Thriving in the City: A Guide to Sustainable Incarnational Ministry Among the Urban Poor

By T. Aaron Smith and Viv Grigg

What does it mean to live in an urban poor slum or inner city for twenty years? What does it take to raise a family there, and to find God's love and peace in the most challenging neighborhoods?

In Thriving in the City: A Guide for Sustaining Incarnational Ministry among the Urban Poor, T. Aaron Smith helps new lea

• Language: English
• Publisher: Servant Partners Press
• Release date: Dec 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9780692605301

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

TRAIN! A WOMAN SHOUTED, warning her neighbors to move off the railroad tracks. This was not the normal passenger train that usually sped down the tracks next to Balic-Balic. It moved about as fast as a casual walk and towed only one flatbed railroad car, which carried dozens of police officers wearing full-body armor and assault rifles. These police officers were there to maintain peace and order, so to speak, while homes along the train tracks were razed. The railroad communities south of us had already disappeared into an ever-approaching dust cloud, and their arrival signaled that it was our turn to be scattered.

For a full week, the sound of sledgehammers breaking up concrete resounded throughout the community. The first squatter home I had ever slept in was destroyed. The church where I had delivered my first sermon and led countless Bible studies was turned into a pile of broken cinder blocks. Every home and building in the community was turned to rubble. Seven years later, the sounds floating out of construction sites still make me flinch.

When I first moved into a squatter community, I knew that the physical discomforts would be stressful. Aspects of urban poor life such as carrying water in buckets, sleeping on the floor, and having cockroaches as roommates were difficult, but manageable. But the emotional pain of seeing our home, church, and community deliberately destroyed made my wife and I want to quit altogether. It’s no wonder that burnout is so common among those who work with the poor. Urban ministry leader David Claerbaut writes, Among urban workers in general, whether they are teachers, pastors, social workers, or any other professionals who work regularly with problem-plagued people, the average length of service is not much more than four years.¹ By 2008, I was wondering whether my family’s decade among the urban poor would be quietly folded into the upper end of that statistic.

As I stood at this violent crossroads, I began to wonder at the process of learning to thrive in the midst of urban poverty. Living incarnationally,² or ministering through meaningful, engaged presence, in the midst of the extremes of pain and joy found in the world’s slums was not easy, but it was remarkably possible. Though I had seen many incarnational leaders come and go, I knew that there were also many who had stayed, and in fact had gone on to build full and rich lives and ministries among the urban poor. Movement leader Viv Grigg writes of incarnational leaders, Somewhere, ten to fifteen years into their ministries, they often entered into a deeper life, a new empowering of the Spirit of God.³ But how did they get there? How could Ema and I last—how could anyone last—for the decades required to see real internal fruit and external transformation?

A few years later, I was blessed to have the opportunity to pursue my Doctorate of Ministry in Transformational Leadership for the Global City at Bakke Graduate University, where I delved deeply into these questions. My doctoral dissertation opened the door for me to survey 100 of my fellow urban ministers, both current and former. I conducted dozens of follow-up interviews and multiple focus groups. We talked about what worked and what didn’t, how they found the strength to stay and why they didn’t, and what advice they might have for those just beginning their careers among the urban poor. As a follow-up to my studies, I joined their experience with my own to form what became an early version of this book.⁴ This heavily revised edition more fully integrates their voices to provide insight for those who long to stay.

But the origin of this book does not begin with a dissertation. It begins with a little boy listening to his grandmothers’ stories.

My Story

People often ask me how I, a middle-class American, ended up living in a squatter community in Manila. Simply put, I was called to it. Everything in my spiritual life and circumstances began to point me here. But stepping into my calling was a long process, a process that might look very different from your own. I share it here so that you will have an understanding of my perspective.

I learned the importance of economic justice from an early age. My parents had their share of financial struggles, so I was never allowed to believe that I was somehow better than people in poverty. I also remember listening to my grandparents’ stories of justice and concern for the poor. Grandma Lotz grew up as the daughter of a small town doctor. During the Great Depression, she never knew the intense poverty that others faced, but she always acted with prayerful compassion toward them. Even as a frail elderly woman, her prayers before meals included the hungry. Grandma Smith also had a compassionate heart and a deep desire for justice. She often told the story of how, in the 1930s, she broke up with her high school sweetheart because he told her not to sit next to an African American girl on the school bus. She sat next to that girl for the rest of the school year. Hearing these stories as a young child instilled in me a heart for justice and human dignity.

