Following Jesus In A World Of Poverty

The following video is of a sermon I gave in which I share the story of how God called Laura and I to follow Him to the slums of Indonesia.

Why I Attend A Local Church

This reflection was written by my close friend and mentor Craig Greenfield. Craig wrote this article while living in the slums of Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Many who initially come to Asia expecting to attend a local church, quickly realize that it is not as fruitful or easy as first assumed and weekly attendance may over time become a low priority. For this reason I wanted to set down in writing why I attend a local church on a weekly basis and why I am encouraging all new Servants team members to make the commitment to attend a local church regularly.

Firstly, the reasons I don’t attend a local church:

1. I don’t really attend for the teaching. Frankly, I don’t get a great deal from the teaching in most churches and it can be difficult or impossible to understand (especially for newcomers without language). At times it can be boring or longwinded.

2. I don’t really attend for the worship. While I prefer traditional Cambodian Christian songs which seem much more in touch with the reality of life in the slums, many Cambodian churches prefer the translated hymns. The times when I feel we are truly breaking through into an atmosphere of worship are few and far between. Other times the microphones and speakers are so loud I just want to stick my fingers in my ears to shut out the noise pollution.

3. I don’t attend for the Sunday school. There is very often no Sunday school. Most weeks, either Nay or myself end up walking round outside with one of the kids because they have become disruptive.

4. I don’t attend because I agree with everything they do. There are times when I don’t really agree with the way things are run. I wish they would be more Cambodian, more in line with my romantic view of how an indigenous church should look. Instead they hook up big speakers, hide behind pulpits, wear ties, sit on uncomfortable chairs and generally offend all my sensibilities.

So with all these fine reasons not to attend, why do I even bother? Churches are imperfect. Churches are full of problems. Churches are full of sinners! In fact, the church is the only organization in the world in which membership is based on the candidate admitting that he or she is unworthy of membership!

Someone once said that "The church is like Noah's Ark - you wouldn't be able to stand the stink inside if it weren't for the storm outside." So with the storm in mind here is a list of ten good reasons to remain committed to participation in a local church:

1. I attend because the local church will be around a lot longer than Servants will. For two thousand years, every manner of movement and organization has arisen and disbanded but the church continues. In the days and decades to come, there will come a time when Servants will probably cease to exist but the church will still be around. We know from the words of Jesus that it is the most sustainable community organization in Asia today.

2. I attend because we dare not bypass the local church. God’s mandate to Christians to love the poor does not exclude or bypass Asian Christians. In fact, I suspect God’s plan for building his kingdom in Asia places Asian Christians in a central position. Being part of a local church sends a signal to Asian believers that my life and our ministry here belong to them as well.

3. I attend because I can have an influence. As a cultural outsider my humble participation in the local church helps them avoid domestication. In other words, my presence and my alternative perspective provides a constant challenge to them and helps avoid syncretism or other forms of cultural infiltration.

4. I attend because I need fellowship with Asian Christians. One of the most important reasons that we go to a local church is to practice love toward Asians in the form of fellowship. In Servants we place a strong emphasis on sharing our lives with local people. This is why we live in the slums. But our perspective can become distorted if we lack fellowship with local Christians. I find it hard to maintain a right relationship with God unless I also do so with the local family of God (1 John 2:9-10).

5. I attend because it is a simple act of obedience. Hebrews 10:24: “And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching.” A great part of the purpose of gathering together with local believers is for their consideration, coming together to help motivate and encourage one another. This is a responsibility charged to every Christian.

6. I attend because I want to link the local church to Servants ministries. On a pragmatic level, all the churches we have attended now have a number of youth mentors as big brothers and sisters to orphans in Project HALO. Through church relationships I have found staff for Servants, introduced the Discover book to a whole denomination and Bible school, referred patients to Servants projects, recruited volunteers and got to know pastors who have in turn had an influence on Servants ministry.

7. I attend because fellowship with Asian believers combines our spiritual strength in prayer. The Bible is clear that agreement in prayer with other believers has special favor with God (Matt. 18:19). We need to be praying with Cambodian Christians for transformation.

8. I attend because I want my children to grow up with local Christian friends. At church my kids are a pain in the butt. But I want them to learn these principles from an early age, to grow up in fellowship with Asian Christians. I want to show them the importance of the local church.

9. I attend because I am encouraged when I see God working. For all its faults and frustrations, God still seems to work in the local church. All of us have experienced the encouragement and inspiration of attending the annual youth conference where young Christians from all over Cambodia get together for worship and teaching. This is what we gain on a smaller, more ordinary scale from regular participation in a local church.

10. I attend because it provides accountability to Asian spiritual leadership. Basically, I need humbling. Its good for me to sit under the leadership and teaching of a Cambodian pastor. The Bible urges us to submit to the authority of spiritual leaders, within the boundaries of God’s Word (Heb. 13:17). As Servants we uphold the principle of servanthood and submission necessitates a commitment and relationship to a local body of believers and to their spiritual leaders.

And when none of these reasons seems compelling ,
when there seems to be no point and everything within me says why bother?

I attend because I need to develop the spiritual disciplines of perseverance and faithfulness. The words of James describing what God wants to do in my life: perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature…

The Difficulty with Veterans' Day

This letter was written 2.5 years ago to the pastors of my home church in America to explain why I could not participate in Veterans' Day celebrations. It was written quickly one evening upon learning about my church's plans for the upcoming Sunday worship service (which was Veterans' Day). Hence, not all quotes are cited. For sources of any quotes or statistics, feel free to post an inquiry on the blog. I love and respect my church and pastors dearly, and out of love and respect for me (despite holding differing views) many of the pastors met with me over the coming weeks to discuss further Jesus' call to active, non-violent love. It was a beautiful example of how love unites brothers and sisters in Christ even in the midst of disagreements. Two years later, to my surprise, I was asked to preach on Veterans' Day.


To my pastors,

I pledge my allegiance as a citizen of the Kingdom of God to a King who took the initiative in loving me, an enemy of God (2 Cor. 5:20 & Romans 8:7). Justice is what I deserve, but praise God that He sent His Son on a mission of mercy instead (John 3:17; 12:47). And as ambassadors, we have been given a mission: “Love one another as I [Jesus] have loved you” (John 13:34). Paul taught me to imitate Christ…to love like Christ (1 Cor. 11:1; see also Heb. 12:2).

Thus, as a Christian who is striving alongside of you to imitate the love and mercy of Christ, I cannot pledge my allegiance to anything contrary to Christ’s gospel. Nor can I praise people for acting in a way contrary to the self-giving, merciful love of Christ.

And thus, though I never thought I would write this, it would be sin for me to help lead worship in the upcoming Sunday service (James 4:17).

I cannot be part of a church service that chooses to celebrate Veteran’s Day by having the congregation pledge allegiance to the American flag followed by applause for all the church members who have and are serving in the military.

