Steve Addison's Blog, page 42
July 29, 2019
July 28, 2019
The Rise and Fall of Movements 25% off
Amazon US are offering The Rise and Fall of Movements at 25% off.
Movements behind bars in Brazil (3)
Dignity is my central argument and I contend that dignity is the driving force behind Pentecostal practice inside of the prison and jails I studied.
Andrew Johnson
I’m following the story of the spread of Pentecostalism in the jails and favelas of Rio de Janeiro as told by Andrew Johnson.
We’ve seen how Pentecostalism adapts to the local environment and produces local leaders. But what’ the appeal of Pentecostalism in the first place?
As a sociologist Johnson argues it’s about the transformation of identity,
“Pentecostalism resonates so deeply with inmates like Carlos because it offers a belief system and a set of practices that enable an inmate to embody a new, publicly recognizable identity and a platform for prisoners to live a moral and dignified life both in prison and after they are released.”
Johnson witnessed firsthand how,
“Through their actions the Pentecostal pastors and volunteers literally embodied their belief that regardless of whether the inmates in Rio’s prisons were innocent or guilty of the crimes of which they were convicted, they were human beings worthy of redemption and deserving certain fundamental rights.
Faith in Christ enabled these desperate men in appalling conditions “to reject annihilation and affirm a terrible right to live.”
No government or social program can meet a prisoner’s deepest need. Only in Christ can they become a new creation—forgiven and set free to live a new life in him in the fellowship of God’s people behind bars.
Movements behind bars in Brazil (1)
Movements behind bars in Brazil (2)
July 25, 2019
197-From Death Metal to Discipleship
Curtis Hartshorn tells his story. Thanks to Joel Shaw for making the interview available.
July 23, 2019
Movements behind bars in Brazil (2)
“The church is ours. It belongs to those of us on the inside.”
I’m following the story of Pentecostalism’s impact in Brazil’s prisons as told by Andrew Johnson. Only a movement could thrive in such a harsh environment.
Throughout Latin America, Pentecostalism flourishes because it adapts itself to the local culture and produces local leaders.
Pentecostalism thrives behind bars because it has adapted to this harsh environment by taking on the structure and function of the prison gangs.
According to Johnson,
“Both gang and prison church claim part of the prison as their own, each implements and enforces a set of rules for their members, and each provides a strong identity to participants and offers them protection and community.”
The music in the churches has the same beat as the music in the streets, and pastors preach in the same language used in conversations at the bus stop, in corner cafés, and in the local markets. Leaders can rise from the congregations without having to go through seminaries or other educational institutions that are available to the middle and upper classes but largely closed to others.
The incarcerated leader preaches, sings, prays, fasts, suffers, and praises alongside the other church members. Inmates not only set the vision for the future of the prison churches, they also negotiate with gang and prison officials and make themselves available to meet the spiritual and sometimes physical and emotional needs of inmates twenty-four hours a day.
July 21, 2019
Movements behind bars in Brazil
Sociologist Andrew Johnson wanted to understand the impact of Pentecostalism in Brazil’s prison system. So he went behind bars to find out.
Rio de Janeiro’s impoverished favelas are ruled by drug-gangs. The police dare not enter. The prison system is an extension of the favelas. It’s the gangs, not the prison officials who rule on the inside. Wherever the gangs are strongest, Pentecostalism thrives.
Carlos was born to alcoholic parents in one of Rio de Janeiro’s /favelas/. As a boy he would head down to Copacabana Beach and rob tourists. By the time he was fourteen, both of his parents had died, and Carlos had found a new family—the drug gang that controlled his neighborhood.
Carlos graduated from petty theft to armed robbery. One night he was ambushed by police who were after the proceeds of an armed robbery he’d committed—around $20,000. They took the money and let him go. Carlos went looking for the neighbor who had tipped off the police in return for a cut of the money—and killed him. The police arrested Carlos, and he was tried, convicted of murder, and jailed. But Carlos knew how to survive in difficult places, so he survived in prison.
