we translate this into the present tense, Jesus is stating: “I see you, my people, feeding, freeing, welcoming.” And that is what he expects the church to be doing. He is not haranguing, not advocating, not commending—just telling us what he expects to see in the life of the church.

In the words and images of Ephesians, Paul encourages the church to do the same: “We live to praise of the glory of God. What we accomplish is the counsel of his will. Through the church the manifold wisdom of God might be displayed” (Ephesians 1:6, 11; 310). The images are not of sheep and goats, but the truth is the same.

So, unless we remove abused children and slaves to outside of the glory, will, and purposes of God, then the church is expected to defend these, the least of the world. 

The Warning of Shiloh:

If we do not walk in paths of justice, God may walk away from us. “Pruning” is the operative word here. If there is no fruit, then the gardener removes the dead branches.

Consider the crowd who heard John the Baptist. “Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” Many who heard repented and wanted to receive forgiveness and grace. They asked John what they were to do, what signs of repentance for them. And John listed ways “to do justice and love mercy” (Micah 6:8).

Or Jeremiah’s Temple sermon in the 7th chapter. He was simple and direct: “Treat your neighbors with love, stop murdering innocent people, welcome the refugee, don’t exploit widows and orphans. If you don’t, God will do to you what he did to his people at Shiloh” (7: 5,6,12).

The story of Shiloh comes from I Samuel 4. God saw how his people turned from him and did evil. So he responded: the Philistines defeated the Israelites, captured the ark, and killed the sons of Eli. When a baby was born to one of Eli’s sons, the name reflected the life of God’s people, “The glory has departed from Israel” (I Sam. 4:22). 

That, too, translates into the present tense.

The Church, Alive and Splendid:

God constantly revives his people, the church. We are the divinely empowered agency of God’s kingdom and the carrier of the wisdom of God. With all our flaws and failures, when we set to get it right, he restores in us the brightness of his glory. 

Isaiah captured this eloquently. Here, he tells the nature of the Lord of the church, Jesus Christ:

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because the Lord has anointed me;

he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-              hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners; They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory."

(Isa.61:1-3)

And so the church ash the high honor and calling to reflect the Savior's love. We rise humbly, stand boldly, and make war on his enemies:

"Arise, shine, for your light has come and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darknes shall cove the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but on you the light of the Lord will shine, and the brightness of his presence will be upon you."

(Isa. 60:1-3)

"God's Other Children" listed

I. God's Other Children                                                    November 29, 2021

The Persecuted:

II The Church in North Korea                                        October 27, 2021   

III Persecution in North Korea                                        November 1, 2021

IV Praying for the Church in North Korea                      November 7, 2021 

The Hungry

V The Hungry People in Chad                                        November 16, 2021

VI In the Grip of Hunger                                                November 23, 2021

Children

VI Good's Children                                                    November 30, 20221

VII Messages Children Live By                                   December 9, 2021

VIII    Children at the Nativity                                    December 16, 2021

The Unreached Peoples

IX Mission Omission Explained                               January 6, 2022

X The Gospel and Iran                                            January 13, 2022

XI The Gospel and One Tribe in Iran                     January 20, 2022

Slaves

XII Slaves, Slavery and God                                February 2, 2022

XIII Slavery Exposed and Opposed                        February 9, 2022

XIV Seeing the Faces of Slaves                            February 16, 2022

The Poor

XV Trampling the Poor in M...                            March 9, 2022

XVI The Virtues of the Poor                                March 15, 2022

Refugees

XVII Refugees and their Crises                         March 25, 2022

XVIII The Widows of South Sudan                   March 31, 2022

XIX    A Proper Welcome for Refugees          April 6, 2022

XVIII A Proper Welcome for Refugees

“I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” With these words Jesus put himself in the lives of refugees. 

The pivotal word is “welcomed.” To get the full meaning, we must let the Greek tell us more. It uses two words for welcome: go and with. If we put the two translations together, he is saying, “You welcomed me into your home.”  The proper welcome for refugees moves well beyond housing and subsidies. 

Let’s imagine new refugees welcomed into our home. There, a relaxed and safe atmosphere pervades around a table. We ask what they most want. Immediately comes their response—to tell us their story! When they sense that we will listen, they start. What unfolds is their trauma, lanced and now disburdened.

That is the “welcome” they have needed—to find people who will allow them to retrace the horrors on their journey; to find compassion that lets the sorrow and anger spew out; to find acceptance that honors their dignity and their future. That is why the disclosures around the table hold such value to them.

Their trauma is really a garbage pit, a stench-filled inferno where are found the wickednesses visited on this caste of supposed bottom-dwellers. The cruelties are unimagined by us, for they are out of our sight. Consider what we might hear:

Separation: Their family sent them away—away from warfare or hunger, sent away from those they loved, parted perhaps permanently. 