In this age, many U.S. Christians have let go of the cross to take hold of the flag.

I cannot pledge my allegiance to the United States of America if they are being unloving to their neighbors. I see Scripture teaching us to be globally-minded Christians who are not tribal Christians (our god is for our tribe—in this case the USA—and is against all who are not allied with our tribe).

Nor can I praise anyone involved with a force that believes violence can bring about peace. Jesus taught differently (i.e. John 18:36). I cannot praise, nor can I pledge allegiance with my church family this Sunday. I strongly disagree because I see these entities (militarism and Pax Americana) as being in opposition to the Way which Jesus calls His followers.

Regarding pledging allegiance to the U.S. flag, allow me to quote an American (Shane Claiborne) who was in Baghdad while America carried out its “shock and awe” bombing campaign on the city. When asked if he was a traitor, Shane Claiborne responded:

TRAITOR?

• “If this bloody, counterfeit liberation is American... I am proud to be Un-American.
• If depleted uranium is American... I am proud to be Un-American.
• If US sanctions are American... I am proud to be Un-American.
• If the imposed "peace" of Pax Americana is American... I am proud to be Un-American.

BUT

• If grace, humility, and nonviolence are American... I am proud to be American.
• If global democracy is American... I am proud to be American.
• If sharing to create a safe, sustainable world is American... I am proud to be American.
• If loving our enemies is American... I am proud to be American.

REGARDLESS-

• I would die for the people of New York but I will not kill for them... my Kingdom is not of this world.
• I would die for the people of Baghdad but I will not kill for them... my Kingdom is not of this world.
• I will stand in the way of terror and war... my Kingdom is not of this world.
• I will pledge an allegiance deeper than nationalism, to my God and to my Family... my Kingdom is not of this world.
• I will use my life to shout, "Another world is possible"... for my Kingdom is from another Place.”

Jesus declared in John 18:36, “My Kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight... but now my Kingdom is from another place.” Jesus informed Pilate that His kingdom was not of this world in one specific regard—namely that His followers did not use violence

REGARDING THE U.S. MILITARY AND VIOLENCE IN GENERAL:

I believe in a God of scandalous grace. If I believed terrorists were beyond redemption, I would need to rip out half of my New Testament Scriptures, for they were written by a converted terrorist. I have pledged Allegiance to a King that loved evildoers so much He died for them (and of course the people of Iraq are no more evil or more holy than the people of the US) teaching us that there is something worth dying for but nothing worth killing for. (Shane Claiborne)

The cross is the power of God (1 Cor. 1:18). Jesus showed us that He would not establish His kingdom by the sword (Luke 22:49-50 & Zech. 9:9-10), but rather through a cross—an act of self-giving love. Jesus did not say that one should practice loving nonviolence because it would always instantly transform enemies into bosom friends. The cross stands as a harsh reminder that love for enemies does not always work—at least in the short run. Jesus grounds His call to love enemies in the very nature of God.

The Jews were expecting a messianic warrior king, yet in God’s wisdom He sent His Son to be the Messiah of a self-giving love. He rode in on a donkey! He taught us to love our enemies even when they persecute us. Paul heralded this same counter-cultural love: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21). And don’t forget, Paul was a converted terrorist. “If I believed terrorists were beyond redemption, I would need to rip out half of my New Testament Scriptures, for they were written by a converted terrorist” (Claiborne).

Paul provides some practical examples of what it means to love our enemies. “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink” (Rm. 12:20). This is the opposite of the United States’ military strategy against Iraq. American led U.N. sanctions were placed on Iraq from August 6, 1990 until June, 2003. Sanctions on Iraq were the most comprehensive in modern history, following the first gulf war, which directly targeted water treatment plants, and electrical infrastructure. It is estimated that over 500,000 children died as a direct result of economic sanctions, primarily of water borne disease. (UNICEF report: http://vitw.org/archives/380).

Prior to these sanctions in 1991, Iraq was not a third world country; it was a developed nation. The same bill which was worth $75 USD in 1991 is now worth 10 cents. There have been five UN officials that were once in charge of enforcing the sanctions that have resigned because they think they are wrong. These UN officials now vehemently and publicly oppose the sanctions.

The US is directly violating UN resolution Protocol 1 1977 (Additional to Geneva Convention) which declares that manipulation of the rights of people is not allowable to force political ends. Another US law, Title 18 (2331), states that it is illegal, through violating human rights, “to influence the policy of a government by intimidation or coercion”—but we have been sadly doing this for 12 years with comprehensive sanctions that make most every basic necessity unavailable to Iraqi people.

Why would we impose economic sanctions that, by design, intentionally attack the weakest in a society. It is like burning the house down on an entire family because they have an abusive father. These sanctions certainly did not heed Paul or Jesus’ command to feed the hungry and give a drink to the thirsty (Matt. 25 & Rom. 12). How can I pledge allegiance to this American Empire?

The US history of unjust war (not to imply that there could ever be a just war) goes much deeper than we often realize. We are partly to blame for fueling Saddam and bin Laden. A 1994 Senate Banking Committee investigation found that most of the chemical and biological weapons capabilities Iraq had were given to them by the U.S. The gas used to kill 5,000 Kurds in 1988 was made in a military facility in Maryland. President Bush continued to sell weapons of mass destruction (WMD) technology to Iraq (4.6 million worth) right up until the invasion of Kuwait on August 2nd, 1990.

And then there is Lockheed Martin. They are the world’s largest weapon corporation, the U.S.’s #1 international arms dealer, the U.S.’s chief nuclear bomb contractor, and one of the country’s largest welfare profiteers. There are 190 independent countries in the world. Last year, 154 of them received arms produced by U.S. arms manufacturers, among which Lockheed Martin is the leader. That is 80% of the world receiving weapons made in the USA by arms manufacturers, the largest of which is Lockheed Martin.

I often hear the US call themselves the policemen of the world. How many policemen arm the neighborhood with munitions? (Claiborne). We armed Saddam as he fought against Iran; we provided weapons to Bin Laden as he warred against the Soviet Union, and we trained Timothy McVeigh who became our countries most terrifying domestic terrorist. While in the military Timothy McVeigh wrote that he felt like he was being turned into “an animal”. Every day he found it easier to kill. Violence only brings about violence.

How can I pledge my allegiance to the U.S. flag?

Have we considered getting to the root of why people want to terrorize us? Have we considered promoting peace through better neighborliness as a country? Friends rarely hit friends. Nearly half the federal budget goes to the military while “welfare” dispersals make up less than one percent. Instead of spending $226 billion so far on the war, we could have hired 3,756,447 additional public school teachers for one year, or we could have built 1,951,706 additional housing units for low-income and homeless, or we could have fully funded global anti-hunger efforts for 9 years, or we could have ensured that every child in the world was given basic immunizations for 72 years (Stats found at http://nationalpriorities.org/index.php?option=com_wrapper&Itemid=182)

Please don’t overlook these statistics! For providing immunizations for 72 years and providing food for 9 years to malnutritioned children would greatly reduce the 210,000 children who die every week due to malnutrition and easily preventable diseases.

