The Somali Counter Culture

Culture is very much in the headlines today. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Somali community in Minnesota, where allegations have surfaced that millions of taxpayer dollars were fraudulently diverted to unlawful programs and projects. To many Americans, such actions run counter to what it means to be a citizen of this country. 

While these concerns are legitimate, as a Christian and a cross-cultural missionary, I view the Somali situation through a different lens. Beyond the headlines and the courtroom narratives, I see the emergence of a very different Somali counterculture—one that is not defined by fraud or political controversy, but by quiet faithfulness and costly allegiance to Christ. 

First, we must understand Somali culture. Somalis are, first and foremost, Muslim—specifically, Sunni Muslim. In Somali society, religious and cultural identity are inseparable. To be Somali is, in their understanding, to be Muslim. 

Within this honor–shame framework, faith is not merely a personal conviction but a communal allegiance. When an individual leaves Islam, the shame is not borne by that person alone; the family, the clan, and the wider community experience it. Such a decision is viewed as a public betrayal that brings dishonor upon one’s kin. As a result, intense social pressure—including ostracism, coercion, and at times violence—is often applied to restore honor and protect communal identity. 

When a Somali embraces faith in Christ, the issue is therefore not merely theological but social and political. Such a decision is perceived as a rejection of clan authority and a threat to communal honor. Families and clans may respond with intense pressure, or violence—not only to punish the individual but to restore honor and safeguard the group’s identity. For this reason, many Somali believers practice their faith in secrecy, forming a quiet yet resilient counterculture marked by courage, suffering, and deep devotion to Christ. 

Though this remains the prevailing view among Somalis, a quiet yet growing countercultural movement is emerging among these East African people—Somali Christians. Their numbers are small, yet steadily increasing. Many of these followers of Isa (Jesus) live as secret believers, aware that an open confession of Christ often invites persecution, social exclusion, and even violence. 

One young woman (pictured) told me that when she came to faith, her parents beat her and burned the Bible she had hidden in her room. Another believer shared that if his family were to discover that he was following Isa, they would likely kill him. For these brothers and sisters, the spiritual battle is not theoretical; it is real, costly, and dangerously immediate. 

Culture—every culture—is what my friend Sherwood Lingenfelter calls a “prison of disobedience,” and Somali culture is neither better nor worse than American culture; both cultures are tainted by the result of the fall and resist the lordship of Christ. As Paul reminds us, “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, authorities, and cosmic powers of this present darkness…against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph. 6:12–13). 

Seen this way, the Somali story is not about them versus us, but about the gospel confronting and redeeming every culture—including our own—and forming a new people whose ultimate allegiance is not to clan, nation, or tradition, but to the kingdom of God. 

At the same time, we are not naïve about the realities of radical Islam, such as the Muslim Brotherhood or the CAIR. In many regions, strong religious and ideological forces actively oppose anything associated with Christianity or the West. The danger is real. 

Yet so is the advance of the gospel real. Even in the most resistant contexts, Christ is quietly at work, drawing men and women to Himself and forming communities of faith marked by courage, perseverance, and hope. We ask you to pray for our Somali brothers and sisters—that they would be protected, strengthened, and reminded that the global body of Christ does not forget them. 

The balance for Christians has always been the same throughout the ages: to hate the sin while loving the sinner (Rom. 12:9; Matt. 5:44). Even as we stand firm against ideologies and actions that oppose Christ and His saving work, we do not respond with hatred or fear. Instead, we pray and bear faithful witness, remembering that Jesus Himself came “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). We testify—through both word and life—that Jesus is indeed a prophet (Deut. 18:15; Acts 3:22), and more than a prophet: He is Yasū‘ al-Masīḥ, the Son of God, crucified and risen, for “there is salvation in no one else” (Acts 4:12; cf. Col. 1:15–20).

Missionary Drift and Fracking

In their book Mission Drift: The Unspoken Crisis Facing Leaders, Charities, and Churches, the authors observe, “Drift unfolds slowly. Like a current, it carries organizations away from their core purpose and identity.” 

When I began in missions fifty years ago, our core values were clear: first, to take the Gospel to those who had never heard it, and second, to establish and plant churches. Although these objectives are still often affirmed, mission drift has subtly led many organizations away from their original calling. What factors have contributed to this drift?

 

Missions Have Drifted from Frontier and Pioneer Ministry

I often find myself repeating the same sobering statistic: that less than 4% of the global mission force is focused on the 3.42 billion people—42% of the world’s population—who still have no access to the Gospel. The once-central value of going to the unreached and sending frontier missionaries has, in many places, faded into near nonexistence.

