by | Sep 10, 2024 | Uncategorized
American Christianity is in cultural and political decline. In 1937, 70 percent of Americans reported that they belonged to a church. These numbers held relatively steady through much of the 20th century. But in the past 25 years, an estimated 40 million Americans have stopped attending church. As Ernest Hemingway said, bankruptcy comes gradually and then suddenly.
The American public square, previously white and Protestant, is quickly becoming a pluralistic bazaar of diverse cultures, religions, ideologies, and lifestyles. Once dominant and uncontested, Christianity is increasingly one moral vision among many.
How are evangelicals responding to the decline of Christianity’s cultural and political power?
Contrary to media caricatures, evangelicals are not a monolith. We’re responding to this decline in a wide variety of ways. The classical stages of grief can offer an insightful tool for understanding the ways evangelicals are processing their cultural and political decline (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance).
It is quite possible to meet an evangelical at any stage in this grieving process. But of course, this scheme does not fit everyone. Some evangelicals are not grieving at all. They actually celebrate Christianity’s loss of power. This group believes it would be fundamentally good and healthy for Christians to take a moratorium on political engagement, seeing it as beneficial for both America and the church.
While I sympathize with their sentiments, I must object. I believe that Christians are called by God to engage in political life. We must actively seek public justice and mercy. We must vigorously work for the flourishing for our neighbors. This requires us to be involved in politics and exert some level of political power and influence toward these ends. Privileged Christians who wish to politically disengage are abandoning the very neighbors they’re commanded to protect, serve, and love.
No, I believe it is entirely appropriate for evangelicals to grieve their loss of cultural and political power. That said, as any counselor will tell you, there are productive and unproductive forms of grief. The bereft are not permitted to remain in denial, anger, depression, or bargaining forever. Nor are they allowed to hurt others as they wail.
Here’s how we might interact with these stages. The first stage of grief is denial. While some evangelicals are still in denial over the decline of Christianity, their numbers are dwindling by the day. It is becoming harder and harder to ignore Christianity’s marginalization in the media, the academy, the marketplace, arts, and politics. For those still in denial, there is not much to say.
The second stage is anger. Evangelical rage makes for great TV; infantile evangelical leaders coming unhinged attract a lot of clicks. It is thus no surprise that the bulk of media attention has been trained on evangelical fits of outrage, victimhood, and lament over the emergence of a post-Christian America.
The third stage is bargaining. Quite a few articles and books have explored the disastrous ways in which evangelical leaders are increasingly willing to make a devil’s bargain for a few scraps of political power and access.
While much ink has been spilled on these forms of evangelical denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, the final stage has received precious little attention. What might look like for American evangelicals to step into a state of acceptance?
I’m not a neutral observer on this issue. I’m an evangelical who believes that American Christianity should adopt a form of non-passive acceptance. To be clear, acceptance is not acquiescence. By non-passive, I hope to indicate my fervent support for ardent Christian engagement in public life. Accepting America’s ideological diversity is not a sign of my resignation from American public life. As an evangelical, I still intend to advocate for a biblical approach to justice, peace, and flourishing in our nation.
With this clear, let’s return to the question before us: How might evangelicals progress through their grieving process and emerge from various states of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression? As far as I can tell, at least five things are needed.
The first is a change in theology. All political philosophy begins with a rather simple question: “Who’s in charge?” Academics call this the question of sovereignty. For Christian political philosophers, the answer, of course, is Jesus. Christ alone is ultimately the one in charge, not kings, politicians, or ideologies. There is one throne, and it belongs to Christ.
Unfortunately, many American evangelicals suffer from a weak Christology when it comes to politics. They seem to imagine that Jesus is either absent or weak in American public life, that he is not strong enough—not tough enough—to take America “back.” Given this apparent weakness, evangelicals cast about looking for a strong politician who can do Christ’s job for him. After all, if Jesus is not up to the task, we need someone who can do it for him.
Carrie Underwood’s music is good for everyone, but evangelicals in particular should work “Jesus Take the Wheel” back into their playlists. Too many American evangelicals are trying to white-knuckle a political wheel that does not belong to them, that they do not, cannot, and should not control. If Christ is in the driver’s seat, that means Christians are not. We must learn to place our trust in the political sovereignty of Jesus.
