While in Honduras in the 1980s Gracie and I learned to engage illiterate and minimally-educated people in Bible study through spontaneous dramatic re-enactments of Bible stories.

This month during our Certificates in Transformational Ministry at the Margins in Ndola, Zambia and Manenberg, South Africa, I found myself searching for ways to act out Bible stories

During these mostly spontaneous “bibliodramas” the Scriptures came alive afresh in surprising ways, creating bridges that made the ancient text suddenly obviously relevant.

In our CTMM module 2 on “Healing and Holistic Liberation” we treat sensitive topics like father and mother wounds, rejection, abandonment, and trauma, as well as spiritual warfare, healing and spiritual liberation.

When talking about spiritual warfare we use the story of Jesus taking his disciples to the “other side” of the Sea of Galilee, away from his prior ministry among his own people.

I spot a large table that I envision working as a make-shift boat, and ask for help to lay it on the floor. I invite twelve volunteers to serve as Jesus’ 12 disciples, and have them stand on the table like they’ve gotten in a boat. I find someone willing to be Jesus, who joins the disciples in the boat. I invite others to grab jackets or whatever they can wave around the “boat” to demonstrate wind and waves.

I invite someone to read Mark 4:35-37, which describes a fierce gale of wind, waves breaking over and filling the boat. The people with the coats wave them over the the twelve playing the disciples, who pretend to be full of fear. The man playing Jesus is laying down pretending to be asleep.

I invite people to consider whether they’ve ran into obstacles when they’ve moved away from their comfort zones to minister in unknown or especially challenging places. People identify easily with this, and give examples from their lives.

We read the next verse about Jesus being asleep, the disciples waking him and saying: “Don’t you care that we are perishing?!”

We talk about the feeling of being out there all alone when things get rough. The text gives people permission to identify their feelings of abandonment, their sense that Jesus is doing nothing to help. The disciples model a prayer of complaint that frees us to be real.

As we read what happens next the man playing Jesus gets up, rebukes the wind and sea, saying: “hush, be still!” Those waving jackets stop immediately. Then asks a hard questions to his disciples and us all: “Why are you afraid! Do you still have no faith?”

Those playing the disciples act out the reading of the final verse, pretending to be very afraid and amazed. They say to each other: “Who is this, that even the wind and the waves obey him.”

We end with a discussion about why we are still afraid and lacking in faith, and whether we can imagine stepping into Jesus-like fearlessness and authority.

Simple re-enactments make Scripture visible and more easily imaginable, helping us all see ourselves in the story.

The next study on the Gerasene demoniac in Mark 5 becomes even more interesting now that we know there’s been such opposition even getting to him. In Zambia two pastors from Zimbabwe who came to help teach and minister played Jesus and the demoniac (pictured below).

Tawanda (pictured on the right) plays Jesus, stepping off the boat onto the imaginary shore. He’s even himself 32, helping us envision what Jesus might have been like. Richard (left), plays the demoniac with an unclean spirit living in the tombs, who cut himself, cried out night and day, with no one able to subdue him. He runs to Jesus from the side of the meeting place and bows down before him, reading from my Bible:

We witness many experience healing and deliverance, followed by a processional out into the streets of the neighborhood– of foretaste of the Kingdom of God.

We are just 4 days away from the start of our new fall series at The People’s Seminary: CTMM MODULE 1. We will launch this course coinciding with CTMM in Zambia, S Africa,  Kenya, and 2 in Uganda).

Certificate in Transformational Ministry at the Margins (CTMM) This training is designed to further equip those already serving (or feeling called to pioneer work) amongst poor, under-reached, and marginalized communities.

It’s not too late to register and scholarships (partial or full) are still available directly on the registration page (drop down menu when you register) 

NEW CTMM 2023 Module 1– Online (live) Certificate Program begins Sep 26

Register now: https://www.peoplesseminary.org/product-page/ctmm2022m1 

12 Sessions: Tuesdays, 10:30 – 12:00 PM (PST)

Visit our website for more information: http://www.peoplesseminary.org/

 

Please email " target="_blank" rel="noopener">communications@tierra-nueva.org if you need help with registration

 

Throughout our lives Gracie and I have been struck by the enormous divide between the educated, and the poor and excluded– even within the church. A wealth of learning and valuable skills are held beyond the grasp of masses of impoverished people, unless deliberate efforts are made to effectively bridge these separations.

Last November I attended the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature and American Academy of Religion in Denver. Though a Bible scholar by training, I felt out of place among the thousands of scholars– most of them professors in universities or seminaries. Encounters with some of the scholars eased some of my discomfort.

I perused the book tables of all the major theology and biblical studies publishers, checking out new commentaries and books of interest. I made my way to many seminars on specialized topics, listening for new insights on familiar or not-so-familiar texts. I felt like a metal detector, hoping to come upon some buried treasure in the various seminar rooms. I was listening hard for good news, but struggled to hear it, though I barely scratched the surface as there were hundreds of options each day to choose from.