I don’t understand how even Just War Theory adherents can embrace our military philosophy. We call a man a thief if he steals someone’s coat. Shouldn’t we be called thieves if we have the means to give someone a coat, but neglect to. We have the means to provide all immunizations for 72 years. We have the means to greatly impact world hunger for 9 years with just the military spending of the last three or so years. The Iraq War death toll is now not just 2,800 American soldiers or the estimated 655,000 Iraqis (mostly civilians) nor the 500,000 Iraqis killed by our sanctions since 1991 (mostly children). The Iraq War death toll must also take into account all those killed by easily preventable diseases and malnutrition when we have the means to be loving neighbors. We have now reached the millions.

How can I pledge allegiance to the U.S. flag?

Couldn’t our money be used for a greater good than violence? Why don’t we use our money to love our neighbors…even our enemies. Would we still have enemies if we did this? Either way, we are called to love as Christians! “What is crazy: spending billions of dollars on a defense shield that is ultimately vulnerable, or suggesting that we share our billions so we don’t need a defense shield” (Shane Claiborne)? The US spends 47% of the overall world military spending, but the next closest country is Japan with 5%.

Every time our government chooses to use military force to bring about change in the world, they once again teach our children the myth of redemptive violence, that violence can be an instrument for good. This is precisely the logic I am trying to rid myself of (Eph. 4:22-24), and which I especially sought to “unteach” in the inner city children this summer in Philly—who have been taught this lie from every angle. And to make matters worse, our military constantly entices the impoverished teenagers of my inner-city neighborhood to join them. These youth know their only way to go to college is if they become slaves to the military for a few years. War disproportionately affects the poor!

“There is no way to peace; peace is the way” (A.J. Muste). Violence only begets more violence. It’s a cycle which history proves. But look at Ghandi and Martin Luther King Jr. and most of all, look to Jesus. Did not such revolutionary love triumph in the end. Is that not what Revelation teaches Christians who are being persecuted by the powers of this world: The self-giving love of the slain Lamb reigns, and because of this everything is being made new (Open Door Community). This revelation unmasks the frailty of the powers and structures that fallen humankind regards as absolute. We have hope that the way of the cross will triumph!

Ending on a side note: Thousands of soldiers have gone to Iraq, willing to kill people they do not know because of a political allegiance. I am preparing to pick up my cross and follow Jesus to Indonesia. Hence I must be willing to die for people I do not know because of a spiritual allegiance. The soldiers have incredible courage, courage enough to die for something they believe in. I pray that Christians would have that same courage. But instead of picking up the flag, we bear a cross.

In closing, I hope you now see why I cannot with a pure conscience pledge allegiance to the U.S. flag nor thank members of our church family for serving in the military. I love and have been loved by numerous military families in our church. I cherish their friendships. I truly hope you do not read this letter as having an arrogant, all-knowing overtone. I confess that I would not be pursuing Christ if it were not for each of you. I would not have experienced Christ’s love in my life if it was not for each of you. To end, I repeat what I started with: I cannot agree with aspects of the service on Sunday, and thus I cannot participate. Yet, I love each of you dearly and look forward to growing with you all next Sunday.

Just another child seeking to discern, experience, and live our Father’s love,

Jason
John 13:34-35 & 1 John 3:16-18

Servants Speaks Out On NON-VIOLENCE

[The following is an article written by Kristin Jack, Asia Coordinator for Servants. Kristin and his family have lived in the slums of Phnom Penh, Cambodia for the last 13 years. The article was originally published in 2006.]

Why discuss NON-VIOLENCE? Why is this important, or even relevant, for an evangelical mission working among the poor?

Three key reasons:

1. Because Jesus had a lot to say on the issue – and hasn't often been heard.

2. Because this is a crucial issue in a world presently being torn apart by violence (whether it be religious, ethnic, tribal, nationalistic or random and mindless). This is a burning issue. This is a prophetic issue – and the church better have something useful and healing to say about it.

3. Because it's the poor who nearly always suffer the most from violence. More violence occurs in slums and ghettos than in leafy middle class suburbs. Victims of violence are much more likely to be the poor than the well off. In any given state-sponsored war, it is the poor who are much more likely to be conscripted (the rich and powerful more easily find a way out) or to 'volunteer' (due to lack of other economic options, and because they are far easier to mobilize through propaganda).

Historically, there have been three Christian responses to the question of whether State sponsored violence is Biblical or not:

1. The majority of Christian churches (since Constantine and the rise of the Holy Roman Empire from 325 AD onwards) have embraced the 'just war' ethic, which advocates that a State, Government or even Church (such as a State Catholic Church or a State Reformed Church) has the right to wage war so long as that war meets certain moral preconditions (e.g. there is just cause, carried out by just authority, with just intention, fought by just means, as only as a last resort). This is based on a certain interpretation of Romans 13:1-7, while of course appealing to Old Testament precedents.

2. The minority of Christian churches (but as far as we can ascertain, all prior to Constantine) have instead embraced NON-VIOLENCE – a refusal to wage war or take up arms under any circumstances. This practice is based on a plain reading of the teachings of Jesus (especially Matthew 5:1-11 and 5:38-48, and on most of Paul's teaching – especially Romans 12:9-21).

3. The third option, which the majority of Christians probably muddle into, is to have no conscious position at all, but simply to react to each issue as it comes up. This is clearly the worst of the three positions: it's a refusal to 'love God with all our mind' or to think seriously how we can apply the teachings and Lordship of Christ to every aspect of our lives. In this case, we just get swept along with whatever our culture or Government tells us to do at the time.

Of the above options, Servants has chosen to unambiguously hold the second position. We want to be as completely faithful to the teachings of Jesus - as we understand them - as we possibly can. We want to be as completely under the Lordship of Christ as we can. We see this as what it means to be truly 'evangelical Christians'. Therefore our statement of principles and practices mentions several times our commitment to justice, but also our refusal to employ violence. Moreover, the teachings of Jesus go further than simply asking us to refrain from violence, but to be actively involved in positive peace-making and ministries of reconciliation (Matthew 5:9; 2 Corinthians 5:18). God's shalom is not merely an absence of conflict, but a place of reconciled and healed relationships. The Kingdom of God in which we are fellow-workers (Colossians 4:11) is a Kingdom of justice, righteousness, peace and joy (Romans 14:17-18).

