Category: md-3-2

In recent years, the phrase “incarnational ministry” has entered the Christian vernacular as a method of engaging in urban ministry. Christian communities seeking to serve the city draw upon the example of Jesus. Jesus abandoned the heavenly places and relocated to earth and made his dwelling among us. Jesus’ incarnation becomes the theological motif for Christians who relocate to the city to minister in the city. The motif of incarnational ministry can provide a powerful theological motivation but can also be misappropriated. This essay explores the potential misapplication of the theology of the incarnation in the context of urban ministry and offers interpretations of the incarnation that seeks to strengthen the practices of the urban church.

How Do We View the City?

One of the difficulties in engaging the topic of incarnational urban ministry is defining the terms urban and city. If we were to draw upon the range of options found in Western thought for the definition of the city, we would be hard-pressed to determine one specific definition that is commonly and consistently used. One approach to the city in Western thought is the depiction of the city in abstract terms. The ability to define the city in abstract terms allows those who engage the city potentially to redefine the city on their own terms.

While cities certainly existed prior to the Greeks, it is in the Greek word for the city, polis, where the city begins to mean more than simply the collection of citizens in a defined physical location: “The Greek word for city, polis, meant far more to an Athenian . . . than a place on the map; it meant the place where people achieve unity.”1 Aristotle, in particular, begins to expand the definition of the city beyond the physical and the material. For Aristotle, the polis is not so much a location bound by geography but a destination, the end goal of human endeavor. Human partnerships and cooperation should move towards the authoritative good of all. “As we see that every city is a society and every society is established for some good purpose.”2

The end goal of the polis is not simply life lived in the context of a particular location. The polis is both the concrete concept of a political entity but also the abstract concept for collective human life and a socio-political entity. Aristotle states:

It is evident that this is the principle upon which they are every one founded, and this is more especially true of that which has for its object the best possible, and is itself the most excellent, and comprehends all the rest. Now this is called a city, and the society thereof a political society.3

Because of the heavily symbolic nature of the city, the city comes to represent more than its actual physical reality. It comes to represent the collective human endeavor.

The ongoing influence of Aristotle in urban thought is the abstraction of the city, not simply as a gathering of people within a geographic boundary but as the locus of human activity. The Greeks see the positive potential and direction of the city as a gathering of humanity moving towards a virtuous telos. As the culmination of human activity, the city has the great potential to embody the best of human life but also the worst. Western thought embodies both expressions.

Augustine follows suit in using the term city as an abstraction. For Augustine, the human city is the secular realm, existing in stark contrast to the city of God. The two cities stand in opposition to one another. The realm of the city of God is the realm of God’s dominion and authority. The human city is the work of human hands. Human cities, therefore, are viewed with a degree of suspicion. Since the true city of God is not being built in the earthly realm but in the heavenly realm, the earthly expression of a city would not yield the city of God. As Augustine writes:

The earthly city was created by self-love reaching the point of contempt for God, the Heavenly City by the love of God carried as far as contempt of self. In fact, the earthly city glories in itself, the Heavenly City glories in the Lord. The former looks for glory from men, the latter finds its highest glory in God.4

As Luke Bretherton summarizes, “For Augustine, the only true society and true peace exist in the city of God.”5

The cities of the earth stand in for the kingdom of earth, resulting in a rejection of the city as a potential site of redemption or as a location worth redeeming. In Augustine, there is the rejection of loyalty towards the earthly city and an embracing of loyalty to the heavenly city. Augustine’s development of a contrasting framework between God’s city and the human city furthers the abstract understanding of the city. The city is more than a location. It is a summary of human life or the transcendent work of God outside of the realm of the flesh. In Augustine’s framework, the virtuous city of God is not found in the earthly realm.

The advent of the industrial age meant that the city arrived as both an elevated and abstract philosophical and sociological concept and a heightened reality in everyday life. There would be an increasing awareness of both the positive potential of the city and the potential danger of the city. Industrialization meant that populations would increasingly move in greater numbers from an agrarian and rural setting to an industrial and urban setting.

In the twentieth century, the Augustinian perception of this division between the ungodly, secular culture and a contrasting godly culture widens. Exasperating the assumptions of this demarcation is the rapid proliferation of cities, the explosion of the global urban population, and the rapid shifting of populations towards the city. These drastic changes contribute to the sense of distinction and separation between the city and non-city regions. The sense of contrast and conflict deepens between the two worlds. This dichotomy has a problematic application in many Christian circles. The city can be viewed as the center of all that is wrong with the world, while the suburbs can be seen as what is right with the world.

For theologians Harvey Cox and Jacques Ellul, the city is often equivalent to culture, or, at minimum, the sum total of human endeavor. In a sense, both Cox and Ellul reflect the Aristotelian perspective that the city is the sum total of human life. The two theologians, however, hold vastly differing opinions regarding the value and worth of the city. As Cox writes, “In our day the secular metropolis stands as both the pattern of our life together and the symbol of our view of the world.”6 Cox’s perspective, best exemplified in The Secular City, holds the more optimistic position that the city is the culmination of all that is good about humanity. It is the height of humanism. Cox finds redemptive elements of the aggregate life of human community. The concentration of humanity in community life multiplies human goodness. “If secularization designates the content of man’s coming of age, urbanization describes the context in which it is occurring. . . . The urban center is the place of human control, of rational planning, of bureaucratic organization.”7 The secular city is to be celebrated as the good end of earthly human life.

Ellul, on the other hand, tends to hold a more pessimistic view of the city. The city is the culmination of human sinfulness. Cox’s perspective upholds the goodness of humanity (the image of God found in humanity) and the capacity to create good arising out of a good humanity. Ellul’s perspective asserts the fallenness of humanity (the reality of sin found in humanity) and the capacity to multiply sinfulness arising out of a fallen humanity. In The Presence of the Kingdom, Ellul states that “a major fact of our present civilization is that more and more sin becomes collective, and the individual is forced to participate in collective sin.”8 For Ellul, the concentration of humanity in the city is not the multiplication of human goodness but the multiplication of human sinfulness. While Cox and Ellul greatly differ on the general characteristic of the goodness or sinfulness of the city, both seem to reflect the Aristotelian approach that the city represents more than its mere physical reality but that the city gestures towards a larger and more abstract meaning. This trend continues in the writings of Graham Ward, James Dougherty, and others, who continue to use the term city to represent civilization, culture, and society.9

There is an array of opinion regarding whether a collection of humanity in the city yields a positive, virtuous end or a negative, destructive end. Despite this difference, the common method is to abstract the city to represent more than its physical and material reality. The abstraction and reification of the term city can result in an inability to engage the city in concrete and material terms. An abstract concept can be portrayed in extremes, potentially resulting in an all good or all bad perception of the city.

The city should not merely be an abstract concept that references politics or culture. Instead, we should view the city not only for what it represents (although there is a theological import of what the city represents) but for what the city actually is. The city is a gathering of people in one location that expresses the vast range of human life and activity in a particular location. The city is the city. It is the neighborhood where people are gathered together. This particular gathering of human life raises the same sense of need of any human gathering. In this way, it reflects the power of community life. It is not, however, only an abstract reality to be seen reductively through its theoretical representation.

If the city is merely an abstraction, then the response to that abstraction is another abstraction. The only legitimate change is, in this construal, further philosophical and theological abstraction and the triumph of ideas and values over any real on-the-ground changes. Urban theology then becomes an abstraction battling an abstraction; the battle of ideas. But if the city is an actual location, neighborhood, and community, urban ministry should draw from a theology that has a concrete expression. The church in the city is not merely engaging in a metaphorical battle, but it is working to bring real change in a material reality. The movement away from the city as an abstraction results in the possibility that the presence of the church shaped by Christian theology could have an impact on the city of humanity. The actual, physical realm of the city provides a place for concrete action by the church.

Limitations of Understanding the Incarnation of the Body of Christ

Applying the incarnation narrative to the urban church requires the recognition of key limitations. One of the most significant potential misapplications of the concept of incarnational ministry is that the church could mirror in every way the power and mystery of Christ’s incarnation. A key to the incarnational life of the church in the city is the awareness that the church is not the complete and perfect reflection of Jesus’ incarnation. While the church is established by Jesus as a holy institution, it is still comprised of human beings with human limitations. The church’s imitation of Christ should not be seen as a strict one-to-one correspondence between the incarnation of Jesus and the embodiment of Christ in the city through the church.

The first key limitation on the application of the incarnation is that one individual cannot fully and completely embody Christ, but rather, the individual is a part of the community that collectively embodies Christ. Western culture tends to centralize the role of the individual in society. The dominant theme of individualism in Western culture leads to the elevation of the individual as the primary force of transformation—usually in the form of the heroic individual. The image of the rugged individual called to conquer the wild frontier is a common expression of the Western individualist narrative.

