VillagePastor

Beirut Diaries - Part III

So here we were yesterday, surrounded by a barrage of shooting. Automatic rifles shot off round after round—it was almost deafening. We thought, when we first got on a plane, that it could be tense over here. Eighteen  religious minority groups all seemingly at each other. It was just up the hill, a few days ago, that Hezbollah and Druze fought in the neighborhoods. Militias on the move, vows of revenge and kidnappings, and scores killed by gunfire, caused many to believe Lebanon was on the verge of civil war—again. But these were shots aimed—not at each other (nor us!)—but up at the sky, as Beirut broke out in celebration. (It seems like everyone has an AK-47 in their closet). A new President and a semblance of calm have taken over. There seems to be a delicate balance between Christians, Druze, Sunnis. And Shias.

Even more amazing was our time in downtown Beirut tonight. It is a restored part, with gorgeous French architecture. Just two weeks ago, this part of Beirut was a ghost town. For months, Hezbollah took this part of the city and turned it into a tent city, which effectively closed off the heart of downtown for a long time. And just a few days ago, the capital was invaded and left paralyzed, port and airport closed. Tonight, it was different. It was jammed with maybe 10,000 people, mostly young, many dressed in western clothes. It was if the long winter had ended, and people came out to smell the spring air. People seem to be celebrating a hopeful new start. Fireworks, shwarmas, mango juice, and rock bands. They even had a “reconciliation” ice cream cone to commemorate the event. Who would have thought? Our trip seems to have been perfectly timed.

But back to some reality for me. The greatest challenge now is shifting to the classroom this week at ABTS, where I face 25 grad students from Egypt, Sudan, Lebanon, Iraq, Jordan, Algeria, Syria, and Tunisia. They seem to be fairly eager, but I feel I will have to definitely win some over. Arabic is the language of choice, so I teach with a translator. Not the easiest of things. At times, it goes painfully slow. There is a fair amount of misunderstanding. So it is tough going, teaching them theology and ministry. But all the same, it is a great challenge, and I love it. I had hopes to head for South Lebanon tomorrow, to see the work among the Shia, but it will have to wait for another time.

Beirut Diaries - Part II

Every time I come to Syria I think about an experience some years ago in a Turkish bath in the heart of the old part of Damascus. My friend Alex had just had his rub down by a masseuse, who proceeded to say, “Ah, Americans I love—American government I hate”. To which Alex replied in kind, only interjecting Syrians and Syrian government. After high fiving one another, they continued on.

While the Syrians do not get the best of press in the US, they are remarkable people. And there is a hunger for the gospel. Yesterday, we spent the better part in the south, working with the Druze, who seem to be especially open to Jesus. People readily received the DVD of the Jesus Film. Even one taxi chased us down to receive a copy. Meeting is small homes, I heard story after story of healings and visions that can only suggest God is doing some pretty amazing miracles. A man’s cancer healed over the phone, a woman’s paralysis removed after prayer, a vision of Jesus taking a man out of jail, and he is released the next day. Why I hear of signs and wonders in these settings, and so little in churches back home, mystifies me. I can only conclude that God tends to do these things when the gospel reaches out in areas for the first time.

Nonetheless, my fear here is that all too many will rely on these and seek for more. One of the greatest “signs and wonders” for me was a man who had a long history of being quite evil. There was a meanness to him that repelled most people around him, and then he met Jesus. Hearing his testimony in his small living room, sitting on the floor sipping tea, and seeing a kindness in his eyes that reflects the forgiveness and love of Christ—this is what I find compelling.

What also impressed me was the fact these believers pay a high price. They are regularly ostracized and persecuted by their Druze community and—yes—orthodox Christians! This is perhaps as disheartening as anything. I spent time with Raja, a man who spent two months in jail for becoming a believer. The government reacts quite strongly to conversions of any sort. He survived in a small room with 40 others, mostly radicals and terrorists, who threatened his life. These stories are not that unique. I told myself to never start worship without thanking God for the freedom we have to come together without the fear of secret police.

For sure, there is nothing like Mideast hospitality. Tea, fruit, coffee, etc are constantly served, and we talk till  midnight. These people seem to have no shut off at night. Their lives are relatively simple—many are quite poor, but when it comes to conversation, fellowship, and community, they are some of the wealthiest people in the world.  

More than ever, I am convinced this is a strategic part of the world for ministry, and I praise God for a church back home that is committed to investing in such endeavors.

Beirut Diaries - Part I

On the flight from Paris to Beirut, the plane had a distinctively Lebanese feel to it. It began with a daughter singing happy birthday to her father, and the whole plane joining in...

And yet, barriers were put up by Hezbollah, blocking entrance and exit to it, effectively shutting it down. But now it was open, and looking out on the tarmac before exiting the plane, I couldn't help but think of the sordid history of this place, the TWA flight years ago, the recent bombings by Israel in 2006. Today, I could only find a handful of planes, most in disuse. The airport had a bit of a ghost town feel to it.

