The Significance of Senders

I didn’t realize Michael was listening (though he’s always listening) when a few moms were talking about jobs at the park today. All of a sudden he chimed in with, “my mommy is a missionary – and I’m a missionary too!”

He likes to tell Luke he’s a missionary, usually followed by, “so that means I need to come to work with you.”

We’ve talked a lot about how Jesus calls all of us to be missionaries, and to tell people about him. We also talk about how Daddy’s job is to train new missionaries how to tell people all over the world about Jesus.

Staying here to train those who go.

“How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!” – Romans 10:14-15

How are they to preach unless they are sent? It’s pretty huge. They can’t go if we’re not sending. And we absolutely 100 percent feel that this is right where God wants us right now. We have such a passion about our work walking new missionaries through the process of going, and a peace that this is our calling for now. Yet sometimes it feels so insignificant. Especially when we try to communicate our role here to our financial partners.

As a writer, I love to tell stories. And for four years, we were able to share some pretty incredible stories of God's goodness and power. We experienced firsthand pretty incredible stories of God at work. Now I sit to write our newsletters and don’t know where to start.

But lately I’ve started thinking about the stories that aren’t ours directly, but because of the training and wisdom and support we were able to provide, are happening all over the world. Stories of changed hearts from discipleship, breakthroughs in communities through sports ministry, hope and healing brought through medical care. Stories where our missionaries have experienced God in new ways as they’ve been stretched by cultural learning and adjustment.

Sometimes we hear these stories through their blogs and facebook and newsletters. Sometimes it’s a 6 a.m. Skype call to Japan or Senegal or an email asking for advice or prayer. It’s the praises in chapel for people getting on their first plane or when the visas for East Asia are finally granted.

Through their stories, we are reassured that our roles are significant. That we are part of the sending. So how do we communicate that to you, our support team and prayer warriors? It’s certainly not as romantic as heading off to Zambia to work with orphans and vulnerable children. And this is where I’ve struggled in communicating our needs since we returned from Zambia. Raising support is honestly one of the hardest and most humbling parts about being a missionary – and one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to do. Raising support here in the US is especially difficult, because the stories look different and life looks different.

But if I downplay our importance in the process – as senders – I feel like I’m also downplaying the importance of your role in the process – sending us. Your support and prayers are significant; because by standing with us, you are helping these folks take the Good News of Jesus Christ to the world. And my friend, that is something in which Jesus has called us all to play a part.

So thank you, for those of you who have supported us and prayed for us. We especially thank those of you who have continued to see the significance of this work even though our location and ministry have changed. Thank you to those who have started supporting us in the last two years. You have helped us see the significance in the work God has called us to here in the US. And thank you to those who are considering joining our financial team even now.

As we come up on the end of SIM’s fiscal year this month, we are sitting at about 82 percent of the support we need to sustain our ministry of training and equipping new missionaries. One-time gifts this month would be a huge help in making up that deficit. Of great need right now, though, is several friends to commit to new monthly giving to support our work here.

Please pray that the Lord would raise up new members to our financial team. Please prayerfully consider whether God might be leading you to join that team yourself. If not for us, we can direct you to other missionaries in various ministries who need financial support.

And he said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. – Luke 10:2

We are helping train laborers for the harvest. What an awesome opportunity – and you can be a part of it! Let’s be senders.

Let me know today if you want to join our team, or click here to sign up for regular giving (or to make a one-time gift).

We appreciate you. Your role as a sender is significant. Your prayers are incredibly significant. Thank you.

We've enjoyed working with this sweet family - who leave this week for Ethiopia!

 "I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, 5 because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now" - Philippians 1:3-4

Ramblings of a (grateful) Sleep-Deprived Mommy

So much on my mind tonight as I rock and nurse my sweet baby to sleep. So many thoughts I haven't had a spare second to think and feelings I haven't had the energy to feel. There's the desperation for more sleep, as Annalynn still confuses day and night. She's really an easy baby, but whereas during the day she'll pass out anywhere and nothing will wake her, at night she just doesn't like going back to sleep. Me, I love sleep. Long, nighttime, cozy sleep. But that's not happening. 

