Places, stories and the things we can never leave.

All of life happens somewhere, and a lot has happened in many lives at Dar El Awlad. Its soil is a stage on which key elements of my own life’s drama have been acted. The story actually begins long before I was around. In the 1950’s my American grandparents arrived in Lebanon with a simple desire to serve needy children in Dar El Awlad, and in 1957 my father joined them at the home as a scruffy child from a seemingly hopeless situation. God providentially directed the twists and turns of circumstance to weave together lives in ways that resulted in my very own existence. Every life comes into existence this way, but for me it just so happens that much of it took place at Dar El Awlad. 

The original missionary prayer card for my grandparents featuring my uncle and mother (another uncle and my aunt also grew up "on the field"). Kids Alive was called Home of Onesiphorus at the time. 

My father with the tribal chief on the day of his arrival at Dar El Awlad, a providential moment.

Just like my grandparents and parents, my own life’s path led to Dar El Awlad, first as a 6-month old infant and eventually as a Kids Alive volunteer in October 2007. I arrived here with little more to offer than an enthusiastic willingness to give back to a place that has given so much to me. Though my original intention was to serve at Dar El Awlad for a year a two, I am still here more than a decade later. There are many reasons for this “change of plans” and I am thankful for each one. 

My first visit to Dar El Awlad in 1984 finding myself beside a special girl.

28 years later and once again finding myself at Dar El Awlad beside the same special girl.

This month my family and I will bid farewell to Dar El Awlad. The river has run its course and God is leading me to new opportunities in Lebanon. Over the years I have said goodbye to many children, staff members and volunteers as they departed this place, and now it is my time to part. A whirlwind of emotion is stirring within me, but anchored deep down is a great sense of peace and gratitude. Dar El Awlad is a land saturated with story and I have been privileged to live my own story on this blessed turf. The stories are sweet and bitter, some crowned with victory and others tinged with failure, but all are seared on my heart and mind in permanent ways. I pray that my time here has somehow been used by God to contribute to the stories of others who have called this place home. 

We often make a big deal of places, which is actually a very human, even godly, thing to do. Biblical faith is highly concerned with place as a concept and as an actual fact of life. We see this truth throughout the entirety of scripture. History begins with God’s loving act of creation, the establishment of a physical place where everyone and everything is made to dwell. Tragically the fall corrupted everything and place deteriorated from a source of comfort and security to a matter of discord and disappointment. Sin undermined our place in this world. Still God did not give up on his plan and place remained central to humanity’s journey to redemption. A gifted land was promised to God’s people to serve as a “home base” from which all the world is to be blessed. Christ incarnate then joined us in this place and ushered an expansive kingdom into which every weary, displaced soul can claim the fullness of belonging. In Christ all territories are promised lands. Our ultimate hope is indeed a new place, a new creation that will transform all that we currently know into a final reality where our yearning for a “home, sweet home” will be completely satisfied. Place absolutely matters to God and it must matter to us. Our fatal problem is that we too often worship places as gods rather than worshiping God as the Lord of all places. But when we manage to hold places in the right kind of way we experience a meshing of life and faith’s within a threefold sacred relationship between ourselves, God and the places in which we dwell. This is how we are meant to live, and I am blessed to have lived it in many ways.

Perhaps Dar El Awlad’s greatest impact in God’s kingdom is in existing as a missional space and a much-needed place to call home.  Its history spans long before me and its time will no doubt stretch far beyond, and for a few years in the middle I have been fortunate to be here. Thankfully our relationship is not ending; I will remain in the neighborhood and anticipate future opportunities to engage the ministry. But the fact remains that I will soon leave, and Dar El Awlad will inevitably become a different place for me. One thing that will never change is that this place, full of its people and its stories, will always be a promised land of faith, and I will miss it. In fact I already do.

See something in the cinema, do something in the world

This weekend the Lebanese film Capernaum (Capharnaum) receives its release in cities across the United States.  It’s already been in Lebanese cinemas and on the festival circuit for a number of months and has collected a growing tally of accolades (including a Golden Globe nomination for best foreign picture).  Director Nadine Labaki is firmly established as a leader in Middle Eastern film and I believe that she has crafted something very important in Capernaum.  To my international friends, I do hope the film is showing somewhere near you.  Capernaum does not aim to entertain but rather open your eyes (and hopefully your heart) to the painful realities facing human lives in our world today. In the following I briefly present some of the reasons why I urge you to take the time and effort to see this film. 

 It is a true story about Lebanon

Lebanon has been my home for over a decade and it is where my family and I have every intention to spend our future.  It’s a small country- about 2/3 the size of Connecticut- of fascinating complexities, a collection of many lebanons within a single Lebanon.  The myriad of social, religious and historical dynamics at play here make it a confounding and yet extremely alluring corner of the world. Capernaum is a story about Lebanon.  It does not tell the whole story- in fact it features none of the things that are considered so iconic Lebanese- but it certainly presents a very raw portrayal of the lived experience of countless within Lebanese. 

Capernaum is unique for me in that my own experiences are very much removed from those portrayed and yet it does hit close to home on different levels.  My work with at-risk children and poverty alleviation has brought me into engagement with a number of the issues, places and case types presented in the film (and from my experience I can say with confidence that it does not take artistic license but rather provides and accurate depiction of what is happening in Lebanon).  It was painful to watch the story on the big screen knowing full well that this is not a fictitious tale; the film ends and the credits role but I know the unsettling content continues to be the real story for people across Lebanon.  Capernaum shows us a part of Lebanon that is not often presented but certainly always exists. If you are wondering why Kids Alive Lebanon exists, the film stands as a compelling argument.

