by Steve | Jul 22, 2011 | Magazine Articles
By Frank Decker
Not long ago, I was speaking with a missionary who has served orphans in Russia for 16 years. Recalling the fact that she had initially signed up for a one-year term of service I asked, “If you had been able to look into the future and learned that after 16 years you’d still be serving there, what would be your response?” “I don’t think I’d be able to handle it at that time,” was the reply.
There is a reason why God reveals things to us progressively, rather than permitting us to see clearly into the future. And this seems to be true even from ancient biblical times. In Genesis 12, when God spoke to Abram and told him to “go forth from your country, and from your relatives, and from your father’s house,” Abram must have wondered “where?” But at that point God only said, “to the land which I will show you.” Had that been me, I might have replied, “Huh? Lord, that’s not enough for me. I need a five-year plan—a spotlight that shines way down the path—or at least an immediate destination.”
At a recent conference on sharing Jesus with Muslims, an attendee asked the staff person who was representing our mission, “What is your method? Is it the ‘Camel’ approach? Is it ‘Insider?’ Do you do traditional church planting? Is it something else?” Indeed, missions over the past several decades have often been characterized by plans that have been cooked at home and served overseas. So, I was pleased when I learned that our staff member’s reply was, “Our approach is to go there and begin by listening, observing, and learning. After being there for a while, a strategy will emerge.” In contrast, I am aware of my own temptation to establish detailed ministry plans well in advance, with their projected outcomes and timelines.
Maybe this is why we are instructed in James 4:13-15, “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a place and spend a year there and engage in business and make a profit.’ Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow…. Instead, you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and also do this or that.” How interesting that unambiguous counsel to take a step of obedience immediately follows: “Therefore, to one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, to him it is sin” (James 4:17).
About 30 years ago archeologists in the Holy Land dug up the pieces of a “foot lamp” from the era in which Psalm 119:105 was written, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” After reconstructing the clay fragments, a wick was inserted to match the size of the original one, and an interesting discovery was made. The lamp provided enough light for one step.
That God reveals things progressively as we take steps of obedience is congenial to responsible missional thinking and practice. I am reminded of one missionary in the Far East who took steps of obedience that resulted in his service in a city near—but not among—the unreached people group whom God had placed on his heart. For seven years he was obedient, learning the language and ministering in that city. Finally, his patience and obedience paid off and he was granted governmental authorization to move into the city he had originally hoped to reach and live among the people whom God had placed on his heart. As it turns out, the official who granted access was someone whom this missionary had discipled during his years of waiting.
I think of another missionary who went to South America and ended up using his engineering skills to help indigenous believers develop a bottling company to fund their ministries. This idea came to him only after he had served for a number of years. And I think of a missionary who went with her husband, a medical doctor, to West Africa. While living there God laid on her heart the need for improved literacy, and she began an extensive ministry addressing this issue, which remains today. These are a few examples of how vital strategic mission decisions often are made only after previous steps of obedience have been taken.
Sometimes when we look into the future we only see fragments, glimmers of light, yet they are enough to take a step. But later on we can piece the fragments together and see how those little steps of obedience can result in a completed puzzle, and we are able to conclude that God’s hand was guiding us at each point. It is fine to have ministry plans and goals, and they can be very helpful “pegs” on which we hang our plans. But they must always be cast in the shadow of a willingness to listen to the leading of the Holy Spirit, who seems to lead us step-by-step.
By the way, that missionary who initially went to Russia for twelve months will be headed back in July for her 17th year of service in that obscure part of Russia which she now calls home.
by Steve | Apr 1, 2011 | Magazine Articles
By Frank Decker
My mind was swirling because our family had just moved the previous day. And now it was Christmas Eve and in the midst of our box-infested life I was seeking some infusion of peace, of presence; a place for repose in the silent night.
We actually attended services at two different churches that night. Our base church is a United Methodist congregation that is less than four years old called The Vine. My son led the worship, which caters to the predilections of the hundreds of 20- and 30-something adults who comprise the majority of the congregation. Christmas Eve at The Vine was marked by electric guitars, contemporary praise songs, video screens, and exuberant worship. I usually leave our worship services with a sense of excitement and joy, and this evening was no exception.