The second change is tactical. As evangelicals accept their status as a political minority, they will need to learn how to play with others. They will need to build tactical partnerships with other “moral sub-cultures.” Rather than demonizing Catholics, Mormons, and Muslims, evangelicals will need to learn to collaborate on mutually agreed upon political goals. Tactically speaking, evangelical leaders are too weak to go it alone. To succeed, we need to make friends.
Evangelicals in the Netherlands offer an interesting path forward in this regard. They’ve been a minority political voice for decades. In a recent effort to curtail the practice of prostitution in the Netherlands, local evangelicals formed a common political effort with left-wing feminist groups. Despite their deep ideological differences, they agreed on three things: Women have profound value, their bodies should not be commodified, and they are worthy of protection from the moral privations of the sexual marketplace.
Dutch evangelical leaders did not bargain away their Christian principles to make this political deal. And, importantly, evangelicals did not attack their leaders for collaborating with left-wing feminists. These Christian brothers and sisters have accepted that if they wish to seek public justice in the Netherlands, they need to partner with diverse groups.
The third change is one of posture. Some evangelicals are acting like martyrs hunched over in a state of depression about their loss of power. Others are desperately grasping about for what little power they can grab before it slips through their fingers. If we’re in anger, we may have a fighting posture—head down, fists up. If we’re bargaining, we prostrate ourselves before politicians who promise political scraps in return. None of these postures serves us well.
Like a basketball player who can only dribble to the right, evangelical voters have become predictable. Politically speaking, this makes them easy to manipulate, pigeonhole, use, and ignore—a politician’s dream. Whether crouching, bowing, or fighting, evangelicals lack the posture necessary to adapt and respond to a dynamic and pluralistic political landscape.
One of the first lessons a basketball player learns is the power of the three-point stance. With one foot forward and the ball in front of his chest, the player becomes a “triple threat” and can in an instant pass, shoot, or dribble. The defender doesn’t know where he’s going next, so he has options. The three-point stance enables the player to use creativity, imagination, and skill to improvise, adapt, and overcome.
Evangelicals need a new posture that will enable them to collaborate and contest, fight and forgive, persuade and listen. Our game is in desperate need of some new moves.
This need leads us to the fourth change. The future of evangelical political engagement is going to require a profound renewal of the evangelical imagination. Any artist will tell you that things like creativity and inspiration are tricky to come by. They can be fickle friends, here one day and gone the next. There is no three-step process to “becoming politically imaginative.” But there are a few practices that could certainly help.
Evangelicals will need to shift from a life of political consumption to one of cultural creativity. Rather than consuming endless hours of political vitriol via cable news, talk radio, and social media, we need to focus on—to put it frankly—becoming more interesting human beings. It may seem an odd political prescription, but evangelicals need to throw more dinner parties, attend more poetry classes, take up woodworking, and start book clubs or bowling leagues. We should serve refugee families or learn a new language, learn to cook or throw a neighborhood picnic.
The mindless consumption of political rage will never produce an evangelical political witness marked by creativity, imagination, or wisdom. A life filled with play, beauty, learning, and love offers fertile soil for a much healthier political culture.
Extracting oneself from the clatter of the 24/7 news cycle and investing one’s hands and heart in life-giving practices can do a great deal for one’s political posture and practices. The iron grip of political outrage, depression, and bitterness must be broken. Embodied activities can liberate evangelicals to navigate a polarized world of deep differences with a renewed and open-hearted imagination.
The final change for American evangelicalism brings us back to the heart of the gospel. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Rom. 5:8). The center of evangelical politics must be the Good News.
If this is true, ours should be a politics of gratitude, not grief. The global evangelical movement, regardless of culture or context, has always agreed that the gospel is central. The evangelical life begins with an experience of grace and gratitude—not fear, anger, or resentment. This personal experience of grace in Christ has public consequences for evangelicals who claim to follow him. The hospitality we’ve experienced in Christ is a hospitality that must be demonstrated before a watching world.
America is an increasingly pluralistic marketplace of diverse religions, ideologies, and lifestyles. How should evangelicals politically respond to this diversity? When should we listen and learn? When should we stand and fight? When do we collaborate? When do we contest?
