Making It Hurt Less

I had a chance today to visit the Burj Al-Barajneh Palestinian refugee camp in the southern slums of Beirut. The pictures I had seen of it were fairly accurate, but walking in the gate gave me a real feel for the spirit of the place. “Prison” is the most fitting description that comes to mind. Having spent some time in jail, I can say that the feel is the same.

This is a prison for poor families, where the children play in dark alleyways no wider than a dining table.  The cramped alleyways are congested with water pipes and exposed electrical wires that form a sort of lethal web just over head height. Some of the wires hang down and brush against people as they walk through, and electrocutions happen fairly often. There are few streets as such. The buildings are built so close together that one can barely walk between them, and they are packed in side-to-side, back-to-back in a jumbled mass.

We were allowed to take photos only of this building located

on a main street.  It houses a World Vision relief project.

There are no police here. There is no law. By agreement with the government they never enter the camp, even to pursue a fleeing criminal. Instead, different militia groups control areas of the camp. Each one has it's own stations with flags and armed fighters. It's very much like gang turf in poor slums in the US, except these gangs are armed with AK-47s, grenades, and rocket propelled grenade launchers.

Those living in the camp can leave any time they choose, so one immediately wonders why anyone would ever live here. They have no other choice. By law they are unable to own any property or operate a business. They are also not allowed to work in any job other than a small list of menial jobs like collecting garbage. Even those who earn college degrees cannot hope to ever improve their lot in life. There is illegal work available but the employers exploit them by paying very low wages. So, the people live in the camp.

The most disturbing thing about the generational helplessness is that nothing can be done to change their situation. The answers are all political and none of the parties involved in that will make a decision to end their situation. So, all that aid agencies can do is continuing relief work. Just as you might aid a family who lost their home in a flood, so these families live in a permanent disaster. All that can be done for them is to make it hurt less.

It's exactly the sort of place that Jesus would visit. He would talk to the militiamen about loving their neighbors. He would sit down and eat with a poor family, or gather up those children playing in the dark alleys and tell them a story. As I consider what he would do I am confronted with the question of what I, then, should do.

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Eid Al Adha, a Celebration For All Nations

This weekend marks the celebration by Muslims of the Eid Al Adha, one of their two most important holidays.  There is a certain "Easterish" feeling about it.  People go out and visit families, there are some celebrations, and it is a custom for women and girls to wear some new clothing.  Since it was a Muslim holiday, we didn't make any special plans for ourselves.  Due to the recent bombing there was also a lot less driving around and visiting friends among Beirutis than normal.  I had never really understood the true significance of the holiday and how much it points to Jesus until a recent discussion with a friend of mine who is a Sheikh.

Eid Al Adha is a celebration of the events recounted in Genesis 22:1-19, where God commands Abraham to take his beloved son and sacrifice him on an altar.  Christians and Jews believe that this was Isaac, and early Islamic accounts will sometimes say "Isaac" or simply "his son."  The Quran does not specify which son, and modern Islamic scholars have adopted the belief that it was Ishmael.

God brings the ram just in the nick of time.

As the Sheikh began discussing his version of the story with me, it became evident that it was very important to him.  They (ideally) slaughter a sheep or goat each year to commemorate the event.  I asked him what is done with the blood of the sheep and he seemed confused.  There is, in fact, a practice in folk Islam of wiping the blood on something to bring a blessing on it.  This is probably derived from some ancient remembrance of the Passover, but the significance of the blood has been forgotten.

Muslims believe that this sacrifice was a test to determine whom Abraham loved more: his son, or God.  I asked him the question "Why was it necessary for God to send the ram to replace Abraham's son?"  He didn't understand my point so I added "Why didn't God just say 'Good job, Abraham, I know that you love me now you can go home.'  Why did God send the Ram to replace Abraham's son after the test was finished?"

"Only God knows," my friend replied.  "Why do you think he sent the Ram?"

Oh, friends, what a question to ask!  Why did God send the ram to replace the son of Abraham?