It is fair to ask if there might not be a possible contradiction between the pursuit of justice and the pursuit of peace. If we are committed to bringing about justice for the poor and oppressed, won't there be times violence is necessary to overthrow a tyrant or evil doer? There have certainly been cases where this has seemed true (with Adolf Hitler for example). But even so, we believe that the life and teachings of Jesus point us in a different direction, to what Martin Luther King and others have called non violent resistance or 'non-violent direct action'. This is a commitment to 'fight' for justice - and if need be die in that cause – but by always using non-violent means (as exemplified by King, by Gandhi, and by Maoridom's own Te Whiti of Parihaka).

A Complex Problem

Having said all this, we don't want to suggest that this is a simple issue with easy answers. The German Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, sought to live out the teachings of Jesus with all his heart. After exhausting every other means of opposing Hitler's rule and working for the rescue of Jewish people, he finally threw his hand in with a plot to assassinate the fascist dictator (the plot failed, and Bonhoeffer and many other leaders were executed as a result). The point to note here is that Bonhoeffer believed he had tried and exhausted every other option, and that he was now willing to sacrifice his own life in a bid to end Hitler's murderous rampage.

Yes, this is a complex issue. But for us in Servants, we have decided that we have no other option but to surrender ourselves to the teachings of Jesus as best we can understand them, and to try and live them out in a way that offers hope and healing in the midst of a lost, broken and violent world.

Jason's Sermon at Crossroads

Below is the link to the audio of the sermon Jason gave at Crossroads Friends Church on May 4th. Simply copy and paste the text into your web browser.

http://www.crossroadswichita.com/resources/av-media/crossroads-service-05-04-08-message/download.html

Lessons From 13 Years Living in Manila's Slums

The following article was recently posted on the Servants website (www.servantsasia.org). It is written by Christian Schneider who is a nurse from Switzerland. He arrived in Manila in the late 1980’s, living in its slum communities for a further 13 years. Here he tells of his battle to try and mobilize middle-class churches to get involved with the lives of the very poor, and of how God worked through him to raise-up a new ministry to Manila’s street youth, called ‘Onesimo’....

A tale of two cities...

Inequality runs like a deep scar through Filipino society. This stark inequality has its roots in a long history of conquest, oppression and colonisation. When the Spanish arrived in the 16th century, they claimed ownership of these lands for their God and King based on the superior power of their muskets and swords. Huge tracts of land were taken out of Filipino hands and distributed among the Spanish gentry.

This dark legacy continues to cast its impoverishing shadow even today, with most of the Philippines still 'owned' by a small group of fabulously wealthy Spanish-descent families, while the vast majority of Filipino's remain landless – and poor. In the Philippines, the elite 20% hold 52% of all wealth, while the bottom 40% of the population subsist on only 14% the nations resources.

One of the most disturbing sights for Westerners visiting Manila is the desperate living conditions that about a third of its 10-16 million strong population struggle to survive in crowded squatter communities along swampy riverbanks, under bridges and flyovers, along the edges of railway lines or even in open dumpsites and cemeteries. Despite frequent evictions, land clearances and periodic ‘beautification’ schemes these hundreds of slum areas and the millions of Filipinos in them cannot be disguised or hidden.

The government officially calls the worst of them “depressed areas” and those marginally better off as “semi depressed”. To an outsider's eyes, the difference between Manila’s rich and poor citizens is so dramatic that it jars the conscience and floods the soul with heart breaking questions. But not so, it seems to me, most Filipinos. For them the everyday sight of the poor massed on their doorstep in their millions has become too familiar to have any more shock value.

In a city like Manila, the gulf between rich and poor is dark and gaping. Yet despite this it can be difficult to make clear demarcations between the very poorest, the relatively poor, and those who are beginning to 'make it'.

At least another third of the city’s population is made up of those living outside the obvious slums, but who have not yet made it into an officially zoned “village”, and certainly not as far as one of the highly privileged and highly guarded “subdivisions” where the wealthy live so well. To call all those living outside the officially depressed areas “middle class” would be inaccurate, since many of them are also struggling to meet their basic daily needs of food, rent, clothing, health, transportation and education. The ghettos and the prejudice…

But people living here certainly draw a clear line between those living inside “depressed areas” and those who reside beyond them. The Filipino themselves have well used labels - you are either “loob”, from inside, or “labas”, from outside of a particularly poor place.

And the names of these slums have over time become synonymous with certain social realities. Names like “Tondo” or “Payatas” are immediately associated with whichever violent gang holds that particular piece of turf, or with the image of criminals lurking in dark alleys. And since many of the “loob” families are squatting on land for which they have no official title, the wealthier “labas” categorise them as outlaws.

What disturbed me most is that I would often find the most indifferent and ignorant attitudes towards the poor amongst Manila’s confessing Christians. I frequently found myself wondering which Bible they were reading, and which city they were living in! How can we live surrounded by poverty and not even see it? How can we study the Bible week after week and not hear what it says? I began to fear for my brothers and sisters that by not recognizing their poor neighbours as their responsibility, and by failing to share the resources God had entrusted to them, they might eventually lose hold of Jesus all together!

The Church and the Blindness…

Quite often I would attend various church services across Metro Manila conducted in English (for this is the preferred language of the educated middle class in the Philippines).

These Evangelical or Pentecostal churches hardly differ in style or content from their counterparts in the West. They meet in beautiful buildings, where skilled musicians enhance a well designed order of service, and where an expensive sound-system and LCD projector are must haves. There are a huge number of these churches. Some services in these mega-churches are attended by hundreds, some even by thousands of believers.

Jesus is worshiped with the same songs found in nearly every other Pentecostal or Evangelical church everywhere else in this globalised world. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of gospel we have exported from the West, what kind of churches have we planted, what kind of discipleship have we brought? Have we simply been selling franchises in some kind of bland, anaemic ‘McChurch’?

The topics of the sermons are nearly always the same: personal salvation, how not to backslide, how to fight the devil and his temptations, how to live a pure and holy life, how to get others saved, how to become successful in relationships and in business, how to get the maximum blessing out of being a follower of Jesus… the plight of their poor neighbours is seldom mentioned anytime or anywhere. It as if their impoverished brothers and sisters simply do not exist. It is as if the middle class live not only in a totally different city, but in a totally different world, where they never see people literally starving, thousands digging through mountains of garbage, millions ‘living’ in inhuman squalor.

In the spacious homes and ornate churches of the middle class, it seems that the thousands of abandoned children working, begging or stealing to keep themselves alive on the streets are never mentioned.

Victor – a rich young man …

It was in just such a middle class church that I met Victor, a young Filipino businessman in his thirties. Apart from a spell studying in England, he had lived all his life in Manila. Here he grew up in a first class subdivision as the son of a successful medical doctor. When I told him about Servants, and that all our foreign workers, compelled by their faith in Jesus, lived in the slums with the poor, Victor was fascinated. “I have never entered a squatter area in all my life,” he said. “Let me join you for a visit.” And then, after hearing about my ministry among the street youth there, he added “Oh, and I will prepare a bible study for your guys.”

