A Journey of Faith and Justice

In the little blog that follows, I want to introduce myself. I’m Sarah, a master of theological studies candidate at Harvard Divinity School and new intern for development of outreach and faith-based activism at Boston Faith and Justice Network. These are my “CV” credentials, one could say, but undergirding those biographical details is a story of discovering God’s tangible rooted presence in and among marginalized and disadvantaged communities. It is the continual discovery of the Spirit’s presence in those places, despite histories of violence and oppression, that still “keeps the faith” within me and motivates my theological studies and work.

I grew up across three different cities: London for the first eight years of my life, then Vienna, and then a mixture of Rome and London for most of my adolescence. I’m the daughter of Nigerian immigrants, and in each of the above cities my parents found thriving communities of multicultural charismatics for us to join, gathering in worship, prayer and fellowship throughout the week. As a child, this kind of vibrant worship became “normal” for me. Crossover services at New Year’s Eve with preachers petitioning God for new mercies and blessings. Thanksgiving when someone at church finally got their “papers.” People speaking in tongues, altar calls and passionate singing. I don’t think I realized it then, or if I could, I couldn’t quite articulate it, but there exists a strong connection between this kind of fervent worship and a longing for the Holy Spirit to bring liberation, justice and the kingdom of God to the here and now. I was fortunate enough to grow up in communities where people prayed for and faithfully expected God to move in their lives. And in those multiethnic Christian communities, the seed of desire for justice was being sewed into my heart.

In my final year of university, after studying theology for three years and taking classes on everything from New Testament Greek and world Christianity to literature and decolonial studies, I found myself in Nigeria for two months doing community arts work with Wycliffe Bible Translators. The team was with different ethnic groups in the middle belt and northern region to bring culture and faith together. Through oral Bible storytelling and traditional arts festivals that celebrated local music and dance, we encouraged people to reach into their traditions of creativity in worship and praise. While in Nigeria, I was exposed to stories of deep suffering, injustice and persecution. I discovered a place with a dizzying abundance of ethnic diversity, linguistic richness and deep communal ethics, but insecurity and religious divisions were still violent ongoing problems. I knew that there were systemic injustices in place that could not be solved simply with charity or well-meaning initiatives, although these were important. As I prayed and sang with Nigerians in their churches, I saw they exhibited a similar vision of a God of justice and provision I had seen among immigrant worshippers back home. My story of faith and justice was deepening.

After returning to London from Nigeria, I knew that there was work to be done. Through recommendations from friends and colleagues, I started to read up on ways Christians have responded to injustice. I read Al Tizon’s Whole and Reconciled, a vision for a missional Christianity committed to addressing structural injustices with prophetic imagination. I came across Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger, convicted of how easy it had been for me to turn a blind eye to poverty in the world. I started working with a church in central London that had a thriving food ministry to unhoused communities in the city. But these were only starting points. I was learning, exposing myself to new communities, and trying to “do my bit,” but every day I realized that a real move towards the kingdom of God—justice and liberation—that my fellow churchgoers had prayed and sang for every week would require sustained structural movements, led by poor and marginalized people, committed to what God says about their deep value and worth. A desire for justice had taken root, but new plants were being laid in the soil every day.

So, maybe I can’t give you a comprehensive narrative of all the events that have led me to this moment, because it is a story still being written. But what I’ve tried to do is offer some key junctures that moved me from my own inner turmoil and out towards the turmoil of the world Jesus came to address in the first place. It’s a turmoil that hurts to look at, but which we are required to face head on. Being part of BFJN’s work, especially mapping housing justice in this state, and thinking through how churches can be mobilized to get involved with this work, is a part of that “facing” work, and it can be hard. But every time I lift my hands in worship, or hear prayers of justice spoken by others hungry for a world where the prisoner is set free—I remember why it is necessary to do such work and “keep the faith.”