At just the right moment, while we were still sinners, 

Christ died for the ungodly.

We talked about the blood of Jesus, from Passover to the cross.  He kept asking questions because the story of Jesus is so compelling!

I call on Christians everywhere to give more thought to Eid Al Adha.  This is also our holiday.  It celebrates the day that God sent his perfect lamb to take the place of sinful man there on that Mount.  Next year I will be throwing a feast for Eid Al Adha and inviting my Muslim friends to celebrate and discuss this wonderful story.  If you can, I urge you to find such an opportunity as well.

Culture of Violence

Recent events in Cairo, Benghazi, and Sana have brought the world's attention once again to the Middle East, and once again it unfortunately involves Muslims behaving badly.  This time it involves the senseless murder of four Americans at the US Consulate in Benghazi by an enraged mob, as well as attacks on other US embassies.

Here in Beirut there are already enough things going on that this hasn't caused much trouble.  The Pope is visiting tomorrow so security is extremely high, and most people are staying home to avoid the hassle.  We are being more careful about our travel for the time being.  It has been the subject of serious discussion with Muslim friends.

What enraged them?  A film.  They killed people because of a film.  Killing people because of a movie is wrong, there's simply no excuse for it. No matter what the insult, it is an evil response.  Choosing the date of 9/11 to do the killing was probably coincidental, but also an added level of stupidity.  The film was only posted to youtube in Arabic in the last few days.  That led to the timing.

As a Christian, how should I respond to this? At some level, there's a temptation to throw up our hands and quit.  Is there really any hope for a people who will murder because they are angry about a movie?  I believe that there is hope, and that hope lies in the words of Jesus.  His words have the power to change and mold a society.

In the US we would not respond to a book or film by killing someone.  Robert Maplethorpe submerged a Crucifix in his own urine and called it art, hoping to provoke a shock response while drawing attention  away from his lack of actual artistic talent.  How did Christians respond?  There were angry letters to the Editor, petitions, and demonstrations -all of which are appropriate responses.  There were no murders.  Our culture is arguably just as violent as Islamic culture, but in this case we have adopted the words of Jesus "Turn the other cheek."  We understand that the proper response to ridicule is -ridicule, debate, protest.

The answer to this culture of violence is more Jesus.  I'd like to ask how we as Christians are doing on that score.

Some people have asked about the film.  It was apparently the product of a Coptic (Egyptian) Christian (or several of them) bent on getting revenge for centuries of oppression at the hands of Egyptian Muslims.  Revenge has a funny way of not working out well, and now Egyptian Christians are suffering from the backlash of this film.  An idiot Pastor from Florida Pastor named Terry Jones, famous for burning the Quran, has promoted the film.  It turns out that they misled the actors, who had no idea they were making a hate film.  The insulting lines were dubbed in after the filming.

Terry Jones, exactly how does burning Qurans and promoting this hate film share the love and good news of Jesus Christ?  Do you not understand that you will be accountable before the throne of an angry God for the souls you have pushed away from the Gospel?  Are you so ready to sell your own soul for 15 minutes of fame?

I had the chance to speak with a Muslim friend, a Sheikh, about these events.  He asked me about my opinion of the film, and here was my answer:

Making this film was wrong.  If you wish to be friends with Muslims you cannot mock everything they value.

Killing people over a film is even more wrong.  If you don't like what the film says, then speak out against it.  Make your own film.  Don't kill people.

A Celebration of Hair

My friend Zechariah invited me to go to the Mosque with him last night (Saturday night) for a festival celebrating the finding of a "lock of the hair of prophet Muhammad."  I'm still putting together the back story on this, but the lock of hair had been housed there for many years before being lost in the Civil War in 1975.  The Sheikh of the Mosque found it (not sure of the details) and they held a parade commemorating the event.

We met at Mohammad Al-Amin Mosque nearby (where there was parking), and I rode in on the back of his moped.  Now, drivers of motor scooters in Beirut are famous for being crazy, and Zechariah was true to form.  I gripped the back support and held on for dear life as he charged the wrong way into oncoming traffic.  This was the first of many prayers I uttered this evening.  After a five minute ride on the motor scooter of death, we arrived at the Amir ManSour AlSaff Mosque.  It was renovated after the Civil War and is both modern and rustic at the same time.