Dynamic political environments call for dynamic political postures and practices. On this side of eternity, the boundary lines are not always clear. This should not concern us as long as we remain clear on our center.
Matthew Kaemingk is the Richard John Mouw Associate Professor of Faith and Public Life at Fuller Theological Seminary. His podcast on faith and politics is called Zealots at the Gate. His recent books include Reformed Public Theology and Work and Worship.
The post The Acceptance Stage of Lost Evangelical Influence appeared first on Christianity Today.
by | Sep 10, 2024 | Uncategorized
It is midnight, and my phone is ringing. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I roll over to see my older sister’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hello?”
My sister says nothing at first. She is crying. The sound jolts me awake.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Finally, she speaks: “I killed my baby.”
Shock lodges itself in my throat. My sister’s pain is suddenly in my chest, crushing my heart against my rib cage. I scramble down the bunk bed ladder, my feet slipping on the rungs, and tiptoe past my sleeping roommate. “Just a second,” I whisper, holding my hand over the phone’s speaker until I’ve left the dorm.
“He made me do it,” she says, sobbing. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” The pavement grits against my bare feet. “I killed my daughter. I’m going to hell.”
Eventually, I discerned what had happened. My sister had been pregnant. And then, at 12 weeks, she’d had an abortion. She was pressured by her boyfriend, who said that he couldn’t afford to take care of the children he’d already had with other women, let alone another one.
I am not equipped. I have no words to offer.
I clutch the phone to my ear and I stand in the wind and I listen.
When we were young, my sister and I had many late-night talks about our determination to be better parents than our own. The abuse we braved as children in the years before we were adopted is almost too heavy to express, too horrible to justify with language. Our parents were addicted to drugs. They bloodied and bruised us; they admired the whip marks their belts left on our skin, and put their cigarettes out on our elbows and knees. Until the age of eight, I ate only baby food.
My sister and I survived together. And yet as we grew, my sister began to shut me out. She left home suddenly, with no way to contact her; she entered a relationship with an abusive man. After a while, I stopped fighting to keep a connection. The door between us stayed closed, and I stopped knocking—until it cracked open that chilly spring night.
That desperate call was more than five years ago, but my sister’s words still ring in my ears. She thought she was doing the right thing. The father was abusive and money was tight. But her grief was a confirmation: Every human life has intrinsic value, no matter the poverty or cruelty or chaos that life is born into. My sister had discovered this the hard way, the same way she had learned most of her lessons.
“Every child, a wanted child.” The 1923 Planned Parenthood slogan has a horrific subtext; if a woman believes that she’s ill-equipped to be a mother, or that her partner is ill-equipped to be a father, or that her home will be an unhappy one, then abortion is encouraged. It’s not just an option; it’s a solution. It’s responsible. It’s the right thing to do.
Pro-abortion advocates have long suggested that abortion access improves future outcomes for women and children. In June of 1978, the National Abortion Rights Action League published Legal Abortion: A Speaker’s and Debater’s Notebook. Among other talking points, it asserted that “a policy that makes contraception and abortion freely available will greatly reduce the number of unwanted children, and thereby curb the tragic rise of child abuse in our great country.”
These arguments have persisted into the 21st century. In 2002, an article in the American Economic Reviewclaimed that “unwanted children may be more subject to child abuse and neglect by their parents or care-takers than are desired children. … Abortion availability may reduce the number of unwanted children … leading to lower rates of child abuse and neglect.”
“There’s a lot to be said for preventing babies from being born who are going to be unwelcome and therefore have a rotten childhood,” argued a Guardian columnist in 2016. “A few years ago the crime figures of New York were suddenly much lower than they had been, and researchers linked the fact to high numbers of abortions in the year when the potential criminals would otherwise have been born.”
“Unwanted” children are less likely to succeed in school and make money, wrote a trio of psychology professors around the time of the Dobbs leak: “We are focused on preventing the transmission of risk factors for poor economic, social, physical and mental well-being for parents and children.”
“Every child, a wanted child.” By this formulation, a child’s dignity is determined not by the fact of their existence but by the extent of their parents’ desire and their likelihood of future “success.” A child’s personhood is contingent. It would be better for suffering children, children like me and my sister, to have never been born at all than to experience those cigarette burns and baby-food lunches.