 

Missions Have Drifted from Church Planting to Popular Projects

Much of modern missions has shifted from the long-term, often unseen labor of church planting to more visible, short-term efforts. Like filling toys in a shoebox, the appeal of tangible projects—constructing buildings, leading short-term trips, or managing feeding programs—has too often supplanted the difficult and enduring work of evangelizing and discipling those resistant to the Gospel.

 

In his provocative book Toxic Charity: How Churches and Charities Hurt Those They Help, the author observes, “The money spent by one campus ministry to cover the costs of their Central American mission trip to repaint an orphanage would have been sufficient to hire two local painters, two new full-time teachers, and to purchase new uniforms for every student in the school.”

 

 He continues, "Food in [every] society is a chronic poverty need, not a life-threatening one.  And when we respond to a chronic need as thought it were a crisis, we can predict toxic results:  dependency, deception, disempowerment."

Advocates of missionary projects argue that church planting and discipleship are enhanced by social programs. Constructing a church building can raise the congregation’s profile within the community and attract new attendees, while feeding programs for children can serve as a tangible expression of Christ’s love and a positive witness to unbelievers.

 

Both of these arguments have merit. However, every dollar spent on projects that might further the Gospel is one less dollar devoted to taking the Good News to the unreached. Moreover, such projects are rarely sustainable; once foreign funding ends, local congregations often cannot maintain them. Social projects may feel rewarding, but it’s questionable whether they truly deliver more “bang for the buck” in the Kingdom economy.

So What's The Answer For Missionary Drift?

As missionaries, we must continually return to our core calling. Have we drifted from the difficult task of evangelism, choosing instead the comfort of social programs or ministry among those already reached? Are we no longer going where the name of Christ has never been heard? Drift happens quietly, and unless we guard against it, we risk losing the very passion that once compelled us to do what seemed impossible.

 

For both cross-cultural workers and sending churches and agencies, we must discover new ways to reach the unreached. Instead of relying solely on traditional church-planting methods (“drilling”), perhaps it’s time to explore new strategies for penetrating resistant communities—what we might call missionary fracking.

 

In this sense, missionary fracking means moving beyond traditional “vertical” approaches and instead working horizontally—forming partnerships with national church planters and indigenous church-planting networks. Over the past five years, I have had the privilege of walking alongside such efforts, particularly among Muslim Background Believers and those emerging from animistic traditions. Finding these kinds of partners can be difficult, as many national leaders still depend on older models introduced by Western missionaries. Even so, this kind of national church-planting fracking may prove to be the key to reaching the most inaccessible and Gospel-resistant communities.

Our Lord Jesus warned the Laodiceans against drift, as being "lukewarm" (Rev. 3:15,16 Like the Laodiceans, we risk becoming “lukewarm” if we settle for ease and visibility over obedience and sacrifice. Yet the opportunities before us are vast. The fields are still white for harvest—may we not drift, but go boldly where Christ is yet unknown (Rom. 15:20).

IT IS All About The Numbers.

I grew up in a denomination where numbers gauged success. As a pastor in Texas, our regional pastors would meet each month and the primary question with each brother you met was, “How many did you have Sunday”? and “How many people were ‘saved’”? Our group boasted that in Sunday School we had at least five of the top twenty SS attendance in the nation. Even today, in Kenya, where I served for fourteen years, I regularly receive pictures from churches showing how many people were baptized any given week. I sometimes hear pastors and churches talk about supporting people where they can get more “bang for the buck.” Numbers are important, but it is not always how large the number is.

Last month I was visiting with a former student who works on the coast of Kenya. He was telling me about the village where he and his colleague work. It’s a small village, a little over 3,000 people, but in the area the population is probably 30,000. “There are four churches, but about twenty mosques in the town and, at least thirty mosques in the area,” he told me.

As he continued telling me his story, he became more excited, “We now have NINE people we are meeting with, telling them about Christ Jesus. Of course, we don’t meet in one

place together, that would be too dangerous. We visit them in their homes or in some discreet place.”

These two guys have only been working and living in the village for eight months…but have NINE people learning about Isa! In a population dominated by cultural and religious Muslims, that’s a big deal. The people of that village will never go to any of the churches as that would be a betrayal of family and culture. Even learning about Jesus from a Christian would bring persecution. But they bravely meet secretly to hear the Gospel.

I walked away from that visit reaffirmed that IT IS all about numbers. Not the hundreds or thousands, but about the twos, threes, and nines and, like our Master, the twelves. The occasion to work with men and women who take the Gospel to those who have no opportunity to hear the Gospel except through secret meetings is an immense privilege. NINE, not yet believers but learning about Him. IT IS about the numbers, even if they are few.