One evening I attended a reception hosted by the Hispanic Theological Initiative, an organization that supports Latinx students and scholars. The ballroom was full of mostly well-dressed people, name badges identifying them and their institutions. Food and deserts were plentiful and wine and beer were in abundance. A woman began speaking from a microphone at the front, warmly welcoming everyone to the reception. It was a festive occasion.

The woman at the front then invited people to give their applause as she showed photos on a big screen of PhD students who had been awarded their degrees, followed by those who had become assistant professors, or moved from assistant professor to associate professor, or associate professor to professor, or become deans or presidents. She invited these people forward, and everyone clapped and cheered. It was a beautiful show of support.

I appreciate their mission statement to: “Increase the recruitment, retention, and graduation rates of Latinx PhD students across the nation by uniting and leveraging institutional resources (human, financial, and infrastructural)… and to “Increase the presence of Latinx leaders and faculty–especially, tenured faculty in seminaries, schools of theology, and universities.” Yet I couldn’t help but also feel overwhelmed with emotion as I found myself struck by the huge contrast between those celebrated and the people I serve here in the Skagit Valley.

I thought of the six or seven Mexican and Chicano inmates I visit in our local jail, most of whom are facing being “retained” by the prison system, and experiencing forced “graduations” from jail to years in prison. They are locked down 22-23 hours per day due to staff shortages. Once in prison they will join the millions of warehoused individuals, who have minimal opportunities for training of any kind in our increasingly cash-strapped and staff-lean mass-incarceration system.

After serving time, many will then be sent off to immigration detention, and they will eventually be deported to their countries of origin. Others will be released, deep in debt, often disconnected from family to the point of being homeless, with labels like “felon” and “ex-con” next to their name, blocking their future.

I thought of the farmworker families attending Tierra Nueva who go from the strawberry and blueberry fields in the summer months to pruning blueberry and raspberry plants and working the tulip fields during the cold winter months– never getting raises or promotions or congratulations.

The gap between what I experienced at the SBL/AAR annual meeting and the people we serve is immense. And the academic language I heard spoken as people read their scholarly papers would be completely unintelligible to most of the people we serve, as well as the world’s population.  I lament the growing gap between the masses of men and women in our jails, prisons, homeless encampments, fields and factories– and the small elite of academic theologians and Bible scholars and their students.

As I stood near the back of the ball room considering these things, I suddenly noticed LED flameless candles flickering at the base of what turned out to be a memorial to Latinx theology professionals who had passed away. I approached the memorial and looked at the photos of the faces of person after person who had died, with their birth and death dates. I noticed that many had not lived long lives. Had they died of Covid? Cancer? In a car accident? There were no causes of death mentioned.

As I looked at face after face and read their names I was moved with emotion at all these lives cut short. I thought of my own mortality, and remembered a Scripture I often consider from Psalm 90:12 “So teach us to number our days, That we may present to you a heart of wisdom.”

I think of my own calling to bridge this divide– bringing the best biblical scholarship I can to the poor and excluded. I wonder how I can more effectively reduce this gap in the years of my life that remain.

We want to expand the offering of our Certificate in Transformational Ministry at the Margins to pastors and leaders serving excluded populations all over the world.

For years I have felt called to launch a prisoner pastoral ministry training program, and have since completed a five-volume Guerrilla Bible Studies series that includes 52 tried-and-tested discipleship Bible studies can be used as part of this training.

There, in Denver I met a woman named Sara who has since helped us launch a Certificate in Reading the Bible for Liberation through The People’s Seminary. We now have a distance-learning program in which a number of prisoners are currently enrolled.

I am moved by how Jesus himself shows God’s heart to reach the masses, as he went “around from one city and village to another, proclaiming and preaching the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him” (Lk 8:1).

Jesus was moved with compassion when he saw the crowds, who “were distressed and dispirited like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Therefore beg the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest” (Mt 9:36-38).

Recruitment and training of these workers is urgently needed now, and like God who sends his best to the least, may we follow suit in whatever ways we are able.

Many of Jesus’ words recorded in the Gospels directly challenge the idols of freedom, independence, and self-elevation rampant in Western culture today. Here are some of his words we have found particularly challenging lately in our weekly Bible studies at Tierra Nueva.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you” (John 15:12-14).

That Jesus emphasizes his “commandment” and “doing what he commands” is foreign and even off-putting for most of us today. It seems to reinforce a common perception that being a Christian is all about obeying rules like the ten commandments.

If we take offense at this language and at the idea of friendship being contingent on “following orders,” we miss the radical positivity of the command: “that you love each other.”

Jesus has many other direct teachings stated as imperatives throughout the Gospels. For example:

“But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. (Luke 6:27-28).