There was a parade with people waving red and green flags, playing drums and cymbals, and singing.  One of the men (an assistant Sheikh) was carrying a small box on top of his head.  It turned out to be the box supposedly containing the aforementioned lock of hair.  My friend had joined in the parade, and grabbed my hand and pulled me into the throng.  This was my first time in a Muslim parade, so I played it cool and just walked along with a smile.  They were having a good time, so it was fun.

We made our way up the stairs and into the Mosque, where the man carried the box up some stairs to a platform where it was placed on a table and covered with gardenia blossoms.  The place was full, with maybe 200 men and a few boys.  There was a divider and curtain down the middle, and the women gathered on the other side.  From what I could tell they were watching the event on a video projector screen.  They were also peeking through the curtain some but everyone pretended not to notice.

When they began the formal prayers, I took this chance to pray for all the people around me.  The name of the event was Alistighfar AlKabir (The Great Forgiveness).  They want forgiveness, but cannot find it. One of my friends was telling me which sins would send you to hell, which led to a discussion.  He ended up admitting that there was no way for him to know his eternal fate.  These people know what they need, but are looking in the wrong place to find it.  If they can get this excited over a lock of hair, imagine the joy of having the burden of sin lifted from their shoulders by our Lord Jesus!

After the formal prayers, the event took an unexpected direction.  They had a quartet lead in singing songs.  The men wore matching shirt, ties, and vests and sang in four part harmony which reminded me very much of a Southern Gospel quartet.  The people sang along out of a book that was handed out to the crowd.  Unfortunately, Mosques don't have pews or chairs, so we sat cross-legged on the floor.  It didn't take long for my back and legs to start aching.  Nonetheless, the singing was very entertaining.

A lot of people were taking video, so I decided to capture a few minutes of it.  I noticed my friend passing a note to the assistant Sheikh, who spoke to him briefly, and I couldn't shake the idea that they were talking about me.  He grabbed my hand, which was on the video camera, and asked me to follow him.  Oh crap, I thought, twenty people are taking video and I'm getting busted for it.  He took me up front to where the serious Sheikhs were seated in chairs, the guys with the white hats with the red dome in the center.  I really didn't know what to expect at this point, but "uncomfortable" is a generous description of my feelings.

Zechariah introduced me to one of the Sheikhs, who shook my hand and invited me to sit down in front of him, which I guess is a place of honor.  It did seem to be where the prominent-looking people were seated.  So, in Church terms, this would be "bring our visitor down and let him sit on the front pew."  Of course, there was no pew, just another patch of floor.  Preachers, and Sheikhs, this is a bad idea no matter how well intentioned.  Not one to dwell too long on the awkward, I decided to enjoy the music and managed to get a little more video, which didn't seem to bother anyone.

After the music, the men lined up and started a sort of bowing dance, while the assistant sheikh carried the box with the lock of hair through the curtain to let the women have a closer look at it.  They had been peeking through the curtain some during the event, and were probably glad to get their chance.  Later they let everyone walk by the box and have a look inside.  I wasn't too keen on it because a) as a Baptist I don't really like veneration of icons, and b) it was a Muslim icon.  My friend insisted, so I walked by the box.  I just looked and smiled, there was no way I was going to bow and kiss the box.  I'm pretty sure I'm on solid theological ground on that one.

The veneration of icons is normally considered a bad things by Muslims, but in reality it creeps in sometimes in places like this.  Also, I think it would be fair to describe this veneration of Muhammad and his lock of hair as bordering on worship.

