During my stay in Kabul, the Afghan-Turk NGO graciously arranged office space for me to use when I was not teaching. My officemate was an Afghan man in his early 50s.

When my friend introduced me to my Afghan officemate, he said, "Thomas, please meet Mr. Siraji, a key part of the Aghan-Turk staff. Mr. Siraji was a member of the Mujahideen. He was one of the youngest jihadists fighting against the Russians. But don't worry, Thomas. He has come down from the mountain, he has shaved his beard, and he is MOSTLY civilized now!"

With that, Mr. Siraji let out a huge belly laugh and reached out to embrace me in an equally massive bear hug. With a grin on his face, he said, "Welcome, my American brother!" Everyday thereafter, my Mujahideen brother, as I came to address him, greeted me with the same joyous warmth--often in the context of one of those bear hugs.

A day after meeting Mr. Siraji, I met another member of the Afghan-Turk NGO administrative team: Mr. Hafiz, also in his early 50s if I had to guess. My friend introduced him by saying, "Thomas, Mr. Hafiz is an Afghan who completed his undergraduate degree in the former Soviet Union. He earned his masters degree at the Kremlin and is our resident communist." Mr. Hafiz chuckled and offered me a kind greeting.

Mr. Siraji, "my Mujahideed brother," was standing nearby as Mr. Hafiz and I were introduced. He began playfully teasing Mr. Hafiz, whom I began addressing as "my communist brother," about their respective ideological differences. It was unclear to me if they still hold some of those ideological differences or if they were only teasing about things from their past. In many respects, it does not matter.

What does matter is that these two Afghan men, from very different backgrounds and on opposite sides of a major war, now work together to help young people in their country find a better way through quality education and by learning respect for those who are different.

We've been hard at work creating new videos! This week, Rick Love talks about the presence of common grace in all cultures and nations of our world - despite the reality of total depravity and human sinfulness.

See more Peace Catalyst videos on our YouTube channel.

Bald Heads on a Chilly Kabul Morning

On day three of my 15-day seminar, some of the Turkish and Afghan teachers greeted me with a major surprise. Kabul in January can be quite cold, and there was quite a bit of snow on the ground outside as we gathered at 8:00am in a chilly classroom for the start of our day's work.

Before I could get the instruction underway, several of the teachers gathered around me, still wearing their stocking caps. One of them, a dear Afghan gentleman in his 40s, exclaimed, “Teacher, teacher, we have a surprise for you!” (The teachers insisted on addressing me as “teacher” as a cultural sign of respect, despite that fact that we are all about the same age.)

As I inquired about the surprise, about six of the male teachers ripped off their caps to reveal cleanly shaven bald heads. As the classroom roared with laughter, the newly bald teachers explained that they took razors to their heads as an act of solidarity and respect for me and my shiny head. They succeeded, as I was indeed honored!

Here's a class photo, taken about ten days after the teachers had shaved their heads:

Turkish Educators Loving Sacrificially

In the Afghan-Turk NGO, a good percentage of the teachers are Turks. They are young professionals, mostly in their 30s and 40s, with spouses and children. No doubt, each of these families could have stayed in Turkey to earn more income and to live with a greater sense of normalcy and security. Instead, however, they have chosen to do the hard thing—to live and serve in a war-torn country where life can be extra challenging, where they are foreigners, and where their children sometimes suffer.

For example, one teacher new to Afghanistan lamented that there are no parks in which his kids can play, and he said this makes him “feel sad for my children.” Other teachers noted that relatives in Turkey said things like, “you’ll get shot if you go there” and pled with them to choose a more sensible and safe place to live and work. (These stories of suffering children and of the protests of relatives back home reminded me, in every way, of my own experiences as an American Christian with a young family living and serving in another part of the world.)

So, in light of the obstacles and risks, why do these Turkish Muslim educators choose to ply their trade in Afghanistan? After many hours getting to know some of these teachers and hearing their hearts, the answer is clear to me. More than anything, they want to honor God with their lives, and they believe that the best way to do that is by laying down their lives to help others—in this case thousands of Afghan children who are receiving quality education and who are learning core values rooted in basic human rights.

This is the third in Thomas Davis's series, Stories from Afghanistan. If you missed the previous posts or just want to read them again, you can find them here: A Journey of Faith and Friendship and When God Ran. 