These commands set disciples of Jesus apart from the eye-for-an-eye justice seekers, myth-of-redemptive-war advocates and law-enforcers.

What Jesus is saying here in John 15 is that doing what he says and loving one another makes us his friend (philos)—also meaning colleague, or companion. Loving one another makes us friends of Jesus, who himself embodies the greatest love, that of “laying down his life for his friends”—that is, us!

We certainly have benefitted from his friendship and stand to benefit much more, and to pass on that benefit to others.

Jesus’ next words clarify that he’s not about subjugating anyone like a boss or master in a master-slave relationship.

“No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you” (Jn 15:15).

Jesus invites us to imitate him in his own love relationship with the Father, which he includes us directly into.

“If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love; just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love” (Jn 15:10).

In John 15:16, right before he repeats: “This I command you, that you love one another” (15:17), he clarifies that he is personally recruiting us into a friendship movement that involves making a lasting positive impact, experiencing direct provision from God as our Father, and ongoing revelation from Jesus (which he receives from the Father).

“You did not choose me but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in my name he may give to you” (Jn 15:16).

He contrasts this directly with a warning about what his friends can expect from the systems of this world.

“If the world hates you, you know that it has hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, because of this the world hates you” (Jn 15:18-19).

The contrast between loving our brothers and sisters and being loved as Jesus’ friends (and by our fellow sisters and brothers) and being hated by the world clarifies that we can’t have it both ways- being friends with Jesus and friends with the world. James 4:4 states it bluntly:

“You adulteresses, do you not know that friendship with the world is hostility toward God? Therefore, whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God.”

Following Jesus involves listening to him and trusting, over our own reasoning at times.  Jesus calls us to act in agreement with his desire (expressed in his teaching) above our will, doing things his way rather than our own way.

Jesus’ call to love each other and follow his instructions appears counter-cultural. We will be differentiated from our society and called out of normal conformity to the systems and ways of the world.

May we step more fully into friendship with Jesus and with each other as we take his commands seriously, deferring to him over our own will and ways.

Many of the people involved in Tierra Nueva’s church and Bible studies are either still in active addiction or in some stage of their recovery process. In both cases people are accustomed to dealing with barriers to receiving benefits, keeping parental rights, employment or receiving or keeping their housing in a homeless shelter, subsidized housing or other services.

Regarding church people also assume there are barriers keeping them out, and even separated from God. Barriers that block people’s access to God and church must be deliberately identified and torn down!

Common barriers to social services include active addiction, criminal record, not having government-issue ID or legal immigration status, mental health issues, criminal history, active criminal warrants, and partners not in active recovery.

Many people who attend Tierra Nueva are all too familiar with high-barrier systems, such as in-patient residential and outpatient treatment programs, which some have been through numerous times. Some come who are enrolled in Skagit County’s alternative sentencing program called “Drug Court.”

Drug court holds participants accountable in a rigorous way that helps many. They require attendance at twelve-step meetings meetings hosted by CA (Cocaine Anonymous), NA (Narcotics Anonymous), or AA (Alcoholics Anonymous), and require random UA’s (urine analysis) to assure people are not using. Relapsing or failing to meet drug court requirements is punishable by jail time, court-mandated treatment or being kicked out of the program. Failing drug court means serving prison sentences for crimes for which they’ve pled guilty. Very few qualify for this high-barrier program.

Thankfully there are “low-barrier” shelters and other organizations that try to minimize requirements so more more people can access services. “Detox” is technically “low-barrier,” except that there are often no available beds!

Churches are often viewed as some of the highest-barrier places from which people assume they’d be excluded for a myriad of other reasons– tragically reducing its reach. We at Tierra Nueva are seeing the urgency of deliberately presenting as a “no-barrier” church; we seek to welcome vulnerable people in our community, those marked by rejection.

People usually assume they’re going to be judged and outright rejected if they open-up and reveal their true lives. Their natural inclination is to avoid church altogether. Their default is to self-protect, hiding their true selves, past histories and current life situation.

Single moms expect rejection for their “out-of-control” kids. Others would assume church people would exclude them for being an unmarried couple, smelling like weed, being a smoker or vaper, living in their car or on the street, using profanity, frequenting casinos, struggling with mental illness, ignorant of or unsure about Christian faith, not knowing the Bible, being overweight, having active warrants, certain tattoos, having children in foster care, having had abortions, gang affiliation, undocumented status…

These prejudices are regularly reaffirmed by the media, who remind people of the culture wars, highlighting many professed Christians positions against abortion, anti LGTBQ, tough on crime, pro-border wall, etc.

Sadly, people’s general perception of Christians as moralistic, legalistic, and hypocritical is continually reinforced. A friend of mine who has spent over 25 years in prison recently texted me his view of church:

“If you tasked me with finding a good person in a million but I could only hunt at churches or prison, I would choose prison. Because no one pretends to be good there. In fact, people exaggerate their badness in prison, and in church everyone presents as if they are on the path… I just find true convicts more honorable than rank and file Christians, and that certainly is true in their leadership.”