Last week I kicked Luke out into the guest room hoping he might get a bit more sleep that way, and I could call on him in moments of exhausted deprivation. And it does work a bit, unless Michael wakes up at 3 a.m. and insists on watching movies and daddy is too tired to fight that battle so he gets up and sits on the couch until a few hours in when Michael drifts back to sleep and Luke can start his day with quiet time and coffee and getting ready for work. No going back to sleep there. 

In the meantime, our waking hours together are spent juggling kids and laundry and life, and as of late, taking turns getting incredibly frustrated at a certain three-nager who is testing every last fiber of resolve we have left. Call it adjustment to baby sister. Call it being three. Whatever it is, it's tough. Like, makes-me-want-to-pull-my-hair-out-and-scream sometimes tough. 

Let me tell you, I am so grateful for the man I married. He works his tail off with great integrity and passion, and still comes home to graciously and selflessly help tame the circus. He even puts up with my postpartum mood swings and body woes. On pretty much zero sleep. And not a lot in it for him other than the wonderful meals many of our church friends have been bringing. 

But there again, gratitude. It's taken awhile for us to really feel like we have a place here. We didn't immediately have a tribe, a community, those go-to friendships that keep life sweet and sane. But in the last several months that has started to shift. We have new neighbors with little boys who are deep in the trenches of parenthood and sleep deprivation and they get us and support us and make us laugh. They even went above and beyond by taking in Michael as their own while we were busy birthing a baby. And made cookies to boot. Another friend I randomly met at the park soon after we moved here not only hosted a sweet baby shower for me, but also added Michael to her chaos while I was still in the hospital and again shortly after to give me a little break. 

Then there's our church friends. Let me tell you, we have some people in our church who know how to cook. And how to package it all up incredibly wonderful so I don't have to put forth the least bit of effort to feed my family, including little extras for breakfast and dessert and everything in disposable containers. Talk about blessings. We are so blessed. Add to that the prayers, notes, gifts, and encouragement and id say we're starting to feel as much at home as we really can this side of eternity.

As I reflect on all these blessings and thoughts, I can't help but see how this week was able to sneak up on me, and fly by. That's probably good, as thinking back to a year ago does bring sadness, and sometimes even feelings of betrayal to the one that was. One year ago we started to miscarry a sweet little, maybe as many weeks gestation as Annalynn is old. It was a strange pregnancy from the start so it wasn't all that surprising, but it was still hard. Physically and emotionally hard. Our joy in the Lord truly did give us strength, and the promise a few months later of another sweet little provided a true rainbow of hope. Holding my baby girl, I can't help but wonder what if, and recognize that without that loss, we wouldn't have our sweet Annalynn. I know that little baby is safe and will never have to face the pain and disappointments in this world. And I know that God's ways are not our ways, and we may never understand the why's and what ifs. 

But as I sit here in my sleep-deprived thoughtfulness, I'm grateful. Grateful that God is bigger and awesome and just knows and creates and purposes and I don't have to have the answers because he's got it all under control. Grateful that he's brought us here for this season, and while he never lets us get too comfortable, he's provided community for us as we do life. Grateful for the sleepless nights because she's so worth it. Grateful for the sleepless days as Michael grows and learns and pushes every limit. Grateful for his sweet tender heart and his love for his sister, even if he can't quite navigate the emotions quite yet. Grateful for friends. Grateful for a church centered on preaching the Word. And grateful for the amazing man God gave me to adventure with each day. For his unconditional love, his example of worship, and his loyalty. 

Grateful for God. 

I am blessed.

Pain in Childbearing

“To the woman he said,

‘I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing;

in pain you shall bring forth children.’” – Genesis 3:16a

Pain in childbearing. This was Eve’s punishment for disobeying God and eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Eve had barely processed her new relationship, and with that the command to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen 1:28), and now she learns that the big proactive command she’s been given is going to bring great pain.

I’ve been mulling over and pondering this verse for several months now. What exactly is pain in childbearing? Obviously, the physical labor of delivering a child is a painful experience. No woman will argue that (and no man will dare try). Now, I’m not looking to discount any male preachers or theologians, here, who look at “pain in childbearing” and (not wrongfully) assume it is what it is; pain in the actual act of delivery. We all have our birth stories, and some can be downright miserable, but scripture even tells us that we tend to forget how bad the pain actually was, because of the joy of the baby.