One night about ten years later, Carlos was listening to a group of prisoners sing and clap their hands in worship. He had heard them hundreds of times before, but he had no interest in religion. He thought Christians were crazy.
But prison had worn Carlos down. He later said,
“I was already tired of the life I was living. I didn’t know who to turn to and I found myself desperate, in a dead end. I was looking for something that would embrace me, something that would help me. I saw the brothers from the church and I saw their sincerity and I saw their commitment to God. I went to see if God would truly set me free.”
Carlos left his cell and joined the worship. The pastor, who was an inmate, read from John’s Gospel, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 10:10).
Carlos surrendered his life to Christ, and as his fellow prisoners prayed, he fell to the ground and was freed from a legion of demons. Immediately he gave away his last cigarettes and stopped snorting cocaine. He no longer used prostitutes. He traded membership in a prison gang for membership in the prisoner-led church.
Carlos walked out of prison two years later, a free man and a follower of Jesus. Back in the favela, his former gang offered him work that would pay ten times what he could earn legally. He turned them down and spent the next month sleeping under a bridge. He joined the local Pentecostal church and rebuilt his life. His faith didn’t magically catapult him out of poverty, but it provided him with a new identity and a new community.
Carlos is one of thousands of people who have been converted in Rio de Janeiro’s notorious prisons. It takes a movement to penetrate and thrive in the gang-controlled prisons and favelas of Rio.
July 10, 2019
196-Chuck Wood and The Rise and Fall of Movements
A discussion with Chuck Wood on The Rise and Fall of Movements.
July 8, 2019
Are Arabs turning their backs on religion?
Since 2013, the number of people across the Arab world identifying as "not religious" has risen from 8% to 13%. The rise is greatest in the under 30s, among whom 18% identify as not religious.
The trend in North Africa is significantly greater than the rest of the Arab world. Iranians aren’t Arabs, they’re Persians, but it would be interesting to know the trend there. I think the drift to secularism in Iran would be even greater in response to an oppressive Islamic regime.
Another indicator of rising secularism in the Arab world is the declining fertility rate. In general, the more religious you are the more children you have, the more secular, the lower the fertility rate. Forty years after the Islamic Revolution, Iranians are disillusioned with Islam and becoming secular. They’ve also become the most responsive people to the gospel on the planet. Perhaps the same trend is emerging in the Arab Muslim world.
July 3, 2019
195-Reaching Cultural Christians
Dean Inserra talks about his latest book, The Unsaved Christian: Reaching Cultural Christianity with the Gospel.
June 30, 2019
Movements behind bars in El Salvador
If there is a hell on earth it would be an El Salvardorian prison. Two reports of what God is doing through multiplying movements among the gang controlled prisons of El Salvador.
Sirens blare and helicopters roar as the sun rises over the hills of San Salvador. It’s 10.30am on February 2nd, and nine police officers have just been ambushed. They got a call an hour ago about a stash house where members of the Barrio 18 gang were hiding guns. When they showed up, the gangsters blitzed them with bullets. One officer is dead. Five are in the hospital. Two corpses, identifiable as gang members by the tattoos that cover their bodies, lie sprawled on the ground.
Less than three miles away, in a neighbourhood controlled by the same gang, another group of tattooed men prepare for action in a dark hallway. Loud music, clanging metal and frenzied chatter bounce off the walls. Dressing carefully, the men watch the clock. At 2pm, they nod to each other, gather their supplies and open the heavy metal door.
Light streams in and the smell of fresh bread wafts out. The men break into pairs, hoisting cloth-covered plastic crates onto their shoulders, and head off in different directions. “Sweet bread! Garlic bread! Bread with ham! Pizza!” they shout. When the crates are empty and their pockets full of coins, the men return to the constricted quarters in the back of the Eben-Ezer church where they run the small bakery.
Over the past year, the church has become a refuge for recently released prisoners who are trying to leave the Barrio 18 gang and pledge themselves to God.
Notice the type of Christianity that is spreading in the darkest places. This movement is characterized by obedience to the living Word, dependence on the Holy Spirit and faithfulness to the Mission of multiplying disciples and churches. Exactly what we would expect.