People coming in off the streets need positive eye contact from people who express authentic, non-judgmental presence. Barriers that block people from access to the church must be deliberately confronted through establishing a culture of welcome to people just as they are. This means welcoming people at the door or even outside, speaking that welcome out from the front, and creating an environment of no judgement that is consistent from start to finish.

This also means not identifying too overtly with typical recovery culture, and even overtly disassociated from its legalism (without condemning the need for higher barriers when needed to protect people in recovery). We announce Jesus as Savior of the world, friend of sinners, pursuer of the forsaken and lost, forgiver of our sins 70×7, canceller of our debts, who qualifies the disqualified.

We carefully think about the language used in worship songs, teaching, prayers, and liturgy so that it can be understandable to people who may have little formal education. Often people unfamiliar with church culture will not understand Christian lingo, including talk of lions, lambs, blood, the cross. Assume that most everything needs to be explained, always without condescension, with examples that people from the streets can identify with.

Messaging about God must continually express God’s unconditional, no-barrier love most visible in Jesus, which we must receive through the Holy Spirit over, and over again. And this same no-barrier love can then be embodied by the “body of Christ”—the church community itself.

This doesn’t mean we promote a boundary-less, anything-goes, free-for-all space! A safe, nurturing environment must be cultivated and continually guarded, with attention given to protecting people from anything predatory.

We carefully address legalism when it arises, and work to reign in hyper-spiritual language or manifestations that can scare or alienate people as they arise. We must creatively and continually re-state the liberating message that God qualifies us and saves us by grace, even as we attempt to embody the Gospel through our practices.

We end each Sunday with an “open-table” communion service before sitting down together for soup or a potluck. After gathering in a big circle, someone leads us all in a printed liturgy which includes this question and response.

Leader: Who is invited to this table?

People: “All are invited and welcomed to this table, regardless of who we are, where we have come from, or how we have been living our lives. God invites us here just as we are. God’s love for us is so strong that God became one of us so that when we put our trust in Jesus we are rescued from the rule of darkness, and enter into his abundant life, even now and forever.”

No-barrier mission is easiest when we take the church to the streets, homes, fields, homeless encampments, jails, prisons, and workplaces of our communities. Jesus himself embodied God’s movements towards people wherever they were: on the roads, beside the sea, in villages, homes, synagogues, public gathering places, in the company of the sinners of his time. Jesus compares himself to a shepherd who seeks after lost sheep until he finds them, placing them on his shoulders and celebrating their return with friends and neighbors.

As disciples of the Good Shepherd Jesus, we seek to do this through regular outreach on the streets, Bible studies in public parks, and visits to people in their homes. Being emissaries of a no-barrier God is a vocation that the Holy Spirit is continually renewing and inspiring, leading us outside across lines of difference, and welcoming people inside into communities of inclusion.

Spotify Podcast – https://open.spotify.com/show/0izQqZHnd28fBwOvmhasux?si=ebeb1404fa734aeb

Apple Podcast – https://open.spotify.com/episode/5bAaLwrqgwHJ1p6ErtA3WH?si=b63e92a6fe4646eb

I’ve just returned home after three weeks of trainings in Zambia, South Africa and Mauritius. Last week our team of trainers journeyed from Ndola to Cape Town to begin our People’s Seminary four-day module “Christian Identity and Mission in Scripture and Society” in the battle-worn township of Manenberg. There we saw how essential it is to bring together careful study of the Bible with the gifts of the Spirit together with street and Scripture-informed justice.

We were hosted by Tree of Life, a ministry to gang-involved youth that includes a vibrant faith community that’s been active in the township since 2013. We stayed in one of the gang-neutral Muslim neighborhoods where Tree of Life is based. According to Tree of Life’s website:

“Manenberg was established between 1966 and 1970, under the South African apartheid regime’s forced removals of ‘non-whites’ from the various suburbs of Cape Town that had been deemed ‘whites only’. Many families were ousted from their homes at the foot of Table Mountain, split up, and thrown into substandard housing with little formal infrastructure, 20km out of town. Midst the trauma of family dislocation, fear, and loss of safe space, gangs formed. Brotherhoods of disillusioned young men rapidly spread throughout Manenberg and the Cape Flats. The rotten legacy of Cape Town’s apartheid past has given rise to violence, crime and drug abuse in pandemic levels.

Today, Manenberg suffers daily, and the effects are seen throughout the whole family, fractured relationships, high levels of domestic abuse and a home environment that does not provide a safe place for young children to grow up.”

As our host Pete Portal drove us into the community it felt like we were entering a sort of run-down war zone. Churches and mosques were everywhere, often surrounded by high fences with razor-wire. The first thing we were told was to not walk around the township without being escorted by one of their local staff.