Fear, Love, and Friendship

In my work with Peace Catalyst International, one of the really important things we do is introduce people from very different backgrounds and perspectives. We proactively create space for Muslims, Jews, Christians, and others with real differences to engage in real dialogue and begin building real friendship.

As I ponder this bridge-building work, I am often reminded of the admonition of John, perhaps Jesus’s closest friend. John wrote that “there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18, ESV). The inverse seems to hold true as well in that fear appears to push out love. Thus, fear and love are like oil and water—they do not mix.

Unfortunately, I see this regularly as I encounter “Christians” who are so gripped by fear and even hatred of Muslims that they have no capacity for love. In most cases, this fear is of the baseless, irrational variety—the kind of fear we are all prone to conjure up when we cloister with those from “our tribe” and work tirelessly to cast those from “the other tribe” in the worst possible light. My Muslim friends tell me that there is the same propensity among Muslims to believe the worst about Christians.

The encouraging news is that a growing number of Christians, Muslims, and others are recognizing the problem and working to overcome it—expressly by finding whatever excuses they can to get to know one another. As this happens, stereotypes are crushed, irrational fear turns into respect and even love, and people with very real and evident differences discover they have far more in common than they ever could have imagined.

In short, these very different people humanize one another, build friendship on the common ground of our humanity, and learn to talk about differences and share deep matters of the heart in the context of that friendship.

With that, I’d like to help you get to know my dear Afghan and Turkish friends in Kabul by sharing some random experiences and observations from my recent visit there. As you know if you have read previous posts in this series, the Afghan-Turk Educational NGO is a Muslim non-profit focused on education projects throughout Afghanistan, and they flew me in to train some of their teachers and to explore additional avenues of partnership.

To help you get to know my friends, I have written five brief accounts of various experiences I had in Kabul. I will share one below and will post each of the remaining vignettes on subsequent days this week. It is my hope that what follows will offer you a glimpse into the lives and the hearts of my Muslim friends in Kabul and that in some way you will see yourself in them and in their stories.

Teachers Fighting in Kabul--Armed with Snowballs

During my last week in Kabul, I awoke one morning to a fresh snow covering of about eight inches. As my students and I were beginning our early morning class session, we heard a very loud thud. Looking toward the sound, we saw the remnants of a massive snowball that had struck (and nearly cracked, I'm sure) our classroom window.

About 20 feet beyond the window stood Mr. Gurkan, a veteran educator who was co-teaching the 15-day seminar with me. Mr. Gurkan had a smirk on his face that my students, experienced educators from Turkey and Afghanistan, could not ignore.

Desperate to rush outside to respond appropriately to their challenger and yet committed to being respectful of me, they jumped from their seats, ran toward me, and all at once exclaimed something like, "Teacher, PLEASE may we go outside to attack Mr. Gurkan?" As soon as I consented, the classroom emptied into the parking lot, where a ferocious but all-in-good-fun snowball war ensued!

More from Thomas Davis can be found on his personal blog.

Today we'd like to share another of our new videos with you. In today's video, Rick Love speaks about an important resource that every peacemaker and everyone committed to Christian-Muslim relations should be aware of: the Grace & Truth Project.

For more Peace Catalyst videos, visit our YouTube channel.

Recently I have noticed a lot of bumper stickers promoting “co-existence," like this one:

As a "recovering evangelical," I know how most evangelicals feel about co-existence – it is compromise. We need to win people to Christ, not co-exist! But what if people don’t want to follow Christ? Then what do we do?

It seems to me that co-existing with different races, religions, and ideologies challenges us to pursue peace.

Jesus said that peacemakers will be called “children of God” (Matthew 5:9). And how should God’s children respond to diversity? A 21st century adaptation of this verse might read like this: “Blessed are those who help a divided and different world co-exist, for they shall be called the children of God.”

And in case you haven’t noticed, we are in the midst of a radical demographic shift in our country. The colors and creeds of our neighborhoods are changing. Pluralism is on the rise. The United States is one of the most religiously and ethnically diverse countries in the world. We live in an increasingly multi-cultural world. So co-existence is not compromise. It is a necessity!