The heroic and triumphant individual is not only found in Western culture but also in the context of the American church. The tendency in the church to elevate the heroic individual leads to the dysfunctional narrative of the Christian as the incarnate savior for the inner city—usually in the person of the heroic white pastor who arrives to save the urban black poor.10 The application of the incarnation, however, should never be the justification for the actions of the individual with a messiah complex. The individual does not have the capacity to single-handedly embody the Messiah, but rather it is the community that corporately embodies Christ. Western culture’s excessive individualism leads to the failure to understand that the power of the church is not in a heroic Christian individual superstar but in the community that is the body of Christ. The body of Christ must be seen in its corporate expression rather than being expressed through the individual.

A second key difference between the person of Jesus and the application of the incarnation to the body of Christ is the limitation of the authority of the church. Jesus’ authority as the Messiah finds its full expression in the kingdom of God. Jesus’ fulfillment as the king is the full eschatological realization of God’s kingdom and Christ’s kingship in that kingdom. Jesus expresses his authority in the Great Commission: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt 28:18–20).11 Jesus proclaims his authority, and the charge to the disciples arises out of that authority. Yet, the Great Commission does not automatically transmit that full authority to the church. It is passed on to the church to make disciples. The temptation is to see the church with the fullness of God’s authority as the body of Christ. However, in the same way that the incarnation of Jesus gestures towards the eschatological fulfillment of Christ’s return, the body of Christ in the in-between space reflects the authority of Jesus, but that authority prioritizes the making of disciples of Jesus.

For example, John Howard Yoder outlines the three-fold office of Jesus in Preface to Theology: prophet, priest, and king.12 A misinterpretation of the doctrine of the incarnation would be to see the church as the incarnation of Jesus’ role as the king. The main expression of the church as the body of Christ should be seen in the servant role that shapes all three expressions of Jesus’ messiahship. In The Politics of Jesus, Yoder writes:

There is thus but one realm in which the concept of imitation holds—but there it holds in every strand of the New Testament literature and all the more strikingly by virtue of the absence of parallels in other realms. This is at the point of the concrete social meaning of the cross in its relation to enmity and power. Servanthood replaces dominion, forgiveness absorbs hostility. Thus—and only thus—are we bound by New Testament thought to “be like Jesus.”13

The goal of the incarnate body of Christ in the city is not to grab for earthly power but to be a servant for the city. This prevailing notion of the body of Christ as a servant does not preclude the possibility of prophetic witness and challenge to the powers that be in the city. The church has the responsibility to stand in prophetic opposition to evil in the city. However, the servant nature of the body of Christ precludes the possibility that the church would replace the earthly kingdom and become an earthly power. The pursuit of earthly power, therefore, leads to the name of Jesus being inappropriately appropriated, with the doctrine of the incarnation manipulated by fallen humans for the sake of earthly power.

The key limitation in applying the incarnation of Jesus to the work of the church in the city is, therefore, to understand that there is not a one-to-one correspondence between Jesus, the physical body of Christ, and the church, the spiritual body of Christ. A popular misapplication of the doctrine of the incarnation is the positioning of the affluent suburbanite in the place of Christ. The affluent suburbanite is called to live out the incarnation by moving into the city to live among the poor. This misapplication puts the affluent (usually white) American in the place of divinity, bringing salvation to the poor (usually people of color) in the city. Incarnation is co-opted to further the privileged position of white suburbanites.

Jesus embodies divinity in his individual personhood, but no individual person in the church embodies Jesus in the city. Furthermore, the body of Christ has an authority that comes from Jesus’ total authority. The church’s identity and authority is a derivative identity and authority. The level of authority that Jesus has over the world is not the level of authority that the church has in the world. Limitations in correlation and application of the incarnation of the body of Jesus to the body of Christ in the city must be recognized.

The Urban Church as the Body of Christ

Being aware of these limitations, it is still possible to formulate positive correlations between our theological understanding of the incarnation and the role of the church in the city. The Scriptures attest to the defining of the church as the body of Christ. First Corinthians 12 claims that the church is one body composed of many parts, as it is with Christ (12:12–14). The passage concludes with the proclamation in verse 27 that “now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” In Eph 4:12 and 5:23, there is a direct correlation between the church and the body of Christ. Finally, in Colossians, there is the assertion that Jesus is the head of his body, which is the church (1:18, 24) and that the whole body depends on connection with the head of the church (2:19). In each of these passages, we see the biblical understanding that the church is to be the ongoing embodiment of Christ. There is also the suggestion that the church is an organic being, a body that reflects the characteristics of the human body. Furthermore, the body that is the church relies upon the head of the church, which is Jesus. The image of an organic body that draws her identity from the body of Jesus is made explicit in these New Testament passages.

Given this connection in the Scriptures, this essay will explore three areas of application, with the understanding that additional applications are possible. First, the act of incarnation required humility that is characterized by a downward mobility. Second, the incarnation of Jesus reflects the heart of God to make his dwelling among us and to relate to us as his companions. Third, the movement of the incarnation required the embracing of suffering by Jesus. All three characteristics of the incarnation yield a model of how the body of Christ, the church, can relate to the city.

Furthermore, while the body of Christ is often understood metaphorically, true embodiment would require concrete and actual practices and actions. Our understanding of urban ecclesiology begins with the biblical motif of the body of Christ and the implication of this motif for urban ministry, not only as an abstracted theology but as authentic practices. It is through the practices of the church that the embodiment of Christ occurs in the city. As Sam Wells writes in Improvisation, the church needs to develop right practices and habits, “trusting itself to embody its traditions in new and often challenging circumstances.”14 The practices of the church in the city are urgently necessary given the number of potential crises in the urban context. Each of the three categories reflects the practices that arise from a theology of the incarnation. The emphasis will be on the important connection between Jesus’ body and the body of Christ, the church in the city.

The challenge of the Scripture is to see the church as the body of Christ, united and incarnate in the world. The promise of the Scripture is that Christ’s embodiment in the church could place the church on a trajectory of healthy engagement with the city. What Christians are not able to accomplish individually, the church as a body could accomplish corporately. The narrative of the incarnate body of Christ becomes the positive model for the practices of the urban church.

The incarnation as downward mobility

One of the central characteristics of the incarnation is God’s movement from the heavenly places to the earthly realm. This reflects God’s downward mobility and the associative laying down of power. This surrender of power provides a vivid example for the church to follow. In the same way that Jesus reflected humility in the emptying of his privilege and power, the church is also called to empty herself of privilege and power. The incarnational body of Christ should embody the ongoing laying down of power and privilege, rather than a seeking of greater power and privilege. If the focus of the church becomes the increase of the church’s power in this world, then the church no longer reflects the incarnation of Jesus. If, however, the church uses power for the benefit of the lame, the blind, and the sick, then the life of Jesus is embodied in the body of Christ.

The embodiment of Christ in the city must reflect the humble example of Jesus’ authority, which is best embodied as an act of servanthood on behalf of others. As Yoder explains:

Servanthood is not a position of nonpower or weakness. It is an alternative mode of power. It is also a way to make things happen, also a way to be present. When we turn from coercion to persuasion, from self-righteousness to service, this is not a retreat but an end run. It brings to bear powers which, on balance, are stronger than the sword alone.15

Jesus’ incarnation required his emptying himself of the privileges of heavenly power and majesty. The act of yielding privilege was not a false humility but an act of true servanthood. This self-emptying, even to the point of death on a cross, is the full expression of God’s love. The incarnation was not a short-term, half-hearted response to the reality of human existence. The practices of the church, therefore, should reflect the genuine humility required by the incarnation. Are Christian communities able and willing to yield privilege in the same manner that Jesus laid down his privilege? In the current context of the American church, power tends to speak more loudly than humility. Prominence in American Evangelicalism tends to focus on success oftentimes based on Western, capitalist concepts.

By measuring success by mostly American values, heroes are created of those who succeed by Western culture’s standards rather than biblical standards that arise out of the example of Jesus’ incarnation. Upward mobility in American society is the norm more than the downward mobility exemplified by the incarnation of Jesus. Pastors and churches that measure up to the American definitions of success become the examples and models for the Evangelical community. Success in an upper-middle-class, white, suburban community in the United States usually entitles American pastors to apply their systems, ideas, and values to a poor, starving, war-torn nation with the same expectation of material success.16 The true value of the incarnation, the process of yielding power and privilege, gets lost in the process of grabbing for material success.