-          It depicts the nightmare of statelessness

My passion for statelessness is constantly stirred by the magnitude of its assault on the lives of its victims.   I’ve become well acquainted with the problem via research, writing and personal outreach, and I am continually perplexed by the depth and dimensions of the issue.  Capernaum portrays the sheer gravity of statelessness in a compelling way as primary characters face life in the absence of official documentation and identity.  The stateless are effectively invisible in a legal sense and suffer a lack of protections, rights and human dignity.  Statelessness is a trap and we see in Capernaum how much it undermines any chance for a healthy life. In fact the very last image of the film is a touching statement that so much of life and hope is indeed tied to the possession of a legal identity.  If the film unsettles us (and it certainly should) then the fact that millions of people are stateless and denied legal belonging in this world should unsettles us even more.  Capernaum shows us the predicament in a powerful way.

-          It has outstanding performances

I highly doubt the Academy Awards will give Oscars for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor to children, but there’s certainly a case for it here.  The performances by the two primary actors (one a Syrian refugee minor and the other a migrant toddler) will haunt you as you watch innocent humanity struggle against the cruel injustice of our world.  For a father of young children there were times in the film when the hopelessness and misery endured by children was too much to take in.  These are performance that will haunt you.

-          It effectively considers the many intersecting issues of poverty in Lebanon

Within its 2 hour runtime Capernaum manages to provide a wide-ranging introduction to many of the social, legal and humanitarian issues that intersect against Lebanon’s poor and vulnerable.  Some of those featured include child exploitation, displacement, human trafficking, migrant rights, drug trade, gaps in the legal and penal systems, and access to education and healthcare.  In the weeks since viewing the film my personal reflections have identified more and more social currents that run through the film. It truly is a nuanced examination of poverty in Lebanon, and the many layers of the issues are presented in a masterful way. 

-          It will stir a discussion.

I want to be clear about something: Capernaum is not a perfect film.  There are aspects of the film and its message that must be scrutinized, such as a point made explicitly and inexplicitly that the suffering of children in extreme poverty is primarily the fault of parents who insist on having children when they should not.  Even so, none of its faults should cause us to dismiss this film.  There is a wealth of material to facilitate important discussions about society, justice, poverty, human rights and the compassion for the marginalized and suffering. 

For over a decade I have been privileged to serve at-risk children in Lebanon.  It has been a most meaningful experience but there are still many times when I ask myself, “why am I doing this?” The question arises from the many challenges we face here in Lebanon as well as my own personal inclination to simply submit things within and around me to thorough rounds of questioning.  A complete answer will never be attainable, but there are many answers that prove sufficient.  Capernaum is one such answer.  It shows us the problems that exist around us and the people that suffer in silence (this is true whether you live in Lebanon or anywhere else), and we are left with the opportunity to be part of the solutions. I so often fall back on the realization that I do what I do because I have the opportunity to do so, and I see God and his kingdom in these opportunities.  I hope you have the opportunity to see Capernaum.

Displacement, Piglet and a beautifully painful path

Displacement is painful.  This should not come as a surprise to anyone.  The catastrophe of being forcibly uprooted from home and cast out into a wilderness of a world is among the most harrowing of human tragedies.  Unfortunately we are seeing this pain lived out at a massive scale today as historic numbers of individuals suffer forced migration.  This drama of displacement has unfolded in an unprecedented scale in Lebanon where an estimated quarter of residents are displaced.  For the millions of refugees from Palestine, Syria, Iraq and other places, the pain of existing “out of place” in this world impairs every aspect of life.  The pain of displacement is not limited to the displaced.  Those hosting displaced populations, whether willingly or reluctantly, daily bear the widespread burdens it brings.  Again, we see this on display in Lebanon in profound ways.  Resources have been stressed, social cohesion has been threatened and patience has run thin under the weight of the ongoing ordeal.  That said, hosting refugees, even in large numbers, is not without the potential for benefits, but it certainly does present pressures that are felt in very real ways.  The bottom line is this: displacement is a game where there are no winners.  Everyone loses.  This all leads to a very painful predicament that I see presented all around me, including in some unexpected places.

My children have recently been enjoying the classic Disney film Winnie the Pooh. As they discover the characters and story for the first time, I have been rediscovering a familiar part of my own childhood. It’s fun to see scenes and sequences from long ago that have remained vividly in my mind.  It’s also interesting to watch with fresh lenses and find meaning in a simple children’s story that profoundly speaks to complicated issues of today. This has been the case in one particular excerpt.

The scene takes place in the aftermath of a massive flood in the Hundred Acres Woods that left our characters temporarily displaced and the pontificating Owl with no home to return to.  Pooh Bear is credited with saving Piglet from near-drowning during flood and Christopher Robin throws a hero party to celebrate the unintentional feat of rescue.  It is during this celebration of Pooh’s heroics that Eeyore arrives and takes events in an unexpected direction.  Check it out:

The pain of Piglet (and the general awkwardness felt by the other characters) reflects a sensation that is a real part of human displacement.  Displacement invariably disrupts things for those fleeing disaster and for those receiving the distressed.  The crisis arises from complicated events and proves to add layers of complications.  Displacement is never black and white, never a situation that can be cleanly cut.  The entire situation is perplexing and some react to it by erecting walls around a flimsy sense of nationalism and digging heels into an empty belief in law and order.  There is no disputing displacement’s pain, but many opt to respond to this pain but shutting it out.  We all face Piglet’s predicament in some measure (a predicament where some measure of personal sacrifice is required) and we all too often listen to the voices telling us to take a stand.  “Tell them it’s your country, your race, your culture, your way of life.”  But some choose a different way.  Some choose to be heroes.