“When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.” – John 16:21

And yet this was Eve’s punishment? A few minutes, or perhaps hours (or days, if you have it really rough) of birthing pain?

I think there’s a lot more to it.

It took us four years to conceive Michael. That time of waiting, of not knowing, and of wanting was hard, especially as the months and years went on and the tests kept coming back negative.

When we learned of Michael’s kidney issues in utero, the concern, the fear, and the helplessness were sometimes paralyzing.

Though Michael’s actual delivery was not too bad (or perhaps that was the joy and adrenaline speaking!), his premature arrival was terrifying as we wondered if he would be okay, and then sat day after day in the hospital yearning to take him home.

 

Watching him grow and learn, but seeing him go through seizures and sickness and sadness and disappointment breaks this mama’s heart, though I know that he will face disappointment often in life.

We were overjoyed when we found out we were pregnant in March, though faint lines made it uncertain at first. Within a week of confirmation that we were indeed, expecting, Jesus took that sweet baby home. Heartache. Emotional heartache. And physical exhaustion, ache, and brokenness.

And now, as we celebrate our third pregnancy and look forward to this sweet baby girl’s birth in March, there is joy, but there is also heartache. After a miscarriage, it’s hard not to worry about her well-being. I find myself unable to read or listen to stories of loss without being overwhelmed by concern. We wonder what her timing will be like and every new week we praise God that she’s still well. It sounds terrible to write, and I remind myself to trust and hope, but I also know that God is sovereign and His will is perfect. And He said there would be pain in the process.

You see, the physical pain of childbearing is real. But the emotional and spiritual pain is so much more. It doesn’t stop when baby is born. It’s there in the women who so desperately want to conceive and can’t. It’s there in the women who lose a sweet baby in the womb. It’s there every day in the life of every mother who sees her child endure pain, sickness or sadness.  It’s there when your child says he doesn’t love you or chooses a path you wouldn’t have wished for him. It's there when they disobey you, perhaps giving us a small taste of how God felt when Adam and Eve disobeyed.

We don’t hear much about Eve’s birth experiences, but as a woman, I assure you that the pain she endured when Cain murdered Abel shook her to her core, and likely scarred her through her last days.

I believe every woman endures the pain of childbearing in some way or another. We “bring forth children” with great trepidation and great pain, physically and emotionally. But also great faith, dependence on God, and abundant joy. And it’s the joy – the joy of teaching our children (from our own womb or those we’ve been blessed to raise or pour into) about Jesus and doing the absolute best we can do to raise men and women of God.

There will be pain in childbearing. Every step of the way. But there will also be great joy. Cling to the joy. For the joy of the Lord is your strength.

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,

the fruit of the womb a reward. – Psalm 127:3

Gorillas, Social Media, and Personal Responsibility

I’ll be the first to admit that I would much rather find someone to blame than take personal responsibility. Maybe I’m part of the “entitled” generation, maybe I grew up around too many lawyers, or maybe it’s facebook, but even in there, I tried to place the blame for my attitude on anything but myself and my character.

The interwebs blew up yesterday with the news of the endangered gorilla who had to be shot to protect the safety of a small boy who made his way into the enclosure. And I was sad. A lot of people are sad. But a lot of people (who were in no way involved) are also downright angry. I got lost in a couple comment feeds…

“Blame the mother!”

“make the parents pay!”

“it’s the zoo’s fault”

“negligence on all parts”

“Why didn’t they _____?!”

And then I was more sad. Sad because we aren’t capable of just being sad in a set of crummy circumstances. We have to point fingers. We have to place blame. We have to find justice (and of course, our idea of justice is obviously ideal and fair).

I get it. When we realized we have major water damage in the flooring of one of our rooms, I immediately tried to place blame. I wanted it to be someone’s fault. I wanted someone else to have to pay. It’s only fair. I shouldn’t be responsible to fix my own home. The inspector should pay. The previous owners should have known.

Spill your hot coffee? Sue the restaurant. Trip and fall? Whose sidewalk was it? Lost your job? Clearly, your boss was out to get you (been there too).