Victor arrived in his fancy car at an American fast food restaurant which has a secure parking lot near the slum area where I lived with my family. I felt really excited showing him around: at last, someone from that affluent church was showing an interest in the lives of their poor neighbours.

Slowly we walked through the dark, crowded alleys of the squatter area. As always it was hot, narrow and noisy. Victor, usually such a chatty fellow, became very quiet. After 15 minutes, we reached the community house of Onesimo where our boys were still having their siesta (an early afternoon nap).

We carefully peeped through the unlocked door and saw about 10 half naked bodies, mostly tattooed, sleeping on the floor like packed sardines. Most were small and skinny but there were some big guys too. It was very hot and more than a little smelly. I suggested to Victor that we go to the chapel next door and wait until the guys were ready.

As we sat on the bench in the chapel, Victor started to softly weep. “Chris”, he said, “I have nothing to say here. I am in the wrong place. I have never seen anything like this.”

As gently as I could, I replied: “Victor, a third of your city live like this, and these young men are believers - they are part of your family!” Despite his initial shell shock, we managed to strike up some good interaction with the guys, and each shared with Victor where they came from, what life was like before Onesimo, and then how they met with Jesus. They finished with a song for their new friend. It sounded terrible but they sang it from their hearts.

When we left the slum and arrived back at his air conditioned car, Victor said, “I will tell my brothers and sisters in my bible-study group about this. I will convince them to come and visit your centre and meet the guys too. They have to see this.”

I must admit that I felt hopeful. Finally, I was playing a part in bridging these two worlds! But sadly, my hope was in vain. I was to be disappointed once more. None of Victor’s friends ever turned up. And when I reminded Victor of his good intentions, the well rehearsed excuses rolled easily off his tongue…

A new charismatic church, and who is going to wash whose feet?

Another smaller and less traditional church caught my attention. It had a new congregation of about 80 young adult Filipinos, most of them professionals. I first met them in a public park where they were preaching the gospel and giving out free fruit drinks to the people passing by. I was impressed with their creativity, and drawn by their beautiful, worshipful singing.

I got to know Williams, their Pastor, who I learnt had a heart for the poor. He was already volunteering in an adult education program for people from depressed areas. This was in fact a program in Tagalog (the Filipino language) which Servants had helped set up. I talked with him about how his young professional congregation could get more involved with the lives of the urban poor. His response was cautious: “You know I have to be very careful with this, and I have to find the right moment. They have to be readied to face such big issues”.

After more than a year, I got a telephone call from Pastor Williams. He said, “Chris, I just feel we need to do something symbolic - an act with enough spiritual impact to break the evil spirit that keeps us from getting involved in ministering to the poor.” “Sure” I replied, “sounds like you‘ve got an idea already, right?” “Yes. Chris, I thought I would handpick 10 guys. We would visit one of your centres in the slums, and wash their feet just as Jesus did with his disciples. What do you think?”

To be honest, I did not feel too comfortable with the idea, but I didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm. So I replied, “OK, let me first consult with my guys at the Onesimo centres. But I think they should also be agreeable to it.” I spoke with the trainees and leaders of our therapeutic communities, and asked them what they thought about this “symbolic meeting”. To my surprise they actually liked the plan, but added “and we want to wash their feet too!”

I went back to Pastor Williams with our guys’ suggestion. He did not say much. And for some reason, he never did visit us with his 10 handpicked guys.

A bright young upwardly mobile theology student…

One day, we were visited in our squatter house by Conny. She had heard about the Servants workers living among the poor while studying a course called Transformational Theology at her seminary, and had grown curious. This college was only ten minutes walking distance away from the slum where we lived as a family. Conny was in her mid-thirties and was working on her Ph.D. She wanted to know how we were coping with two small kids in such basic living conditions.

After she had asked most of her questions, she suddenly started preaching at us. “You must know”, she explained, “that those people moving from the province into the capital would be better off if they just stayed where they were born and where they were supposed to be - in their provinces, instead of ending up in such dreadful places like this! Why can’t they all stay in their provinces?! There are just too many people in the city. Why did they have to come here in the first place? Really, it’s is all there own fault!”

So I asked her, “What about you? Which province are you from?” “What do you mean?” she asked back, a bit surprised. “…well, we are from Bicol”, she continued, “the city of Legaspi. Our family still owns a big house and some land there.” “Then why are you not staying in Bicol with your family, why are you living here in Manila?” I asked. “Well, it is different you know,” she explained, “our children need a good education, the kind we can only get here in the capital.”

“That’s interesting, Conny” I said - and now it was my turn to preach. “You claim a right for your family and your kids to migrate to Manila, just because you are well off. But what about the poor, and the education of their kids? Why do they have less right to try and improve their lives here in the city?

And what about the poor who come to the Manila unemployed and desperate to save their kids from starving, because there are no longer any fish in their ancestral fishing areas now that the big fishing companies have taken them over and are making huge profits? Or what about those poor whose villages have become unsafe to live in due to the insurgency – the insurgency which is fuelled by the horrible economic inequities and injustices of the Philippines? I can take you and introduce you right now to families here in my neighbourhood who will tell you their stories!

And tell me Conny, what would happen to Manila and all its rich people and its factories if there were no cheap labour from the provinces coming in? Who would fill their need for house-servants, gardeners, drivers, bodyguards, factory workers and the street sweepers? They are my neighbors, living right here in the slums, and you, Conny, need them. But because they are paid so poorly they simply can’t afford nice housing like you have!”

Conny never came back.

Many Churches with Closed doors…

I knocked at the office doors of a number of pastors of big, wealthy Manila churches. I was convinced that as someone living with the poor, it was my duty to advocate and seek a better life for the many orphans in our community. So I approached these churches to ask if they would consider sponsorship for these children, their brothers and sisters, their fellow Filipinos.

I thought it was right that I should speak up on behalf of the voiceless, who themselves would never be able to get past the security guards watching the front gates of these church offices. I was certain this was part of my Christian duty: to lift up the cause of the weak, the poor and the defenceless.

But as l look back, it all seemed to be a waste of time and energy. I did not get a single response that actually turned into long term support for a single orphan. I got plenty of promises, but no results…

In fairness, most pastors would listen to me patiently. But then they would claim that they already had a ‘program for the poor’, and an over-full agenda for their members. They were genuinely convinced that they were doing enough already.

Who am I to judge? One pastor even considered my visit to be very handy, as he was able to dump a few boxes of used clothing on me. Somebody had left the boxes at his office to be passed on to the needy, and they were getting in his way. In that particular church, according to a Filipino friend of mine who worked there, there were fourteen millionaires among its members. And so eventually they promised that they would collect some money for the street kids - next Christmas day…

One Sunday, someone persuaded me to take some friends from our slum to experience one of these rich peoples church services – after all, the poor also enjoy air-conditioned temperatures, soft seats and wonderful worship music!