One of the first sights I noticed that embodied the contradictions is the photo above of a woman struggling with addiction leaning against a wall with John 1:5 written on it.

The next morning we started our Certificate in Transformational Ministry at the Margins with 35 or so people. The group was diverse, including staff, ministry workers from other organizations and a number of men and women in their twenties, who’d left their lives of drugs and gangs to live recovery-oriented community houses.

We began with worship and then launched into our first Bible studies on Genesis 1-4 and 12. To make the teaching more accessible to less-educated participants we used bibliodramas throughout.

Richard, our Zimbabwean pastor colleague played God in our session on Genesis 4. Rene, a tall, muscular German guy who does prison ministry played Cain. I gave him two apples to set them on a table in front of God (Richard). A young man who grew up on the streets of Manenberg played Abel. He brought a stuffed white lamb and laid it before Richard. Richard (God) looked upon Abel and his offering, and not upon Cain and his offering. Witnessing firsthand a contemporary manifestation of God’s unexplained preference for the underdog got everyone’s attention.

When Cain became angry, God approached him tenderly, and Richard asked him: “Why are you angry Cain?” This and God’s ongoing conversation with Cain showed everyone clearly how sin does not separate God from offenders. Rather we must expect God to show up and engage us when we’re angry or even committing acts of violence. “Do we expect God to draw close to us when we’re angry? Why are we angry?” we ask.

Acting out this text was especially powerful in a post-apartheid setting, where it’s still a shock to see God as a Black man and Cain as someone who looks like a privileged White South African. God’s looking upon the lower-status Abel surprised people, and his victimization led to a longer discussion on Jesus (and God’s) identification with Abel. Participants made these discoveries together in regular breakout groups.

Later that afternoon one of Tree of Life’s local leaders, Rudy, gave us a walking tour through the township. As we walked we were struck by a feeling of despair, visible in garbage strewn fields that were often the sites of battles between gangs with names like the Americans, Hard Living, Clever Kids, Fancy Boys, Jester Kids, Dixie Boys, Junky Funky. We could see the relevance of contextual Bible studies like the one we’d just done for this community torn by violence.

The next day we presented on Isaiah 1-39, looking at how the prophet articulated God’s opposition to the status quo of oppression, one of our particularly street/justice-oriented studies. A Black South African woman named Blondie, who’d done twelve years in prison and now works for a ministry to ex-offenders played the prophet Isaiah.

After that I did a teaching on Jesus’ baptism, where we saw how Jesus himself identifies with God’s enemies by symbolically dying there in the Jordan River, which was followed by his departure from his homeland—a necessity for anyone seeking to follow Jesus as a disciple.

In our next study Richard then played Jesus, and Andreaz the devil, and Richard modeled how to confront the tempter, making Jesus’ wilderness temptations come alive for people.

Colleen led the group in a spiritual mapping exercise, and people presented the Manenberg township and we prayed together.Another highlight was when we modeled how to pray for healing, and the first person we prayed for was healed before the group. Andreaz then invited someone who had never prayed for healing to come and pray for one of the course participants, who was suffering from back pain. One of the former gang-member street youth volunteered to pray, and I found myself worrying whether we were setting things up for an awkward failure.

I invited the young man to ask permission from a woman to place his hand on her back to pray for her. He dutifully asked her and she gave him permission. I then invited him to order the pain to leave her back in Jesus’ name, based on Jesus’ imperatives when he healed people. He ordered the pain to go and we asked Fatima if she noticed any change. “No,” she said. “It’s still the same.”

I then invited the young man just to pray again however he felt led to pray, using his own inspired words. He prayed a beautiful prayer and the woman suddenly declared with surprise and delight that all the pain was gone (see photo below).Within an hour of completing the training we learned that three people were killed in gang-related violence in the township.  We ourselves saw the body of man covered with a white sheet at the crime scene, and learned he’d killed someone before being hunted down himself and beaten to death in front of some of Tree of Life’s local leaders’ house.

That night we gathered for Tree of Life’s monthly Kingdom Come worship service, where we lamented these deaths, interceded for the community and ended with a healing service. Many people came up for prayer, and the Spirit of God moved powerfully to bring relief. In places like Manenberg the urgency of proclaiming a liberating Gospel and seeing God’s Kingdom come is certainly apparent. May we continue to pray that God’s Kingdom will come, God’s will be done, on earth as in heaven, and open ourselves to being part of Jesus’ liberation movement.

I’m amazed as I think back to Gracie and my original call while living in Honduras to offer training to illiterate and semi-literate people through what we then called the Universidad del Campo (the University of the Countyside). From 1982-1988 we hosted many courses under the shade of big mango trees on the edge of our demonstration farm.

Subsistence farmers came on foot or horseback from the surrounding villages, sleeping on straw mats to attend courses on organic-intensive hillside agriculture, nutrition, literacy, and human rights advocacy. In our last years and ever since we’ve focused more on teaching people how to read the Bible for good news, leading participatory Bible studies, praying for healing and spiritual freedom.