American churches tend to reinforce a system of privilege. The power of the body of Christ is the capacity to go against the existing power structures and to present a counter-cultural model of engagement. The incarnation of Christ offers the model of downward mobility, which becomes the model of engagement for the urban body of Christ. How can urban churches engage in downward mobility? Our attitude and mindset should be the same as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross. (Phil 2:5–8)

The church, therefore, should maintain an attitude of humility that would prioritize the needs of the community and neighborhood over its own needs—the same attitude that led Jesus to go to extreme lengths in order to be a part of the lives of the other—even to the point of total self-sacrifice. The church in the city should engage in the practice of downward mobility through the proactive and thoughtful sharing of their resources with the community. Given the example of Jesus, the church could do no less than engage in the corresponding act of self-sacrifice.

The Incarnation as Being-With

The drastic and humble act of downward mobility reveals the depth of love required by God towards his children. At the heart of the incarnation is God’s deliberate movement towards us. God is expressing his desire to be in our midst, because he enjoys being in our midst. It is the undeserved work of grace that operates as the fullness of God’s love. To use the language of Sam Wells and Marcia Owen, it is the sense of God wanting to be with us. “The incarnation marks the moment when God’s mode of presence moves definitively from being for to being with.”17 If the act of incarnation is seen as part of God’s supreme sacrifice, then the motivation of incarnation is God’s desire to be with his children. Jesus’ life, therefore, is not only seen in light of his actions, but also in light of the desire that underlies his actions.

Jesus’ example reveals the ongoing act of self-sacrifice for the sake of his relationship with us. As Wells and Owen describe:

He spent thirty years in Nazareth being with us, setting aside plans and strategies, and experiencing in his own body not just the exile and oppression of the children of Israel living under the Romans but also the joy and sorrow of family and community life. We don’t know the details of this period, but that silence all the more suggests it was not a time of major working with or working for, with whose narration the Gospel writers are largely concerned.18

One of the key expressions of the body of Christ in the city is the living with and the working with the people of the city. The Christian understanding of the incarnation of Jesus often glosses over a significant part of the story. A potential misinterpretation of the Scriptures is to argue from silence. One of the key ways that the argument from silence is employed is the silence afforded the thirty years of Jesus’ life prior to his public ministry. Scripture’s silence about Jesus’ pre-ministry years has meant that Christians may see those years as irrelevant. A common assumption would be that there would be more of a public record if Jesus’ life prior to his last three years were significant years. The argument from silence would project that the Scripture’s silence means that the mundane and everyday portion of Jesus’ life has little to no importance. Incarnation, however, requires that we walk alongside the other in the everyday aspects of life. God is found not only in the signs, wonders, and miracles of Jesus’ ministry years, but also in the mundane life of being a carpenter in a small town in Palestine. The body of Jesus is found in the midst of the mundane.

The tendency in urban ministry is to gravitate towards the fantastic success stories. Urban ministry conferences consistently highlight the story of the drug addict who got clean, the welfare mom who is now earning big bucks, and the urban pastor who orchestrated the whole thing. Dostoevsky’s story of the Grand Inquisitor reveals the desire of the masses to hear the fantastic stories.19 Henri Nouwen writes about one of the key temptations of Jesus being the temptation to grab attention with a pyrotechnic display of power.20 But understanding the incarnation is about moving deeper into the life of Jesus to see the work of God in its mundane aspects. The incarnation, therefore, requires the living with to be not only in the places of success but also in the mundane, everyday aspects of life, even the painful and suffering aspects.

The motivation of the incarnation, therefore, challenges the church in its practice of ministry in the urban context. Because the body of Jesus incarnate in the world reflects a desire to be with us, the body of Christ’s incarnation in the city should reflect a desire to be with the people of the city. The motivation to serve the city arises not out of a messianic expectation of triumphant victory over the city but the real benefit of being a companion to the poor and a friend to the citizens of the city. “Being with disadvantaged people means experiencing in your own life something of what it is to be disempowered and oppressed. It means setting aside your plans and strategies for change, and simply feeling with disadvantaged people the pain of their situation.”21 Wells and Owen describe the incarnation of the body of Christ among the poor as the full embodiment of God’s people in the city. Incarnation is not only for the benefit of the city, but also for the benefit of the body of Christ.

Underlying the church’s desire to become a companion to the poor in the city is the recognition that God is already present and at work in the urban community. Incarnation, therefore, must be understood in the context of the missio Dei. The term missio Dei arises from the understanding of God’s preexisting and ongoing mission in the world. “Mission is, primarily and ultimately, the work of the Triune God, Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, for the sake of the world, a ministry in which the church is privileged to participate.”22 From the very beginning, it has been God at work reaching out to lost humanity. God’s voice ringing out, “Where are you?” in the Garden of Eden is a reminder that God pursues and looks for us. “Mission is the result of God’s initiative, rooted in God’s purposes to restore and heal creation.”23 When we consider the role of the church in the city, we must acknowledge that God’s plan of redemption has been at work before the church even existed.

Acts 10 provides an example of God’s preexisting work in the life of Cornelius before the “missionary” makes his appearance. The Apostle Peter is hesitant to minister to Cornelius, a Roman centurion. Peter is dealing with an underlying sense of superiority because of his Jewish identity. But God had already been at work in Cornelius’s life. Not only had Cornelius been seeking God through his generosity, but God himself had already appeared to Cornelius. God, therefore, communicates to Peter: “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean” (Acts 10:15). When Peter does come to minister to Cornelius, he recognizes that God had already been at work and recognizes that these Gentile believers will receive the same baptism as the Jewish believers. “Then Peter began to speak: ‘I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts those from every nation who fear him and do what is right’ ” (Acts 10:34–35). God’s mission was being fulfilled among the Gentiles and Peter was allowed to participate in the mission of God. If mission is God’s work, then God’s plan is manifest not only in those being sent out into the city, but God is already at work within those in the city.24

The incarnation of the body of Christ in the city, therefore, means that the church recognizes the preexisting work of God in the city. The introduction of a new church body into the body of the city requires the permission of the host community. The preexisting work of the body of Christ must be acknowledged and honored. The incarnation of the church in the city is not an invasion based upon assumptions of cultural superiority but a seeking of how God is already at work in the community. As Wells states:

In learning how to proclaim the faith to a local culture, the Church discovers the signs and signals of its neighbourhood, and can rediscover the significance of the universality of the gospel while appreciating the particularity of the incarnation. . . . There is also an analogy between one’s understanding of the role of the church in a neighbourhood, the leader in a church, and the perception of God’s activity in the world.25

The incarnation acknowledges the preexisting work of God that prepares the city to receive the ongoing work of God.

Incarnation as Suffering

Our first two categories seem to reflect a chronological, even a linear understanding of the incarnation. We see God’s motivation for the act of incarnation and see the corresponding act of downward mobility to fulfill that motivation. However, understanding the incarnation requires comprehension of its full range of actions and motivations. The motivation to make his dwelling among us is a critical one, but the incarnation must also be seen in light of the cross, as well as the resurrection, ascension, and triumphant return. Incarnation without an eye towards the cross is naïve. The incarnation of Jesus points towards the fullness of his work in the world.

The outworking of the entirety of God’s plan required the incarnation. Not only because he wanted to draw close to us, make his dwelling among us, and to call us his friends but because the incarnation created the possibility of the full work of Christ. God wanting to “be with us” is not unrelated to God wanting to “work for us.” God’s work for us required not only the downward mobility of the incarnation, but also the suffering of the cross. The purpose of the incarnation, therefore, must be seen in its full widescreen reality. The incarnation is the declarative statement that God’s plan of redemption has begun. The movement of God is the movement from heaven to earth, but it is also the movement from the manger to the cross and to the empty tomb.

Because the understanding of Christ’s incarnation must encompass the suffering of Jesus at the cross, the body of Christ in the city must be willing to engage and even experience suffering. Shusaku Endo reflects on a non-Western approach to the incarnation which does not focus on triumphalism. The incarnation moves towards suffering and the model and example of suffering that is expected of the church. Endo states,

The religious mentality of the Japanese is—just as it was at the time when the people accepted Buddhism—responsive to one who “suffers with us” and who “allows for our weakness,” but their mentality has little tolerance for any kind of transcendent being who judges humans harshly, then punishes them. In brief, the Japanese tend to seek in their gods and buddhas a warm-hearted mother rather than a stern father . . . , the kind-hearted maternal aspect of God revealed to us in the personality of Jesus.26

Endo’s description of Jesus focuses on not only an incarnation that is a being with but also a suffering with. The work of the incarnation is both the work of suffering for us and suffering with us. “On every page of the Gospels we see an image of Jesus trying to share in all the sorrows of misfortunate men and women.”27 The incarnate body of Christ is the suffering body of Christ in the city.

