In this episode of BottomLine Radio, we talk with a Pioneer in Southeast Asia. This worker tells us the story of a Muslim leader who came to faith in Christ and is living out that faith, using his influence to expand the Kingdom in his community.
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By a Pioneer in East
Asia
“Don’t you ever long for something more? Everything you are living is a
lie!”
I was overcome with emotion, tears streaming down my face. Perhaps my
words were unguarded, my tone harsh. Rebekah reached over and took my
hand, “Buck up, Suzanne. Be strong. Bai Fa can’t see you this way
and he wouldn’t like this kind of talk.” Better to enjoy the food than to face
the ugly reality…
Rebekah, Naomi and I were sitting in a private room in a restaurant and Bai Fa—Tricia’s
boyfriend—had stepped outside to order the food. These two women, along
with Tricia, are some of the first we met two years ago when we began prayer
walking by the brothels just across the railroad tracks. Two years and
countless conversations later, I was feeling overwhelmed by sadness, by the
darkness that swallows up their lives and the lies that keep them in bondage. The
restaurant itself felt thick with an evil presence; the foyer was dominated by
two ominous idols with a very active altar full of fruit, money, and burning
incense. I had to step out of the room and pray, binding any evil spirits
in the Son’s name, before my own soul felt at ease.
I had boarded a bus that morning with Rebekah and Naomi to go visit
Tricia, recovering at her boyfriend’s house after an abortion. Just the
week before, Shi Bao and I sat with Tricia in the waiting room of the women’s
health clinic where we had taken her for a health check. She suspected
correctly that she was pregnant after a weekend away with her boyfriend, but
our pleas to keep her baby fell on deaf ears.
“I can’t keep this baby. How could I? I can’t keep a baby in my
line of work.”
“Then quit!” We urged her to consider this unexpected pregnancy as an
open door – come live in our dorm, make a clean start. To be honest, my
faith felt small in the face of her situation. Here is a married woman
with an 11 year-old son, pregnant by her boyfriend who is also married with a
child. Neither her husband nor her boyfriend knows she is prostituting. Where
does the child fit? I offered in all earnestness to even take the child
myself, but Tricia was clear that she would never give away a child she had
carried to term—“How could I do such a thing?” Such a tangled mess, a web
of deceit and darkness.
So instead I found myself paying her a visit after the abortion, listening to
her describe how easy and painless it was, how glad she was that “someone knew
someone” at the hospital so the fees were lower, discussing with Naomi and
Rebekah when she might return to work. As my daughter Christa played on the
bed while I listened to them talking, it was hard not to feel revulsion at the
chatty banter. Consciences seared as with a hot iron…yet I have seen
glimpses of the pain that lurks beneath the hard exterior.
I also realized that Tricia’s boyfriend was still under the illusion that
Tricia works for our company (she told him so at her interview back in
November, even though she had declined the job offer). He even asked me
how jewelry sales were going. Coming back from lunch early to catch
a few minutes alone with Tricia, I was very straightforward. “I love you
no matter what, but I want you to know it hurts me that you lied about working
at our company. I feel used, not like a friend.” She told me Bai Fa
has promised her a job at his new factory once it is finished—her roundabout
way of telling me that once she has a new job she will drop the pretense of
working for us to hide the fact that she is prostituting.
“Can you really trust this man? Does he really have a job for you? What
happens when he no longer feels for you like he does now? What about the
way he has treated his wife?”
“That’s exactly why I could not have kept this baby,” she replied. My
heart hurt for her, so alone in the world.
“You can trust in Jesus…” Just when we were getting to the heart of the
matter, Bai Fa came back with Rebekah and Naomi. End of conversation.
I felt sickened by what I had seen and heard that day, burdened for these women
who have no one they can trust, and who will not come into the light for fear
their deeds will be exposed. They are trapped by the lie that just a
little more money will set them free and make it all worth it. The god of
this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, and he is very good at his
craft. Yet – greater is He who is in us than he who is in the
world! I am convinced that wherever we set foot, we take the Light into
the darkness…and that the Truth CAN set them free!
One Pioneers
couple talks about their ministry to a people group whose religion is a mix of
Hinduism, animism, and Tibetan Buddhism.
God is giving them opportunities to follow up on seeds planted by
Moravian missionaries decades earlier.
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They have no Mom, maybe she's HIV
Dead and Dad beats and beats and
Beats them to get lost and get a job,
So bed is beneath a street lamp
Or a urine-stained wall.
Children on the streets of Ethiopia
Don't travel for fun, passports and plane
Tickets in hand excited to experience the sights
And sounds of a world with something to offer.
They are trafficked across borders
Forced against will
To arrive mid east as slave boys or girls
In brothel cages, servicing the pervs
Who only come out at night to do
Their deeds of darkness.
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By a Pioneer in France
Caught in the middle. In a phrase this captures the situation of an estimated 3 to 5 million Muslims of North African origin as either first- or second-generation immigrants living in France. Many hold two passports but have no home. In France they are viewed as second-class citizens and parasitic annoyances on the generous socialist welfare system. When they return to ‘au b’led’ (Arabic for North Africa), their countries of origin, they are considered outsiders and sellouts. For some this sense of internal homelessness creates a void and prompts a search for fulfillment when the dream of living the high life in Europe falls flat. Crime, drugs, alcohol and all kinds of earthly distractions become the order of the day away from the cultural accountability of Africa in a land where the evangelical church is too often unwilling or unable to reach out to these searching souls. If not this, then the opposite extreme is even more dangerous when a displaced Muslim in France pursues Islam with a greater intensity and fervency than ever might have been imagined in ‘the homeland’ where nominal practice is often the norm.