After the viewing there was a sermon by the head Sheikh.  He talked first about the Hadith (the sayings of Mumhammad) and how he was amazed to find an 8 year old boy in Saudi Arabia who knew a lot about them.  He then mentioned a Hadith about the hair of Muhammad and how people claimed to be cured by drinking water after the hair was dipped in it.  He then recounted how the hair had been at the Mosque since it was built (500 years or so) but was lost in the 1975 civil war.  He told how he personally had found the missing hair later.  Then he talked about how Adam named the gazelles, and I am at a loss as to how to tie that in to the first two subjects.

They did the formal prayers again, which gave me another opportunity to pray for the Mosque and all those around me.  We do not know the workings of the Holy Spirit, but  we are told to pray for them to happen.  Jesus said "If I be lifted up, I will draw all men to me. "  Friends we need to lift up Jesus in every corner of the Muslim world.  We need to lift him up in our preaching, our ministry, and in our prayers.  He has the power to break any stronghold, and any heart.

After the final prayers, they went outside for more flag-waving, music, and dancing.  It was getting late now, and we left about 11:30.  I had agreed to go to the Sheikh's house for dinner afterward, but my friend Zechariah needed to get home to go to sleep.  So, perhaps another time.

My takeaway from this is something that I need to remember, that I hope we can all remember.  These aren't people who hate God.  They don't even hate Jesus, they just don't understand him.  If they understood what he did for us all, dying for the forgiveness of our sins, they'd really love him.

Please pray for our ministry here among the Muslim people of Beirut.  When I say "among them" I mean it literally.  They are our neighbors and friends, people who are dear to us.  It breaks my heart to think of them being so close to the Gospel, and yet missing that essential part -claiming forgiveness of sin and eternal life through Christ Jesus.  Pray for a move of the Holy Spirit among them, among us.

A Church of Servants

I love to visit Churches that have a servant's heart, and we had the opportunity to do that today.  They are literally servants -domestic workers employed by Lebanese families.

Rupen Das, in his book Profiles of Poverty: The human face of poverty in Lebanon, outlines what is a modern day form of slavery in Lebanon.  Women are brought from Asia and Africa to work as household servants.  Their employers hold their passports, and thus total control over them.  Many of them work for as little as $100 per month and live in tiny rooms that would not qualify as walk-in closets.  In an infamous recent case, a Lebanese man publicly and brutally beat an African girl right outside the gate of her embassy.  She was jailed for "protective custody" and ended up committing suicide.


I have to say that I felt unworthy to bring a message to them.  What can I say to them, when I whine about not having enough electrical service to run all my household gadgets?  I do have first world problems.


The Church is located in a run-down area near one of the thriving new neighborhoods where trendy apartments are being built on every street.  In this neighborhood, though, sewage runs in the street.  This is where the poor workers live, in the shadow of the affluent.  It's here that Filipino and African servants walk to meet in a tiny apartment hidden from the main street.

Once you step inside the apartment, you wouldn't know that these women live in virtual slavery.  They were dressed mostly in white, and the worship was very vibrant.  It was a mixture of praise music, dance, and reading of scriptures.  The sheer joy of their worship and the devotion of their faith was inspiring.

Pastor Joumaa told me that most of them have to work on Sunday and get a few hours off for Church, maybe from 10AM to 6PM.  They love to come together and worship, and also to fellowship.  At least for a few hours they can gather together and forget about their worries.

Several of them asked me to pray about things.  One is missing her family very much.  She came to Lebanon to earn money to send to her family.  Another has pain in her wrists and is praying for healing.  The request that struck me the most was from a woman whose employer would not pay her.  She's kept in the apartment to work, and is getting paid nothing.

The Church has a vision to serve their neighborhood.  This is the neighborhood that forces them to meet in a secluded apartment, the same neighborhood that considers them second-class, the same neighborhood where they are held in bondage.  They want to show the love of God through teaching and serving the port Muslims in their area.

It amazes me that people with so little are thinking of how to give to others.  I always enjoy being among servants of Jesus.  Today I had the chance.

The Sheikh and His Bible

Anyone who knows me well will not be surprised to find the words "wandering cluelessly" in a story involving me.  While it's usually just an annoying trait derived from my absentmindedness, sometimes it's actually useful because everyone knows that if something happens, it's from God and not from me.  Paul had nothing on me when it comes to cluelessness:

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong.