For most of my adolescence, my compassion for the oppressed was not strong enough to result in any kind of meaningful action. My friends and I complained about injustice, but we did not change our lifestyle because of it. I still aspired to live the American dream, securing a good job that would allow me to buy a nice house, a car, and a sense of safety and status.

It wasn’t until college that God began to work on changing my heart and calling me to the urban poor. It really began with getting involved in InterVarsity Christian Fellowship at my university. I joined a small group Bible study and met weekly with Brian, a godly student who helped me to grow in Christ and to shape the direction of my future toward something bigger than personal ambition.

Then, in the process of researching an essay during my junior year, I went to pick up a video related to agricultural economics from the library. I must have written the wrong call number down, because the video given to me was about rural squatters in Brazil. Though it had nothing to do with the topic of my paper, I was completely drawn to the video’s vivid depictions of the raw poverty in that community. I left the library unable to focus on my paper. My mind was occupied by the plight of the poor.

At an InterVarsity large group meeting later that month, several students presented on their recent exposure trips and short-term missions. One student shared about an annual six-week trip to a squatter community in Manila. When I spoke to her afterward, she gave me a copy of Viv Grigg’s book, Companion to the Poor. The more I read and learned, the more I became intrigued with the idea of living in an urban slum, teaching the Bible, and working for community transformation.

The following round of exposure trips took place right before my senior year, and I joined the team that would go to Manila for six weeks. However, that particular year, we were sent to a middle-class student ministry in the countryside. The disappointment I felt confirmed my own strong drive to live among the poor, as did our week spent in Manila doing culture and language study before beginning our student ministry. This trip was also significant in that we were hosted by the professor who would soon encourage me to come to study at Asian Theological Seminary in Manila. I saw this as my fast track ticket to living among the squatters in that city.

The year that followed was spent in preparation for life and ministry among the urban poor. I read every book I could get my hands on, and I tried to form meaningful connections with the homeless and very poor around my own college community. After graduation, I worked for six months in order to save up for seminary and my plane ticket. The concept of fundraising had never occurred to me. Finally, on a cold rainy day in November of 1997, I boarded a plane for Manila.

My first week was extremely challenging. I spoke very little Tagalog, I didn’t know anybody, and I was deliriously tired from the jet lag. A professor at ATS helped me to find a place to live, but it wasn’t in a squatter community. As that was one of the main reasons I went to Manila, I began to wonder if there was any point to this bewildering adventure. I decided I would tell the professor I had made a mistake, change my ticket, and return home.

But God would not let me. That’s the only way to describe it! The whole next day, I kept opening my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Meanwhile, my professor’s wife was busily helping me set up a bank account and make purchases for the school year. I was running out of time; the longer I waited, the harder it would be to leave Manila. I said to myself, Okay, I am going to tell her on the count of three. One, two, three. But the words refused to come. That evening, I finally prayed, All right, God, you have showed me this is where you want me. I am going to stay.

The wrong video, the mission presentation, receiving Companion to the Poor, meeting a professor from Asian Theological Seminary, and miraculously not being able to talk: all of these events helped me to persevere during the years when I really wanted to leave the urban poor for something easier. This is the vital importance of our origin stories, and our overall sense of continued calling.

After two months in Manila, I met the pastor from Balic-Balic Christian Church. He invited me to help with their youth service, an opportunity which I eagerly accepted. I commuted to the church on Saturday mornings and would stay with the pastor and his mother until Monday morning. I relished this time to learn the culture and build relationships with people in the church.

At the end of the school year, I went back to the US to work sixty-hour weeks in a construction job all summer. I could save about $3,000 in those two months, giving me about $1,000 for a round trip plane ticket, $1,000 for two semesters of tuition, $150 for my visa, and $85 each month to pay for all of my living expenses. Many urban poor families lived on $85 a month, so I figured I should too.

I finally moved into Balic-Balic during my second year, when the pastor accepted the call to serve in another church. I took his old house and continued ministering with the small group of committed followers of Jesus in Balic-Balic Christian Church (BBCC). We would often gather together to sing, share about God’s goodness, and pray.