But I must admit that co-existing still falls short of Jesus’s strong emphasis on loving one’s neighbor. Instead of mere co-existence, we need to work toward the common good. Seeking the common good is another way of talking about loving my neighbor, doing justice, and pursuing peace. Seeking the common good pursues human flourishing for all. It describes how personal faith intersects with public life. 

God commands us to seek the common good of everyone.

“Seek the welfare (shalom) of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf; for in its welfare (shalom) you will have welfare (shalom)” (Jeremiah 29:7).

“You are the light of the world…Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14, 16).

 

“In everything, therefore, treat people the same way you want them to treat you, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 7:12).

 

“Always seek after that which is good for one another and for all people” (1 Thessalonians 5:15).

During a time of Q&A at a recent Love Your Neighbor Dinner, a man named Ahmad asked, “Do all Christians around the world really believe that love of God and neighbor is that important?”

I thought for sure Ahmad’s question was merely theological. He wanted to make nice, to talk about important-sounding topics that never impact real lives.

But he pursued me, and so we ate dinner together. “Rick,” he said, “I asked that question for practical reasons. My family has been warmly welcomed in our neighborhood. Our neighbors treat us well. But what bothers me is that one of our neighbors is a known for being a dedicated Christian, yet he is the least friendly of all our neighbors. That’s why I asked the question. My Christian neighbor does not love us. The non-believing neighbors make us feel more welcome.”

Wow! A supposedly devout Christian was the worst neighbor on the block. How sad, but how typical of far too many Christians!

I want all people to follow Christ. So I appreciate the evangelical emphasis on wanting to convert people (although God is the one who converts people – a great topic for another blog). But I am grieved by a fearful and hostile mentality that assumes conflict, rejects co-existence, and doesn’t even consider seeking the common good.

I think Jesus would like us to take His teaching more seriously. Can we get beyond the conversion-conflict categories and model co-existence and the common good? Can we get to know the people around us - without our only agenda being to convert them? Can we actually reach out to and love our literal neighbor -  the one who lives in a house 20 feet away? Can we serve the poor to model who Jesus is - without expectation of anyone even ever noticing? I bet we will even find that this kind of lifestyle will lead to good will, which will open hearts to the good news.

“You Christians have an image problem,” my Turkish friend told me. We had been meeting for several weeks: six couples and a single friend, Christians and Muslims, sharing meals and our respective faiths. We had developed a level of trust and respect that allowed us to speak openly.

He went on. “I have learned that at the core of Christianity is the love of Christ. Your message for the world is the love of Christ – I get that. I have learned that from getting to know all of you. I did not think that before I came to America and met people like you. I was not taught that. Now, when I return to Turkey, I will tell people that true Christians are known for their love. It is core to your faith, but there is a problem. When I tell my Muslim friends that Christians are good people who love God, they will not believe me. They will say ‘Look at their government and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Look at how they live. How they support injustice and imperialism around the world.’ They won’t believe me! You Christians have an image problem.”

The Christians and Muslims in that room have gotten past the stereotypes. We love each other, and we trust each other. We would sacrifice for each other. We will look out for the interests of each other. We still disagree on some crucial issues concerning the identity of Jesus, but in this deep friendship we have shared from our hearts. When all is said and done, we are good friends. People could tell me that Muslims are bent on war and destruction, and I would say, “Not the ones I know.” People will probably tell my Turkish friend that Christians are bent on war and greedy for money and power; I think my friends will defend us.

I don’t know how someone can say, “There are no moderate Muslims.” That assumes the worst of one and a half billion people. Generalities are usually wrong. We really must stop talking about the “evil other” and start building friendships and understanding so these stereotypes can be dismantled. Name-calling is just the lazy man’s way of saying, “I’m better than those people.” Well, at least some of the world is not buying the rhetoric.

I was reflecting on what my Muslim friend had said about Christianity having an image problem. In truth, Islam also has an image problem. Muslims like to say that Islam is a religion of peace, but most American Christians would not agree. They would cite revolutions, dictators, or oppression of the church in some part of the world and say, “You call that peace?”