Conclusion

Western history and philosophy’s abstraction of the city results in the perception of the city apart from its material importance. The church relates to the metaphorical city in abstractions rather than concrete practices. Theological motifs such as the incarnation are applied haphazardly with a range of options for the Christian engaged in urban ministry. If the city is viewed in its material worth with a direct connection to actual human bodies as Sennett suggests, the response of the church is rooted in the concrete reality of the incarnation. The concrete reality of the incarnation should result in actual practices for the ongoing incarnation of Christ, which is the church. Recognizing that the incarnation requires downward mobility calls the church in the city to seek opportunities for self-emptying, humility, power-yielding, and servanthood. Acknowledging that the motivation for the incarnation is the desire to be in community and relationship with the other should lead the church to practice depth in human relationships and to see God already at work in the life of the city. And finally, since the incarnation moves towards the cross, the church is called to embrace rather than shun suffering. While there is still significant latitude in how the theology of the incarnation can be applied to the body of Christ, we can begin to see the foundational principles and practices that help to define the church in the city as the ongoing incarnation of the body of Christ.

Soong-Chan Rah is the Milton B. Engebretson Associate Professor of Church Growth and Evangelism at North Park Theological Seminary, Chicago, IL.

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Endo, Shusaku. A Life of Jesus. Translated by Richard Schuchert. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist, 1978.

Gordon, Wayne. Real Hope in Chicago: The Incredible Story of How the Gospel Is Transforming a Chicago Neighborhood. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995.

Guder, Darrell, ed. Missional Church: A Vision for the Sending of the Church in North America. The Gospel and Our Culture Series. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998.

Nouwen, Henri. In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership. New York: Crossroad, 1989.

Phillips, Michael. “In Swaziland, U.S. Preacher Sees His Dream Vanish.” The Wall Street Journal, December 19, 2005.

Rah, Soong-Chan. Many Colors: Cultural Intelligence for a Changing Church. Chicago: Moody, 2011.

Sennett, Richard. Flesh and Stone: The Body and the City in Western Civilization. New York: Norton, 1994.

Ward, Graham. Cities of God. Radical Orthodoxy. New York: Routledge, 2000.

Wells, Samuel. Improvisation: The Drama of Christian Ethics. Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2004.

Wells, Samuel, and Marcia Owen. Living without Enemies: Being Present in the Midst of Violence. Resources for Reconciliation. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2011.

________. “Ministry on an Urban Estate.” Lecture presented at The National Readers’ Course, Duke University, Durham, NC, August 2001.

White, Randy. Journey to the Center of the City: Making a Difference in an Urban Neighborhood. Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1996.

Wilkinson, Bruce. The Prayer of Jabez: Breaking Through to the Blessed Life. Sisters, OR: Multnomah, 2000.

Yoder, John Howard. For the Nations: Essays Evangelical and Public (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997.

________. The Politics of Jesus: Vicit Agnus Noster. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972.

________. Preface to Theology: Christology and Theological Method. Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2002.

In examining the city, we examine ourselves and our capacity for cultivating communities of belonging in urban contexts. Through seeing the city as a cultural and theological text, critical engagement with urban literacy focuses on reading for themes of density, diversity, and disparity. In dialogue with Seattle’s Rainier Valley, the process of theological reflection on the nature of place, neighbor, and community moves the church in the city into participation with the missio Dei.

What is the city?

How can the city become a place of shalom, where its disparate inhabitants understand that their peace and prosperity are bound to one another?1 And how can the church be an agent of this divine wholeness and mutuality in the city? In various ways, these questions have preoccupied my research and involvement in the city for years. Unfortunately, defining the term city is deceptively complex. Part of this complexity comes from the fact that “scholarship devoted to the city has yet to find a commonly accepted definition of either a city or the city. The diversity of cities makes such a question extremely difficult.”2 What, then, are we to make of the urban environment that frames so much of our lives?

We may know that a city is comprised of people and places, along with institutions and infrastructure, but as Aristotle noted in his philosophical treatise Politics, “a city . . . is more than the sum of its parts.”3 Beyond the physical geography of settlement space, cities—and their growth, politics, economics, and social influence—are arguably one of the most significant, pervasive cultural realities shaping our world today. As the majority world continues to march inexorably toward an urban future,4 in North America we face issues of urbanization that are both similar to, and distinct from, our global neighbors.

The similarities of cities are rooted in common urban issues: congestion, pollution, segregation, resource allocation, and so forth. But one of the things that makes North American urbanism distinct from its counterparts in the majority world is its virtual invisibility. Whereas the relatively recent and dynamic urban growth in developing contexts has drawn the attention of the world, many North Americans remain largely oblivious to the structures and systems of the city.5 Particular facets of the urban environment become like wallpaper, just a function of the background as we go about our daily routine.

Thus, the location of this grocery store, the length of that freeway, the height of this apartment complex, and the size of that ethnic enclave become little more than incidental geographic realities. Sadly, this lack of critical engagement with the urban environment has been tragic for the church in the city. Particularly as more Christians (especially Evangelicals, a broad tradition of which I am a part) jump on the “missional bandwagon,”6 the hypocrisy of global advocacy without local engagement is glaring.7 As John Perkins, the legendary civil rights advocate and grandfather of Christian Community Development, says, “it’s easy to give out of abundance and help the poor Africans ‘over there.’ But white Christians hesitate to cross the tracks in their own hometown and meet their brothers and sisters on the other side.”8 This hesitation to “cross the tracks,” whether literally or metaphorically, can be traced in some ways to a fear and ignorance about life in the city.

But is the city—in all of its complexity and brokenness—only something to fear? Or worse, a problem to solve or people to “rescue”?

It is assumed by many people that the terms “urban” and “problem” are synonymous, like “urban” and “decay.” There are many things wrong in cities. But the easy juxtaposition of urban with problems and the automatic connection between cities and social ills have become so pervasive that they have clouded our judgment, polluted our language, and infected our analysis. Cities . . . are a mirror of our societies, a part of our economy, an element of our environments. But above all else they are a measure of our ability to live with each other. When we examine our cities, we examine ourselves.9

Ultimately, the city is not only about “us” and “them,” or the many serious problems created by cyclical poverty, class consciousness, and structural racialization, important as those issues may be. Rather, the city is fundamentally about our generative capacity for life together as we imagine and embody places that cultivate communities of belonging instead of exclusion. This cultivating work is central to the vocation of the church. However, before we can realize this vision of the city as a place for human flourishing, the ability to live with each other requires a particular kind of literacy of urban contexts.

Reading the City

Stated succinctly, the city is a cultural text. To see the city as a text simply means that its many facets and features need to be read and interpreted in order to understand its meaning. The art and science of interpreting cultural texts is a whole field of interdisciplinary discourse that cannot be summarized concisely,10 but for the sake of brevity, reading the city as a text essentially means paying close attention to both the whole and the parts of the urban environment as we observe and make sense of its significance. In the same way that a critically engaged reader of Scripture must utilize the tools of biblical exegesis to parse paragraphs, examine contextual details, and reflect on layered metanarratives, so must an astute reader of the city bring thoughtful, critical inquiry to the task of “urban exegesis.”11

Theologian Kevin Vanhoozer, in emphasizing the importance of cultural literacy, says that “Christians must learn to read the signs of the time. . . . Most of us learn to read and write. . . . What we do not learn, however, is cultural literacy: how to ‘read’ and ‘write’ culture. . . . The focus is on reading culture and involves critical engagement, not merely passive consumption.”12 Urban literacy begins with seeing the city as a complex cultural text loaded and layered with meaning. Rather than allowing ourselves to remain passive consumers of the city, dialogical engagement with the urban context calls all city-dwellers to recognize that “the city is a discourse and this discourse is truly a language: the city speaks to its inhabitants, we speak our city, the city where we are, simply by living in it, by wandering through it, by looking at it.”13

As we encounter and become conversant with the city as a cultural text, urban literacy helps us to know what we are looking for as we read and engage urban contexts. In my ongoing reading of the city, I consistently examine three interrelated descriptors of the urban environment: density, diversity, and disparity.14 Density describes the physical context of the built environment in the city, from both a structural and human perspective.15 Diversity describes the varied social context of the city, with an emphasis on race, ethnicity, class, and religion as elements of both social cohesion and division. Disparity describes the economic and political context of the city as density and diversity often work together to accentuate the stark contrasts of wealth and power with the poverty and marginalization that characterize the urban environment.

