I have heard something to the effect of, “The American people have spoken. We are tired of the waste. I’m sorry for the pain, but it’s a band aid that had to be ripped off.” This attitude is projected with conviction. A sense of relief, even. From this perspective, it is a responsible, pragmatic choice—a painful but necessary correction to a bloated, ineffective system.
But I wonder if those who hold this view (if we!) would say the same words while standing face to face with a six-year-old Somali child, stomach bloated from malnutrition, whose next meal, hope of an education, and future beyond the crushing cycle of poverty depended on the very aid that has been dismissed as a "waste.”
The end of USAID and other foreign assistance programs has triggered one of the most seismic disruptions to the global fight against poverty and injustice. Many Western Christians feel regret but also see this as inevitable; a necessary evil to curb inefficiency. But for those in countries that have been reliant on foreign aid, this is not theoretical. It is lives lost, collapsing infrastructure, and children whose futures have been rewritten overnight.
There is... an opportunity for the global Church to re-imagine what solutions to the world’s greatest challenges could look like.
Yet, amid this devastation, there is also an opportunity for the global Church to re-imagine what solutions to the world’s greatest challenges could look like. The question is not just what will replace foreign aid, but how will we partner differently?
This is not simply a pivot in geopolitical policy but a call to a deeper posture, one that draws us beyond easy solutions into the holy, costly work of justice.
Where the Spirit speaks: divine inspiration as disruption
Divine inspiration is often understood in individualistic terms—personal calling, private sanctification, or the wisdom we glean from observing God’s work in the world. But biblically, divine inspiration is rarely a solo endeavor. It is given within and for the Body of Christ.
In contrast to Western individualism, African theologians have described divine inspiration as a communal fire. A dynamic, living force that moves within and among us, often emerging from the margins to ignite vision, disrupt assumptions, and commission us together for God’s purposes.
This vision is powerfully demonstrated at Pentecost (Acts 2), where the Spirit’s descent was not marked by uniformity but by miraculous unity in diversity. In a divine healing of Babel’s fractured humanity, the Spirit empowered the disciples so that “each one heard them speaking in their own tongue.” (Acts 2:4) This multilingual revelation signaled that God’s wisdom is not monopolized by any one culture, language, or imperial power. Instead, the Spirit affirms the beauty of diversity as a sign of God's presence and movement.
The Spirit dismantles structures of exclusion, calling forth leadership from unexpected places.
This pattern is not isolated to Pentecost. Throughout Church history, we see that when the Spirit moves, it is often by disrupting entrenched hierarchies. Scholars like Maria L. Boccia and Roberta Hestenes have shown how revivals have broken through barriers of gender, class, education, ordination, and race. In these moments of divine renewal, the Spirit dismantles structures of exclusion, calling forth leadership from unexpected places—the poor, the enslaved, the young, the unschooled. Yet as movements mature, those same barriers are often quietly rebuilt.
Divine inspiration, then, is not a private whisper. It is a communal chorus and an invitation to sit at the feet of teachers who are different from us, to seek wisdom in unexpected places, and to recognize the revelation of God in voices we have not yet listened to.
The Church cannot fully reflect the image of God unless it is willing to make space for the Spirit’s movement through those voices that have been ignored, undervalued, or excluded.
As faithful Christians consider how to respond to a post-foreign-aid era, the question before us is this: How will we make space for divine inspiration to upturn our assumptions, sharpen our theology, and call us into the more radical work of justice?
Admit that we do not yet see the full picture of God's Kingdom.
The wisdom of those born in struggle, nurtured in resistance, and sustained in faith has always been a source of divine revelation. But that wisdom often threatens our systems, challenges our power, and disrupts our control. To recognize divine inspiration in these voices is to let ourselves be humbled, disrupted, and re-formed. It is to admit that we do not yet see the full picture of God's Kingdom, and to have the courage to learn from those who have gained revelation we do not yet have.
Stop. Listen. Lament.
The global Church stands at a profound inflection point. The collapse of international foreign assistance has not only dismantled long-standing development models, but it has also done so at the very moment when theologians and Christian leaders from the Majority World are speaking with urgency and conviction about the need for Christian theology and practice to engage seriously with injustice and to embrace a mission with multiple centers of authority and activity.
The instinct of many faithful Christians in the West has been to drive toward developing alternative solutions. The invitation from many in Christian communities outside the West, however, is to pause, listen deeply, and join with others in the transformative work of lament.