Dashing out at the close of that service, I then sped 35 miles down the interstate to another church in our denomination for their next Christmas Eve service. Why? This is where my oldest daughter is a member, and she was scheduled to sing a solo. As I quieted my soul after hurrying into that service, I was struck by the stark contrast with the one I had just left. Instead of electric guitars, the music was accentuated by a pipe organ, (and the song my daughter sang was a traditional Catalonian carol “El Noi de La Mare”). Rather than video screens, dozens of bright red poinsettias captured my eye as they sat perched across the front of the well-appointed sanctuary. And instead of a pastor and worship team in jeans there were six ministers adorned in black robes, flanked by four acolytes. I am not as accustomed to more traditional forms of worship, and yet I was overcome by the sense of awe and wonder about the story of Jesus that came to rest upon me there. I left with a sense of gratitude to be a part of a denomination that embraces diverse worship styles in adoration of The King.
Now fast-forward two weeks into January where I find myself in a third church, literally on the other side of the world. My work with The Mission Society has brought me on a trip to Asia at the foothills of the Himalayas, where malaria and other endemic diseases exacerbate the extreme poverty. Even an official with UNICEF, himself an African, told me that this specific province is the poorest he’s ever seen. Spiritually, it’s no more promising. One mission journal describes it as “one of the least-evangelized mega-populations in the world.”
In this setting we have gathered in the January fog and chill, the only thing protecting us from the elements is a corrugated roofing sheet propped above the brick walls of a small courtyard. A few of the believers are huddled around a small fire for warmth and we all are wrapped in layers of clothing. In this particular gathering, two people share testimonies of how God has intervened miraculously in their lives. One lady shared about how her unborn child, confirmed dead by a doctor, was born perfectly healthy the next day.
My coworker Dick McClain, president of The Mission Society, wrote in an email, “The Christ followers we were with today never doubt that Jesus will heal and do miracles … and He does. And as a result, people believe.”
Now, here you may expect that I would take a shot at the easy target of our prosperity in America as a hindrance to dependency on God. That would be predictable and somewhat unfair, as both of the American congregations also have small group ministries in which people encounter the Lord. (And, through my familiarity with The Vine, I am aware of some astounding miraculous healings.)
The point, rather, is this: Whether we find ourselves in prosperity or material want, we will only see Jesus after we accept our utter need for him. The apostle Paul said, “I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret…both of having abundance and suffering need” (Philippians 4:12). John Wesley’s covenant prayer included the lines, “Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing.”
The good news of Jesus is that wherever he is sought, he will be found. Whether it is among those huddled around a fire in Asia or amid persons neatly seated in a beautiful sanctuary; he comes to occupy the willing heart.
by Steve | Nov 16, 2010 | Magazine Articles
By Frank Decker
My home airport is the world’s busiest, and when traveling, I often come across groups of work teams headed to some foreign place to serve for a week or two. They are not difficult to spot, and they sometimes even have matching t-shirts. I often ask them about their plans. “We’re going to build a church,” “We are conducting a Vacation Bible School,” etc. A colleague recently told me of a mission work team whose matching t-shirts displayed a map of their home state with an arrow pointing from home to their Latin American destination. The caption proclaimed, “Bringing Jesus from Texas to Costa Rica.”
I cringed when I heard that story. And if you have served on a work team, lived overseas, or as a Wesleyan simply have a basic understanding of prevenient grace, perhaps you bristled with a vicarious sense of embarrassment on hearing it, too.
We need to pay attention to how others perceive us as we come in the name of Jesus. Perhaps we assume that our identity as Americans is an advantage to our witness. However, this is not the case. Eugene Peterson has written about what people who come from other cultures into ours see and hear. He says, “In my experience, they don’t see a Christian land. …They see something almost the reverse of a Christian land.” “They see a lot of greed and arrogance. And they see a Christian community that has almost none of the virtues of the biblical Christian community, which have to do with a sacrificial life and conspicuous love. Rather, they see indulgence in feelings and emotions, and an avaricious quest for gratification.”
Author and educator Bill McKibbin chimes in on the disconnect between our self-identity as a Christian people and the reality that our collective cultural behavior indicates something quite to the contrary. For example, the United States is the most violent rich nation on earth with a murder rate over four times that of Europe. American prisons house six or seven times the population percentage of other developed countries. And, “Despite Jesus’ strong declarations against divorce, our marriages break up at a rate—just over half—that compares poorly with the European Union’s average of about four in ten. …Teenage pregnancy? We’re at the top of the charts. Personal self-discipline—like, say, keeping your weight under control? Buying on credit? Running government deficits? Do you need to ask?”