By overlaying these thematic descriptors on the city, certain spaces and places that rise to the surface accentuate the distinctly urban contours of the city. In other words, reading the city for these themes highlights the cultural texts that exemplify the convergence of density, diversity, and disparity. These cultural texts could be a particular neighborhood, a certain historical event, or a dynamic social movement. However, what matters most in reading these urban texts well is not only being able to interpret them in their particular urban contexts but also being able to “exegete” their meaning in a theological context. How do urban cultural texts help us to reflect on the nature of God, the identity of the church, and the mission of Christian community? The meaning that arises from this reflection is simultaneously social, ethical, and missiological in nature, and, like any complex text, is always multivalent in relationship with the hermeneutics of the reader.

The Columbia City Neighborhood

One such urban cultural text that has shaped a reading of my immediate community is the Columbia City Landmark District, a small but dense commercial area that serves as the social and economic hub of the neighborhood. Contained in a relatively short four-block stretch of Rainier Avenue South, right in the heart of Seattle’s Rainier Valley, the Columbia City Landmark District is on the National Register of Historic Places. Today, quaint storefronts and turn-of-the-century architecture frame each urban block in a seemingly innocuous restoration of this once dilapidated business district. Yet behind the trendy boutiques and new restaurants is a very particular history—one that connotes community pride and successful revitalization for some but class tensions and deep resentment for others. Whenever a neighborhood changes, there are always people on both sides of the change. Developers, investors, business owners, families, and residents interact in a complex, dynamic process that can shift the socioeconomic trajectory of a community, and sometimes evidence of these changes is inscribed in the physical geography of the built environment.

Angie’s Cocktails, a fixture of the “original” Columbia City, was a symbolic tavern of the old neighborhood. Described by some as a classic “dive bar,” Angie’s was a favorite watering hole of local clientele for decades, particularly among the African-American community. With as many surveillance cameras as there were barstools,16 regulars came to shoot pool and enjoy cheap drinks, but for many newcomers in the neighborhood, a few too many incidents of alleged criminal activity damaged the bar’s reputation beyond repair.17 Polarizing perspectives on the controversial bar had long fragmented the community.

In 2000, directly across the street from Angie’s, the opening of the Columbia City Ale House signaled the changing demographics of the community. Offering “fine ales and splendid food” according to their elaborate, full-service menu, the new Ale House catered to a growing population of hipsters and professionals with very different tastes than those of the regulars at Angie’s. Noticeably more upscale and attentive to aesthetics, the Ale House predictably attracts a customer base that is mostly white. And as one might naturally expect, the Angie’s and Ale House crowds do not mix.

To the casual observer, these two bars, one on the west side of Rainier Avenue and the other on the east, are divided by what would appear to be little more than fifty feet of asphalt and sidewalks. But locals know all too well that the cultural, socioeconomic, and historical distance is much greater. In this particular context, Rainier Avenue signifies an invisible boundary that segregates the gentrifiers and upwardly mobile professionals of the future from the humble, working class roots of the past. Both groups are working through these social tensions in the present, but they are doing so independently of one another and on either side of Rainier Avenue.

Despite cohabitating in this dense urban environment, the various barriers between the Angie’s and Ale House groups nearly invalidate their proximity. And as a microcosm of the larger Rainier Valley community, one of the most ethnically and socioeconomically diverse urban areas in the US,18 the apparently peaceful coexistence of people from different backgrounds does not necessarily lead to a truly multicultural community. Instead, in some cases, the density and diversity of Columbia City serves to exacerbate the socioeconomic disparity between various stratifications of the social order. While Southeast Asian immigrants and recently resettled East African refugees lament the closure of a small corner store that sells a seemingly odd combination of halal meats and garden-grown Asian herbs, white gentrifiers cheer the opening of a pricey, all-organic grocer offering artisan foods.

Given the multifaceted complexity of this kind of urban cultural text, what is the meaning—social, theological, or otherwise—of the city in this context? How does reading the city closely help us to make sense of the urban environment for the constructive purposes of cultivating communities of belonging and human flourishing?

Urban Theological Reflection

Noted Christian “urbanologist” Ray Bakke has often said that before we attempt to devise a missiology for the city, we need a theology of the city.19 Too often, eager pastors and practitioners equipped with the best of intentions have rushed to strategize about urban ministry programs without any robust ontology of the city. But how can we design and implement effective urban ministries without a theological understanding of what exactly the city is? Unfortunately, these strategic efforts often fall short due to any number of oversights and misunderstandings, ranging from unintentional cultural paternalism to an underestimation of the entrenched nature of structural challenges in urban systems.

In conjunction with Bakke’s merited admonition, it is also true that good missiology has a deep theological foundation in the identity of a sending God and the ecclesial community of a sent people. With its proper orientation around the missio Dei, urban missiology that takes the city seriously must first begin to unpack the theological—and therefore missiological—meaning of density, diversity, and disparity in the urban context.

This abbreviated urban contextual theology20 will simply trace the contours of density, diversity, and disparity by reflecting on the nature of place, neighbor, and community in the city. Each of these reflections is dialogical in nature in the sense that urban contexts do not dictate theological discourse in a systematic fashion. Instead, like all cultural texts, the city conveys a plurality of meanings, and the role of theological reflection is to enter into the discourse of the city with both contextual considerations of complex anthropological realities and a strong sense of the deep wells of the Christian tradition.

Density and Place

The particularities of the Columbia City neighborhood—its people, history, character, geography—reinforce the unique nature of place in the city. As people humanize urban space, it becomes a particular place in the same way that a family’s memories make the space of a house into a place called home. The full dimensionality of “place” is much more than the physical mechanics of geography or sensory perception of one’s surroundings.21 “ ‘Place’ is one of the trickiest words in the English language, a suitcase so overfilled one can never shut the lid. It carries the resonance of homestead, location, and open space in the city as well as a position in a social hierarchy.”22 Thus we can speak of physically “going to this or that place,” socially “knowing your place” in a relational context, and existentially “understanding our place in the world” all in the same sentence. A theology of place in the urban context must see this multifaceted nature of place as more than just theologically neutral territory.

Unfortunately, the concept of place in the frenetic urban environment of Western society is largely a pragmatic, consumer-driven idea often motivated by little more than comfort or convenience. The places where we live, work, worship, shop, and play reflect projected images of a class-conscious “lifestyle” with little to no awareness of the ethics of place, the patterns of structural inequality, or the politics of fear in the city. Urban density, it seems, is just so inconvenient and unappealing. Is it any surprise that our churches have largely departed from the city for greener pastures?

For the past two decades . . . we have been abandoning our strategic locations within city cores and traditional neighborhoods, and we have tried to create for ourselves a new kind of society in the form of suburban megachurches. And as individual Christians, we have marched right along with the rest of our culture and moved our homes outside of the urban core into the sanitized world of the suburbs. Even when we have not participated directly in this radical shift, we have come to view the particularities of functioning in the midst of the city (restricted parking, unsympathetic neighbors, and pushy transients) as inconveniences rather than as opportunities for ministry. . . . Unfortunately, if we were to take a hard look at how Christians in this country have come to view their cities, we would have to conclude that our views have not necessarily been shaped by the Bible, prayer, or meaningful discussions among fellow Christians. It might be more accurate to say that the fear of cities, or the fear of one another, or possibly the love of convenience has been the actual basis of much of our current perceptions about the city.23

Jacobsen’s conviction that the church has succumbed to fear and comfort over compassion and service is a timely critique for a self-focused, therapeutic Christianity. Generally viewed as a place of congestion, inconvenience, crime, and immorality, the urban context has too often become a place to avoid, not a place—as the prophet Jeremiah admonished exiled Israel— to “seek the peace (shalom) of the city” (Jer 29:7; author’s translation).

However, urban density is not only a problem to be solved, or an inconvenience to overcome. Density in the city confronts North American individualism and privacy and helps people to see that public places in the city, when truly shared and stewarded by a neighborhood, can help to cultivate communities of trust and mutual care. Density may force us to encounter “the Other” and to begin to see the imago Dei in all people in surprising and refreshing ways. Though segregation and fear persist in my neighborhood, there are also signs of hope. Columbia Park, built over an old dumping ground, is just two blocks from where Angie’s was recently closed. On a good day, it’s a place where people are moving from co-residents to becoming neighbors as children play together, families enjoy the farmers’ market, and friends gather to share a meal under the shade of an evergreen.

Diversity and Neighbor(ing)

“The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14; msg). Eugene Peterson’s well known paraphrase of this memorable introduction in the first chapter of John’s Gospel is more than just a clever rewording of this incarnational doctrine. That God chooses to dwell among us and become our neighbor is a powerful biblical metaphor that must inform our praxis as we strive to love our neighbors as ourselves. Though “neighbor” is traditionally a more static category of people, this theological concept of “neighboring” in the city is a dynamic verb of action and engagement.