For many whose lives have been impacted by the dismantling of aid, there are no ready-made answers. Instead, there is the slow, painful work of:
- Grieving the trauma of real human loss.
- Navigating the fallout of collapsed systems.
- Wrestling with the hope of a different kind of future.
The rush to act can also be a way of maintaining control and avoiding the deep, internal transformation that justice demands.
The impulse to fix what is broken is understandable. But this moment is too important to be met with premature solutions. The rush to act can also be a way of maintaining control and avoiding the deep, internal transformation that justice demands.
As we seek to engage divine inspiration in crafting new responses, our first faithful step is not strategy, but lament: the willingness to let our hearts be broken and the discipline to linger in sorrow long enough for something holy and new to be born.
Lament is neither despair nor weakness. It is not passive resignation or emotional fragility. Lament is an active and sacred refusal to accept injustice as the final word. It is a commitment to linger in suffering long enough for our hearts to be broken and changed.
It demands that we look at injustice... and then look again. It asks us to remain present to pain rather than resolve it prematurely. If we move too quickly, we risk missing the very revelation God is offering us through suffering.
This is not a foreign or fringe idea, it is a deeply biblical practice, woven throughout the Old and New Testaments and understood instinctively by Middle Eastern, African, Asian, Oceanic and other indigenous followers of Jesus.
Lament is not a private act of sorrow but a communal practice of transformation. It calls us to be moved together, to weep together, and to be changed together. It is the doorway through which the Church enters into solidarity with the suffering and begins to embody the justice of God.
Commit to long-term, embodied relationships with those who sit at the margins.
For those concerned with finding solutions or alternatives in a post-aid world, the first faithful step is not rapid innovation. It is to stop. To commit to long-term, embodied relationships with those who sit at the margins; and to embrace the discomfort of deep listening and the slow, sacred work of lament. That is where the work of justice begins—and where divine inspiration, tested in fire, will speak most clearly.
Love that costs something
As we invite divine inspiration through the sacred act of lament, we are welcomed into a transformative journey; one that does not end in sorrow but leads us into the courageous, redemptive work of justice.
Our God is the God of justice.
The movement from lament to action requires more than courage, it requires hope. Hope that injustice does not have the final word. Hope that grief can give birth to something more whole. The story of injustice in this world is a heavy one, but it is not the final story. Our God is the God of justice. For him, justice is not a footnote, it is the very reason he reigns.
We see this most powerfully in Jesus. When he looked upon the brokenness of the world, he did not turn away. He looked... and then he looked again. He entered into human pain and died in solidarity with the suffering of the world. If this is our God, what does it mean to follow Him?
Scripture is clear: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Isaiah 58 goes even further, rejecting religious piety and charitable acts when they are not accompanied by the breaking of oppression’s yoke: “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?” (Isaiah 58:6)
Where charity gives out of excess, justice requires sacrifice.
Where charity gives out of excess, justice requires sacrifice. Where charity offers aid, divine inspiration calls us to examine power, confront systems, and own our complicity.
Where charity seeks safety, justice brings disruption. Where charity preserves a counterfeit peace that privileges the comfort of some, justice calls us into radical solidarity with the poor and the marginalized.
The call to justice, then, is not an abstract theology. It must be made visible in how we build, invest, and lead. This is the divine invitation: to move beyond handouts into holy communion. Beyond quick relief into costly righteousness. Beyond the urge to fix, into the call to love.
Mutuality in the marketplace: investing in frontier markets
The collapse of foreign assistance presents a gaping hole, but also a holy opportunity. This is a moment for the Church to re-imagine what faithful, Spirit-led economics might look like. Not as a replacement for the past, but as a reformation toward a future shaped by justice, sustainability, and shared power.
What’s needed now is not only more capital but also more humility.
Faith-driven impact investing has the potential to be one of the most powerful responses to this moment, but only if it is radically distinct from what preceded it. Too often, investments in frontier markets have been extractive, built around models optimized for Western markets rather than contextual needs. What’s needed now is not only more capital but also more humility.
The Nairobi Declaration, authored by Christian business leaders in frontier markets, offers a compelling alternative. It calls for mutual submission between Western investors and local leaders. It recognizes that context matters deeply and that models designed for wealthy, stable economies will not automatically translate into frontier settings. It insists that the global Church must begin with listening, not leading.