But after moving through security, we were on our way past earlier burning tires and dirt mounds, winding our way through a city of so much diversity and conflict. Pictures of Nazrallah and others mark different parts of the city, as if to underscore whose turf belongs to who. In the center of the city for 18 months, Hezbollah has camped, closing businesses, surrounding the government with its presence to push its weight.

The cool thing was the principal players in all of this conflict were now miles away in Quatar, and I am told that earlier the airport was lined with signs saying, in effect, "If you don't agree, don't come back." And some of those who held the signs were visibly handicapped, bearing the wounds of previous wars. They're tired. These people are bone weary of fighting. The recent power play by the Shiites brought the country to the brink of civil war, raising fears and potentially opening old woulds that are still healing from the previous one. Only a very small core of restless trouble makers want to fight, it seems. It is clear the majority want peace, want to see their city become something of its former self—the Paris of the Middle East.

Yesterday, some agreement was reached. The tent city started coming down. The clouds seem to be moving on. It felt like a city coming back to life.

But we are here on a more important mission—to minister to the church of Jesus. So we began Wednesday morning, moving back into the deep interior of Beirut to see health clinics and schools, where some amazing people invest their time reaching out to the most desperate people on earth, the displaced, the true refugees who have no home, no status, and seemingly, no future. I sat in a clinic near a Palestinian camp, a building no larger that my living room, where Palestinians and Gypsies and Sudanese and everyone in between come to receive a cup of cold water in the name of Jesus. It puts so many of my "needs" in perspective.

Later in the day, we went to the Bakah Valley, where we worshipped with a house church. Some 15-20 believers sang for an hour—it was worship from heaven. Afterwards, I spoke from Hebrews 11:39-40, where God encouraged us with this truth—that those heroes of old serve only as a backdrop for the stories of faith God is expecting from us. Stories that should hold such greater power—and WHY NOT—we live on the other side of the Cross!

Leaving the valley at 10:30, for the hour drive back, it was a good end to the day. I love this place, the people, the hunger and heart for God. Our running theme is Laysh La—Lebanese for "Why NOT?" Why not God? Why not come into this desperate place and do something amazing. And yet from this text, I hear God saying Laysh La to us—why not step out—why not believe Me, take Me at my Word?

WAITING ON BEIRUT

This morning I am supposed to be in Beirut, but this has all changed since conflict broke out, leading to the closure of the international airport. It’s a strange feeling. My schedule says I am in the Middle East, but I am still in the Northwest, still waiting to depart.

 

I had no idea what I was getting into when I first flew to Lebanon in 1995. My first impression from the air was a city deeply wounded. You could see it in the existing structures. The wounds are not so apparent in some parts now, but underneath some of the beautiful new architecture is a lot of deep hurt. I try to read the thoughts of men like Robert Fisk, read Time blogs, and opinions from columnists in places like Damascus, but who can understand this region? If you think about it, Lebanon is as complex as any place on earth. Carved out by France after WWI, using artificial lines, there are at least seventeen recognized identities, which help to explain a lot of the mess. Each has an official role in government thanks to a creative quota system. As Robin Wright notes in her new book, Dreams and Shadows (a great book on the Middle East), the formula for inclusion has ended up making Lebanon a battlefield. It doesn’t help that Lebanon has also inherited a huge, displaced Palestinian population, and sits on the border of Syria and Israel.

 

What has complicated things in the past week is the attempt by one of these identities, the Hezbollah, with its links to Syria and Iran, to flex its muscle in the Sunni neighborhoods of West Beirut, rendering the present government (what’s left of it) impotent. The fighting has spread outward, involving the Druze. Analysts see this Shia-Sunni-Druze conflict in Lebanon as part of a larger conflict between Iran/Syria on one side and the US/Israel on the other. And it may be. Thomas Friedman, in today’s NY Times, refers to all of this as “the new cold war”.

 

So why even have an interest in all of this? Why do I continue to go to Lebanon, and why am I committed to being part of a Near Eastern partnership, determined to bring Christian leaders and ministries together? In large part it is because many of us are convinced that an even greater conflict is going on, one that you will not read about in the New York Times or Lebanon Daily Star. It is a clash between two kingdoms. One kingdom is of that of this world—the other kingdom is of another realm. One kingdom is interested in posturing, intimidating, controlling, and ultimately destroying. The other kingdom is about bringing peace and forgiveness and reconciliation—and HOPE. One is essentially alienated towards Jesus. The other is committed to bringing honor to His name.

 

If Lebanon is the gateway to the Middle East, and if the ME is the most strategic region on earth, than it makes a lot of sense to pray and engage. And if the cause of Christ is to gain any traction in this region, it will come only as dwindling believers in the region are willing to set aside some of their own egos, their own posturing, their own rigidities and turf issues and join arms to work together—to be missional and advance the only kingdom that matters, the kingdom of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It will also come as we continue to pray and hold up the church.