I pondered this today, though, on this day we celebrate and remember all those who have given their lives for our freedom. These men and women fought for something greater than themselves, and outside their realm of personal responsibility. Imagine if they had just sat back and whined about all the injustices, or even sat on the front lines tweeting their “how could yous?!”.

Imagine if police officers ignored offenses, or even just pointed fingers at perpetrators, instead of actually serving justice.

We can sit around when our house is on fire and question who is to blame, but there are firefighters who are going to fight to put the fire out and make sure we’re safe.

The American soldier isn’t sitting back and questioning and placing blame and telling someone else to do something about it. They’re standing on the front lines, willing to die to defend our freedoms – freedom to speak up, freedom to vote, freedom to whine on social media (though I somehow doubt that was why so many of our ancestors stood so proudly for our country).

There are definitely injustices in this world. There are sad things with no one in particular to blame (though we feel better when we can point fingers). And sometimes there is even someone to blame. But sometimes we’re the ones to blame. I know I am. 

Imagine, perhaps, a world where everyone took personal responsibility. We own up to our own faults and build our own character. Once we’ve worked on that, perhaps we step up for something beyond ourselves. We take ourselves out of the center of the universe, and start loving, serving, giving of ourselves for someone else’s good.

Perhaps then, we might truly appreciate and honor the American soldier.

Even more, we might understand and worship Jesus. Let’s face it, often times we are the ones to blame. We’re the ones who told the lie, shared the gossip, acted impurely, judged someone unfairly, and worshipped ourselves and our self-proclaimed, self-righteousness over the One True God.

Jesus lived a perfect life. He never sinned. He could have easily sat in a little bubble of self-righteous indignation at the world around him. But instead, he had compassion. He was saddened by our helplessness and sin, and he did something about the injustices he saw. He did something on our behalf. Not because we deserved it – no, we deserved death and eternal separation from God. He did it to give us freedom. He paid our penalty by dying on the cross, so that we might be viewed as righteous, and have freedom from the bondage of sin and death.

What does this have to do with a gorilla? Not a lot, other than perhaps a call to just allow the sadness to be just that. We live in a fallen world where sad things happen. Injust and awful things sometimes. Stop pointing fingers and realize that sometimes people are doing the best they can. And sometimes they’re not. And without Jesus, even our best will always fall short.

So celebrate those who serve for the greater good. Thank those who put your life and your needs ahead of their own. When there are real injustices, fight against them in actions, rather than just worlds on a screen. Look at the needs around you and consider serving or helping instead of just crying injustice at the unfortunate circumstances.

Thank a soldier.

Thank Jesus. For only his death could bring us the ultimate freedom. Then tell someone about Him - that's the greatest good you can do for someone.

And stay off of those comment feeds. They’ll suck the joy right out of you.

For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” And again, “The Lord will judge his people.” 31 It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. – Hebrews 10:30

the ones with it all together

In April 2014, a good friend and former pastor of ours committed suicide. The shocking news came about a week before we went back to Zambia, and we were barely able to process it before getting on the plane to head back into the trenches of full-time ministry in Africa.

Ministry can be hard. Isolating even. Though you serve so many, you can only be real and safe with a precious few. You’re the missionary, the pastor, the Bible study leader. You’re the called, the qualified, the one with all the answers, and the one with it all together.

You’re not, of course, but that’s the expectation we put on ourselves. So when the hard stuff piles up and you start to feel lonely and overwhelmed, where do you go?

Yes, the simple answer is “to God.” I mean, those of us in ministry have a direct channel to our Lord and King, right? It is absolutely true, that through the blood of Christ, we can approach the throne in prayer and confidence because Jesus is at the right hand of God and the Spirit is advocating for us.

But sometimes despair can just be too much and we need a friend, a confidant, or perhaps, a change of circumstances.

In a previous blog post, I shared a bit about the depression Luke was experiencing during our last term in Zambia. I remember standing back and knowing all I could do is support him and love him and pray for him as he wrestled with our calling and identity and our future.