America is attractive to outsiders, in Peterson’s words, because of our materialism, not our spirituality. “What they want are cars and televisions. They’re not coming after our gospel, unless they’re translating the gospel into a promise of riches and comfort.”
Therein lies a huge missiological challenge. Let’s say that I feel compelled to serve cross-culturally, and I get it that my cultural identity is not an advantage but sometimes a handicap. I am like a baseball player beginning my appearance at the plate with two strikes against me. The necessary process to avoid striking out is doable, but not easy. And it cannot be accomplished alone.
The Mission Society has a group of workers-in-training who are currently living among mostly Muslim refugees here in the Atlanta area, and one of the books we are studying is Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Prior to his martyrdom in a Nazi prison camp, Bonhoeffer wrote that the essential element of authentic Christian life and work is the very presence of Jesus in our midst. Anything we seek to do that is void of his presence is of no value to the Kingdom. Each and every step along the way must necessarily involve a collaborative process of prayer, meditation, and Scripture study in which Christ is invited to reveal himself.
So, as I relate to the hundreds of missionaries with whom I work, I realize that there is a lot at stake as Americans go out to minister in Jesus’ name. And I always go back to Bonhoeffer’s question: Is Jesus himself evident in this work? If one’s doing ministry involves serving AIDS orphans in Kenya, or children at risk through human trafficking in Bangkok, or forgotten villagers in the Peruvian Andes, or struggling adolescents in the Ukraine, or Dalit (“untouchable”) women in India, or the training of pastors, the question must perpetually be asked: Is the presence of Christ himself evident in this?
When Jesus’ presence is experienced as a reality, we might not need a t-shirt to advertize it.
by Steve | Mar 17, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, March/April 2020
By Sarah Parham –
I have shared the deepest honor in walking with people as they discern their call into next steps of following the Lord for many years now, first in campus ministry, and now in missions mobilization. As Christian believers, our first and only permanent call is to God alone. However, God does have a history of giving people secondary, specific calls or assignments to a particular people and ministry.
One thing that often gets talked about as people discern transitions, particularly in missions mobilization, is a release from current ministry contexts. When a person enters a context with a sense of calling, it is a weighty thing, and one that cannot simply be dropped on a whim. When you ask a person who has experienced this type of calling how you know when you are released, a typical response is, “you’ll know” – like you “know” when you’ve met your perfect mate, or you “know” when you’ve walked into just the right house.
Well, the truth is, they are right.
I have had the unfortunate privilege to have failed in this particular way, and as the old adage says, failure is the greatest teacher. In my last ministry setting, I had the strange situation of quitting twice. The first time I did not have the sense of release from my calling to that place, but rather a crushing dread of staying. Four years later, when I experienced a true release from that ministry setting, I knew. I did not have a release the first time. There are some lessons I learned while quitting the same ministry twice. While it isn’t easy to describe exactly what a ministerial release is, I can say with certainty some things it is not.
First, the ministerial release is not an urgent sense of retreat. The ministry I worked in was experiencing a season of pain. We were in a difficult situation, and I felt like I was being crushed. As I look back, the verse that speaks to being pressed but not crushed comes to mind. In fact, Paul in 2 Corinthians 4 is calling the church to not lose heart in ministry. It is not easy; there will be hard times. But being “pressed” is not release. These pains are like the pains of labor that bring forth new life – a new life that still needs tender nurture.
Second, a ministerial release is also not self-protective. There was a part of me that feared for my own reputation should the ministry fold. As it turns out, that isn’t God’s chief concern. Just after speaking of being pressed but not crushed, Paul speaks of “being given up to death for Jesus’ sake.” Ugh. Please note here that I’m not talking about a lack of self-care or formation that will hold us up in ministry. That is essential. God did not say he would work us to death, but rather that death is at work in us, once again bringing about life.
Third, a ministerial release is not something the minister does, but something that is done to him or her. As noted above, to hold the burden of loving the flock well is a great weight. When done well, it is held with open hands. This kind of release is not the sense of opening your hands from a tight grip. Rather, ministerial release is when God removes the weight from your open hands. The keeper of the flock is released from his or her responsibility. When I felt pressed by the ministry, my instinct was to thrust back against what was pressing me. This is not release. When it was time for me to move on, my hands were free to wave and to wipe my own tears.