But the prospect of a rough upbringing, even one as traumatic as mine, should never be remedied by removing a child’s opportunity to live at all. Abortion discounts the redemptive power of God—and the “wantedness” inherent in our creation.
Genesis tells us that we are sanctified, set apart, created in the image of God (Gen. 1:26–27). Psalm 139 elucidates the intrinsic value that God places on every person, value that comes only from the Father, not from any earthly parents. We are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” knit together, our days ordained.
Mark 8:36 shows that one human soul alone has more worth than the entire world of material possessions: “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” Even in the direst circumstances—even if a child is born with a deformity, even if a child will go hungry, even if a child will be hurt—God imparts boundless value on their life. My sister should have kept her daughter, even given her boyfriend, her instability, her past. In spite of the pain, I’m glad that my parents kept us.
God’s hand is evident in my life, especially after my adoption by two wonderful people. I was the first person in my family to graduate from college, and with highest honors. God gave me gifts in writing and music. Now, I lead worship for youth and young adult programs at my church. My participation in youth ministry is an outlet for me to ensure all children are shown love.
“Every child, a wanted child” implies that the goodness of my life today isn’t worth my bad beginning. But I know that’s not true.
My sister April is a mother now. She has two beautiful sons, Edward and Justin. April learned she was pregnant with Edward only a month after she lost her daughter. “When I got pregnant again a month later,” she reflects, “it was almost like God was saying, ‘Did you think I didn’t know what I was doing?’”
Randi Bianchi is a church administrator and writer.
The post I Had a Horrific Childhood. I’m Glad I Exist. appeared first on Christianity Today.
by | Sep 9, 2024 | Uncategorized
How do we talk about Big Things when it seems so risky? It feels hard these days to even mention Jesus in conversation when we are faced with hostility toward Christianity. As faith is declining in the West, how will people find Christ if we can’t talk about him with nonbelieving friends and family? Our churches, families, and communities often feel so polarized we can’t talk about politics or values either.
Because of this, we’re understandably wary of talking about God or Christ or politics with anyone outside our close circles, and sometimes even within them. We fear it will just lead to arguments or damage our relationships. We don’t have the answers to tough questions. We can’t even agree on the facts. Loved ones seem uninterested or resentful about views different from their own. Small wonder we avoid evangelism and political conversation with friends and family, never mind strangers.
But I am confident there’s an effective, enjoyable, and winsome way to talk with people about Christ that also works well in discussions about any sensitive issue, even in heated times.
For years now, my students have used a simple method to have excellent “hot topic” conversations with friends they strongly disagree with—conversations about every conceivable political issue around the world. “It went so well,” they often report, “my friend and I feel closer now, and we want to have more conversations like that.”
I’ve seen the power of this method firsthand. For example, when I used this method a few months ago in a conversation with a secular friend, he said as we parted, “That was the best conversation I’ve ever had.” We’d been talking about God for two hours. This method has also equipped me to talk with people I disagree with about highly charged political issues in lengthy conversations that leave us feeling energized and warm toward each other.
Knowing how to discuss important and sensitive topics can make you a better friend, family member, and follower of Jesus. It’s not about winning an argument; it’s about being more loving and connecting more deeply and joyfully with someone you care about. It may also be the best way to help gradually change someone’s heart. The Barna Group found that an approach like this is the most effective way to reach nonbelievers. Best of all, it’s a method that’s surprisingly learnable.
The key is three words: paraphrase, praise, and probe. The method: Privately, over coffee or a meal, nudge the conversation into a Big Topic and ask your friend what they think about it. Then:
Paraphrase: Repeat the gist of your friend’s thoughts so well they say, “Exactly!”
Praise: Highlight anything they said that you can sincerely honor.
Probe: Ask about your concerns, curiosities, and confusions as a co-seeker of truth.
Do this two or three times. Then, share your own perspective and let the conversation unfold from there, returning to paraphrase, praise, probe whenever there’s tension. When you want to exit the conversation, simply express gratitude and change the subject: “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed this. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Let’s talk more about it another time. How’s your weekend looking?”