What I didn’t share was that I was scared. I knew Luke was standing on a firm foundation in Christ and never once even thought about suicide. I saw his dedication to the Word and to our family. But having arrived on the field still processing the suicide of our friend, I was extra vigilant watching for signs of something more than a situational depression. I was afraid to go through what my dear friend went through, left alone with two kids to pick up the pieces, a pastor’s wife who was expected to have it all together and then her whole world just crumbled apart.

With a new baby in my arms and a fear in my heart, mama bear came out in full protection.

While I didn’t growl at anyone (I don’t think), I was very mindful of my words, and eyes wide open to the One who comes to steal and destroy. We have an Enemy who is very real and wants to stand in the way of the great things God wants to do in and through us.

Sometimes this mama bear was so focused on protecting family, though, that I may have hurt dear friends. Though Luke was back to his normal, goofy self almost instantaneously when we made our decision to leave Zambia (bringing further confirmation that we were making the right choice as the depression seemed more like oppression), we both still carried a lot of hurt, and at the time, my focus was so on preventing more hurt to us, that my controlling tendencies may have brought more hurt to others. I say this not knowing whom I may have upset in those first weeks back in the US. I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting as we approach the one-year mark from when we decided it was time to leave Zambia.

We had so many gracious hosts and generous friends welcoming us back and taking care of us, and I so apologize if our responses were not so gracious or our welcomes over-stayed. I’m sorry if we were guarded, or as we felt safe with you, if we overshared. I’m sorry if our brokenness shattered an ideal image you might have had of missionaries. Most of all, I’m sorry if our lives/words/choices made you think any less of Jesus.

I say all this as confession, as reflection, as explanation. I say it to thank you for being safe people as we picked up the pieces of our brokenness. I say it to ask you to be safe people for others around you who are in full-time ministry. It brings great joy, but it’s also hard.

We absolutely love what we are doing now to equip new missionaries. While we often yearn to be the ones going, we are confident that this is where God wants us and we see Him using our experiences in Zambia to better enable us to prepare and relate to the new missionaries we work with. Right now, it’s not so hard. But some days are trying. We are all far from being holy, and the sanctification process can be a burning fire, especially in a ministry setting.

So as I think about where we came from, and where we are now, I just wanted to share this. Pray for your pastors. Encourage the missionaries in your life. Take your pastor’s wife out for coffee and be a safe place for her to be real. Share your struggles and let us share ours – so we know we’re on equal ground. Baby-sit your local college ministry couple’s kids so they can have a date. Send a care package to an overseas missionary. And be available to listen, to pray, to counsel (if asked). Ministry life can be hard, and lonely.

Eighty percent of missionaries burn out and don’t finish their term. According to some statistics, 1,500 pastors leave their ministries every month because of burnout, conflict or moral failure. Seventy percent say they have no close friends. And pastors have one of the top three suicide rates of any profession.

We are thankful to still be in full-time ministry, though it looks a little different here. We are thankful for so many friends who have stuck with us through it all. We are thankful for your prayers and your encouragement. We are thankful for your friendship. Thank you. Please continue to pray that we – and others working to tell people about Jesus – may be vigilant and prepared with the full armor of God.

On leaving. On waiting. On growing.

There are days I really miss Zambia.

And not just because it’s crazy cold here and I want to throw open all the windows and doors and walk around in flip flops (though all of that is very very true).

But I miss the culture. The pace. The people. Our sweet little house with all its flaws. The music. The color. The red dust in every corner and crevice. Laundry and diapers drying on the line. Mulberries straight off the tree. The incredible sunsets over our backyard, easily visible from the kitchen sink. And Jungle and Chibi running like crazy around the yard as they did most afternoons as I prepared a from-scratch dinner with locally grown tomatoes and other goodies.

The simplicity of life, despite the complexity of living in a culture not our own.

We loved Zambia. We still love Zambia. And quite honestly, as we continue in this period of not knowing what’s next for us here, I kinda wish we hadn’t left when we did.

And yet, we knew it was time.