It seems to be human nature to compare our best to their worst. “Apples to apples” is hard to come by in a polarized dispute. Christians reading this may dismiss the charge that we have an image problem by comparing themselves to the western stereotypical image of Islam, but we are called to compare ourselves to the perfection of Jesus, not Islam. Remember Jesus, who on the cross did not call down heaven’s legions for protection but rather loved and forgave. Remember Jesus, who when rejected by the Samaritans rebuked his disciples who wanted to rain down fire on their “enemies.” Remember Jesus who said, “No more of this!” when Peter drew his sword in the garden. Remember Jesus, who told Pilate that if his Kingdom were the type that Pilate knew, Jesus’ servants would fight. Remember Jesus, who said we should love even our enemies. Jesus showed us a new way to respond to others: it is the way of love. That is the image we want. They will know we are Christians by our love. If we have lost that witness, that reputation of love, our words become clanging cymbals.

Over the last 20 years, I’ve lived in Muslim countries and visited many other Muslim countries. I’ve met Muslims from all over the world, studied in a Muslim university, and have many Muslim friends. I am not naïve, but neither do I continue to live in fear of the stereotypes. All men, Christians and Muslims, are subject to prejudices and fears, which cause them to act in irrational, ungodly ways. There are many Muslims and Christians that are so sure of their opinions that they feel justified in discriminating against others who don’t see things as they do. A new Muslim friend of mine refuses to return the traditional greeting of peace to me when we meet. He probably assumes I cannot really have peace unless I am a Muslim. It is a little bit aggravating. It seems arrogant and self-righteous to me. But then I think of Jesus’ teaching to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” and it makes me more determined to treat all people with dignity and respect. Nearly all of my encounters with Muslims are very friendly. Even the man who is refusing to give me peace is standing on some theological principle that he does not feel he should violate. He is nice, just insulting. Perhaps he is hoping I will see the error of my ways by his stance for “truth.” So far it is not working.

So if Christianity and Islam both have “image problems” and both sides claim they are being misrepresented, doesn’t it make sense that we should be talking to each other and sorting this out? Haven’t we had enough books and hateful posts misrepresenting the views of each other? There are significant differences between Christians and Muslims. People have died for the sake of their respective religions, but there are also fabricated differences exasperated by centuries of conflict and the avoidance of each other. We can fix a lot of this if we will “seek peace and pursue it.” James teaches us that, “Those who sow in peace will raise a harvest of righteousness.” If we want righteousness, peace is the soil into which we need to be sowing. Let’s do our part to prepare the soil.

The following piece was written by PCI's Nathan Elmore and recently published in the Richmond Times-Dispatch. 

As daylight blurred into nightfall, I sat quietly in a plane on a runway flanked by desert in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I was nearing the completion of a long trip from Washington, D.C. to Muscat, the capital of Oman—a country occupying the southeastern part of the Arabian Peninsula. This American—a collage of Texas and Ohio, with a bit of Illinois, Oregon, South Carolina and Virginia thrown in—was bracing to begin a two-week graduate seminar in Christian-Muslim relations at Al Amana Centre in Muscat.

Having been moved to the exit row for the Riyadh-Muscat flight, I settled nicely into my comfortable chair—right next to the man from Salalah.

A casually dressed Omani, he was young, in his 20s. He spoke English fluently. As it turned out, he was on his way home from Iowa, where he taught Arabic at a small liberal arts college. The cultural symmetry was hard not to appreciate: American heartland, Muslim heartland. After we eventually parted ways in Muscat, he would finish his even longer trip by flying the final leg to his beloved Salalah, a port city near the southern tip of Oman.

Before 9/11, in his book A History of Christian-Muslim Relations, Hugh Goddard proposed that because of migration, travel and technology the question of how Christianity relates to other religions would surface as the preeminent theological question facing Christians in the early 21st century. Goddard was right on so many levels. At 30,000 feet, for instance, the incessant intra-Christian debates on the finer points of Calvin’s esteemed doctrines or on the ordination of women do not appear front-and-center. What is pressing is this: How do you talk to the man from Salalah?

As the plane taxied for takeoff in Riyadh, I channeled Dorothy and that fabled Land of Oz. Once in the air, though, it was Rowan Williams who came to mind. The outgoing Archbishop of Canterbury has recently reminded the Christian church at-large that not only is this geography the birthplace of Islam but also it is in the vicinity of the origins of Christianity. In America, in particular, it seems a thousand times more likely that we’d forget that the Christian faith was born in the East, not in the West.