We are being invited to co-create Kingdom-shaped solutions.
This is more than a strategic pivot, it is a spiritual one. We are being invited to co-create Kingdom-shaped solutions by investing in models that are:
- Locally led and contextually grounded.
- Rooted in discipleship and long-term relationships.
- Designed for sustainability and generational impact.
- Committed to the flourishing of people, communities, and creation.
To follow this path, we must ask: What models are truly working in frontier markets? Where has fruit already begun to grow? How can we amplify and serve what God is already cultivating?
Move from control to co-creation.
The shift required is not simply financial—it is theological. It is the move from control to co-creation, from scaling what’s proven in the West to nurturing what’s possible in the margins. It is the faith to believe that the Spirit speaks not only through boardrooms and balance sheets but through the quiet wisdom of those long excluded from shaping global economics.
This is our moment to listen. To re-imagine. And to invest—not only with dollars but also with faith.
Leading by listening: our kingdom opportunity
We stand at the threshold of a new era.
We need more leaders, investors, innovators, and builders. People who long to see God's Kingdom made manifest in the world. Many followers of Jesus are uniquely positioned—not only with influence and resources but also with a global community that spans continents, cultures, and callings.
What might it look like for us to not only support but also to follow? Not only give but also receive?
Yet we must also recognize that our vantage point can limit our vision. The center of gravity in global Christianity has shifted. The Church is growing most rapidly in regions too often still seen as recipients, not leaders. But we must ask ourselves: What might it look like for us to not only support but also to follow? Not only give but also receive?
The Spirit of God is already speaking, often from the margins, through voices long overlooked or undervalued. The question is not whether God is revealing new solutions. The question is: Are we close enough, humble enough, and still enough to hear them?
Let us resist the temptation to rush ahead with strategies that feel familiar or safe. Let us reject the instinct to lead without first learning, to fund without first listening, and to act without first lamenting. Instead, let us be a community that is willing to be troubled—that allows grief and discomfort to refine us into people who see more clearly, love more deeply, and lead more faithfully.
This is our divine invitation:
- To commit to long-term, embodied relationships across boundaries of geography, race, gender, and power.
- To actively seek out and make space for leaders from historically marginalized geographies to set the agenda, not merely respond to it.
- To embrace the kind of humility that recognizes that our understanding of economics, mission, and justice is incomplete without their leadership.
- To re-imagine redemptive economics shaped by discipleship, mutuality, and trust.
- To allow divine inspiration to not only inform our strategies but also transform our hearts.
Embody... a posture of shared power, reciprocal learning, and Spirit-led innovation
There is an extraordinary opportunity at this moment. The end of foreign aid has created deep pain, but it has also opened space for something radically new. We could be a catalyst, not just in imagining technical solutions but also in embodying a posture of shared power, reciprocal learning, and Spirit-led innovation that provides a hope-filled future for suffering individuals like the emaciated Somali child and her family.
May we be known not just for ideas but also for incarnation. Not just for generosity but also for justice. Not just for influence but also for humility. Not just for platforming voices but also for watching where they lead—and following them.
This is how we bear witness to the God who sees. This is how we co-create with the Spirit who disrupts and rebuilds. This is how we move from lament into love.
Originally published by Scatter. Republished with permission.
Based in Nairobi, Kenya, Katrina Aitken-Laird is the Founder and CEO of reFrontier Foundation, an impact investment vehicle re-imagining how businesses and investments can catalyze lasting and redemptive impact across whole nations. reFrontier addresses the most critical economic, spiritual, social, and environmental challenges of our time and develops and releases transformed leaders to deliver sustainable change across their communities and nations. She is a seasoned senior executive and program director with over 20 years’ experience designing and delivering large scale innovative and impactful development programs across multiple fragile and conflict-affected contexts. Her work has included local and international civil society organizations, private consultancy firms, the UN, UK and Danish government departments.
Scatter is committed to showing up well in the world and helping others do the same. They exist to inspire fresh thinking around God’s original intent for living and being in the world. They believe every Jesus follower has a role to play in God’s plan for the world—in every city, country, and sector—acknowledging that too often and for too long current paradigms of ministry, mission, and even business, implicitly bias the West as superior in theology, knowledge, means, and expertise in solving intractable problems. Scatter practices and encourages the practice of decentering oneself as the hero in the story of God in the world.