Since its founding in 1948 Dar El Awlad has been engaged in ongoing ministry to victims of displacement.  Outreach to refugee, stateless, internally displaced and migrant children has never been a banner waving over our heads but it has always been the natural outcome of living out a mission to rescue at-risk children from desperate situations.  There’s never been a question of whether or not it should it be done, it has simply been done. Doing so has fostered a unique ministry community that testifies to 70 years of blessings. God instructs us to welcome the stranger and care for the vulnerable.  He commands this because doing so offers a glimpse of God’s dream for humanity to dwell together in the manifestation of His kingdom.  Kids Alive Lebanon has been doing it for decades and continues to find innovative ways to increase ministry to at-risk children and victims of displacement.  This has always been the right thing to do, but it has never been easy.

I have the privilege of being surrounded by a host of heroes who have taken Piglet’s path of sacrifice in some way or form.  They have opened their eyes and hearts to needs around them and have given selflessly to help children gain bits and pieces of the things they’ve lost.  This requires taking on another’s pain and feeling its sting; it means sacrificing a personal dream so that others can be in a position where they can dream.  It involves settling for a less so that another can be given more.  I have watched these individuals in action and deem each one worthy of a hero party.  I also have the privilege of being part of a place that is rooted in heroism.  Dar El Awlad is a refuge and a respite.  It is a gathering of people who harbor hardships and willingly welcome the messiness of our broken world because it wants to part of the transforming work of the gospel.  We fight back tears, face our weaknesses, and daily deal with the tensions tugging within us.   Through it all we believe in God’s core mission and the universal hope that Christ has overcome the world.  Dar El Awlad is a place where the pain of displacement is received because we know the One who can make all things new, and I highly suggest you come see it for yourself if you ever wish to see one shining example of heroism. 

Faith Written on Reading Boys

These two boys give me faith.  Both are 12 years old and come from a Dom community in South Lebanon, one of the most marginalized ethnographic groups in the country.  Their poverty ticks nearly all the variables on the child vulnerability checklist.  One of the boys entered the New Horizon Center Literacy Program last year having never been to school before (even though his older brother had).  Apparently his parents weren’t willing to spend the $20 a month bus fee to send him to the public school, which is an explanation I hear from many parents in the community for not sending their children to schools.  Consequently, the first decade of his life passed without any structured education.  The other boy had been to school before.  It was a residential program where the treatment was so malicious that he refused to continue.  He opted for a life void of education rather than endure the nightmare of abusive school.  The trauma was apparent when I first invited him to the New Horizons Center; the very suggestion of schooling filled him with a visible fear.  He did end up giving our program a chance this year- along with his younger brother who the parents didn’t even bother sending to school- and within days he realized that the center is a very different type of place.  Both of these boys have been faithful in their attendance and participation, and their teacher recently shared about how excited she is to see the strides they are making in reading.  They too are rightfully pleased with themselves. 

I personally have found the significance of literacy most apparent when I listen to those who are illiterate.  I hear about how a whole world of engagement is unreachable because they cannot turn written words into communication.  I’ve heard about the practical challenges-such as the chore of keeping contacts in a mobile phone or trying to pursue a romantic relationship without the advantage of texting- but the more daunting challenge is the psychological shame of existing in this world unequipped with one of the essential abilities granted to mankind: written language.  Hopefully these two boys and their classmates in the New Horizons Center will be spared illiteracy’s misfortune.  They’re on the right track.

Even so, I worry for these boys.  They are excited about learning now, but I fear what waits in the years ahead.  They will start putting off of childish ways as they develop towards adolescence, both physically and mentally.  Their interests will change, as will the pressures felt from within and around them.  Their standing in the community will take new shape and resistances to education will likely fight against the will to continue learning. I worry too because our work with these children is, admittedly, limited.  While we offer a crucial service, I acknowledge how much it pales in comparison to the extent of their marginalization.  Nearly every area of their wellbeing is undermined by forces of poverty, and each visit to their community reminds me of how unprepared and unequipped I am to address the issues facing them.  It is oftentimes overwhelming, but it is not defeating.

The scriptures frequently show us that Jesus exalted little things.  He entered the world via a small nation lacking power and prestige.  He spoke of his budding kingdom as being the littlest of mustard seeds and the smallest portions of yeast (Luke 13:18-21).  He gathered together a small band of followers- in fact his rhetoric almost seemed intentional in winnowing the numbers in his company (John 6:60-66).  Little children were heralded as true demonstrators of the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 1913-15) and it was the widow’s mites that Jesus declared the richest offering (Luke 21:1-4).  Christ came embracing the little things and ended up transforming everything.  In this we can take comfort in the old adage, “little is much when God is in it.” 