In the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10, the passage opens with an abrupt interaction between Jesus and an expert in the law about what must be done to inherit eternal life. It is important to recognize that the qualification of faithfulness to the Shema (Deut 6:4-9) that is outlined by the lawyer and affirmed by Jesus is portrayed in an intentionally active light. The discussion is not merely theological and propositional; it is by definition connected to the concrete reality of neighboring in the world. “That the practice of God’s word is the central issue in this narrative unit is obvious from the repetition and placement of the verb ‘to do.’ . . . In this way the first segment of this unit (vv 25-28) is bound together with references to praxis.”24

The defensive question “And who is my neighbor?” that the lawyer poses to Jesus is one of justification and avoidance. But Jesus replies with a radical narrative of countercultural neighboring, one in which traditional cultural categories were shattered in favor of a different definition of neighbor. After the priest and the Levite had failed to intervene on behalf of the beaten man, “the audience may well have expected the third character in the story to be an Israelite layman, thereby giving an anti-clerical point to the
story. . . . Jesus, however, deliberately speaks of a member of a community hated by the Jews.”25

Jesus’ unexpected inclusion of a Samaritan in the story is a turn that surely would have shocked his listeners. Nonetheless:

What distinguishes this traveler from the other two is not fundamentally that they are Jews and he is a Samaritan, nor is it that they had high status as religious functionaries and he does not. What individualizes him is his compassion, leading to action, in the face of their inaction. . . . The parable of the compassionate Samaritan thus undermines the determination of status in the community of God’s people on the basis of ascription, substituting in its place a concern with performance, the granting of status on the basis of one’s actions.26

Over against all the other social and cultural identifiers at work in this context, compassionate action is what differentiates the Samaritan and defines him as a good neighbor.

That a nameless Samaritan—perceived as less than fully human by many first-century Jews—embodies a Christlike ethic of love and service to neighbor should call into question the ways in which racialization and class consciousness have accentuated the segregation of neighbors in the urban context. Diversity in the city is an opportunity for Christians to see the unique particularities of their neighbors as a vital, indispensable contribution to the wholeness of the community.

Angie’s and the Ale House represent disparate communities that are in fact bound to one another. Though race remains as a deeply problematic barrier in this context, the city can become a place where communities move “from exclusion to embrace.”27 Angie’s closure is in fact an opportunity for people in the neighborhood, especially those committed to the work of reconciliation, to create a new and hospitable place for neighboring together in friendship.

Disparity and Community

The ubiquity of socioeconomic disparity in the city has conditioned people to accept the stark contrasts between the rich and the poor (and the powerful and powerless) as inevitable, or perhaps even necessary. In Columbia City, residents in million-dollar homes look across the street at government-subsidized public housing, while wealthy, single professionals wait in line for groceries behind a family surviving on food stamps. Is this kind of disparity “just the way it has to be”?

If the church is to become a community of belonging both for and with its diverse neighbors in the urban context, then it must consider ethics of redistribution that effectively model care and concern for the poor. Unless the church is able to truly see the poor as neighbors to whom it is accountable, people will not understand the heart of the Prophets and the importance of economic justice for the marginalized in the eyes of God. Until the church is willing to see “poverty as a scandalous condition,”28 the community of faith will not fully grasp the deep compassion of YHWH revealed in the righteous anger of Amos, the indignant admonitions of Isaiah, and the somber laments of Jeremiah.

To be a Christian community that practices redistribution is not to adhere blindly to human models of economics that preclude private ownership or wield an authoritarian rule. Rather, to be a generous and hospitable Christian community is to seek the heart of God in the fair and equitable treatment of the poor so that the whole people of God, and not just those with economic means or political resources, will be able to live under the gracious care of a generous, reconciling God. The church must model this kind of community, especially in the urban context, where the exploitative market forces of gentrification and unrestrained capitalism too often run rampant, deepening socioeconomic disparities and trampling on the poor in the process.

A steadfast devotion to communal economic justice is perhaps the most prophetic and countercultural commitment the church can make in an age of unbounded hyper-consumerism. Becoming a community of redistribution flies in the face of a society where cutthroat social Darwinism, left to its own devices, would have us all chasing after “the wealth of nations”29 at any cost. Moreover, Christian redistribution is not simply about taking resources from the “hardworking haves” and giving them to the “nonworking have-nots”; quite to the contrary, it is about sharing that with which we have been entrusted as stewards and giving back “to God what is God’s” (Mark 12:13-17; niv).

As Columbia City continues to undergo significant economic changes with an influx of new wealth, questions about displacement of the poor are ongoing. In a neighborhood that has known socioeconomic disparity for much of its history, the role of the church as an inclusive, bridge-building community is increasingly important. Making room at the table and extending hospitality to those on the margins is the church’s Eucharistic offering to the city.

Conclusion

Density, diversity, and disparity in the city make for interesting urban reading. As critically engaged interpreters of cultural texts, the church must see the city in all of its complexity, brokenness, and beauty. It is important to remember that the ministry of place-making, reconciliation, and communal justice is always participatory and collaborative. We participate with the missio Dei as image bearers of the divine community, and we collaborate with our neighbors as co-learners. And along the way, the church in the city lives into its vocation as a called and sent people.

It is a healthy reminder:

Christianity entered history as a new social order, or rather a new social dimension. From the very beginning Christianity was not primarily a “doctrine,” but exactly a “community.” There was not only a “Message” to be proclaimed and delivered, and “Good News” to be declared. There was precisely a New Community, distinct and peculiar, in the process of growth and formation, to which members were called and recruited. Indeed, “fellowship” (koinonia) was the basic category of Christian existence.30

May the bold witness and compassionate care of the church continue to grow this fellowship into the city and beyond.

David Leong, PhD, is Assistant Professor of Missiology at Seattle Pacific University where he directs the Global and Urban Ministry Program in the School of Theology. He can be contacted at leongd@spu.edu.

Bibliography

Bakke, Raymond J. A Theology as Big as the City. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1997.

Barthes, Roland. “Semiology and the Urban.” In Rethinking Architecture: A Reader in Cultural Theory, edited by Neil Leach, 165–72. New York: Routledge, 1997.

Brueggemann, Walter. A Commentary on Jeremiah: Exile and Homecoming. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998.

Clay, Grady. Close-Up: How to Read the American City. New York: Praeger, 1974.

Conn, Harvie M., and Manuel Ortiz. Urban Ministry: The Kingdom, the City, & the People of God. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2001.

Florovsky, Georges. Christianity and Culture. Vol. 2 of Collected Works of Georges Florovsky. Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1974.

Gorringe, Timothy. A Theology of the Built Environment: Justice, Empowerment, Redemption. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002.

Green, Joel B. The Gospel of Luke. The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997.

Gutiérrez, Gustavo. A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation. Translated and edited by Caridad Inda and John Eagleson. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1973.

Harvey, David. Social Justice and the City. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 2009.

Hayden, Dolores. The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1995.

Hirsch, Alan. “Defining Missional.” Leadership Journal 29, no. 4 (Fall 2008), http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/2008/fall/17.20.html.

Inge, John. A Christian Theology of Place. Explorations in Practical, Pastoral, and Empirical Theology. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003.

Jacobsen, Eric O. Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith. The Christian Practice of Everyday Life. Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2003.

Leong, David P. Street Signs: Toward a Missional Theology of Urban Cultural Engagement. American Society of Missiology Monograph Series 12. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012.

Lewis, Mike. “Angie’s Keeps Columbia City’s ‘Essence’ Alive as Area Changes.” Seattle Post-Intelligencer, October 28, 2007.

Livermore, David A. Cultural Intelligence: Improving Your CQ to Engage Our Multicultural World. Youth, Family, and Culture. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009.

Marsh, Charles, and John M. Perkins. Welcoming Justice: God’s Movement Toward Beloved Community. Resources for Reconciliation. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2009.

Marshall, I. Howard. The Gospel of Luke: A Commentary on the Greek Text. New International Greek Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978.

Oakley, Allen. Marx’s Critique of Political Economy: Intellectual Sources and Evolution. International Library of Economics. London: Routledge, 1984.

Rainier Valley Historical Society. Rainier Valley. Images of America. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2012.

Short, John R. The Urban Order: An Introduction to Cities, Culture, and Power. Oxford: Blackwell, 1996.

Swanson, Judith A., and C. David Corbin. Aristotle’s Politics: A Reader’s Guide. Continuum Reader’s Guides. New York: Continuum, 2009.

UN Population Fund. “State of World Population 2007: Unleashing the Potential of Urban Growth.” New York: UNFPA, 2007.