By now, the man from Salalah and I were suspended among the clouds, engaged in a wide-ranging conversation. Yet between him and me hung an obvious haze of modern global politics—not to mention the relentless myth-making about a clash of civilizations and notions of cultural superiority. The truth is this: in Christian-Muslim relations, a varied and textured history of constructive intercultural exchange exists among the periodic outbursts of turbulence.

Here was a man from Salalah, for example, an Arab Muslim, contributing to the educational mission of a college in Iowa. All the while, and rather ironically, he may or may not know (as we may or may not know) that our Western concept of “the university”—with its department “chairs,” “academic circles,” and “degrees”—is indebted to Muslims and to early Medieval Islamic culture in centers like Cairo. Surely this is even more surreal than sitting in a chair in the sky.

I asked him about his hometown. What he began to describe was a beautiful city framed by jagged mountains and the ubiquitous desert. Honestly, I had read as much in my basic preparations for Oman. What I did not know—what the man from Salalah told me—was that his city, due to its location along the Arabian Sea, goes lush green in the summers—the result of the monsoon season called khareef. He spoke for a while about the array of fruits and vegetables grown in and around Salalah.

For a peninsula known for its harsh environments, physical and religious, here was a delightful surprise: they grow bananas in Arabia! From the perspective of this American Christian, the analogy seemed clear: Even when you know a little about Islam or Muslims or Muslim culture, there is still more to be discovered in person.

My new acquaintance carried the conversation further. Salalah, he said, is the de facto capital of frankincense—that ancient spice for which kings would travel the world, and not by plane. And what is the strongest association that a new-world Christian maintains regarding this spice? Whether those Magi who came bearing gifts to Jesus were actually from Persia or Arabia, either way, they most likely got their frankincense from this city, or region, which would eventually send Iowa an Arabic teacher in 2011. Only Jesus himself could’ve predicted this development.

Right before we said our good-byes, a lasting metaphor arrived. When you sit beside someone in the exit row of a plane, it’s very natural and quite important to give at least some thought to the passenger responsibilities at hand, right? These are genuinely serious matters, indeed.

Likewise, for good-will Christians and Muslims, there is so much—locally and globally—for which we desperately need to take individual and collective responsibility. Encountering the man from Salalah, I was starkly reminded: we must persist, against the odds, in pursuing mutual responsibility alongside each other. And, as ever, Christians and Muslims do so across our formidable barriers and precisely in spite of our resilient differences.

More from Nathan can be found on his personal blog.

The sound byte helps us wade through the torrent of data bombarding us. It aids us in finding the right info in a glut of information. But sound byte theology has its limitations…

Over the last few weeks I have been in numerous conversations with people who responded to my teaching with a repetitive refrain: “But what about this verse?” they asked. I believe that we live “by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.” So I think it is important to engage one another over what the Bible teaches. I want to know about those other verses (in case I haven’t thought about them).

But I get tired of “my verse is better than your verse” kind of thinking. In every one of my recent discussions, the verse they shared complemented or supplemented what I taught. But they acted as if their favorite verse somehow overruled what I taught. Their verse negated my verse. (Or so they thought).

As a peacemaker, I am concerned that certain theological sound bytes and either/or thinking actually undermine the Bible’s clear teaching about peacemaking. Let me show you how three important biblical truths are often used to trump three other important biblical truths.

1. The Great Commission Trumps the Great Commandments.

In the name of the Great Commission, too many Christians downplay the great commandments. We feel that our only job is to share the gospel, and we somehow forget three hugely important truths.

First, the Great Commission says we are to teach others “to obey all that Jesus commanded” (Matthew 28:19). Following Jesus involves obeying his commands, chief of which is the call to love.

Second, the Great Commission includes imitating Jesus: “As the father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21). Jesus preached the gospel (of the kingdom). So must we. But he also demonstrated God’s love to people who were unloved in Jewish society: women, lepers, adulterers, demonized, tax collectors and Samaritans, just to name a few.

Third, Jesus taught and modeled both exclusive truth claims and inclusive love aims. The strong “both-and” nature of this radical Jesus unnerves many people. The majority of evangelicals contend for Jesus’ exclusive truth claims but somehow miss or minimize Jesus’ inclusive love aims.

The Great Commission does NOT trump the Great Commandments. We must believe and obey both!