Still, we ask God for big things.  We desire to expand in all areas and produce bounties of good fruit that glorify God.  We want to see the number of lives wrought by injustice and sin diminished to nil.  We won’t be idle until every person actualizes the dignity and honor that God bestows unconditionally on him and her.  However, this hopeful spirit does not change the reality that what we seek is not always what we find, nor can we ever fully harness our powers to bring about every change we wish see.  We follow the Messiah but we are not messiahs; our offerings are but a currency’s mites charged against a bill of millions.  Yet this is enough because it is offered to God, and God is enough.  The results are in His hands.

I don’t know what the future holds for these two boys or how our program will change the course of their lives.  Will it indeed open new horizons for their futures?  It’s hard to measure these things but it’s not hard to believe.  We keep in mind that the faith fruits of our labors may not be harvested until the lives of their children and their children’s children unfold.  Like the men and women celebrated in the book of Hebrews, we don’t always see the results hoped for in front of us but by faith we see and welcome them from a distance. (Hebrews 11:13)  On most days that is good enough, but some days it’s really, really nice to simply see two 12-year-olds in a caring center enthusiastically putting letters together and creating words. 

College Bound: Enough Faith to Fill Texas

I’ve shared about Ochinga a number of times here, here and here.  We spent ten years together at Dar El Awlad and he has made appearances in this blog more than others boys.  This could be because his journey has taken many compelling twists and turns.  Or this could be because he is….Ochinga.  (Those who know him are nodding their heads)  He is a special young man.  I rarely have encountered a person who faces the walls in front of him or her with such conviction that God will open up a way to good things on the other side.  Ochinga’s challenges haven’t been mere inconveniences; they’ve been the kind of circumstances so unfair and unfortunate that they could stifle one's hope for a future all together.  Time and again I’ve seen the barriers in front of him and said, “This will be the time he is disappointed,” and time and again I’ve seen things fall his way.  I will not doubt anymore.

Yesterday I dropped Ochinga off at the Beirut airport to embark on a new adventure of college in the U.S. in Waxahachie Texas.  Obviously this is not something that just happens but is the result of dreaming big dreams and being determined to see them through.  You won’t be surprised to hear that I considered the likelihood of this working out for Ochinga next to nil.  After all, he needed a college acceptance, money for tuition and travel, a visa to the U.S. and many other requirements met in order for this to happen.  Lo and behold God has provided, just as Ochinga expected.  I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into (neither does Waxahachie!!!) but it is not an unfamiliar story.  I too have been a young man heading to college in Texas with more than enough insecurity to fill a dorm room and just enough sense of mind to get to the right classes on time.   It turned out to be a wonderful 4-year adventure for me (thanks mainly to the people God put around me), and no doubt Ochinga will have the time of his life as well.

I’m proud to say I’ve been a part of getting Ochinga to this point but realize I am only one of many who have helped him in the journey.  He has developed a vast network through Kids Alive, his church, local NGO’s, his schools, youth groups, and personal relations, and he has valued every contribution extended to him.  It’s no wonder that Ochinga is planning to study social work; he is a product of collective compassion and he’s planning to make a nice return on the investment other have made in him.  The recent development of college in Texas is something I can take no credit for.  There are others who have helped make this dream a reality and many others will no doubt be part of seeing the reality fully realized.  As for me, I felt compelled to deliver Ochinga to the airport if not just to hear one more time the silent, tender voice in my mind say, “oh ye of little faith.”

Bon Voyage Ochinga!  Thanks for teaching us what faith looks like.  Be blessed as you journey on.  We’ll be watching with pride and joy!

Citizenship: essential to all, elusive to many

Daniel has citizenship!  While this may not be widely viewed as an achievement worthy of celebration, I am personally quite relieved that this status has been bestowed upon my child.  It’s something that will have immense implications on the rest of his life.

Citizenship is widely viewed as something automatically handed out at birth.  This is often the case since most take the citizenship of the nation-state in which they were born or inherit the citizenship of a parent.  It’s not uncommon for someone to be born into two or more forms of citizenship.  While some go through a naturalization process later in life and add a new citizenship, the initial acquisition almost certainly occurred in our infancy and we likely have given little thought as to how we came to possess this highly significant component of our life and experience in this world. 

However, citizenship is never actually automatic.  Each nation-state has its own set of complex legal parameters to open and close pathways to its nationality-and nationality is the key issue here because it is the legal basis for assigning citizenship. Nationality laws determine who can receive official membership to a nation and who cannot, and laws have a nature of being tragically stringent.

Ruth, a fully fledged Lebanese, gave birth to our children in Lebanon.  Like many countries, Lebanon does not apply jus soli, meaning it does not grant citizenship to everyone born within its territory.  Unfortunately, Lebanese law is also rooted in gender discrimination and does not allow women married to foreign men to transmit citizenship to their children. (One must have a Lebanese father in order to be considered Lebanese)  Therefore the only citizenship my children had access to was that of the United States, my country of nationality.  Even so, achieving this citizenship for Daniel was by no means straightforward.  The complex process involved the following steps (with their costs):

1.      Receive a birth notice from the hospital and signed by doctor

2.      Complete a formal birth certificate document issued by mayor of the town of birth ($13)

3.      Certify birth certificate at the local office of personal registry ($3)

4.      Certify birth certificate at the regional office of personal registry ($14)

This step required presenting the following proofs of documentation:   

      Father’s passport

      Father’s residency permit

      Mother’s identification document

      Marriage certificate

5.      Translate birth certificate from Arabic to English ($30(discounted!!!))

6.      Certify birth certificate at the Ministry of Exterior

7.      Submit application for citizenship to American Embassy ($205)

Since I am the lone U.S. citizen parent I had to provide proof of five years of physical presence in the U.S. with two of the years being after the age of 14.  If I had not established a physical presence in the U.S. or if I could not provide proof of a presence, my son, by law, may not have been able to acquire my American citizenship. 