Afterwards though, my friends told me that they simply felt uncomfortable and out of place. They didn’t have enough English to understanding most of what was said. Actually, I was quite relieved that they hadn’t understood the sermon. It was totally unrelated to their lives.

I was shocked myself by one of the testimonies shared during the service. It was given by an obviously wealthy and prominent woman who shared a convoluted story of how the Lord had blessed her and saved her out of a business crisis. In describing how her business went down, she wept great tears and explained, “I lost absolutely everything, imagine my friends, really everything. I went down to only one car…”

I was so ashamed knowing that my friends struggled everyday just to fill their stomachs, while this Christian lady considered being reduced to one car as having “lost everything”.

A daring minority: Filipino professionals making sacrificial career choices in order to help their poorer neighbours.

What I have written here are reflections from my personal experiences. I am not a theologian or a development expert - I am just a Swiss layman. I am a cultural outsider with a limited, perhaps distorted perspective. Nevertheless, for thirteen years I lived among Manila’s poor, walked with them, loved them, and tried to see life through their eyes. And during those years I visited many middle class churches in the city in an attempt to connect rich and poor Christians, that the whole gospel might be experienced by both sides of the divide.

And with genuine gratefulness, I have to mention the Union Church of Manila, a very wealthy church right in the heart of the country’s main business district. This church regularly supports many good projects among the urban poor, including some involving Servants and Onesimo.

Furthermore, I have been privileged to meet a few young professional Filipino Christians who opted for a more sacrificial way of life. They chose not to strive for promising careers in the corporate world, or move overseas in search of high salaries. Instead, they opted to serve on lower incomes with faith-based development organizations, in order to help and journey with the poor.

Yes, there are Pastors and activists - like the beautifully spoken Melba Maggay – who do raise their voice and use their gifts to fight for the poor. These professionals advocate justice and righteousness in society through their publications, training, free legal aid, counselling, grass root development work and church planting among the poor.

On the roof top of a passenger jeep

In my early years of living with the poor, I dreamed of helping start a movement of churches which would build their dignity by experiencing the transforming power of a relationship with Jesus - and by keeping a safe distance from the rich!

I perceived us, the middle class and the rich, as hopelessly and incurably patronizing and disempowering towards the poor and their communities.

But soon I realized that while Jesus really is the key for any lasting transformation, to liberate the poor ‘as a people group’ was only a sentimental dream of mine. The root of poverty lies not just with ‘the poor’ but also with us, the rich.

The solution to poverty must come from both the poor and the rich. The sharing of money, of know how, of access, of manpower, of values, of connections and means of communication – these are all part of bringing the poor out of their trap, and the rich out of theirs, to a place where both can really meet God!

But it has to happen in the spirit of Jesus, which means journeying together and learning from each other. And this will require mutual respect, understanding, passion and patience.

Such sharing is crucial and brings blessing to both the poor and the rich. The salvation of the poor and the rich are inextricably bound together. I had also learned from the sociologists that, historically, no social movement among the poor ever survived unless a vital connection with the middleclass was nurtured. It was crucial that we should find a way to bridge this gap.

Eventually the help for Onesimo to begin bridging this gap between Filipino social classes came from a place I least expected. And it was not from the church!

During my first year with Servants in Manila I was staying in a relocation area at the northern outskirts of the Capital. It was called “Bagong Silang” meaning ‘new life’ which sounded rather ironic, if not sarcastic, to me.

About 150 000 slum dwellers from the inner city, forced by government troops at gunpoint, were literally dumped at a site without a functioning water system or any electricity. There were no toilets, hardly any trees, and no playgrounds for the kids. There was no resident doctor in the area and hardly any health workers. It all looked to me like a rather poorly organized refugee camp. Like a thick, dark cloud over this shanty town, hung the ever present smell of sickness and death. Every week, small children died in my neighbourhood due to lack of food, clean water or medicine. My heart broke when my own host family, during a weekend I was away, lost a wonderful, seemingly healthy baby boy because of simple diarrhea.

In this place, two years before I joined the team, a Servants couple from Australia started a church, a small kindergarten, a feeding program and a “health clinic”. I found myself in that small “clinic” – nothing more than a plywood shack with some ointments and bandages - as the only ‘professional medic’.

I ended up getting some surgical instruments and treating patients all day, often well beyond what my general nursing skills actually allowed. We would organize transport to the city hospitals for really severe cases. My language study suffered and I got worn out fast - physically and emotionally.

One Sunday I will never forget, a mother brought her dying 8 year old son to church. The starving boy’s body was literally skin and bones. As a congregation, we prayed and cried to the Lord for a miracle. At the end of the prayer time, the mother loudly screamed and wept. The boy had died right there.

A week later, the grieving mother came to church again and told us that it was her dying boy’s request to bring him to church that morning. “He died,” she continued, “while God’s family was praying for him, guiding him to heaven…” This was the testimony of a mother, who found comfort in God’s presence in the midst of her tragedy. But my heart pounded with confusion and my head swum with questions: questions my theology couldn’t address. I found myself badly in need of a more adequate theology of suffering!

My senior missionary colleague and his wife – hardworking founders of the Servant’s ministry in that area, almost lost their sanity during those times. It was so difficult to witness all those children dying around them and not able to do enough to prevent it. The feeling of powerlessness was devastating. Their own unwanted childlessness made matters worse.

I remember my colleague telling me that as the prophet Elisha had done over the dead body of the widow’s only child, he repeatedly did over children in his neighbourhood who had just died. He would stretch out his body over them and breathe on them while praying. But unlike the experience of Elisha, none of those starved children ever came to life again. We cried to God and wept with the family members in utter despair. And many times, with a reading from Scriptures and a prayer, we helped them bury their children since the parents (mostly Roman Catholic) did not have the money to pay for a priest.

But mostly, all we could offer was to stay with them in there grief and desolation. This godly missionary couple eventually burnt out, and left the Philippines after a few years, returning to their home country for good.

After a succession of such physically and emotionally draining experiences, the Servants team advised me strongly to take time off for a holiday. I travelled to a nearby and very beautiful island, and enjoyed some wonderful days at a Philippine beach.

On my way back, I had to take a 3-hour drive on rough roads in order to reach the airport and catch my plane to Manila. The passenger jeep was so crowded (as usual) that I opted for the windy “seat” on the roof, with a fantastic open air view. It was a bit dangerous though! I had to hold firmly to the luggage or to whatever else was available while the jeep skipped across the rough roads.

Next to me I noticed a Filipino guy, just a few years younger than me. When we started talking to each other, my first impression was that he was rich. His name was Harry. He was in his last semester studying law and was also on his way home to Manila. He spoke with a very sophisticated American-English accent.

