As a professor and pastor, Lausanne was a privilege to attend because it brought together my identity as an “evangélico” in the tradition of Samuel Escobar and René Padilla, and my research and teaching on the Brown Church. 50 years ago, when asked by Billy Graham to serve on the planning committee for the first Lausanne, Escobar worried that “Lausanne would cheer a ‘mutilated Gospel,’ an American middle-class gospel tainted by the ‘American way of life’ and loyalties to conservative politics” (Kirkpatrick, A Gospel for the Poor, 19). Despite his concerns, Escobar went ahead with his participation: “I think that our presence and our contribution in this committee…is worth the time, work and patience involved in it” (Kirkpatrick, 19). In his now famous plenary talk at Lausanne I, René Padilla introduced the world to the concept of “misión integral,” or holistic mission which had been recently been developed by Latin American evangelicals in the context of military dictatorships, poverty, and civil war: “Concern for man’s reconciliation with God cannot be separated from concern for social justice…the mission of the church is indivisible from its life. I refuse, therefore, to drive a wedge between a primary task, namely the proclamation of the Gospel, and a secondary task [social justice] (at best) or even optional (at worst) task of the church” (Kirkpatrick, 21). According to Padilla, any dichotomy between social action and evangelism is a false dichotomy. Christian mission is like a plane with two wings—one wings consists of the verbal proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ and the other the embodiment of the Gospel through justice and love of neighbor. If either wing is missing, the Gospel plane will crash.
Padilla’s speech received long applause by Christian leaders of the Global South but frowned faces and crossed arms from many North American leaders. Time magazine described his talk as “one of the meeting’s most provocative speeches” and another observer declared: “The blue touchpaper for evangelical social responsibility this century was lit at the Lausanne Congress in 1974 by two staff workers of the Inter-Varsity Fellowship in Latin America, Rene Padilla and Samuel Escobar. Their papers on evangelism triggered an explosion” (Kirkpatrick, 22). The unflagging advocacy of Padilla, Escobar, John Stott, and others, led to Lausanne’s current stated approach of Proclamation and Action. With much enthusiasm, I came to Incheon to follow in the footsteps of these three heroes of mine, be inspired in faith and action, and explore the current state of the global evangelical movement. To be honest, I was warned by some friends that I might encounter the same “mutilated gospel” and “American middle-class gospel” that Escobar described five decades before.
The joy of Lausanne for me was connecting with new friends and family members of the global church. It was like a big family reunion. For the first time in my life, I truly worshipped together with people of every tribe, language, nation and tongue. Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Middle East, Europe. US North Americans were only 500 out of the 5,000 gathered. It was a living picture of Revelation 7:9. I also came to see firsthand what Andrew Walls, Samuel Escobar, and others have been saying for the past several decades—the pendulum of global Christianity has now shifted to the Global South. As Western Christianity sadly faces decline, Africa, Asia, Latin America, and immigrant churches in North America are the new vital centers of global Christianity. Comprised of sisters and brothers from Niger, Ghana, Singapore, the Philippines, and the US, my table group was also a highlight celebrating this new reality. I even met a brother (the picture above) whose parents were part of my grandparents’ ministry in China in the 1940’s. My grandfather, Calvin Chao, planted InterVarsity in China in the 1940’s and was called the “Billy Graham of China.” One of the biggest highlights was celebrating communion together led by pastors from Korea and Japan, and as a sign of the healing which Christ can bring between nations centuries at war. Revelation 22:2 experienced now, a foretaste of the future, God’s restoration of all things and healing of the nations.
Like any family reunion, however, it’s just a matter of time before familiar dysfunctions rise to the surface. They are always painful and always come with a sting of surprise, although in hindsight they should have been expected. This happened at Lausanne, too. I share some of these pains now because I want the Lausanne family to heal and grow, and I care deeply about the Church. I also share these honest words because, as a UCLA professor since 2005, I know that our Christian public witness is on the line. As one of the speakers shared, such truth telling is costly but necessary.
As Latinos/as sometimes we get invited to speak in predominantly white ministry spaces because, at best, conveners intuit that our voices have a meaningful contribution to make, or, at worst, because they feel obliged but don’t really understand the value of our diverse perspectives. For Lausanne, I have no reason to believe that it was the latter, but it still turned out quite badly.
Like her father 50 years ago, Dr. Ruth Padilla DeBorst was invited as a plenary speaker to speak about justice and the social implications of the Gospel. Dr. Padilla is one of the leading theological voices representing the Latino community in the global church today, and she is the modern heir of the misión integral movement begun by Rene Padilla and Samuel Escobar.
Dr. Ruth Padilla shared a compelling message on the topic of justice on Monday night of the conference. In fact, it was the only plenary talk on the subject. Her talk was wide ranging, and several sentences of her 15-minute presentation spoke to the deadly injustices occurring among the Palestinian people. To the dismay and deep anger of myself and many others, Lausanne sent out an email several days after Dr. Padilla’s talk, apologizing for it (even though they were given an advance copy which they approved), and shaming her publicly in front of the 5,000 physical attendees and thousands more participating in the conference virtually.
After this occurred I was so angry that I left the conference for a day to process my feelings with Erica while seeing the sights of Seoul. I know I was not alone in my indignation. I did not recover until the last day of the conference, supported by Erica, friends from justice orgs and my diverse global table group, and lifted by the inspiration of worship with brothers and sisters from Africa, Asia, Latin America, and the Middle East.
What Dr. Padilla experienced was a grave injustice. Of all the talks given that week, hers was the only one singled out for criticism. Prior to the apology email being sent out, I was already wrestling deeply with the conference because all of the chosen speakers from the US were white men, notwithstanding the fact that the greatest vitality of the US church is found today among immigrant churches. Neither was white Christian nationalism addressed, even though it represents one of the most significant obstacles to the spread of the Gospel in the world today. And then the email came. It knocked me off my feet because it threw Dr. Padilla “under the bus.”
It’s a familiar feeling. Being wanted for our Brown skin, but dismissed for sharing our perspectives which flow from living and journeying with Jesus in the same Brown skin. Welcome until our perspective departs from dominant white perspectives claiming objectivity. It’s a familiar pattern for the Brown Church over the centuries whenever we have raised our prophetic voice.
This pattern of exclusion is also a common pattern in the larger world of academia of which I am a part. My own field of Chicana/o Studies came about because research about the Mexican American community and other Latino groups was not deemed a worthy topic of investigation and because few Latina/o professors were represented in the professorial ranks owing to decades of educational segregation. When such patterns occur in the “secular” academy it is one thing. When it replicates itself in a conference like Lausanne, it destroys the witness of the Church. Many of my colleagues dismiss Christianity as a racist, sexist, and colonial religion, and what happened to Dr. Padilla reinforces that perception in their minds.
Dr. Padilla’s mistreatment made me, and I’m sure many others, feel unwelcome. “Am I really welcome here?”, I continued to ask myself. “If they did this to one of the most important leaders and voices of our community, the heir of Rene Padilla no less, what about the rest of us?”
Inspired by the radical faith modeled by my brothers and sisters from the Global South, I spent time in prayer and reflection in my hotel room on Sunday, the morning after the conference. The image that came to mind was that of a family. In that same spirit, I offer these words of honest truth because otherwise the family of Lausanne cannot heal. My feelings of anger are real and deep, but I have not given up on my family, the Church, the Body of Christ. Where else will I go? But will my siblings listen?
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