Today started out as a really crappy day.  Can I say "crappy" here?  I guess I can.  Living in a foreign culture that is often hostile can be tiring on the soul, and rather quickly.  Today was bad, and then God did a miracle in my weakness.

I went to buy falafel for supper, and the Sheikh who owns the falafel stand struck up a conversation with me about the Virgin Mary, because the Maronites here worship her like a goddess.  That led to a conversation about the birth of Jesus, and I was really struggling with my Arabic.  The Sheikh speaks no English, and by that I mean none at all.

Now, I had a plan.  Recently a friend taught me some of his Gospel-sharing principles that he had learned from a workshop.  Based on his advice, I had prepared an Arabic Bible app on my phone for just such occasions, so I whipped it out and... it wouldn't load.  I had tested it out already but now it wasn't working.  Lord, I thought, I just want to share a scripture with the Sheikh, help me out here!  So, frustrated a bit, I went home for Supper.

I decided to get my Bible app working again, skip Church, and go back to revisit the Sheikh.  I feel pretty sure Jesus would approve skipping Church for such purposes.  Our internet was out, so I couldn't download the Bible module I needed, so I figured out that problem and got it working.  Then I couldn't remember my password, so I reset that.  Then I couldn't access the web server because it was apparently offline. Lord, I thought, I just want to share a scripture with the Sheikh, help me out here!  So, frustrated, I grabbed my hardback paper Bible and headed out.

The Sheikh knew what I had in my hand as soon as I walked in the door.  He had a very awkward look and I wasn't sure he was glad to see me.  I told him that my Arabic wasn't good enough to explain the story, so I brought it to him to read.  Someone asked him what was in my hand and he said, hesitantly, "The Holy Book" (The Bible).  Great, I thought, I may as well have leprosy now.

My plans had been falling apart all day.  It was time for the Holy Spirit to work.

He read the story of the birth of Jesus and was hooked from the first word.  He asked questions, and read several more stories about the Creation, and about John the Baptist.  We talked for a long time about the Bible, and I told him how it was written.  As it was getting late, at the end of our visit I wished him well, and headed back home.

As I was leaving, he said "Do you think you could get me a Bible like that in Arabic and English?"

It was probably strange to see me stop so suddenly, but I was floored.  The Sheikh asked me for a Bible?  I thought this stuff only happened to professionals.  I told him I'd be glad to get him a Bible, of course.  As I turned to leave, a gentle voice reminded me "You have one in your hand."

So, now my Bible is the Sheikh's Bible.  As I was walking by later on the way to the market, he was standing on the side of the street showing it to someone.  He was proud of it.  He waved to me and shouted "I'll take this home and read it!"

So, you know what I'm about to ask.  God's Word does not go out and return void.

As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,    so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

Will you join me in praying for the work of the Holy Spirit in my friend Abdullah?  Right now he has the blessed and Holy Word of God in his hand and is reading it.  That is powerful!  It's out of my bumbling hands and in the hands of the Master.  Please pray with me for his work!

The Sheikh and I

Recently some Syrians opened a falafel shop around the corner from our house.  Falafel is made by mashing pinto beans and chick peas together, adding a few spices, and forming the paste into a ball, which is then deep fried.  It's very much like a hush puppy, only less greasy.  My taste for this delicious treat led me into a most interesting friendship.  Perhaps the Holy Spirit has found it easier to lead me around by my nose.

The Syrians are very hospitable.  I already knew that some of them were religious because I had seen the fry cook saying his prayers and making his prostrations on a small mat in the back of the shop.  The owner,  Abdullah, welcomed me inside and offered a sample.  Immediately after the mandatory round of pleasant greetings, he asked "What is your religion?"  Clearly there would be no lead time here.