When I explained to him that I belonged to a group called Servants and that we all stayed in slum areas, he was plunged into disbelief: no westerners would ever live in places like that! But then he shared with me that he was part of a group of young lawyers who gave free legal aid to the poor. And maybe still in disbelief, he asked me for a description of how to get to my slum house.

A few weeks later, he showed up at my place in “Bagong Silang” together with his best friend Joel, who would soon be a lawyer too. I had not believed he would really come, but he did! They drove two hours through the city traffic just to find me. I was very impressed. Out of this “divine meeting” on the roof top of a passenger jeep, many years of friendship developed.

Harry visited our youth camps, climbed with us through tropical forest and mud tracks, and up to high mountain peaks. From firstly just cooking spaghetti for the guys in the drug rehab program at Camp Rock, he eventually became the president of the Onesimo Foundation.

His voluntary contribution in legal matters to Servants and Onesimo have been priceless – enabling us to comply with the complicated procedures in building houses and buying land, in securing organizational permits, standing as defence in the criminal cases of our young clients among the poor, helping us stand against illegal demolition attempts of squatter communities, and much more…

Harry was and still is always available to assist us with his entire law office. Today he is a well known professor at the University of the Philippines, and appears almost weekly on the major TV channels. He married Mylah, a beautiful lady journalist and TV newscaster. They have two great kids.

Over time, Harry gave up smoking and began worshiping in a local church. And I really believe that it was his involvement in the lives of the poor that drew him closer and closer to Jesus.

How Camp Rock came to be…

We came to learn that regular time out is part of good self-care practice, and that we in Servants needed to remind each other of this often. One favourite spot for a retreat was the beaches of Puerto Gallera on the Island of Mindoro. Though only half a day’s trip away from the monstrous mega-city of Manila, you can find yourself in a tropical paradise of almost untouched natural beauty.

But while I was enjoying one such escape, I couldn’t stop thinking of my poor friends from the squatter areas, and how much they would not only enjoy, but really needed a taste of this beauty.

I wondered how the street kids and the youth from the slums would react if they could see a clear blue sky no longer hidden by dark layers of smog; or how they would feel if they could gaze at the endless ocean, sparkling and full of sumptuously coloured fish – such a far cry from the black, oily Bay of Manila that they knew. I wondered if they could get to know their Creator in a new and deeper way if they had the chance to dive into a cool waterfall just a short rainforest walk from this beach. Wouldn’t their hearts want to start trusting a God who had given us such an unspoiled creation to enjoy and to care for! A creation which could provide more than enough for every person on the planet …if its bounty were shared rightly among its population!

It was during one of these times of retreat that my parents in-law from Switzerland joined us at Puerto Gallera. While strolling along the beach one beautiful day, I pointed out to them a big straw-roofed bamboo house built on solid rock which was for sale. “This is for sale,” I said, “and has been for quite a while already. It used to be a Spaghetti House for the tourists run by a Swiss guy.”

Wistfully, I thought out loud “It would be just wonderful to own such a spot for the poor of Manila, so they too could enjoy holidays here just like us.” The response of my parents-in-law was totally unexpected, for I had never thought of them as rich. They said, “Well why don’t you buy it. We will lend you the money!” “Whoa… what an offer,” I thought, “but is this from God? Would such a purchase be compatible with the principles of Servants, such as simplicity?”

A few weeks later, we invited to that beach site in Puerto Gallera, some of our friends who were urban poor leaders. We shared with them our emerging vision of buying this land with the Spaghetti house in order to run youth camps, leadership training and retreats for the folks from the Manila ghettos. There was quite a discussion, much reflection and prayer, and a lot of excitement of course.

At the end of that weekend, our local friends endorsed the vision and committed themselves to supporting it and being part of it. We called the Spaghetti house (including the 800 square meter lot) “Camp Rock,” and entered into the long and tiring process of buying the property - of course with the help of our lawyer friend Harry Roque.

But right away we were able to use the site for a succession of youth camps for the residents Manila’s various slums. How we got scorpions instead of bread… Those camps initially were too crowded. We were hosting over 200 boys and girls at a time. The boys had to sleep in tents at the beach while the girls would enjoy the safety of the old Spaghetti house.

But we soon realized that we were not always making friends on that beach, but by our very presence also provoking irritation and even hostility among some neighbours and local government. Camp Rock is located at a prime spot in a fast developing tourist area. Little wonder that some felt threatened by these urban poor folks crowding the beach.

We soon had to abide with a new local government ordinance prohibiting the use of tents on the site. We carried on despite the restrictions until 1999, when there was a terrible tropical storm. It rained for weeks causing the steep slope behind the main house of Camp Rock to move dangerously.

When some small rocks started to fall down on the house, Regie, our faithful guard and local caretaker, called and urged us to do something. We then took this threat as a signal that it was time to further develop Camp Rock. We planned to make a deep and firm foundation on that steep slope, building an additional big house, parking space and a half court for playing basketball.

We did not have that much money but our original debt was already paid off. And we were learning that we would never lack in financial provision if we would step out in faith to help the poor! But it took us endless trips and meetings with officials, long waiting and many prayers until we finally got all the needed permits through the corrupt and bureaucratic system of local and national government.

The German Embassy in Manila had helped us with an initial amount, and some more money came in from overseas. But we still needed even more funds to get the construction finished.

On the same beach, about 1000 feet away, a very rich family owned three marvellously designed beach houses. The family was Filipino but of Spanish origin. They visited their resort just a few times a year. They would come aboard three helicopters or on their luxury boat. Being a rather chatty neighbour, I befriended their family architect and also got to know their care-taker. The architect showed me around one day, allowing me to even peep inside the beautifully, handcrafted houses. When I shared with him that at Camp Rock we were still in need of donations for our current construction and slope protection, he encouraged me to ask the mother of that rich Spanish family, ‘the Dona’. He told me that that she was a good woman who supports many foundations for the poor and is quite approachable.

So with considerable effort and perseverance I managed to bring a request letter to the personal secretary of ‘the Dona’. Her office was on the 35th floor of one of the most modern high rise building in the heart of Makati, the country’s major business capital. This building is owned by the family. Its grandiosity radiates a sense of power and wealth that almost took my breath away. The same building also hosts the Philippine Stock Exchange!

People say that half of this ritzy business district is owned by this old Spanish clan whose name appears at many street corners. I felt so good about myself after I had passed on the request letter. Even if we could just get a few crumbs off this rich family’s table for Onesimo, it would surely be more than enough! Camp Rock could be finished without any further delay. I still felt good even a few days later when I called the personal secretary to follow up on my letter. “You are lucky”, she said, “Dona is spending a few days in the Philippines”.

But what followed had nothing to do with being lucky: it was more like a terrible nightmare! When Dona read about our request, she hopped into her helicopter and went for a site inspection of the on-going construction at “Camp Rock”. Straight on, without talking to us, she went to visit the Mayor of Puerto Gallera in the local town. There, she placed a complaint against us.