As we see here, citizenship did not come automatically to Daniel.  It had to be achieved through a rather complicated (and relatively costly) process.  If I had failed to complete this process my son would be effectively stateless.  He would exist but, in the absence of legal papers, would claim no official belonging to any nation-state, and thus not belong in this world.  Naturally this would affect all areas of his life.  He would have no legal identity and would not have access to countless services, experiences and opportunities.  (Just imagine that you lost every form of identification documents you have and then tried forge a life.  It would not go very well.)

I’m very thankful that my own children’s plight with statelessness is a theoretical case of what could have been rather than what is.  Sadly, for millions of children around the world, and many hundreds of thousands within Lebanon, statelessness is an everyday reality.  There are countless children whose births have never been registered or processed in nationalization (oftentimes due to the conditions of poverty and marginalization they are born into).  They do not actualize their right to citizenship and have no recognized identity.  Other children are victims of chronic statelessness as a stateless generation yields stateless generation; the legal absence of safeguards and reforms means they have no path to becoming part of any country.

Many of the children we serve at Kids Alive Lebanon are trapped in statelessness.  Our ministry provides services and care that these precious lives would not be able to otherwise receive, such as education and legal protection. The opportunities we can provide are truly life-transforming, but without the possession of legal documentation these children will always face areality of not belonging, of not existing in the way all people are meant to exist in this world. 

The great hope in the face of such a massive injustice is that God does not follow our world’s ways.  He ushered a kingdom where belonging is based on the Spirit and not a piece of paper, and all are invited to enjoy the fullness of membership.  In fact, it is exactly the excluded that receive His keenest consideration.  The injustice we see in this world will not endure and God promises to rectify wrongs and establish right.  Until that is fully experienced we can do our part to extend dignity and humanity to all people.  Working towards creating a world where every person enjoys the privilege of citizenship is a part of this mission.  I do not look lightly at the citizenship I boast or the citizenship my own two children have been granted, and I will never forget that there are millions of others who long for this recognition.

For more information on statelssness please visit the U.N. #IBelong and the Institute of Statelessness and Inclusion.

Graduation Celebration

Last week we celebrated something that doesn’t happen often here but sure feels rewarding when it does: a graduation for one of our boys.  Ochinga had been at Dar El Awlad for 11 years and last month he reached the end of high school and the end of his time in the residential program.  We are very proud of him.  The road has not been easy but he has consistently worked hard and seized opportunities; the sheer fact that he has even been provided opportunities at all is a testimony of God’s grace.  This has not fallen unnoticed to Ochinga.  He has been keenly aware of God’s hand in his life and His expression of love through the kindness and goodwill of others. 

Ochinga is one of only two boys in the residential program to have arrived at DEA before me and I have seen him grow over the past 10 years from boyhood to manhood.  For the past three years I supervised him in the Bell House (our Independent Living Program) and there is consensus among all his caregivers that he is equipped with what he needs to move beyond our care and live independently.  He loves this place and the people here, but naturally he is ready to spread his wings.  As much as seeing our boys gain an education and acquire life skills is important to us, we are especially thrilled to know that Ochinga has taken a decision of faith, is walking with Christ and is involved in the church.  It’s a true success story for us, and a reminder that what we do at Dar El Awlad does have the power to transform lives.  By God’s grace it has happened, is happening and will happen.

Ochinga still faces many challenges.  He has not yet settled on a university for his next stage of studies.  One particular challenge is his status as a foreigner in Lebanon. Even though he was born here and has lived here all his life, his status is not secure and at any point he may have to return to his “home country,” which is a country that is very foreign to him.  Despite the challenges, Ochinga maintains his trademark optimism and unwavering faith that God will work things for good.  God always has, and we have no reason to doubt that He will.  It will be a joy to continue to watch the journey unfold, and we are glad that we have had the chance to be a part of it.  Well done Ochinga, keep going!

Open Air, Dinner Affair

Last weekend we held our annual fundraiser dinner and managed to put together a rather classy, successful affair.  It was my 11th time being part of this event, but for all of us it was the first time to host outside in the open air.  It took a great deal of work on all ends of the dinner (especially the task of getting the site in shape), but in the end all came together and around 300 guests and participants enjoyed the evening together.

A basketball court doesn't simply turn into a reception hall, but with lots of work and creativity it can become a fancy little venue.

School children formed a choir

The residential children performed a play about our individual value and uniqueness.

The special guest speaker was Henry Bell, who with his wife, Nancy, directed Dar El Awald throughout the 90s.  Here past director and current director, Joseph Ghattas, share the stage.

My main contribution to each fundraiser dinner is coordinating our crew of servers.  We've never hosted this many people (and we've never felt the pressure as much as we did this time) but it all went fine in the end.  The team did a good job.

but But the real heroes are the ones nobody sees!  