Lastly, a ministerial release is a calling to go toward something new which then requires the leaving of something now. As I write this, I am preparing to attend the retirement celebration for TMS Global’s beloved Vicki and Frank Decker. They have gifted us with a living example as they consistently remind us that they are not retiring, but rather rebooting. Our new calling may not be known. Like Abraham, God calls us to follow him to what he will show us next. Our hands ever remain in the same position, open, palm facing upward, ready to receive whatever joys and burdens he gives us for the life of the world.
Sarah Parham is senior director of domestic mobilization at TMS Global (tms-global.org).
by Steve | Jul 10, 2017 | July-August 2017, Magazine, Magazine Articles
By Frank Decker-
Before I became a missionary, I served a small United Methodist church in Virginia while in my 20s. There was a family in the neighborhood to whom we provided assistance from time to time. One day their grade school-aged daughter was playing with some friends at the church, and she wandered into the kitchen where I was loading a bag of groceries. “Are you going to take that food to a poor family?” she asked me. I responded, “No, sweetie. I’m taking this to your family.” Her eyes lit up and she happily went back to join her friends down the hall.
While I may have stumbled into a quick-thinking response to that situation, I have increasingly become aware of the need to pay attention to the way that those to whom we seek to minister view us – and, how they think we view them. For example, it has always puzzled me why, in mission and evangelism circles, we have referred to those whom we are seeking to reach as “target” people groups. After all, what is the most common use of a target? Doesn’t it usually involve some sort of weapon? In the book Leadership and Self-Deception, The Arbinger Institute points out: “No matter what we’re doing on the outside, people respond primarily to how we’re feeling about them on the inside.”
I am suggesting that whether we are aware of it or not, we are likely to view those outside of our religious fold in one of two general categories: people who should be won, or people who should be served. Correspondingly, they will perceive our intentions, in broad strokes, as the intentions of a “crusader” or the intentions of a “servant.” I realize the potential pitfalls of taking this simple thought too far. Still, I submit that a servant is one who is seen by outsiders as motivated to serve others by meeting their needs, while a crusader is one who is motivated to enlist others and bring them into the fold (even though acts of service are often employed by crusaders to accomplish this).
A missionary who served in the Middle East for more than a decade tells the story of being invited to a mosque by an Imam to speak to his congregation. Before the missionary preached, the Imam said to him, “You can share about Jesus, but not about Christianity.” The missionary said he was initially taken aback by the Imam’s request. Then he remembers thinking to himself, Well, I think that’s okay. That turned out to be a watershed moment in the missionary’s journey. He more fully realized the distinction between helping people to see Jesus versus simply getting them to join the team.
The Apostle Paul said, “Let a man consider us as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God” (1 Corinthians 4:1). When we are perceived as those whose desire is to serve, defenses against spiritual conversations that otherwise may arise are likely to be relaxed. And the more we behave – and are perceived as – servants, the more receptive people will be to the One who “came to serve and give his life as a ransom for all.”
The way that people outside of the faith perceive our mission efforts is important. If Jesus were merely the founder of one of the world’s religions in competition with other religions, then a crusader mentality might make sense. But if he is the Messiah whose Kingdom can pervade any religious context, then his message must be understood on a level deeper than “our religion versus yours.” Nonetheless, I believe that millions outside of Christianity view us as crusaders instead of servants, with the accompanying conclusion that Jesus is irrelevant to them.
“The vision is Jesus. Not Christianity. Not prayer, mission, and justice,” writes Pete Greig in Dirty Glory. “Not worship-leading or church-planting or evangelism. If you love Jesus, you’ll do that stuff: You’ll pray and worship and go to church and preach the gospel. But in doing all those things, don’t lose the way, don’t get lost in the crowd. It might be healthier if we all just stopped being Christians for a bit – a week, a month, or even a year. We’re just too good at it. It has become habitual. We’ve been operating out of religious muscle memory…. Urgent voices are calling us to abandon the familiar comforts of Christendom, to strike out into the unknown and rediscover the Nazarene.”
It is no surprise that we have this challenge, this tension between servant and crusader. But that is all the more reason why we must ardently pursue his example of a servant.
Frank Decker is the Vice President for Training and Formation at TMS Global – www.TMS-Global.org.