North Africa is still very much considered a creative access region. A non-African wanting to take up residence there faces considerable challenges. But God in His mercy has sent millions of North Africans to France and other parts of Western Europe where at least the political and legal obstacles are much fewer.
The Lille metropolitan area is the fourth largest population center in France and by percentage has some of the highest populations of Muslims in all of Western Europe. Roubaix, a city of about 100,000 people, has a Muslim population of just over 50 percent—making it not only the first Muslim majority city in France, but also all of Europe.
North African Muslims in France are beginning to turn to God when every other political, financial and religious system has failed them. They are finding hope and peace in Jesus Christ often via miraculous testimonies of dreams, visions and healings. The French church—itself only 1.5 percent of the French population—is growing in its sensitivity and openness to the ministry at its doorstep, but still often finds the cultural and historical barriers a bit much to overcome.
There is nothing ‘romantic’ about northern France. That is one reason why there is such a great need for Christ’s ambassadors to come and bear His light. It lacks the sun and beaches of southern France, the majestic mountains of the Alps and the renowned charm of Provence, but there is no lack of need and opportunity to impact lives for eternity by seeing Algerians, Tunisians and Moroccans having life-changing encounters with the living God.
Northern France needs men and women willing to bridge the gap between ‘old stock’ French and the new wave of immigrants. It needs those with a heart to partner with existing churches and the creativity and innovation to reach a culture within a culture. It needs those who can disciple new believers and impart the vision of God’s mission to those who already call on His name.
Who will answer this call?
>> To talk to a mission mentor about this opportunity, contact Pioneers.
By a Pioneer in Chad
As we sat in a small room filled with refugees broken by the Darfur crisis, we looked them in the eyes and said, “You are not forgotten.” Though the world announces the alarming statistics of the continuing conflict, these people are more than a number.
Inhabiting the numerous refugee camps in eastern Chad are three main people groups, each considered unreached by the gospel. Since there isn’t any Scripture or indigenous churches among these people groups, our presence was to demonstrate the gospel in such a way as to build a bridge into their community.
With the generous help of multiple donors and organizations we were there to distribute specialized wheelchairs to the forgotten and disabled. One young man is a student struggling to get to school since he lost his right leg when the Janjaweed attacked his village. Many others were left paralyzed since childhood from polio. Their knees were callused from years of dragging their bodies through the rock-filled sand. As one man sat in the wheelchair it was the first time he could move himself in over 55 years. Parents of young handicapped children would break into wide smiles as their child drove away, chased by the other children in the village.
Distributing these wheelchairs is like giving people a new set of legs. They become independent, freeing themselves and their families to make a living in the harsh surroundings of the desert. As the wheelchairs are distributed, a Christian from a Muslim background explains to them the nature of this gift. In a culture where every action is done for personal gain, either to earn merit before God or to enhance their well being, the wheelchairs tangibly demonstrate the reality of God’s free gift of salvation in Jesus Christ. We freely give among those in need because we have freely received. Through simple acts of generosity we are accepted into communities that might otherwise reject our Christian presence.
God has not forgotten these remote unreached people groups and longs to make his light shine in their hearts so they understand the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus.
By a Pioneer in East Asia
“I’m a gambler. That’s what I do—play, win, lose. I’m pretty tired after a long night of playing…”
Mr. Zhao pulled a large stack of cash out of his pocket and showed it to me, fanning it out and leaning back on the couch with a sigh, as if to illustrate how tiring his life of chance really is.
Sandy, Leah and I were sitting in Lucy and Camille’s shop trying to chat over the blare of the TV when the boss came in. He was looking to break a hundred dollar bill into small change so he could pay the repairman who had just stopped by to look at a leak in the ceiling of the brothel. Lucy and Camille puttered around looking for small bills. My gut reaction to seeing Mr. Zhao was a mixture of fear and disgust. This is the man, after all, who refuses to pay his “employees” the money he owes them, who profits from the sale of their bodies, then gambles his earnings away, the man who Lucy and Camille assured us would send someone after them if they tried to run away.
When he turned to me in the middle of our polite banter about “how are your kids,” and told me straight out that he was a gambler, I was suddenly filled with mercy and pity for this man. It was a work of the Spirit in me. I looked into his eyes—distant, cold, lost—smelled the alcohol on his clothes, and my heart felt about to burst with mercy. Not the reaction of my flesh, to say the least. My overwhelming thought was, “What else can we say to this man but the gospel? There is nothing else to say!” Again, it was the work of the Spirit. My mind was racing, trying to figure out how to say what I was feeling in the local language, how to jump into the parable of the rich fool from Luke 11, or speak some bold word calling him to repent. During a brief pause in the conversation, I glanced over at Sandy and Leah, who were just about frozen with nervousness (who could blame them?), and whispered, “Let’s share the gospel! What else is there to say?” Still, I hesitated, trying to figure out how to say something boldly and confidently, yet lovingly, to this man….and the opportunity was gone. He was out the door.
Sad that we had let that opportunity pass, I decided we had better seize whatever moment we had with Lucy and Camille.
“We really care about you two and want you to know there is a God in heaven who made you and loves you…” I began just that simply, instead of worrying about how to say something boldly and perfectly. Leah and Sandy jumped in; we asked them to turn off the TV, and we shared about creation, Adam and Eve…just the beginning. They were really listening, I think.
My cell phone rang and I was called home to nurse a crying baby. Sandy and Leah stayed behind another hour and a half sharing. How wonderful!
God taught me several things that day. He loves the pimps and bosses, too. He is kind even to the ungrateful and evil, and He can fill us with mercy. Who am I to judge them?
I am too concerned about how I sound in the local language and about saying things correctly. He can use even my flawed language! Am I willing to be a fool?
Also, it’s not about me! How sweet it was to be called away right when things were getting really good just so I could be reminded of that simple fact.