BEKASI, Indonesia — At 4:44 a.m., the calls to prayer begin.
They come from everywhere, it seems, in a cacophonous variety of tones and pitches. Still, there’s an eerie beauty about the fajr, the first prayers of the day.
The joyful noise reminds me that I’m in the country with the largest Muslim population in the world. There’s at least one mosque in every direction from the home of Daniel Setiabudu, the Christian minister who’s graciously taken me in for a couple of nights. We’re on the eastern edge of Jakarta, a metropolis of nearly 34 million souls.
Daniel, 65, grew up among the Christian minority in Indonesia’s West Java province. He attended Catholic school as a child and, as an adult, floated among various denominations.
He read about Jesus’ prayer for unity in John 17, but everywhere he went, he saw divisions.
“I hate divisions,” he said.
In a home surrounded by mosques, it’s easy for me to understand why. There are too few Christians here for us to fight with each other.
Daniel moved to Jakarta, rose through the ranks of a soft drink company and married a woman from a Muslim family. He stopped going to church and studied the Bible on his own, even taking it to work. A Buddhist co-worker saw this and asked to visit his church.
“The same day, as I returned home, my wife asked me, ‘Why don’t you go to church anymore?’” Daniel said. So, spurred by his Buddhist co-worker and his Muslim wife, Daniel went to church. He ended up in a charismatic group that asked him to become a pastor.
“I needed to know more,” he said. So he answered a newspaper ad for a free Bible correspondence course via World Bible School. He studied the Scriptures with Stuart Jones of Sunset International Bible Institute. In 1998, he attended a seminar with missionary Duane Morgan and evangelist Colin McKee.
“I realized that we were of the same mind about how to understand the Bible,” Daniel said.
Jakarta, Indonesia. Photo: Pexels.
He was baptized in 1998. His wife, Naomi, followed later. Now they are the in-country coordinators for Jochebed’s Hope, a nonprofit that provides education, nutrition and support for orphaned and disadvantaged children. They oversee a large operation on the island of Nias and care for five children in their home here in Bekasi, which also serves as the meeting place for a Church of Christ. It’s one of only six congregations in the Jakarta metro, Daniel says. He estimates the churches’ combined membership at less than 200.
He’d love to worship in a church building, but it’s not possible. A bitter property dispute in Jakarta led to litigation and even the jailing of three church members. I wrote about it in The Christian Chronicle 20 years ago.
The issue has yet to be resolved.
“We’re still thankful to God,” Daniel says. “At many places where they worship at home, (neighbors) make problems. That hasn’t happened here.”
Daniel’s neighbors are quite friendly, as I discover after I grab a cup of instant coffee and walk downstairs where church members are setting up plastic chairs for worship. Someone has just stopped by to deliver panchong, a warm, crescent-shaped loaf of rice mixed with coconut. It’s divine. I hold back the desire to eat the whole thing myself.
Despite the church’s small size, we have two worship services today. A young couple named Abraham and Naomi (yes, another Naomi) have a commitment with the church of a family member later this morning, so they stop by at 8 a.m. Daniel and I conduct an abbreviated service for them — complete with hymns, sermon and the Lord’s Supper.
For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”
I’m reminded of Jesus’ words in Matthew 18:20: “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”
The second worship service draws a bigger crowd, closer to 20. Daniel leads some classic, time-tested hymns, first in Indonesian and then English. I’ve sung Fanny J. Crosby’s “Safe in the Arms of Jesus” countless times in my 51 years. Somehow, it feels different here, more meaningful.
A view from Daniel Setiabudu’s second-floor balcony in Bekasi shows one of the nearby mosques. (Photo by Erik Tryggestad)
Next to the pulpit, in an area sectioned off by glass doors, is the family’s rooster. As I begin my talk, it crows at least three times.
“It must be saying, ‘Amen!’” I tell myself, rather than dwelling on darker implications.
I share stories from my travels, including my visit to the islands of Vanuatu in the South Pacific. The tiny congregations there struggled to feel like they were important.
We all matter to God, no matter where we are, I tell the Indonesian Christians. That seems like a message I’d need if I lived here.
I toss in stories from my visit to Neema Village, a children’s home in Tanzania. In addition to babies, they help abused and neglected women get back on their feet — and teach them skills that they can use to earn a living and regain custody of their kids.
I mention Hagar, the maidservant of Sarai who was impregnated, at Sarai’s request, by Abram and mistreated. She fled into the wilderness, where an angel assured her that her son, Ishmael, would become a great nation. She names the Lord “El Roi,” “You are the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13).
After worship, we enjoy a fellowship meal of spicy, west Sumatran cuisine. It’s kind of like a potluck, so I feel compelled to contribute the green tea-flavored Kit Kats I bought in the Tokyo airport.
In the afternoon, Daniel drives me to a massive shopping mall so I can see Jason Mundy, a friend of mine from my days at Central High School in Macon, Ga. He lives in Jakarta with his wife, Ulfa. We haven’t seen each other in 32 years.
We also meet Alip Djoehaeri for dinner. He’s a longtime minister for Churches of Christ in Jakarta. We swap stories of mutual friends, including Bud McFarland, who worships with me in Oklahoma. Alip credits Bud with his decision to go into ministry. Despite the hardship, the persecution and even the jailing (Alip is one of the guys I wrote about in 2004), it’s been a worthwhile journey, the minister says.
We return to Daniel’s house, but his day isn’t over. He sets up a webcam and ring light so, at 10 p.m., he’ll be ready to speak on his live, weekly radio and internet show. He shares insights from Scripture and answers questions from listeners, interspersed with a cappella worship music.
He won’t get much rest after the show. We’ll rise tomorrow to catch an early morning flight to the city of Medan and then to Nias, where I’ll see more of Jochebed’s Hope.
To get to the Jakarta airport in time, we’ll have to leave at 3 a.m., even before the early morning prayers pour forth from the mosques around us.
This piece is republished with permission from The Christian Chronicle.
Erik Tryggestad is president and CEO of The Christian Chronicle.