2. Total Depravity Trumps Common Grace

The Bible repeatedly mentions the pervasive impact of sin. "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). Humanity is “totally depraved” as theologians say - "totally" in the sense that every aspect of life has been marred; not in the sense that we are as bad as we could be.

But there are other verses that speak about the good things that unbelievers experience and can do. This is referred to as "common grace." God’s common grace means that…

All people enjoy the blessings of the physical world
All people have the ability to do good
All people have a general knowledge of God or a sense of the divine
All people are culture-makers

Embracing common grace is revolutionary. It helps followers of Jesus see things differently. We see the image of God in others, we discern the footprints of God in culture, we build bridges and respect others, and we partner with others for human flourishing.

Total depravity does NOT trump common grace. We must believe and obey both!

3. End Times Theology Trumps Social Ethics

The Bible is full of statements about future darkness and persecution, and it makes important statements about the end times. The books of Daniel and Revelation reveal the future return of Christ in rich symbolism and mind-boggling imagery. Our coming King will judge an evil world and will heal a broken creation.

Many Bible scholars weave together complex prophetic schemes about the end times, especially from Daniel and Revelation. They speak as though they understand all the details, they believe their interpretation describes what is going on in our world today, and they seek to make these prophetic systems central to our faith.

But these “end times experts” break the basic rules of biblical interpretation. You are supposed to interpret the unclear texts in light of the clear texts. The clear texts are not found in Daniel and Revelation but in the Sermon on the Mount – in the teaching of Jesus. We need to focus on following Jesus, loving our neighbors, and making disciples.

So this “end times” focus actually distorts our discipleship. This doomsday message about the future paralyzes our present engagement with a broken world, as it produces a siege mentality and an attitude of hostility. It leads to fear and becomes an excuse not to obey Jesus in the present.

End times theology does NOT trump social ethics. We must believe and obey both!

Sound bytes may communicate truth in a pithy way. But beware. Your Scripture may not be better than my Scripture. They're probably both true!

This is part two of Thomas Davis's "Stories from Afghanistan" series. For the context and background, see the first post in the series, A Journey of Faith and Friendship. You can read more from Thomas Davis at his blog, Incomparable Treasure.

On my next to last day in a Kabul classroom, something extraordinary happened... God ran!

It was day 14 of a 15-day seminar. The Afghan-Turk Educational NGO, a Muslim non-profit based out of Turkey, had flown me to Afghanistan to offer an intensive ESL course for veteran primary and secondary teachers. In all, I worked with about 30 teachers, roughly 80% of whom were Turks with the remainder being Afghans. The Turkish teachers had moved their families from the relative ease and comfort of Turkey to a riskier and more challenging environment in Afghanistan, all because they desire to honor God and help the children of Afghanistan.

Building Rapport and Friendship

Over the two weeks I had been with the teachers, we had established quite a good rapport, and we had talked openly about matters of the heart. I had a number of opportunities to dialogue with the teachers about my work with Peace Catalyst International. I explained that we are trying to fully embrace the ways and teachings of Jesus, and that we are compelled by Jesus to love and serve others without any strings attached. My new friends liked what I described of our work, and they shared with me their own perspectives on loving God and humanity.

So, in this context of serious English instruction and ongoing spiritual dialogue rooted in mutual respect, the teachers and I found unexpected common ground around one of Jesus's parables. On our 14th day together, after I had finished leading the teachers in a review in preparation for their final exam, I turned to my computer, where I keep a cache of video and audio clips for use in all sorts of teaching situations. Some of the clips are funny and relatively pointless, while others instantly serve up lively discussions and teachable moments centered around a number of topics.

A Fuzzy, Offensive Music Video?

In this particular moment on day 14 in a Kabul classroom, my eyes fixated on the file name of a blurry, homemade music video. I do not recall where I found the video or when. I am guessing that it has been in my video folder for years and has been transferred through the hard drives of the various computers I have owned. In any case, the clip was not one I ever recall using in a teaching setting, but there it was looking up at me. And God's Spirit nudged me, as if to say, "Just trust ME. Despite your concerns, show this clip. Throw caution to the wind, and I'll meet you in this Kabul classroom!"

Indeed, I did have concerns, as the video hit on some theological concepts that I judged would be at least strange and perhaps even offensive to my Muslim teacher friends. Nonetheless, believing that God had spoken, I cued up and played this video on the big screen for a classroom full of Turkish and Afghan teachers:

As a teacher should, I followed the video with good questions. What's the story that this song tells? How do you feel about it? What do you like in the song and story? What do you not like?