Here’s an example of how it works. You mention to your friend, “I see X died the other day. What do you think happens when we die?” She replies, and you paraphrase back to her, “So you’re saying death really is the end, and the afterlife is just wishful thinking. And believing a fantasy like that is a distraction from the important work of caring for people here and now. Am I getting that right?”
“Exactly!”
Then you add, “I appreciate your concern about this life and your worry that someone might focus on the afterlife too much and stop caring about this one. I so appreciate your commitment to taking care of people here and now. I share it.” She breathes a sigh of relief.
Then you probe: “So let me hear more. How do we get to that conclusion that this is all there is?” Whatever she replies is useful. You paraphrase, praise, and probe again, delving more deeply into her thoughts, feelings and, perhaps, her story (which may be particularly illuminating).
Eventually, the conversation generally becomes safe and rich enough that your friend is open to and interested in hearing your own perspective: “I do find a faith in an afterlife makes me more focused on this one. For example …” And you’ve begun a rich and often eye-opening conversation.
Though they usually do quite well with it, students sometimes struggle with this method when they use it spontaneously. Some casually turn to it in the middle of an argument, after things have gotten testy. Not good. Others try to use it in a group setting where others can chime in, interrupt, and argue. One tried it at a bar. Ugh.
I’ve seen most of my students do better when they plan ahead for a private conversation and choose a quiet, comfortable setting. They might invite a friend to talk about a topic or simply watch for an occasion to use this method during a conversation. For a conversation about Christ, it may be better to take an indirect approach, looking for a topic that touches on spiritual matters, like an event that raises the problem of evil or a movie that raises a philosophical question.
Why is Paraphrase, Praise, Probe so effective? First, because it’s grounded in humility, a quality that’s so winsome that the most admired people are renowned for it—Mother Theresa, Nelson Mandela, Abraham Lincoln, and far more importantly, Christ himself.
This approach also adds safety and lowers defensiveness because it validates and respects the other person without requiring you to agree with their conclusions. People feel safe and relax when they sense you deeply respect them, and they trust you more. The approach also slows the conversation down, making you both less reactive.
Also, it gives you a chance to learn and frees you from having to rebut points you don’t have answers for. (“That’s an intriguing point. I have more to learn about that.”) Barna found that Christians who listen generously like this are markedly more winsome; nonbelievers say they’re much more open to further conversation and learning about Christ from someone who listens to them than from someone who tries a hard-sell approach.
Paraphrase, Praise, Probe also lets us emulate the apostle Paul’s approach to evangelism. In Acts 17, we see Paul at the Areopagus reasoning with the Athenians, demonstrating he deeply understands their beliefs then praising them for their religiosity before speaking about Christ.
As Tim Keller observed, if Christians just monologue and argue, we’ll get nowhere with unbelievers. Paul, he notes, is not preaching in that passage of Acts. Rather, Paul is “entering into dialogue … a Socratic method.” That means, Keller explains, that you should come inside the other person’s perspective and listen sympathetically. Then and only then do you challenge their view from its own standards. In other words, you probe.
In fact, knowing how to talk about Big Things with our perceived opponents or true enemies can transform us and them. Daryl Davis, an African American R & B musician, dialogued with KKK leaders and, in the process, led dozens of them out of the Klan, moving them to repent of their racism. Yet he never asked them to do so—he just had generous and inquisitive conversations with them. The ability to talk across chasms of thought can make us peacemakers and agents for change.
Here, then, are two safe, easy ways to practice using Paraphrase, Praise, Probe:
Watch a YouTube interview of someone you strongly disagree with. Stop the video, practice Paraphrase, Praise, Probe, resume the video, and then repeat. Perhaps get feedback from a friend who’s watching you.
Or, try it with a friend this week. Choose someone you usually agree with and pick a nonreligious topic you each care about somewhat but not passionately (Minimum wage? Greatest basketball player?). Invite your friend to talk about this topic with you for 15 minutes. Intentionally use Paraphrase, Praise, Probe. See what effect it has, get some feedback afterwards, and then try it again the following week with someone else, perhaps nudging a conversation toward God, salvation, or another Big Thing.
We change the world by the way we listen and talk. Paraphrase, Praise, Probe can help us be that change, living out more fully on Monday what we pray to become on Sunday, helping us act more like the God we want others to know. It can help us gently, safely start conversations that could one day lead a person to Christ. Additionally, it can help us build bridges across political and ideological divides. What could be better?