Shock: No itinerary prepared them for the dangers, the strange expectations of each port or station. Nothing they encountered resembled what they left at home. So strange, and often so irreverent.

Refusal: More than a border that refuses entry, the border guards treat them like vermin, unclean and unwanted. “Go back. We don’’t want you.” This was more than refusal—this was disgrace, insult, and ridicule.

Abuse: They survived an open-ended season for this. The forms of abuse reflect savage rules for those with power or authority. And the refugee knows not to expect justice or revenge.

Emotions emptied: No one hears and no one cares what goes on inside them. Yet the sorrow, the fear, the despair kept digging until they left a void. How hard to press on when the purpose is so ephemeral.

Years: How long will this take? How many times to wire more money to someone somewhere? Where will the next stop be, and what will happen to us there? All with the ever-loosening connection with home.

Loneliness: For single refugees, there are no friends, only temporary traveling companions. For families, the binding gets tighter and tighter, for trustworthy people are scarce.

Another Greek word carries the import of this welcoming experience: catharsis.

In 2018 Constance and I traveled to several refugee ministries in Europe. We met some refugees and heard stories that have stayed with us. Here are just four:

A family from Iran was in Athens, awaiting documents for passage to England. They had two sons, both sharp, intelligent, and athletic. Due to lacking documents and friends, they lived alone. With great sadness, our interpreter told us how these boys had simply lost three years of schooling and of their childhood, years that would never be replaced.

A woman told how she walked the final stretch from Serbia into Greece. It was winter.  In the last two days she had no feeling in her feet. She made the observation that if she had died along the way, no one would have known or cared.

In the anarchist area of Athens we visited a large building that housed three families. One of them was so stunned from their ordeal that they chose to pass their days alone, pulling themselves together to face the unknown future.

I heard this story through a Syrian Christian. A Turkish man was converted through this man. Later he was jailed but kept his faith, eagerly sharing with others in jail. One night the Turk telephoned the Syrian Christian, speaking very loudly. When asked why he was shouting, he explained it this way: In the cell were several Moroccan inquirers, but they did not speak Turkish or Syrian. A Moroccan who spoke Syrian borrowed a phone and asked the Christian to explain Christ’s sacrifice for our sins. The Moroccan held the phone up and translated, so all the others in the cell could hear. And that during the quarantine.

These refugees came to European countries and found solace and sanctuary at several ministries. In spite of much darkness, the Holy Spirit sought the lost and brought life. Here are some of the places where we knew he was present: 

Lesvos Island and Moria: This Greek island lies about four miles from the Turkish coast. In the mid-2010s thousands crossed the sea and landed there. Greece had a military base, Moria. There they found food and shelter, information about documents, and an unending supply of diapers.

Bridges: Word spread that in Athens there was a safe harbor for comfort and support. It was named “Bridges.” The stream of refugees going through those doors found people who spoke their language, who sat and listened, who prayed for them, and, upon request, would give Bibles in their language and bring them into a prayer group.

Dignity: Refugees traveling in the Czech Republic would pass highway signs telling them to go home, that they are a blot on life the Czech citizenry. Many find a different reception in Prague at a place called “Dignity.” There they find sanctuary, prayer, miracles, process for papers, and even Christmas packages taken to their camps far from the city. 

Oasis: When the thousands of Afghan refugees were arriving in Virginia, this ministry in Arlington sent out word asking for help. What Oasis wanted were families who would take in these refugees from Kabul. The response was both abundant money for expenses and homes for Afghans.

Tampa Muslim Outreach: The welcome there means English classes, meals, and safe gatherings for the huge Muslim population. In our visit there the sweet aroma of Jesus Christ was carried not only by Arab-speaking leaders but also by boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I’m sure the creativity of TMO has brought in other creative innovations, but I remember how many smiles those doughnuts brought.

Actually, there are more pivotal words in what Jesus said, not just “welcomed.” What he said was, “When you comfort these refugees in their misery of separation, loss, and abuse, when you  bring in people from Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, Libya, and Ukraine, when you have listened and loved them, you have done this unto me.” 

XVII The Widows of South Sudan

South Sudan is the world’s newest country, having gained its independence in 2011. Sadly, in that short time it has become a study of a nation’s collapse. 

Though South Sudan is oil-rich, pervasive corruption and nine years of tribal warfare have left it the world’s poorest country. Heavy inflation has critically reduced food production, leaving 7 million people on the edge of starvation. Almost 60% of the population are refugees of one category or another.

I will turn our attention to the widows of South Sudan. We know God’s eye is on the fatherless, so his compassion touches the widows who hold the fatherless. They are the ones left with babes in arms, with makeshift “homes” in the vast UN camps, with distress for their own safety, and grief for the losses which their children suffer. 