Book Release: "Strangers in the Kingdom: Ministering to Refugees, Migrants, and the Stateless"

The last few years has brought me face-to-face with the mounting dilemma of human displacement.  Large parts of this are due to my work with Kids Alive Lebanon, my connection to a large family network of Syrian refugees, and my personal interest in topic of statelessness. While this problem contains a myriad of dimensions, I firmly believe that faith dimensions reveal the implications of the crisis not only as it is now in the 21^st Century but as it always has been throughout human history.  This is what Rupen Das and I explore in our newly-published book, Strangers in the Kingdom: Ministering to Refugees, Migrants and the Stateless. 

All of us at some point have been strangers, and everyone has experienced the discomfort that comes with being out of place.  While this usually involves a series of momentary inconveniences, today historic numbers refugees, migrants and stateless individuals (more than an estimated 65 million) have seen their entire lives reduced to the unrelenting condition of being in a constant state of “stranger.”  It’s the tragedy at the heart of the global displacement crisis.  Our world is struggling mightily to cope with the fallout of displaced populations, and reactions to this global flux are yielding profound ramifications at political, legal, social and economic levels.  Yet God speaks directly to the phenomenon of displacement and its brutal undermining of human life.  The Bible laments the injustices facing refugees, migrants, and stateless individuals but protests against a narrative of misery by declaring a narrative of hope.  God's kingdom performs the dual function of confronting injustice with active compassion and inviting “strangers” into the most meaningful place of belonging.  But what does this look like practically?  Where do we see this in the Bible?  Why should people of faith care about the displaced?

These are questions Rupen Das and I examine in Strangers in the Kingdom.  The work is a nuanced practical theology meant to inform the Church’s mission to engage the displaced with the love of Christ.  We discuss core teachings of scripture that speak to the realities facing refugees, migrants and stateless individuals all while exploring God’s compassionate heart for the suffering.  Strangers in the Kingdom applies various methods, including:

• -         Information and analysis on the global context, scope and categories of displacement (refugee, IDP, migrant, & stateless)
• -          Survey of Old Testament and New Testament teachings on displacement and Early Christianity experiences with the displaced. 
• -          Theological exploration of place and belonging.
• -          Human testimonies of displacement.
• -          Case studies of churches and organizations ministering to the displaced.
• -          Discussion questions.

It has been a pleasure to work with Rupen Das on this book.  He was an influential instructor and supervisor in my graduate studies and his teachings have profoundly influenced my own personal faith and ministry (I strongly suggest Compassion and the Mission of God for a robust study on God’s concern for the poor).  Likewise, everyone at Langham Literature has proven to be top-notch in their professionalism and commitment to supporting the global church through the production and distribution of literature.  I have learned a great deal in the process of writing this book and am ever grateful for the invitation to be part of the effort.

Strangers in the Kingdom has never just been about addressing an issue or a dilemma but rather about turning our minds and hearts to the countless inspiring individuals who face displacement with firm faith and steady grace.  Our desire is simply to help steer this important discussion deeper into the reality of every displaced person’s humanity and higher into the boundless measures of God’s goodness and hope.  It is individual people that make this book meaningful to me and I pray that that this book will in some small way be meaningful to the Church as we walk out in our mission to be people of the kingdom.  I’m excited to share this book with you and look forward to hearing your feedback and responses.

God’s Peace,

Brent Hamoud

Strangers in the Kingdom is available at all major bookselling sites, including Amazon and Barnes & Noble.  For special or bulk orders please contact the publishers at literature@langham.org.  

Home Again, Finally.

After 11 long days we are glad to have finally welcomed Daniel home with us.  He responded well to the treatment in the hospital and made steady progress during his time in the NICU.  Ruth and I were fortunate to be able to visit him a couple of times a day (the hospital is only 10 minutes from our home).  Only parents are allowed in the NICU, however, so there have been many others eagerly waiting to see, hold and get to know the little guy.  Yasmine has been especially interested in, and perhaps confused about,  baby Daniel.  For months she was told that her little brother is on the way and then she was told that he arrived.  But she wasn’t ready to believe what she couldn't see with her own eyes and touch with her own hands; even the empty tummy didn't convince this Doubting Thomas.  (Yasmine would ask, "Where's Baby D?" in a way that mixed curiosity, inquiry and skepticism.)  Now Daniel is with us and the pieces of our family- mommy, daddy, sister and brother- are in tact.  My parents have arrived in Lebanon since his birth as well, so even all the grandparent components are on hand to help settle the baby (and occupy the no-longer-sole-center-of-attention Yasmine). 

We are so thankful for the prayers and concerns that have been directed our way from near and far.  We're blessed to be recipients of such thoughtfulness and believe that it has made a difference in Daniel’s recovery and our ability to deal with it.  No doubt many more challenges await us, but none will match the blessings we enjoy in being a little family of Hamouds within a big family of God’s children. Truly, there’s nothing in this world like family, and there’s nothing stopping us from being in the biggest, best family of them all.   

Oh Danny Boy, we love you so.

On Friday, March 24 we welcomed Daniel James Hamoud into the world.  He arrived earlier than his due date predicted but still managed to weigh in at a fine 7 pounds. Ruth is doing great but Danny has needed a little more support.  He developed a condition called Pneumothorax, which effectively led him to suffer a collapsed right lung.  He’s in NICU in order to keep his status stable- he needs oxygen, antibiotics for infection, and IV nourishment to avoid fatigue from feeding- and will be there until his body is in shape to join us at home. 