That first year living in Balic-Balic was an overwhelming one, and I almost burned myself out. However, as I was committed to both the community and my schooling, I decided to stay. Over time, I learned about my own limits and begin to see real fruit as God worked through our community. This ministry would also introduce me to Ema, the local leader who would soon become my wife and ministry partner. After I graduated from ATS, we returned to the US. We quickly began looking for an organization that would provide a support structure so that we could return to Balic-Balic as full-time ministers.

I found Servant Partners by accident. I first thought I was applying to SERVANTS (Servants to Asia’s Urban Poor), a different organization with a similar focus. I didn’t realize my mistake until I was well into the application process, but by then I had learned more about Servant Partners and decided it might just be the right organization for Ema and me. Servant Partners has proven to be a great fit for us. They provide the right balance of site freedom, as well as support and guidance from the larger organization. It took almost two years to find Servant Partners, raise support, and then complete our training, but we returned to Balic-Balic as Servant Partners staff as soon as we could. We remained there until the community was destroyed in 2008.

The recent birth of our son, Zach, made it especially tempting to leave urban poor ministry at that point, but we prayerfully discerned that we were to continue ministering as a family. We moved to Botocan, an urban poor community in a different part of Manila, where we have had the privilege of ministering as a growing family and seeing God work for the past seven years. In 2013, Ema and I welcomed our second healthy son, Ezra, into the community. Today, Ema, Zach, Ezra, and I are at home here. We see God moving every day, and we are committed to remaining here as long as we’re called to do so.

About This Book

AUDIENCE. This book was mainly written for those who are exploring, preparing for, or practicing a life of incarnational ministry in urban settings. Many of the issues discussed are specific to the experience of career ministers who of relocate from middle-class communities in the West to the poorest communities of the Majority World. However, indigenous leaders, middle-class ministers, and those who work in student ministry have also benefited from the thoughts and questions put forth here. In general, this book is meant to equip incarnational leaders to make educated decisions regarding their lives and ministries, and to help them stay in their communities long enough to bring about true transformation.

Everyone’s experience of incarnational ministry is different. What I struggle with may not bother others, and what does not bother me may be extremely difficult for others. This book is not a definitive how-to guide nor a manual for successful incarnational ministry. It was written to help you ask more thoughtful and helpful questions about your own ministry or potential ministry in places of poverty. As you read, pause to reflect and pray about applications to your own life.

RESEARCH. This book is a product of many incarnational leaders’ generously shared experiences. Some of these were authors of wonderful books,⁵ while many shared their wisdom with me more directly in the course of my dissertation research.

As I mentioned above, exactly 100 current and former incarnational leaders submitted detailed questionnaires about their experiences. Potential respondents were limited to those who relocated to an urban poor community for the purpose of ministry. The bulk of the participants were current and former incarnational workers from Servant Partners, SERVANTS, and Urban Neighbors of Hope (UNOH).

Over a dozen follow-up interviews refined and verified the questionnaire results and provided a rich store of true stories from the field. Two focus groups at Servant Partners staff conferences fostered rich discussions of some of the problems and solutions of living incarnationally. Finally, my research led me to more intentionally analyze my own continued experience in Manila as a form of participant observation. All of the stories shared here come from direct first-person accounts which came out of this research, though some names have been changed for anonymity.

THEOLOGY. This book is primarily practical rather than theological, but I aspire to root this book (and my own life) in Christian Scripture as it has been historically understood by the Church. My own denominational affiliation is Southern Baptist, but I am thankful for my broad exposure to other denominations, especially at my interdenominational Evangelical seminaries. This book was written to be relevant across affiliations. The Bible is quoted in the English Standard Version throughout the text.

ORGANIZATION. The two sections of this book loosely follow the phases of developing and sustaining this type of ministry. In Part I, A Sustainable Understanding of Incarnational Ministry, I will lay out a vision for a holistic incarnational ministry that is built to last. Part II, Practicing Sustainability in your Incarnational Ministry, is much more interactive. You will be asked to pause and reflect on three personal questions after each chapter section. If you are ministering incarnationally, considering doing so, or simply trying to live more incarnationally in your own context, I recommend thoroughly journaling your responses to more deeply reflect upon them, as well as discussing them with other readers.

At the back of this book, I’ve appended an article that discusses and defends the term incarnational, the research results from my dissertation, and a partial list of organizations