The following analysis will reveal how widows suffer the most and in the worst ways.

Displacement 

Flooding by the White Nile has left thousands of homes in knee-deep water. This has forced the people into homeless. But to flee where for shelter? Other villages have received hundreds of refugees already, and UN camps are overcrowded.

Fully 2 million people are Internally Displaced Persons (IDP). IDP translates into women carrying their few possessions, gleaning what food they can find, and sorrowing for the past day and for what awaits in the next. Over half of these refugees are children under 14.

Abuse

Women leave the confines of the UN camps at high risk. There, beyond the security of the camp, they face the danger of rape. In villages where there is no protection, raping takes place frequently and publicly—in front of children and in front of neighbors. These often result in death.

To exacerbate the crime, AIDS is widespread among the men, who, by raping, pass it to the widows. And in the worst irony of the atrocity, the shame of this brutality lies not upon the barbaric men but on the widows. 

Infants and children 
Disaster strikes these in three ways, each one almost invisible.

The number of children with kwashiorkor is in the hundreds of thousands. Kwashiorkor is a disease of protein deficiency in infants. That, in turn, results in under-developed brain tissue, which leads to lower IQ. The threat of this disease lies with malnutrition, a by-product of food scarcity.

Education is a priority for their children, but life interrupts that, also. A convergence of hope and corruption hit schools recently. The United Kingdom gave thousands of books for schools to be distributed at no cost. They became available at many locations—for sale at the local market.

Children missing their childhood is an invisible loss. They will not have memories of playgrounds, of picnics with family, of reading books about other children. They will not go through the natural growth, the fun, the challenges of becoming a teenager. What is even worse, they will not know that they have missed these “normal” experiences. 

Status of Women

Their “status” demands that they do manual labor, bear children, make a home. Their status permits sexual abuse on them, female genital mutilation, shameful acts perpetrated in front of their children. They do not have funds or means of travel to barter for food for their children. 

Literacy, always a path of hope, is about 45% in South Sudan, but for women, less than 28%. That level is usually below 8th grade. 

That is why I say that widows suffer the most and in worst ways.
 

Any discussion of refugees leads to the hope of donor relief. For that, the donor looks for certain marks: familiarity with the circumstances, sympathy for the victims, and prospects for their future. Let me apply these criteria to South Sudan.

Familiarity with the circumstances:

It is a long way from anywhere to the airport in Juba. On arrival come warnings of danger. Then come the high prices, followed by neglected roads, checkpoints, tutorials in dealing with corruption, and shocking views of poverty and men with machine guns. It’s a long way to South Sudan, and it is easy to see why so few make the journey.

Sympathy for the cause:

In the reality of tribal warfare, sympathy means supporting either the Dinka or the Nuer. Or it means, who on the outside really cares?

Prospects for their future:
A leader from one of the Balkan nations recently expressed why he supported Ukrainian refugees over Africans: They look like us, they have degrees, they are leaders, they will return and rebuild. OK. I really don’t need to put those remarks into the context of South Sudanese widows, do I?

But they do have donor support.  The supreme donor is God and his gift is passionate love and care for the widows and the fatherless. This is not an academic statement. The reality of this truth almost literally drenches them, bringing a hope that is almost palpable. 

Within the generic grouping of them as “God’s Other Children,” many of them have moved under the shadow of his wings. They are sweetly trusting and ever faithful. These know that their cries are heard by their heavenly father and that they are counted as his beloved children. 

This drenching, this palpable assurance brings exuberant excitement. When they gather under a bamboo tree or a roof, and when the catechist has come and brought to them Bibles, and when he reads them reminders of God’s love and care, light shines!

The catechist could choose a text like Psalm 10. From it he would read how God does not forget the helpless, how he will lift up his hand to break the arm of the wicked. He hears the desire of the afflicted and listens to their cry. The Psalm tells them that God defends the fatherless and the oppressed, will bring justice, has grief and sorrow for them, and finally declares that no one will terrify them anymore. The worship this elicits is filled with extreme energy and joy. So I am told. 

A friend and I were talking the other day about this Psalm and how we respond in our services—exhibiting our typical worship posture of hands in pocket, no expression on face, and certainly no perceptible movement. That’s because our trials and challenges bear no resemblance to the trials and horrors of these widows. And because we are so very reverent White people!

Not so for the widows of South Sudan. When they hear of God’s promises, that hope, those words of comfort and assurances—they enter the holy of holies, angels cheerlead them, the heavenly host is drowned out! The Spirit is alive in depths and ways we know not of. Their joy is more precious than gold, and sweeter also than honey from the honeycomb. All will be well. They know.

Do you think they keep their hands in pockets and no expression on their face? Can you imagine them with no movement? I think not.