When we moved to France for formal studies in theology in 1988 we thought to bring “the best to the least.” Not that we believed Western theological education was the “best,” or that the people we served were in any way lesser. Rather, we were moved by the witness of many educated Catholic priests and protestant pastors and missionaries who had left pastorates in cathedrals and professorships in prestigious universities to serve the poorest of the poor.

Theologians like Gustavo Gutierrez and priests like Rutilio Grande and Archbishop Oscar Romero inspired us to serve people as humble learners while also translating valuable insights from the disciplines of Biblical studies and theology into the language and contexts of poor communities.

When we moved to the Skagit Valley after completing our studies and began ministering in the local jail and amongst the Mexican farmworker community, we could have never imagined that this would be the training ground for developing certificates we’d later offer to communities around the world.

On March 7th I boarded a flight from Seattle to Istanbul, landing in Ndola, Zambia via Nairobi to begin our four-day course after nearly 28 hours of travel. There I joined a team of four others who’d graduated from our Certificate in Transformational Ministry at the Margins (CTMM) in Stockholm, Zimbabwe, and an online Zoom training to begin our 24th CTMM course, this time to 196 Zambian pastors and ministry workers.  Those attending our courses came from poor communities where they haven’t had the opportunity to study. People were eager to learn, and resonated especially with Bible studies that we acted out in bibliodramas. Our teachers included Zimbabwean pastors Richard and Tawanda, South African grass-roots educator Colleen, myself, and Swedish musician and pastor Andreaz (photo below).

Our host community organized a daily lunch on each of the four days (photo below). We were able to cover the thirteen sessions of Module One, “Christian Identity and Mission in Scripture and Society.” On the final day of the CTMM training we presented participants with a training manual. We will return to offer modules 2 and 3 in the next six to ten months, offering a certificate from The People’s Seminary to those who complete all the modules.

We left Zambia last week, inspired by the humility of the people who attended our training. This was visible in the many young people and even children who came to us asking for prayer for their studies, and people’s honoring of one another and us. They even measured us, bringing us hand-made shirts and a dress for Colleen.

I was deeply touched by people’s simple faith and openness to receiving form God and us, visible in many healings that took place over the week, and people’s questions and engagement with the course content. People prayed and prophesied over us with great accuracy and a humble confidence that shows they are adept at trusting God for provision, health, nearly everything.

Worship happened before and after every session, with a team of young people leading from the front. We left Zambia feeling that we’d received more than we’d given. We just finished the same training in Mannenberg, an impoverished township of Capetown, South Africa, which we finished on Friday and will tell you about in a separate update. I’m now on a flight to Mauritius to offer Module 3 to a group of French-speaking Presbyterians who we’ve been training online. I’m excited to work through final module in person, “Word on the street: transformational Bible study, social justice & peacemaking,” this week. Take a look at our self-paced online Certificate in Transformational Ministry at the Margins here.

The story of Moses in Exodus 1-3 took on new relevance for me as we discussed these chapters with a group of sub-Saharan African migrants last week in Casablanca, Morocco.

Those attending were all migrants pushed to leave their homeland by war and poverty. They came mostly from Congo, Cameroon, and Ivory Coast. Once in Morocco, their plans were to gather together enough money to pay the 1,600-3,000 Euros ($1,700-3,220) required by smugglers for a place on an inflatable raft to make the precarious crossing of the Mediterranean into Spain.

Many have been unable to cross into Europe due to stricter controls by the Moroccan Navy, rough seas, or lack of money. They are living in poor slums far from the center of Casablanca, and are active in house churches as pastors, worship leaders and evangelists. Many do not have papers to stay in the country legally, cannot open bank accounts and so have difficulties being paid if they find a job as most employers pay only through direct deposits. Many of the newest migrants are homeless, living on the outskirts of towns, in parks and even on the streets.

The group met in an airy classroom (modified garage) off the courtyard of a protestant church in the center of Casablanca. The temperatures were unusually cold (36-42 degree F), and the space unheated. It took most people over an hour to commute from their apartments far from the city center. Our teaching sessions were regularly interrupted by loud calls to prayer announced over a PA system from the Muslim prayer tower adjacent to the church.

Together we read Exodus 1, noticing that the multiplication of Israelite slaves in Egypt threatened Pharaoh to the point that he ordered the Israelite midwives and eventually the people themselves to kill every male child that was born.

As the story unfolds, our course participants are delighted to see how it was the women, (not considered a threat by Pharaoh), who resisted these laws, beginning with the midwives and ending with Pharaoh’s daughter herself! Their resistance included direct disobedience, outright lying, followed by more disobedience, hiding, assisting a fugitive to escape, spying and fraud.