Vanhoozer, Kevin J. “What is Everyday Theology? How and Why Christians Should Read Culture.” In Everyday Theology: How to Read Cultural Texts and Interpret Trends, edited by Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Charles A. Anderson, and Michael J. Sleasman, 15-61. Cultural Exegesis. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2007.

Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996.

The task or honor of teaching the Christian disciplines to those living in poverty is often avoided or met with cynicism. There is an underlying assumption that they are not capable of the higher order of thinking that is necessary to experience the profundity of these practices. It is, however, not only possible but also vital. Five topics for consideration—awareness of culture of the poor, relationship, appropriate language, story, and community—are discussed to assist in this endeavor.

Spiritual disciplines are exercises that usher one into God’s presence, where God then has the opportunity to transform our lives. Richard Foster brought these ancient practices back into popularity with his book Celebration of Discipline. In it he designates the internal disciplines of meditation, fasting, prayer, and study as well as the external disciplines of simplicity, solitude, submission, and service.1 Through these practices, we make ourselves available to God’s shaping. A transformed life is a gift from God, not something we can accomplish by our own efforts.

My journey teaching the disciplines to those in poverty began in my work with a nonprofit employment readiness program. It began with an eye-opening conversation with the executive director. She sat across the breakfast table from me and talked about the struggle she was having with her volunteers. “They are well-meaning and loving, but they talk over the heads of the students as if they weren’t there. Or they treat them as children, even though some of them are twice their age. There is also a lot of ‘us’ and ‘them’ language. Can you help them change their perceptions to be less discriminatory?”

I offered several training sessions to the staff on working with the poor. Many of these volunteers had little experience with this socioeconomic population. They were surprised to realize that some of their interaction with the poor was discriminatory. The director also asked me to share a discipline with the students—the process of Examen—a practice taught by Ignatius of Loyola. Shortly after I began consulting with this nonprofit, I was sitting in a residency for an extension program on leading contemplative prayer groups and retreats. It was a time of rich learning and deep experience with God. Yet all was not right. Having been introduced to the population in the nonprofit, I looked around at the other participants. They all looked like me. There was some ethnic diversity, but we certainly were in the same tax bracket. The program cost $4,000, and although churches sponsored some of the individuals, I knew the cost was out of reach to many. I again was seeing a form of discrimination. Those from the poor population were excluded. How could we open this wonderful opportunity to those in the lower income bracket? I had the opportunity because I had the means, and yet the need for the transforming experience of the disciplines reached beyond economic barriers.

As the title suggests, this article will address engaging the poor in Christian spiritual disciplines. The literature on the coupling of poverty and the disciplines suggests that, although not difficult, the disciplines are advanced teaching—profound and targeted for those with a higher educational level. It focuses attention on teaching these disciplines to those ministering to the poor. The practice of the disciplines encourages workers to lean on God for strength in the midst of ministries that are demanding and can lead to discouragement and burnout. Thankfully, the gap is closing, as there is an increase in programming that offers spiritual formation to those in poverty. We are all in dire need of encouragement. Regardless of socioeconomic level, we need avenues to let go of our heavy burdens and lean into God’s loving embrace. The challenge lies not in the lack of receptivity, but in the perception of those who might teach as well as the manner in which they do so. In order, therefore, to consider teaching the Christian disciplines to those in poverty, I offer the following topics for consideration: the relevance of the disciplines for the poor, an awareness and respect for the culture of the poor, a focus on relationships, appropriate language, the role of story, and the importance of community.

Relevance of disciplines for the poor

It would appear that many do not think the poor capable of practicing Christian disciplines. As with the above-mentioned nonprofit staff, they are often relegated to a “less-than” status, viewed as childlike, incompetent, or uninterested. Teaching that is offered may be limited to the requirement of chapel attendance in order to receive a meal or regular attendance at a bible study or church service. But the in-depth experience of being in an intimate relationship with God is saved for those who are in a better financial situation.

The assumption that the poor are not capable of spiritual disciplines finds some support in the theory of Abraham Maslow. Maslow offers a hierarchy of needs that has had a significant influence on Western perception.2 The hierarchy suggests that until a person’s basic needs are met, they cannot rise to higher-order thinking—the abstract thinking necessary for spiritual thoughts and ideas. This would necessitate that a person must be clothed, sheltered, fed, and secure before they have the ability to be insightful and retrospective. Although beneficial in encouraging the addressing of needs, this theory has been used in a subtle way to encourage classism. There are many who do not fit this hierarchy; artists like Rembrandt or Van Gogh, or the many self-actualized in large poor countries like India. Those who have participated in a mission trip to a majority-world country have experience that confirms this critique. They have seen the hunger for a relationship with a personal Lord in many who have few earthly possessions. Unfortunately, this theory continues to influence those who work with the poor. The belief is that one needs first to lift them out of poverty, and then they can delve into the depths of spiritual life.

Jesus was not bound by this perception. There are many examples in the Gospels of Jesus offering deep teaching to those who had little in the way of material possessions. In Matthew 5-7, Jesus spends the day on the side of a mountain offering some of his most profound teaching to a poor population. He ends the day by feeding them—expressing concern that they might grow faint from lack of food. He did not wait until they were fed to address their spiritual needs. He offered spiritual sustenance that would carry them in and through their difficult physical lives.

Many have followed the example of Jesus in meeting the spiritual needs as well as the physical needs of those in poverty. William Creed, SJ, founded the Ignatian Spirituality Project in response to the need of the homeless for spiritual guidance.3 He began offering retreats to this population that combined the spiritual exercises of Ignatius of Loyola with the Alcoholics Anonymous twelve-step program. They address both homelessness and issues of recovery by focusing attention on the third step of AA—placing one’s dependence on God. What he began in Chicago is now offered in many cities across the nation. People are being transformed as they learn to center their lives on God and his kingdom. The success of this project speaks to the spiritual need that it meets.

I have personal experience regarding the relevancy of the disciplines for the students in the above-mentioned employment readiness program. The program targets the unemployed and underemployed, many of whom come from generational poverty. For several years, I led each class in the process of Examen. Examen, or examination of consciousness, is a process taught by St. Ignatius of Loyola as a part of the spiritual exercises.4 This was offered in the first couple of weeks of each cohort and was quickly embraced by all the students. It gave them an opportunity to share their blessings and their struggles and pray for each other. Although most were living chaotic lives, they were able to let go of that in order to invite God into these struggles and to praise God for their blessings.

Awareness and respect for the culture of the poor

The second topic for consideration when teaching the disciplines to those in poverty is that, in general, there are differences between the values of the poor and those of the middle class. Recognizing this allows an attitude of respect for the strengths of each socioeconomic class. Ruby Payne, an educator in the inner city of Houston, brought national attention to this issue.5 She found that the pedagogy she was using was not as effective with children living in poverty as with those coming from middle-class homes. In order to address this problem, she looked at the differences in these contexts and articulated an understanding of the cultural differences of the socioeconomic levels. She stated that when one is in the midst of a culture (i.e., poverty, middle class, or wealth), there are values of the culture that are invisible to that individual. The cultural values must be made overt in order to recognize them.

Her intent was to assist educators in recognizing that their values may not be applicable to a poor student’s socioeconomically shaped culture. However, the student’s own values may still be worthy of respect. This is similar to the experience of being in a foreign culture. Perceptions vary in other cultures about food, money, relationships, possessions, and many other aspects of life. Yet, one can still have respect for them. Thus in working with the poor, a person from a middle class context can see characteristics of generational poverty as cultural differences and treat them as such. Without this insight, generalizations may be applied to all people in poverty rather than the few to whom they apply. Common generalizations are that those living in poverty are lazy, manipulative, or taking advantage of the system. Although Payne’s work is anecdotal in nature, her contribution is to spotlight the unrealized biases from which one may operate. Further research is necessary to substantiate her claims.

Respect also is important at the individual level. Often society—including those in the church—offers the poor the dregs. Holding a person in respect is manifest in the way they are treated. For example, the LaSalle Street Church in Chicago reaches out to the homeless through a ministry they call “Breaking Bread.”6 Through this ministry, they show value to the homeless through the way they treat them. They invite them as family to the table. Real plates and silverware are used and the church serves these guests to a sit-down meal. This is the entrée into the church, but it goes further in the depth and intimacy into which they invite the homeless. The church integrates them into the church life and expects them to fully participate.

The implication is that the poor have something to offer the body. And of course they do. They certainly do not have the material distractions that can get between them and God. I had the privilege of teaching a course on disciplines of Christian living at the Tennessee Prison for Women. It was a course with fifteen inmates and fifteen traditional undergraduate students. Some of the women inmates (or “inside students” as we called them) had a depth of faith and intimacy with God that was inspiring. They had nothing else to cling to, so they learned to cling to God.