Seth Freeman is a professor of conflict management and negotiation at the NYU Stern School of Business and Columbia University and the author of 15 Tools to Turn the Tide: A Step-By-Step Playbook for Empowered Negotiating. He has given talks to The Veritas Forum, InterVarsity Fellowship, and Christian college groups.
The post How to Talk About God and Politics in Polarized Times appeared first on Christianity Today.
by | Sep 9, 2024 | Uncategorized
Andar Ismail, a prolific Christian writer who distilled theological truths into short stories accessible to ordinary Indonesians, died of congestive heart failure on August 25. He was 84.
From 1981 to 2022, the pastor and seminary professor wrote 33 books, each containing 33 short stories, for his Selamatseries. Ismail described his literary style as gado-gado (“hodgepodge”)—after an Indonesian dish with mixed vegetables and peanut sauce—because the stories were an amalgamation of genres: Bible exposition, stories of Jesus or characters of the Bible, church history, biographies of Christian figures, comments on books or art, humorous anecdotes, and personal reflections.
While other Indonesian Christian authors wrote for the educated class, Ismail’s books were entertaining and simple enough for lay Christians—as well as nonbelievers and people of other faiths—to grasp. And the readers abound: His books have sold tens of thousands of copies, a rare feat in Indonesia, where interest in reading is low.
Even after finishing the Selamat series, he published two more collections of short stories. In addition to his literary contributions, he also pastored Indonesian Christian Church (GKI) Samanhudi in Jakarta for 40 years and taught theology and Christian education at Jakarta Theological Seminary, the oldest seminary in the country.
The 33 books of the Selamat series, and the 33 stories in each one, honor the number of years Jesus lived on earth, Ismail once told Validnews Indonesia. (Selamat is the Indonesian word for “greetings, congratulations, and salvation.”)
“I was mesmerized … by the 33 years of Jesus’ life,” Ismail said. “How he was still so young, yet he had done so much. A short yet very impactful life.”
Born as Siem Hong An in 1940, Ismail was raised in a poor Christian Chinese-Indonesian family in Bandung, West Java. When Ismail was a child, his father, who owned a small factory, suffered from a prolonged lung illness that left him unable to work, forcing Ismail’s mother to support the family by selling homemade cakes. The fourth of six children, Ismail recalled his family receiving food and payment for school fees from their local church.
Yet despite what they lacked financially, Ismail’s mother nurtured her son’s imagination through telling stories and encouraging him to make up his own. Even though he only had leaves and branches to play with, he created his own imaginary world.
Beginning at age four, his mother brought him to Sunday school, where he loved to listen to Bible stories. He recalls in his book Tukang Ngantar Selamat (Courier of Salvation) how, one time, his Sunday School teacher, Sioe Bing, enthusiastically told the story of Jesus quieting the storm on the Lake of Galilee. As he waved his arms to portray the raging seas, he accidentally slapped Ismail’s face.
Yet Ismail looked back at that moment fondly, because it awoke in him a new dream. When the “waves of Galilee” landed right in his face, the seed for his future was planted. It then blossomed several years later when he wrote, “I want to walk along the same path as Uncle Sioe Bing. I want to be the storyteller of the Bible.”
Ismail nourished that love of stories by frequenting the Bandung library, where he read books by Hans Christian Andersen and Charles Dickens, as well as a local Christian bookstore, where he read Dutch theologians Johannes Verkuyl and Hendrik Kraemer. At a young age, he saw the power of writing: While delivering newspapers, he realized that people would wait eagerly for him to bring them the latest issue and that this anticipation made him feel important. Ismail reasoned that if the deliverer of the newspaper was indispensable, how much more was the writer of the newspaper? “Since then, I wanted to be a writer,” Ismail told Validnews.
At 18, Ismail studied at Balewijoto Theological School in Malang, East Java, to become a pastor. Once again, his church rallied around him to help him pay for schooling. At times, he found his teachers difficult to understand, as they used words that felt esoteric and gave long-winded lectures. But this challenge only further motivated him to become a writer and teacher. “I wrote, driven by the desire to explain something difficult easily, not long but brief, not boring but captivating, and with humor,” Ismail told Validnews.