Course participants had made long and dangerous journeys from their homelands, and knew firsthand that survival as a migrant often requires a clandestine existence which includes hiding, lying, paying bribes and breaking immigration laws. Since Christian proselytizing is illegal in Morocco, as is using an apartment for worship gatherings, much of what they do must be under the radar.

That God overtly blessed Israelite midwives, aiding and abetting all who resisted Pharaoh, clearly siding with those targeted for extermination (male babies) visibly encouraged people, who at the same time seemed to shift uneasily in their chairs when we spoke openly about what resistance to the powers of death looks like in Morocco today. Guilt and dis-ease regarding how God might see illegal survival tactics is common. Directly addressing clandestine survival practices through placing them face-to-face with Biblical stories like Exodus 1-3 brings initial discomfort followed by relief.

Next, we read the story of Moses in Exodus 2-3, who after being saved from death by women resisters and raised by Pharaoh’s daughter went out to see his people. When he saw an Egyptian taskmaster beating an Israelite slave, he looked both ways before killing the Egyptian and hiding his body in the sand.

When he learned the next day that he’d been discovered, Moses fled into the wilderness, and soon after he married the daughter of a pagan priest and worked shepherding his flock. There, on the far side of the wilderness the Angel of the Lord appeared to Moses in a burning bush.

“Where was Moses and what was he doing when God appeared to him?” I ask. “Was he in a church? Was he praying, fasting or reading his Bible?”

People shake their heads, smiling.

“No, he was in the wilderness, pasturing sheep,” someone says.

When I point out that Moses was between his homeland (Egypt) and Canaan, “the land flowing with milk and honey,” the story suddenly became especially relevant for them there in Morocco. They are all in this precarious in-between place, where Moses was found by Shepherd God.

“What would be modern-day equivalents in Morocco of Moses’ job pasturing someone else’s sheep?” I ask.

People mention working as assistants to masons– hauling sand and blocks and mixing cement to help build cinder-block structures.

One woman who only could attend one of our sessions shared how she works as a maid for a wealthy Moroccan family, from 6am until midnight six days a week, making the equivalent of 200 Euros (about $215) a month. She said many migrant women work as maids like her. I asked her if she has children and she told me she has a 23-old son somewhere in Tunisia, who is trying to cross into Europe. She didn’t know her other son’s whereabouts.

That day we heard the news of how nine migrants out of 50 had died of thirst and cold on a boat crossing from Tunisia that had lost its way.

We talk about how the angel of the Lord’s appearance to Moses in an ordinary bush that was on fire but not being consumed showed God’s premeditated, tactful effort to meet up with Moses. God had studied Moses, knowing his whereabouts, language and interests—just as God knows each of us. The angel of the Lord addressed Moses by his name, and also named his ancestors, showing his knowledge of fugitive Moses’ true identity. Moses reacted with fear and hid himself, evoking his fear after he’d killed the Egyptian and hid his body. People were touched by God’s response:

“I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt, and have given heed to their cry because of their taskmasters, for I am aware of their sufferings. So, I have come down to deliver them from the power of the Egyptians, and to bring them up from that land to a good and spacious land, to a land flowing with milk and honey” (3:7-8).

God’s double seeing (I have surely seen = literally “I have seen seen”) shows God’s identification with Moses “seeing,” which led him to kill the lone Egyptian perpetrator in order to protect a single Israelite slave. Rather than arresting Moses and bringing him back to face Egyptian justice, God sends Moses back as a liberator to bring every Israelite slave out from the power of Egypt, and into a land flowing with milk and honey.

“Now, behold, the cry of the sons of Israel has come to me; furthermore, I have seen the oppression with which the Egyptians are oppressing them. Therefore, come now, and I will send you to Pharaoh, so that you may bring my people, the sons of Israel, out of Egypt” (Ex 3:9-10).

Our migrant course participants were touched by God’s full embrace of Moses, who had reacted against injustice and been forced to flee, like many of them. People seemed reassured and comforted as we read and discussed the story. People could see how consistently God expressed detailed knowledge of their oppression, siding with their deepest aspirations for freedom and a better life. God’s sending of Moses back to Egypt to free his enslaved people reinforced these house-church pastor’s deepest callings.

It suddenly dawned on me that once Moses had succeeded with God’s intervention to free the Israelite slaves from Egyptian oppression, he spent his entire life there “in the wilderness,” pastoring people in the in-between place, the “not yet” of the Kingdom of God.

This was both sobering and encouraging for these migrant pastors, who felt affirmed in their callings to keep serving vulnerable migrants during their stay in Casablanca.

One of the leaders who hosted us, who has lived 19 years in Morocco knows firsthand the dangers of crossing the Mediterranean. He has officiated many funeral services for migrants who drowned trying to cross into Spain. He still recognizes that Europe offers more opportunities for Africans fleeing war and poverty. He also knows without doubt that it is far from the “land flowing with milk and honey” that many imagine.