One must know that Dona is the “Queen” of that Island and whenever she complains, even the Mayor starts to tremble…. “Drug addicts and street kids on my beach? No way! This is too much, and besides this new building doesn’t fit the new standards drawn up for this tourist zone!”

It was the first time that the Dona had visited the Mayor in person which made him feel both honoured and terrified at the same time. Without talking to us first, the Mayor had a letter written revoking all permits and licenses regarding Camp Rock and its development. The reason given was that a drug rehab site in that place would jeopardise the development of their tourist program.

It was a Sunday night when I got this letter and I was totally shattered, right down to the core of my bones, fearing that this could be the end of Camp Rock. I did not wait for an opportunity to speak to him in his office, but on that very night I searched out the mayor’s private residence in town.

My heart was beating so hard that I could feel the pulse in my head when I knocked at his door. His son brought me right into the living room. I was already familiar with the mayor’s bully-like face, as his portrait was on posters and streamers all over town following his recent election campaign. “This is a misunderstanding”, I explained after some formal introductions, “we have never planned to run drug rehab at Camp Rock. It is a camp and youth training site only. And of course, once the basic construction is finished we will cover all the concrete with indigenous material like bamboo, rattan and plants.”

The mayor was unimpressed. He just shrugged his shoulders and asked: “Why did you ask the Dona for money in the first place? Don’t you know that she is a big tax payer on this island? And because of this issue, you know, she has visited me personally for the first time!”

All seemed hopeless. But after some time of prayer, I got into a real fighting mood, knowing that at this point we couldn’t fall any deeper.

What then followed was a nerve racking exchange of letters and faxes between the Dona, the mayor and my friend and lawyer Harry Roque. Dona actually faxed me from Hotel Peninsula in New York, defending her position, stating that she is solely concerned with the preservation of the beauty of her place.

Harry, in reaction, exploded in holy anger when he heard my terrible news. “These Spaniards already raped our country for three hundred years, and now they still want to do it…”.

He then placed the story of the “Dona and the unwanted street kids on her beach” with supporting documents at a major daily newspaper and with the national TV channel.

As a last resort, Harry told me, we would put pressure on the Dona and the mayor through the media. Harry at that time was also a congressman’s chief of staff and used this capacity to ask the governor of that island to put in a good word for us with the mayor.

On a follow up visit at the Mayor’s house, I mentioned in passing that the whole story might be released on national TV and newspaper. This upset the mayor, and with raised voice he shot back at me, “Are you threatening me?” “Well,” I replied as calmly as I could, “what other options do we have against a powerful family like that of the Dona’s?!”

The construction of Camp Rock stood still. It took another few weeks of prayer and waiting. Finally, we got a response from the Mayor’s office. It was a letter of agreement that we were asked to sign! It contained nothing that we would not have wanted to do in the first place. We had to agree not to have drug addicts undergoing rehabilitation at Camp Rock, and to put finishing touches on the new building so that it would best fit in with the natural environment.

In terms of bridging the gap, the professional help we received from the “middle class” was crucial in this crisis. One man armed with ‘holy anger’ took on one of the most powerful families in the Philippines. And this, backed by the awesome grace of God, meant overcoming the iron will of a fearsome lady - despite all her billions of dollars.

[Christian and his wife Christine lived with Servants in the slums of Manila for 13 years, while raising their children Isabel and Noel. In response to the tragedy of Manila’s street kid and street drug problem, they began the ministry of Onesimo – a network of therapeutic communities and a youth campsite where many are finding new life. Onesimo draws its name from the Biblical character discussed in the letter to Philemon who escapes slavery and oppression, and in the process finds Christ.]

Mayor To Exempt Faith Groups From Seeking Permits

During my year in Vancouver the government attempted to require churches and other faith groups to apply for a social service permit in order to help the poor. Some good friends of ours at Tenth Avenue Alliance Church were the first to stand up against this policy, stating that providing for the needs of the poor and vulnerable is at the heart of what it means to be Christian. A Christian lawyer who attends Grandview Calvary Baptist Church (which all of us on the Servants Vancouver team attend) offered to help organize and lead a coalition of faith-based groups in an effort to change the governments policy. Below is an article I received today that tells the of Vancouver's mayor's support:

JUSTINE HUNTER
The Globe and Mail
Saturday, March 22, 2008

Religious groups should not have to beg city hall for permission to offer succour to Vancouver's poor, Mayor Sam Sullivan said yesterday.

His comments mark a policy change after a lengthy battle that pitted city hall against a wide array of faith-based organizations.

Mr. Sullivan announced his new position outside Holy Rosary Cathedral, where he attended a Good Friday service. He said he wants to exempt faith organizations from a controversial permit process that threatened charity services aimed at the city's most disadvantaged.

"It seems counterproductive that we would ask the faith communities to take out a permit simply to do good works in the community," he said in an interview yesterday.

The conflict started six months ago, when the Tenth Avenue Alliance Church found itself entangled in bureaucracy over its soup kitchen.

Facing pressure from neighbours upset about homeless people lining up outside the church, city hall ordered the church to take out a "social service use" permit that carried stringent requirements.

It was the first attempt by bureaucrats to regulate soup kitchens and shelters offered by the city's churches, temples, mosques and synagogues, and it sparked outrage among religious leaders who argued the city was interfering with their missions to comfort the poor.

To win approval for a licence, Tenth Avenue church officials were told they would have to hire guards to patrol lineups, and collect identifying information from the homeless who came to them.

An alliance of faith groups - with Christian, Jewish, Muslim and Sikh leadership - organized to support the Tenth Avenue church, warning that their programs for the poor could be threatened next.

Mr. Sullivan said he was shocked to learn of the permit demands."I was taken aback that we would require a permit," he said. "I also understand there are many guidelines and rules put in place to try to negotiate the conflicts between neighbours and I certainly understand the rationale behind it, but in my mind it really doesn't belong in a community where we are focused on doing everything we can to help those in need."

The mayor, who is running for re-election later this year, invited media to hear his response to the issue on the steps of the church. He later described himself as an occasional churchgoer who attends Good Friday services every year at a different church.

Next week he will table a motion, expected to go to city council in April, that would effectively exempt religious-based social services from the city's licence requirements.

The motion would instruct city staff to waive special land use permits for service programs attached to places of worship, other than those required to ensure adequate fire and life safety provisions.

Ken Shigematsu, senior pastor of the Tenth Avenue Alliance Church, could not be reached for comment yesterday but issued a statement applauding Mr. Sullivan's intervention.

"Older than the church itself, there has been a sacred mission to care for the poor. I am grateful that Mayor Sullivan has recognized this fact, that when churches are unencumbered by unnecessary outside regulations, we have the freedom to best serve the whole community," he said.