Appropriate language

Despite the rich depth of the Christian disciplines, they are in reality simple ways to connect with God. Along with the awareness and respect for the culture, a third topic of discussion is that one must have the ability to speak the language of the population. One would not use difficult foreign language or illustrations if in a different culture, and one should not use complex, specialized language with a group of people who typically are poorly educated or even illiterate.

We again turn to Jesus and his example of teaching deep theological concepts to the poor. He used their language and taught by referring to common everyday events. Lessons were taught by talking about a sower who went out to sow, a man on Jericho road, a rich man and his tenant, or a widow with a mite to offer at the temple. The people understood these situations and could relate to the lessons imbedded in them. This same method is applicable to working with the poor today. They certainly are not all uneducated, but the vast majority is, and it is important to make the teaching simple and relevant to their everyday experience.

John Hayes, director of InnerChange Ministries,7 uses curriculum that is present-oriented. He states that if they speak about the past, it is disregarded. If too much about the future, it can be dismissed or feed into the sense of hopelessness pervasive among those in poverty. They focus on Jesus and the Gospel writings. In addition, they have found that they must encourage action as well as reflection. The listeners invest in the teaching if they are encouraged to be introspective and incorporate what they hear into their lives.8

Another example of keeping language simple is to use common everyday expressions to explain many of the classic spiritual disciplines. One can talk of “listening prayer” or “listening to God” rather than use the language of contemplative prayer. Or when teaching the aforementioned Ignatian process of Examen, the teacher can speak of sharing the “highs and lows” of the day rather than the consolations and desolations. More complex language can gradually be introduced if there is a reason to do so, but it is more important that the words used to discuss a discipline do not discourage its use.

A focus on relationships

The fourth topic for consideration when teaching the Christian disciplines to those in poverty is that one must be attuned to the importance of being in relationship with students. Payne suggests those in poverty value relationships above everything else.9 A person living in poverty may think, “If the rent is due tomorrow and my sister needs money, I will give my rent money to her.” People are the highest priority. This behavior may appear to be irresponsible to someone from another socioeconomic class, but in reality, it is a variance in values.

Teachers must establish friendships in order to move into a teaching or sharing relationship. Furthermore, the friendship must be valued in its own right rather than as a means to teach. One should not view the person in poverty as a project to salve an uneasy conscience. Many churches like the idea of reaching out to the marginalized until it moves beyond theory. The question must be asked, “Can I open my circle of friends to include a person living in poverty?” The book Same Kind of Different as Me shares the relationship of Denver, a man who was homeless, and Ron, an international art dealer.10 Ron’s wife brought him into the relationship and he was unsure of what he was getting into. He soon developed a liking for Denver and wanted to pursue the friendship. At the beginning of their interaction, however, Denver asked Ron if he was in the relationship for the long haul or if it was just “catch and release.” He was not interested in investing his time or energy if Ron was going to walk away when he lost interest. When one has little else, the people in one’s life are highly valuable.

Being in relationship with another is inherent in the Ignatian Spirituality Project and their offerings. The staff spends time with participants in various venues. They select individuals to attend a daylong or overnight retreat and lead them through the spiritual exercises and the twelve steps. This is followed by an invitation to monthly groups that meet on an ongoing basis. They take pains to ensure that participants have every opportunity to attend. The staff offers rides, the day is scheduled on the same day every month, and contact information is updated at each meeting to keep up with the transitional life styles of those in poverty. The participants and staff form deep friendships.

The deep friendships come as a surprise to many who begin working with those in poverty. One quickly moves from a superior perspective to the recognition that they are gaining as much as or more than their students. Staff develop an appreciation for the richness of these individuals who were also made in God’s image. And as in other relationships, there can be disappointments. If one goes into a relationship with the expectation of gratitude or repayment of the gift of friendship, one may become disillusioned. The friendship does not negate the chaos and coping skills that have developed in the individual’s difficult life. One must enter the friendship with an open heart and give freely of oneself.

My husband, Randy, walked alongside a woman for many years. She was hardened, tough beyond her years, and looked much older than she was. He and some others set her up in an apartment and helped her get established. Yet, she was very difficult to be in relationship with. She would periodically disappear for months at a time and then call needing help out of a difficult situation. Those who befriended her learned to accept her as she was and offer their friendship without strings attached.

Significance of story

The fifth topic is that of the value of story telling. Oral tradition is important to those of lower socioeconomic status, again due to low levels of education and illiteracy. The ability to entertain others through one’s words is highly respected. After years of trial and error, InnerChange Ministries learned to recognize the value of story and developed a way to use it in working with those living on the streets. They use story intentionally at several levels. First, they start with the individual’s story. They listen, learn, and highlight aspects of the story that the storyteller may not see. This is similar to a counseling technique called Narrative Therapy. The therapist listens to a person as they explain their story through a problem-saturated lens. As a person outside the story, the therapist is able to hear and accent parts of the story that are positive. The client is so close to their situation and so discouraged that they cannot see the victories and the strengths inherent in their story. So it is with Hayes and his ministry team. They hear aspects of the person’s story that offer a much broader picture—both negative and positive. As people outside the person’s life, they can see through a different lens and, as believers, they can see how God has been working in the life of the individual.

Next, InnerChange Ministries’ approach invites the poor to see themselves as part of God’s story—as part of something bigger than themselves. The staff has a familiarity with the individual’s personal story, so they can make a connection to both the biblical narrative and especially that of the gospel. This necessitates the inclusion of the spiritual history of the community in the story. Focus can be given to both the overt spiritual history of local churches and Christians and to the manner in which God works through the goodness of community members. Including this history demonstrates how God has been working throughout the years and invites them into the effort. Not only does this offer the individual the opportunity to learn of their significance in the eyes of God, but it moves the story of God from that of institutional religion to a personal, relevant offering.

Community

The final issue to address when teaching the disciplines to those in poverty is that of community. Community is similar to the topic of being in relationship but it does have unique characteristics worth mentioning.

In the employment readiness program mentioned at the beginning of the article, the students found in their cohort a healthy community. For some of them it was the first they had experienced. As graduation drew near each semester, the students from most cohorts expressed concern about losing this vital link to their new way of being. They feared that if they went back into their old communities, they would return to their former lifestyle. The director of the nonprofit worked very hard to offer them opportunities to stay connected with their new community.

This also comes into play when offering the disciplines to those who live in poverty. The communal nature of the teaching offers a support group for learning and an opportunity to wrestle with unfamiliar ideas and experiences. The Ignatian Spirituality Project views community as a key to their success. They keep their retreats small, limiting them to twelve to allow for transparency and intimacy. The members hold each other accountable, taking each other to task when they are not honest. They also offer each other a forum for confessing their spiritual struggles and for working through the exercises.

Steven Hebbard is another who has found community to be central in teaching the poor.11 He founded the Karpophoreō Project, a communal garden, in Austin, Texas. The Greek word comes from Colossians 1:6 and means “bearing fruit in every good work.” The project brings ministry staff alongside those from the neighborhood to raise the garden. People in the neighborhood soon realize that Steven and the others are worthy of their trust. The staff uses the gardening to teach spiritual lessons and invites the participants to worship with them. They offer an example of bearing both literal and spiritual fruit through communal experience.

Grace Episcopal Church in Allentown, Pennsylvania, chose to stay in the inner city as their neighborhood declined, while many of the other area churches fled to the suburbs.12 All but a few of the members drive past other churches on their way in to worship and fellowship. They work in collaboration with the residents of the neighborhood to provide a food closet, AIDS service center, GED classes, and other services. They know they are needed, so they are committed to staying. The neighbors are open to participating in the liturgy of the worship because of the church’s social action. The two depend on one another, and none of it would be possible without the culture of solidarity that has grown up in their unusual community.

Conclusion

Teaching the disciplines to the poor is a task worthy of our efforts. We approach this opportunity with recognition that those in poverty have a deep hunger to be in relationship with God. We use appropriate language and understand that we may see the world through a different socioeconomic lens. And we offer relationship and community to those we are teaching. This is more than a casual message; it is about sharing in the kingdom together. Teachers soon discovers that they are receiving much more than they are offering. The experience is richer for the mutual learning.

Jackie L. Halstead, PhD, LMFT, is the Director of Programming for the Institute for Christian Spirituality and an Associate Professor of Spiritual Formation at Lipscomb University in Nashville, Tennessee.  She teaches courses in spiritual formation, Christian disciplines, and the life of the minister. Jackie’s doctorate is in Marriage and Family Therapy. She specializes in working with clergy and their families. Jackie speaks on the national and international levels on topics of spiritual formation, relationships, and mental health. She can be reached at jackie.halstead@lipscomb.edu.

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