One outspoken Turkish biology teacher spoke up. (As a cultural sign of respect, the Turkish and Afghan teachers addressed me as "teacher" despite my protestations that "Thomas" would do very nicely.) "Teacher," he said, "this is a wonderful story and I like it very much!"

The Parable of the Prodigal Son

Feeling my oats after several more positive comments, I decided I should share with the class the Parable of the Prodigal Son, the story told by Jesus the Messiah as recorded in Luke 15:11-32. Clearly, this parable served as the inspiration for "When God Ran," and in my own words I recounted the story of the boy who went his own way, squandered his family's resources, and became homeless and destitute. In desperation, he devised a plan to return to his father and beg to be hired on as a laborer, because the family's employees had more than ample food and shelter.

As the wayward son approached the estate, the father saw him in the distance (perhaps because he was in the habit of looking toward the horizon in hopes of seeing his lost son coming home) and ran to meet him, showering him with hugs, kisses, and compassion. The boy tried to spit out his rehearsed speech, "Dad, I've messed up in a terrible way. I don't deserve to be called your son. But please would you hire me . . .."

The father would have none of this "employee" business. Instead, compelled by compassion and mercy, he threw a major party to celebrate the boy's homecoming and addressed him as "my son." These two words were probably the most beautiful the prodigal had ever heard, and I'm quite sure he was never the same (in a very good sense) after hearing them. (I am reminded here of Romans 2:4, which says that God's mercy triggers in us repentant hearts.)

The Bible--A Middle Eastern Book Through Middle Eastern Eyes

After recounting the parable, I remembered that Middle Eastern Muslim friends had offered me rich cultural insight into this passage years ago. (We Western Christians tend to forget that the Bible is a Middle Eastern book and that it tells the stories of Middle Eastern people, including Jesus.) My Arab friends explained that it is very significant that the father RAN to meet the wayward son.

Apparently, Middle Eastern men in the 1st century did not run publicly as a matter of honor, and yet in Jesus's story it appears that the father brought public shame upon himself (by running) in order to shield his son from the humiliating taunts and rejection of others in the village. (Check out The Prodigal's Father Shouldn't Have Run for a brief yet excellent explanation of this theory.)

Offending a Respected Turkish Teacher?

As I recounted the parable, I kept noticing one of the teachers, who seemed not to be paying attention. He was probably the eldest person in the room--in his late forties if I had to guess. Over the course of the prior two weeks, he had been one of the most attentive participants in the class. He was not gregarious, but nonetheless was warm and kind and always respectful. I told myself that he was likely the most respected teacher among the lot.

Thus, it troubled me when it seemed that this particular teacher was not tracking with me. During my telling of the Prodigal Son story and the subsequent class discussion, he was focused on his tablet computer. I thought to myself that I had pushed the Jesus talk a bit too far for him and that I had offended him. While I was encouraged by the positive responses and interaction with some of the other teachers, I was disheartened that I had apparently lost this gentleman, as I had so much respect for him and genuinely liked him.

Unexpected Common Ground

But just as I was doubting him, God, and myself, the elder teacher's hand shot up. He said, "Teacher, please forgive me, but I was searching diligently for a particular passage from the Sayings of the Prophet (traditional extra-Qur'anic Islamic teachings). Would it be okay if I share this with you and the class?" "Of course," I said. With that, he read aloud,

"If you turn toward God, He will walk toward you. If you walk toward God, He will run toward you. And if you run toward God, He will be the strength in your legs to propel you forward."

Then he added, "Teacher, this song and this story you have shared with us are perfect, and our own tradition affirms it."

With tears in my eyes, I thanked the teacher for sharing this traditional teaching with me. And our class enjoyed further spiritual dialogue around these concepts and around the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

Friendship, Common Ground, and Discussing Differences

Later, I thanked God for helping me share some heart-level exchange with my new friends and for helping us discover this unexpected common ground. Certainly, at the end of the day we still have some important differences, but I am learning that it is far more fruitful to discuss differences in the context of genuine, authentic friendship - the kind of friendship that develops as we share our hearts and lives with one another and as we celebrate the significant common ground that we share as humans created by God.