After graduation in 1963, he began serving at GKI Samanhudi, a Presbyterian church. Two years later, he was ordained and married his wife, Constance (Stans) Budihalim, a Sunday school teacher. He served at GKI Samanhudi for 40 years, occasionally studying abroad. Among others, he studied at a university in Utrecht, Netherlands; Presbyterian University and Theological Seminary in Seoul; and Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond.
In order to equip the next generation of Indonesian pastors, Ismail started teaching theology and Christian education at Jakarta Theological Seminary as a part-time lecturer in 1978. He went on to become a full professor and taught at the seminary until 2005.
During Ismail’s funeral, one of his students, Nanang (who only goes by this one name), shared that he was once called into Ismail’s office after a pedagogy writing class. “My heart was beating fast because he was known as a very strict lecturer,” Nanang said. When Nanang entered the room, Ismail was holding the paper he had turned in. His anxiety faded as Ismail asked for his permission to share Nanang’s writing as an example for his younger students.
“I considered this as his way of appreciating my writing,” Nanang said. Now a pastor of GKI Mangga Dua Church in Jakarta, he often shares his writing on social media.
Ismail’s childhood dream of becoming a writer first came to fruition in 1981 while he studied in Seoul. There, he wrote his first collection of 33 short stories, entitled Selamat Natal (Merry Christmas). It included biographies of John the Baptist and King Herod, a story entitled “If Jesus was born in Jakarta,” and an essay on how Christmas is only meaningful if we accept Jesus’ death on the cross for our sins.His second book, Selamat Paskah (Happy Easter), was published a year later, in 1982.
The books received a positive response from readers. Yet it would be another decade before Ismail published more books in the series, as he was busy teaching and then pursuing his PhD in the US. When he returned to Jakarta to become a full-time lecturer at Jakarta Theological Seminary, his publisher, BPK Gunung Mulia, asked him to continue the series.
It took him a few more years, but in 1992, he wrote the third book in the series, Selamat Pagi Tuhan! (“Good Morning, Lord!”), and then started to write one book a year until he finished all 33 books in 2022. Ismail wrote each book by hand, and his close friend Sunoko Nugroho Samiadji then transcribed it on the computer. Samiadji, who viewed Ismail as his spiritual father, was inspired by Ismail’s discipline and perseverance to keep writing when he was ill.
“He had even completed ten story drafts for his next books, although his health had substantially been deteriorating these last four months,” Samiadji said after Ismail’s passing.
Ismail’s Selamat stories focus on the life, teachings, and practices of Jesus, including prayer, ministry, teaching, work, integrity, and love. By using down-to-earth language, Ismail hoped to help readers examine their lives and faith.
To connect with people of other faiths, some of his stories describe how Muslim poets and artists viewed Jesus.
One famous journalist and writer, Sobron Aidit, said on the back cover of one of Ismail’s books that while he was a Communist and exposed to Islam in his earlier years, he was “often confused, looking for a handle on various problems.” Friends sent him the Selamat series, and he said his “heart was touched, and the more I loved Andar’s writing. From year to year, I continued to examine his books. Finally at the age of 66, I confessed Christ as my Savior.”
For two decades, the Selamat books were BPK Gunung Mulia’s bestsellers. For his contributions to the Indonesian church, Ismail won the Christian Art and Literature Festival’s Tokoh Inspiratif (Inspirational Figure) award in August 2018.
The Christian Conference of Asia called Ismail and fellow author Eka Darmaputera “undoubtedly the most prolific Christian authors in this archipelago” on the back of a Selamat book. “Their writings are based on thoughtful theological scholarship, yet easily consumed by the average parishioner. Both Eka and Andar have been a substantial asset for the churches in Indonesia … in communicating the heart of the Gospel to the heart of the people.”
Binsen Samuel Sidjabat, lecturer at Tyranus Bible Seminary, largely praised Ismail’s work, yet he noted a theological shift in two of Ismail’s later stories. While his early works stress salvation only through Jesus, his later works seem to question John 14:6, which says, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” His story “The Only Way?” says this verse merely points to the early church’s high respect for Jesus, and his story “Is Christ the Only Way?” says it explains Jesus’ relationship with the Father.
