The phrase “grace is like water, it flows downhill and pools up in the lowest places” works in my community, Mathare. Mathare lies in the Eastlands of Nairobi which is topographically lower. The sound of its name is received with mixed reactions both locally and internationally. The population of more than 400,000 people is composed of Kikuyus, Luhyas, Luos, Kisiis, and Kambaas, along with several other small tribes. Many people are deprived of the basic needs such as water, food and shelter. Living in a 9 by 9 feet room that is made of wood and old iron sheet, life here is almost unbearable. But since people have no choice (sometimes it is the only heaven they have), traits and tactics for survival come in handy. If I may mention just a few: prostitution, mugging, gangs, drugs and alcohol form the economic power for my community. I told you earlier that Mathare is a name that raises eyebrows.

You came in
and sat
at a round table
in a square office
and said,

I’m trying,
my moms going to buy me car
so I can get
a job
a GED
and Medicaid or something.

For the past twenty years, I have been on a journey with some close friends in ministry to high-risk young people in very hard places. We have been trying to figure out what it means to be legitimate, sincere, compassionate and transformational about what we do.

We began coming together regularly to think about and reflect on what we have learned and experienced with others on the journey. We tried to ask questions that would unlock some answers for us in the pursuit of a theology that would effectively sustain our work with difficult kids in hard places. We asked our questions with fear and trembling because we were not sure what the answers would be. We had a hunch of what they should be and had been told what they ought to be, but quite frankly we were not convinced that we really had a clear idea for ourselves even of what questions to ask.

The Psalmist asks a beautiful question in Psalm 137:4, “How do we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”