An Open Letter to My On-the-Field Sisters
Dear friends, Today I wore a fancy necklace. It’s just cheap costume jewelry, but it belongs to a heart sister who left it for me to wear while she’s in the States for a year, so I would think of her. That’s part of why I wore it, but also because it goes well with the flour under my fingernails and the dirt between my toes, and some days I just need to be reminded that I’m the King’s daughter. It glinted in the sunshine as I walked my youngest to school through rainy season puddles. It laid precious heavy against my chest as I chatted with some of you at the store’s meat counter and when I bought six guavas and a pile of lemons from the friendly old woman whose slurred words are hard to catch. My little one climbed up on a chair and played with it and leaned...
Read MoreFive Things Missionary Kids Need to Know About Their Feet
Let’s face it, MK friends. Most of you have feet that wouldn’t win you any foot modeling jobs. (How do people get into that line of work anyway?) But your feet are my favorite kind in the world. And here is why… 1. They are dirty. Gloriously gross in the most grimy-toed, stained-soled, freedom-proclaiming way. Your bare feet are unafraid of mud and rocks and rain and dust, and you just GO, feeling the warmth and texture in every step. 2. They are knowledgeable. Your feet navigate airport security lines and busy city streets as easily as they carve a path between market stalls and run up the road to a friend’s house. They know the world really is a small place, because they’ve stood toe-to-toe with precious people from all over, people you couldn’t imagine your...
Read MoreEmmanuel, the Unafraid God
They prayed for us at church this morning. We stood there under the spotlight and in front of the eyes, the missionary family ready to move to Papua New Guinea in just two weeks. And afterwards, as I hugged a good friend one last time and my throat burned thick with choked-back tears, a few kind people waited to tell us that we are brave, that they admire us. Maybe they hadn’t seen our youngest trying kick her sister while a church elder was praying blessing over us. Over our mess. Over our obedience. Because obedience is really what it is. Not special bravery. There’s nothing innately in us that qualifies us to be missionaries. The only difference between our story and theirs is that God has asked us to obey Him on the other side of the world. Life, just life in...
Read MoreWhen It’s Better to Receive Than to Give
“Are you afraid of losing your identity?” My counselor asked me this the other day. (I’ve been in counseling for the last few months. Shadows from the past and other nasty things have a way of surfacing during transition…) I didn’t quite know what she meant, so I sat quiet for a minute and turned her question over in my mind. “You’ve been in the role of caregiver for a long time. Maybe it’s time for you to be the receiver. Does that bother you?” Ouch. This woman is perceptive. She’s right. For the past fourteen and a half years, I’ve been the wife of a youth pastor, a mom, a Bible study teacher, a speaker, a safe place for hurting women and girls. And now I’m about to add overseas missionary to that list. No pressure there. I love what I’ve been doing. People...
Read MoreRisk and Cost
Risking it all for Jesus… I’ve heard this phrase tossed around in Christian circles. It sounds exciting. Bold. Holy. The problem is that it’s simply not true. I would even say it might be dangerous. “Risking it all” makes it sound like some of us are the spiritual high rollers, while everybody else is playing it safe in Heaven’s casino. You know, we give up our comforts and possessions to serve Jesus and someday earn a great big eternal crown. Some of us even leave our homes and everything we know to move to the other side of the world in a grand leap of faith. And people admire us, and our pictures hang on their church bulletin boards, and we sometimes make it into their pastors’ sermons. But eventually all of that praise falls flat. It doesn’t feel so...
Read MoreAn Open Letter to the Almost-There Missionary
Dear friend, You sat on my couch the other day and said it’s too much. You said it with red eyes and deep breaths, and the others of us in the room breathed deep and teared up, too. Because we know. You and I, my friend, we’re in the same boat. We’re living in the in-between, not quite sure where we fit. Not completely here, but not all there yet. We’ve cut loose the moorings, and we’re on open ocean, going, going, but the going isn’t easy. The waves aren’t gentle, and they don’t seem to notice how much we’ve left behind. I want to tell you that it’s going to be ok, that if you give yourself enough time, your heart will feel whole again. But I can’t, and it won’t – at least not on this side of eternity, I think. When home is on both sides of the world, when you...
Read More
Recent Comments