I told him that I was a Christian, which surprised him greatly.  We haven't met any Christians in our neighborhood and have been told that none live here.  He proudly announced that he was a Sunni Muslim.  After we talked for a while, he mentioned that he was a Sheikh (a Mosque leader and preacher), trained at Al-Azhar University in Egypt.  This is no small matter, Al-Azhar is universally recognized as the foremost Islamic University in the world.  Abdullah had been the Sheikh (leader) of a Mosque in Syria before moving here to open a falafel shop and study his Master's degree in Islamic theology at a University here in Beirut.

He speaks absolutely no English, but is taking an English class at the University.  They are learning the alphabet right now, and he asked if I'd be willing to come by and speak with him in English regularly.  I told him that I'd be glad to drop by as long as I could work for falafel.  So, three or four nights each week I drop by and speak with him.

He loves to talk about religion, specifically about Islam, but occasionally he will ask me questions about Christianity.  He seems to think that there are several Gospels, and he asked me which one I read.  This led to an explanation about how we view the Bible, God's Word, and the different parts of it.  I told him that I'm an Evangelical Pastor, which has sparked his interest in discussing religion.  Perhaps I'm his mission field.

A few days ago, I asked him what he thought was the best verse in the Quran.  Now, I didn't do this because I'm a fan of the Quran.  I did this so that he might ask me about the Bible.  This is how one approaches Muslims, first be willing to hear what he says, then perhaps he will listen to you.  The Sheikh replied that all the verses were best.  I asked him what his favorite verse was, and he replied that all of them were his favorite. I paused a moment to consider how to frame the question, and he volunteered that he read some verses more than others.  I asked him which verse he read most often, and this was his answer:

Surat 112 (Sincerity) He is Allah, who is One, the eternal refuge.  He neither begets nor is born, nor is any equal to him.

This is one of the Quranic verses most often quoted to deny that Jesus is the Son of God.  He probably chose it to see how I'd react.  With a Maronite Priest, it would have started a bitter argument.  I just asked him why he read it most.

He then asked me what was my favorite verse in the Bible.  At that moment a customer walked into the store, and I decided to wait lest I cause a public dispute.  I want the Sheikh to know I can be discrete.  Perhaps, I thought, this is God's timing and I should wait.  After a while the customer left.  Abudullah asked me the question again, and it pleased me to know that he was interested in the answer, and not just reciprocating.   This was my answer (but in Arabic) to him:

John 3:16 For God so loved the world that he sent his one and only Son so that whoever believes in him would not perish, but have everlasting life.

I didn't do this to argue with him, but because it's an honest answer to his question, and an open opportunity to share the truth about Jesus and what he meant to mankind.  We Christians talk about breaking ground, sowing seeds, and watering them.  Ground probably doesn't get much colder and harder than a Sheikh trained at Al-Azhar.

But, we serve a risen Savior, who moves in power and strength.  The Holy Spirit is our sword and shield.  Our God is mighty to save!  Please pray for my friend Abdullah, and this Word planted in him. In fact, please stop reading for a moment and pray now.

In the end, theological discussions only go so far.  The greatest impression I've made on the Sheikh so far was playing with a baby.  One of our neighbors brought his 16 month old son into the store as we were talking.  The little boy just could not take his eyes off me and was smiling.  I asked the father if I could hold him and the little boy jumped in my arms and started laughing.  They were all surprised that he was so happy with me. So was I, in fact, I'm not exactly a kid magnet.

I said to the father that children are a gift from the Lord.  Later, Abudullah told me "You said that children are a gift from God, and we Muslims also say that.  Do you really believe that?"  He asked me this with a very serious and and interested expression.  "Does your Bible say that children are a gift from God?"  This is the first time I've felt he really wanted to know what the Bible says about something.

Yesterday Abdullah introduced me to a friend who was visiting at the shop.  He's a student of Islamic theology at the same University and serves as assistant Sheikh of a Mosque in the Beqa' region to the East.  We had a great conversation, and I hope to follow up on it.  Two Sheikhs!  

I hope and pray that God will use this for his glory.  It's definitely driving me to memorize more Bible verses in Arabic.  Please pray that I will be diligent, and that the Holy Spirit will come in power and lead these men to Jesus.