Ismail’s children remember their father continually pointing them to Christ.
His daughter, Atikah, recalled that when she was about 12 and her brother Syarif was 10, her father came home one night and said he had a gift for them. He handed them his Bible, and the children wondered if the gift was hidden inside. Atikah said, “We searched and searched from the front to the last pages, but we could not find any envelope or other things.” Later, she realized that her father wanted to teach them that the most precious gift a father could give his children was the Word of God.
Near the end of Ismail’s life, Samiadji moved in to help take care of Ismail, who had prostate surgery in April, and his wife. As Ismail’s health deteriorated in late August, Samiadji said that he had prayed, “Dear Lord, you have given me so much. But, with your consent, I ask you that I will not get sick for long, which will make others’ lives miserable from taking care of me.” Samiadji said he was concerned about burdening his wife.
Not long afterward, Ismail passed away peacefully. Ismail is survived by his wife, two children, and two grandchildren.
The post Died: Andar Ismail, Prolific Writer Who Made Theology Simple appeared first on Christianity Today.
by | Sep 6, 2024 | Uncategorized
The Chinese government has officially ended its international adoption program, foreign ministry spokesperson Mao Ning announced Thursday, ending hopes for hundreds of US families who were matched with children before the COVID-19 pandemic but had adoptions put on hold in 2020.
Karla Thrasher, senior director of international adoptions at Lifeline Children’s Services based in Birmingham, said the announcement was shocking to the adoption agency and to its 48 families who were matched with Chinese orphans before the pandemic.
“They were definitely in shock. This came very suddenly,” Thrasher told Baptist Press. “We actually had thought things were moving in a more positive direction over the past couple of weeks, and then received this email out of the blue regarding China no longer carrying out the foreign adoptions.”
Lifeline was serving more than 100 matched families when China suspended adoptions in 2020, Thrasher said, but the number dwindled due to various family circumstances.
The remaining 48 families waited with anticipation and suffered a range of emotions including anger, sadness and disbelief at the news, Thrasher said.
“Some of them were just a couple of pieces of paperwork away from traveling to meet their children and finalizing their adoption,” Thrasher said. “That’s how close many of these families were.”
Some of the children had participated in Lifeline’s hosting program.
“Several of these families had actually met their children and spent time with them through a program that we have where we host children here in the United States,” Thrasher said. “Several of these children had been a part of that hosting program where they had come to the US, actually spent time in the family’s home, so these families knew these children.”
China’s announcement ends a 30-year program, with exceptions for international residents adopting blood relatives or stepchildren, Ming said in her announcement during a press briefing. The program officially ended August 28.
Before China suspended the program during the COVID pandemic, 202 US adoptions were finalized from China in fiscal 2020, which spans October 2019 through September 2020, according to the US State Department’s Annual Report on Intercountry Adoption.
China was a robust country for adoptions by US parents in the years it remained a destination, generating 819 adoptions in 2019, 1,475 in 2018 and 2,036 10 years prior in 2008, the State Department reported.
After the suspension in 2020, no additional adoptions were seen from China until 2023, when 16 adoptions were finalized, the State Department reported. Those adoptions included families who were already approved for travel to China, a final stage in the adoption process. Some of those families were served by Lifeline, Thrasher said.
“Those are families that when the suspension happened in January 2020 due to COVID, they at the very last step of the process,” Thrasher said. “They had a document called travel approval, and China honored that document and allowed those families to travel last year.
“Even yesterday, amidst all of the sadness, the Lord reminded us of those families that did get to travel,” Thrasher said, “and those children that did have homes. It’s important to celebrate that as well.”
Lifeline Children’s Services, the largest evangelical adoption organization in the US, will pray with and for the 48 families as they grieve and process their loss, and work with them as they consider their options, Thrasher said.
The children left behind in China face lives in orphanages with limited medical care, limited education and limited opportunities. They will age out of orphan care at 16 with no resources and few options, she said, other than low wage work. Some may be relegated to lives of begging or crime.
She encouraged Southern Baptists to pray for the children left behind, for the families grieving the loss and still hoping to adopt children, and for adoption agencies working to place children with families across the nation.
The post China Ends International Adoptions, Leaving Hundreds of Cases in Limbo appeared first on Christianity Today.