It has naturally been frustrating to once again miss out on the experience of a natural birth and all of its newborn moments, and it’s even more frustrating to once again see our helpless child kept beyond our reach in a convoluted tangle of tubing and wiring.  After Yasmine’s birth I wrote about the mixed emotions of a “necessary separation,” and passing through this valley once before made us stronger for this next passage.  Even so, it’s not the way anyone wishes to welcome a child into this world.

More than the frustration, however, is the acknowledgement of blessing and fortune we receive.  Medical skills, technology and knowledge have given our children chances during the early moments of their emergent lives in ways that would not have been possible some years ago and are regrettably not available to countless people around the world.  Marginalization too often causes life to be lost nearly as soon as it shows its face.  Recognizing this makes us ever thankful for the privileged situation we enjoy in our moments of need.  At the end of the day it is thankfulness that will rule our hearts.

***

Births are naturally an emotional experience for all parents, and the births of our two children have invariably opened our eyes to the thin line drawn in this world between life and death.  We have needed to surrender our children into the providential hands of God’s mercy as soon as they’ve entered our hands, and we realize that this is where they always have been and ever shall remain.  It is indeed a comforting truth.  Greater still is the truth that the amazing, saving grace of God shown in Jesus Christ means that the line between life and death is but a temporary barrier that will someday be swallowed by the victory of eternal life.  It transforms everything for us as a mother and a father to embrace our children knowing with certainty that we have the ultimate hope of being forever united in God’s heavenly, everlasting kingdom.

***

Daniel was an easy name to settle on for our boy.  Daniel of the Bible is model of righteousness, godliness and faithfulness, Daniels are included among our meaningful family members and friends, and Dany is a familiar name across Lebanon.  In all senses it felt like a good call.  Naturally the popular folk tune “Oh Danny Boy” was bound to take on a special significance as we added a Danny to our number, and that significance seems to have arrived sooner than expected.  As we return to the familiar things of home with our little boy still kept away, we find that the words expressing our heart have already been sung:

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,
It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,—
Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny Boy, I love you so!

The Hobbit, refugees and a response to displacement

Much is being said these days about refugees.  Policy makers and courts are weighing in on government positions and media outlets (both social and news sources) are filled with a cacophony of voices making every seemingly imaginable argument letting refugees in or keeping them out.  There is no shortage of commentary on the subject; I have written about it on a number of occasions, including posts here and here.  The topical swirl of sense and nonsense can easily drive us to cynical confusion, but perhaps a lens for seeing today’s displacement crisis quietly sits a Middle Earth away. 

My wife and I recently began reviewing Peter Jackson’s 3-part film adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s much-endeared fantasy novel The Hobbit.  The story is simple: a homebody hobbit, Bilbo, joins a wizard and a band of dwarves on a quest to reclaim their homeland.  The heroines embark on a string of adventures and face an onslaught of internal and external challenges, which the films embellish to a highly entertaining effect.  The work is a piece of fantasy set in a time and place of pure fiction, but the themes speak directly to the events of our modern age as we see the depiction of a displaced people yearning for a place to belong.  It is a theme that tragically dominates the stories of countless individuals in our world today.

The films make a poignant portrayal of displacement’s pain.  In one scene Bilbo, frustrated by the disdain he receives from the rough and tumble dwarves, decides to sneak away in the night and return to his home.  As he prepares to depart he is stopped by the dwarf Bofur, and they share the following exchange:

Bilbo and Bofur hit the very nerve of displacement, and it is truly pitiful.  The underlining tragedy facing refugees is the unrelenting tension of being in this world but not belonging anywhere.  Their existence is one of being “unrooted;” they have fled their homes and strive to forge life in the wilderness of exile.  This is existentially harrowing.  The intention of God is for all to experience the rootedness of implacement, the very antithesis is displacement.  Our need for implacement is precisely why all of us everywhere desire a place to call home, and it is why we all hurt when we feel like we do not belong.  Whether in a refugee camp or a middle school cafeteria, a feeling of non-belonging undermines our core senses of self and security. 

The question remains, “how should we, the implaced people of this world, form an attitude towards the displaced?”  Like Bilbo, our nature is to opt for our own comfort in familiar, safe places where we remain either ignorant or unmoved by the suffering of others.  This attitude rarely causes displacement but it certainly contributes to its sting.  However, there is another way.  Our love for home can in fact lead us to a concern far beyond it.  If we truly recognize and cherish the life-giving roots of our own implacement then we can turn our hearts compassionately to those who suffer displacement.  This is a posture we later see assumed by Bilbo when he rejoins the band following a brief separation:

We can build an attitude towards refugees on any number of pillars, such as security concerns, economic interests, nationalistic sentiment, religion convictions and plain old fear.  But I believe a simple formula for addressing refugees is to be thankful for the blessings we enjoy and to extend compassion to those who find themselves less fortunate.  It’s a formula built on the very pillars of God’s ultimate law: to love God with all we have and to love others as we love ourselves.  It may be a simple concept, but it requires a considerable amount of heroism to manifest it into something practical and real.