We learned from another one of our host pastors who has been in Rabat many years, that most migrants who make it to Morocco finally succeed in crossing to Spain. He told us that people who’ve passed through his church are now all over the world—even in the United States.

While in wilderness places like Casablanca, Rabat, and Tangiers, many are strengthened in their faith in the oases of house churches. In times of worship prior to each of our trainings, Gracie and I witnessed and experienced a contagious joy in these humble people that felt like a powerful foretaste of the feast to come.

On our last afternoon in Rabat before flying home I preached in a house church of 25 Congolese migrants in a poor neighborhood. There, serious engagement with Scripture, vibrant worship and dancing, intercession, healing prayer and preaching happened together, and people appeared to be energized in their faith, hope, love, and joy.

Last night we returned home to the Skagit Valley, which is itself also a wilderness for many. We come home with a desire to hang on to the joy we received, and to watch it increase and spread. We and our faith community so desperately need the fruits of the Spirit, which will be nurtured as come gather to study Scripture, pray, worship, partake in the sacraments and fellowship together.

Check out my weekly podcast, “Disciple: Word, Spirit, Justice, Mission,” accessed below. A Bible study on God’s call of Moses is included in Volume 3 of Guerrilla Bible Studies: God’s Radical Recruiting, featured below.

This November as the weather has become rainy and cold our Friday afternoon Bible study in the park shifted focus to attending to people on the streets of Mount Vernon. For three weeks now we’ve been meeting outside Safeway for a brief Scripture reading and prayer. From there we divide up into groups of two to three, heading out on foot into the surrounding area where many unhoused people hang out. Each group carries a thermos of hot water, cups, hot chocolate and cider packets, Cup-a-Soups, gloves, hats, and socks.

The first Friday my group included three children and their mom, Jason and myself. One group headed West across a parking lot in search of people. We headed across the front of Safeway and approached an older man who leaned against his bicycle beside a younger man I recognized from jail, who was talking agitatedly on a cell phone, clearly high on something.

I asked the older man how he was doing and if we could pray for him about anything. He said yes, he wanted prayer. He hadn’t slept for several days. He said he was unable to get into lodging as he didn’t want to disclose his name. He said the Cartel was looking for him to kill him. He shared how tired he was of seeing so many of friends die of fentanyl overdoses.

Just as I was about to pray he took off on his bike towards the other entrance to Safeway, hoping to intercept the younger man, who he said had just taken off running into the store in an attempt to steal his phone. Unable to find either of them, we headed across the parking lot towards People’s Bank.

There we found two men sitting against the wall of the bank. We slowly approached them, letting them know we were from Tierra Nueva, there to offer prayers and hot drinks. One of the men said, “Hey no thanks,” and left. The other guy asked for a cup of hot chocolate. I told him my name and asked him his. “Moonbeam,” he said, and I couldn’t make out anything else he was saying.

Jason, who has spent years in prison and on the streets, asked the man if there was something wrong with his foot, as he’d seen him adjusting it uneasily in his boot.

“We can effing pray for your foot if you want,” he said. “Bob here was even healed of effing Lymphoma, and I’m sure Jesus can help you too,” he continued.

Moonbeam said his foot was all messed up after someone stomped on it, and then he had an infection on top of that. I asked if he had pain in his knee. He pulled up his pant leg to show that his knee was skinned. Jason then asked him his name, and he said he was Jake. Jason prayed a beautiful prayer for his healing and comfort. As people in our group said goodbyes and started heading off towards the back of Safeway to look for more people, Jake called me over and said with total clarity:

“Psalm 34:18. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

I have often seen people incoherent due to addiction or mental health issues come to sudden clarity during prayer. In Jake’s case he cited a powerful verse by heart, which totally fits the moment as a kind of prophetic declaration and invitation.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted ideally through you and me, as we respond to the Spirit’s promptings to “rescue those whose spirits are crushed.”

We made our way on foot behind Safeway, where we spotted a group of people at the edge of a big field beside some rubble and shrubs. We headed towards them, and then recognized the older man on his bicycle, who had recovered his phone. The younger man had his blow torch out and was smoking fentanyl behind the shrubs with some others. We asked the older man if he still wanted prayer, and he said he did. We gathered around him and prayed for him and the others.

Later we tried unsuccessfully to find lodging for the older man, and Jessica gave him some coveralls and a latte from Starbucks.

It felt like a sacred privilege to try to embody God’s closeness to the brokenhearted, whose spirits seemed so crushed.  We’ve continued these weekly outreaches, which are drawing others from our faith community—many of whom have themselves been addicted and homeless—all of whom have lost loved ones to overdose deaths. We pray for Jesus’ rescue to become real now, before we lose still more to this growing opioid pandemic that’s taken so many lives.

Check out my book on the first miracle story after Pentecost outside the Beautiful Gate– a treatise on Jesus’ embrace of the excluded.