I’m proud to be part of an organization and community that has compassionately embraced the displaced for decades.  Kids Alive Lebanon was started as a response to the Palestinian refugee crisis of 1948 and has since spent nearly 70 years serving at-risk children of all backgrounds.  New programs have been developed to specifically respond to the intensifying refugee and statelessness crises in Lebanon.  We may never be able to help others take back their homeland but through God’s grace we can point them to a different type of “homeland,” a firm reality of belonging in God’s everlasting kingdom.  It may not include settlement on any earthly soil, but it can be a home more life-giving and secure than any space this world has to offer.  Let us never grow cynical towards refugees and let us never be confused about the particular mission God has given us: to settle the displaced in this world and in a heavenly kingdom that is here and to come. 

God Bless Canada

This holiday break has come with some interruptions.  On Christmas morning I received a request from a second cousin asking if he and his family of five could stay with us for a few days.  They were due for refugee resettlement in Canada under the Private Refugee Sponsorship Program, which allows groups and individuals to privately spearhead the resettlement of displaced families.   The program is truly unique and has allowed tens of thousands of Syrian families to start new lives in a new country.  My cousin’s family was in the final stages of the process.  All that was required was a medical check on Tuesday morning (to show that everyone is fit for travel) and then the final departure on Wednesday evening.  There was, however, a predicament.   They had been staying in the Bekaa Valley and forecasts indicated that winter weather could shut down the mountain pass between the valley and Beirut, potentially blocking them from their important appointments.  Fortunately Dar El Awlad once again was ready to welcome a needy family for a short-term stay and changes to our holiday plans allowed us to be free.  As it turns out, we would be this family’s final stopping point between what has been a long ordeal of Syrian displacement and Canadian resettlement in Winnipeg.

I have (unfortunately) become personally familiar with the ongoing displacement crisis via the trials of my extended Syrian family, but this part of refugee resettlement was a new observation for me.  During their final three days in the Middle East we talked about the past (the country we have lost access to and the community it once held), the present (the process of resettlement and the excitement of international travel), and the future (the pros and cons of making a new life in the West).  It’s a very interesting point of a refugee experience, a point where a past wrought with so much pain and loss yields a future beaming with such hope and opportunity. 

Personally, I find resettlement bittersweet.  It pains me to see families with legacies and identity in a land driven to seek a new placement in distant lands.  I see great human potential sent abroad with the low prospects of these individuals permanently returning to their home country.  At the same time I realize that resettlement is one of the most substantial ways to directly impact the individual lives (especially children lives) that have been uprooted and undermined by the ongoing global displacement crisis.  I think of refugee resettlement as something akin to an organ transplant.  No one wants to have their liver, a kidney or heart removed from their body nor does anyone desire deteriorated health.  However, transplants are sought in order to preserve and extend life.  Such is refugee resettlement, a vital operation needed to maintain life when circumstances have reached unbearably bad states.  It is never what we want for a person, but it can breathe new life into bodies that have endured immense damage.  I want individuals rooted in their place of heritage and memory, but when these places have been taken away then I want them resettled somewhere where roots are possible.

This is why I am thankful for Canada.  In the past few years Canada has done more than any other nation-state to proactively address the Syrian displacement crisis by facilitating resettlement in a safe, secure country.  Nearly 40,000 Syrians have been granted a new start thus far, and this week I saw the buzz in an airport departure hall as dozens of more prepared to embark on a new future on Canadian soil.  This has been a commendable undertaking by a national government, and one of the important parts of this initiative has been the response of churches to facilitate sponsorship and resettlement for thousands of refugees.  My relatives are among these.  A church in Winnipeg sponsored them, oversaw their arrangements, prepared accommodation, and has committed to providing support during their initial settling periods.  This (Muslim) family had only glowing things to say of the church.  Not only has a community of Christians granted relief from their dire situation but they have provided the comfort of knowing that they are walking into a caring community that will be there in the months ahead.  My cousin let it be known to us that Jesus is very much recognized within this act of compassion.

No state, system or policy is perfect.  I realize that Canada likely has some self-interest driving their goodwill welcome of thousands of refugees.  I also personally know that faulty Canadian policy has blocked resettlement for extremely vulnerable individuals and extended their suffering.  Even so, this is the best the world currently has.  If more countries thought and acted like Canada then more lives would have rescue from the pits of displacement.  The role of Christians is extremely significant.  Churches across Canada are seizing the moment to capitalize on the opportunity to live out basic teachings of Biblical faith.  The scriptures are ever-clear from start to finish that God cares for the poor, vulnerable and marginalized.  He demands from His followers to extend this care to others including friends, enemies and everyone in between.  There is no debate here; Jesus declares that when we welcome the stranger, we welcome the Divine (Matthew 25: 43-45).  This is one point of the few displacement and response where I see there are no complexities.  Christians across Canada are showing obedience to scripture in dynamic ways, and countless lives are directly enjoying the blessing. 

I do not like refugee resettlement because I do not like that people have been reduced to refugees.  I do not like that war, discrimination and destruction have driven people from their homes and compelled them to lands across the globe.  But if this world continues to produce displacement then I want the displaced to experience hope and future.  I want people of faith to look beyond themselves to extend love, care and protection to the vulnerable and poor.  I want my global Christian community to show today what the Bible taught thousands of years ago, and I want to see many more families like the one I spent the last three days with move ahead in the prospects of life.  This doesn’t always require resettlement, but many times it does, and I thank Canada for increasing the capacity for resettlement to work.  

A gathering of the "Lucky Ones."  Only 1% of refugees are ever resettled.  This group is bound for Canada.

Bon Voyage