There were such a myriad of factors and so much of the reasoning can’t be explained in a letter or blog (but we’d love to share more over dinner or coffee sometime)! We spent the entire eight months we were back (and honestly, the entire year and a half before that) asking God if that was really where He wanted us. For seven months we just heard “wait.” For seven months, I watched my husband pour himself into our ministry and hit dead end after dead end, wondering if the resistance was from God or the Enemy. I watched him wrestle with our call, our place, our identity, and ultimately, with God (remaining faithful through it all). I watched him get hurt in relationships that we expected to bring life. I watched as daily frustrations and difficulties became unmanageable and debilitating. I watched him battle loneliness that I could not fill and depression that I could not fix.

And I prayed. Because that’s all I really could do. I didn’t pray that we stay or that we go. I just prayed that in the right time, we would know, and that there would be peace in the knowing.

So on that one day in late October when all of it seemed particularly hard and getting out of bed was daunting enough a task to send Luke right back under the covers, we prayed again. And together we felt God was saying “go.” By the end of that day, that “Go” came louder and clearer. And then there was peace. We decided it was, in fact, time.

Funny thing (or God thing) is that when we made the decision officially, there was a light and passion in Luke that I had not seen in many many months. Looking back, it’s as if the depression was more of an oppression. 

Now, going without knowing where we were going was not exactly an easy or straightforward thing. We don’t like not knowing. We like planning. Doing. Having “all our ducks in a row” (whatever that actually means). But just as the Lord told Abram to leave everything to Go “to the land I will show you”, we knew we were just supposed to go, and God would eventually show us where.

From there we think things got a little muddled. In fact, we probably burned a few bridges from unclear or hasty communication. For that, we are deeply sorry. When you’re telling a hundred different people bits and pieces, the whole picture gets a bit blurry and convoluted. Hopes came across as facts. Leaving came across as quitting altogether. And despite months and months of prayer and communication with dear friends, it all happened very fast once the decision was made. So here are a few logistical details:

Luke’s work permit was set to expire January 6, so we knew it would be best to go before that rather than reapply. Then it just made sense to try to leave before Christmas to be with family for the holidays, especially with Michael’s first birthday on Christmas. Plane tickets get more expensive as you get closer to the holidays, and we knew we would need time to fight jetlag and prepare for Christmas. So we booked our tickets for December 9.

Those last several weeks were busy with selling, giving, packing, and arranging. They were also full of meaningful farewells, joyful celebrations of friendship and ministry, and good closure on that chapter of our lives. Every day, we miss something about Zambia, but we don’t question the decision to leave. We weren’t excited to come back, but we are excited for what God has next.

We did not leaving knowing we had a definite position here, and we are still in limbo as far as that goes. We definitely aren’t quitting missions. Our hearts are still very much for sharing Jesus with those who have never heard the Gospel. We won’t even say we’re done overseas (though, for the time being, we feel we need to be Stateside). We’re just waiting to learn the what, where, how, when and who of it all (living out of suitcases and trying to make sense of life).

Let me tell you. The waiting is hard. We spent February at a conference in Michigan for missionaries who have faced burnout or other difficulties. This was a healing time. A renewing time. We were affirmed in our decision to leave and equipped for whatever lies ahead. During a seminar on suffering, one thing struck me more than anything else. So often, Romans 8:28 is used as a band-aid to “comfort” those in hard circumstances – you know, that “all things work together for good.”

Well, they do. And not in a, tomorrow, life will be rosy sort of way. Life may still be hard. It may get harder. God uses that. He uses it in ways we will never know to bring results we will never see.  But He also uses that for the good in us. Our hardship draws us to Him. It sanctifies us – makes us more and more Christlike – and for that we truly can rejoice in the trials.

We don’t regret our time in Zambia. We don’t regret leaving Zambia. We don’t even regret all the junky stuff we experienced along the way, as we know:

…“suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts...” (Romans 5:3-5)

That, my friends, is good. 

*so that was intended to be a lighthearted blog about missing Zambia, but I apparently had a lot more to say. That probably wouldn't be a problem if I updated the blog a bit more often. Thanks for reading, though! Perhaps Luke will have more to say....*

Home for Christmas

and..... deep breath.

and as I breathe that deep breath, an amazing sense of peace washes over me. A peace that says we're doing the right thing, at the right time.

We have made the decision to leave Zambia. There were a myriad of factors leading to this decision, and it certainly did not come easily, but the decision has been made and we hope to be home by Christmas.

Home is such a strange word, isn't it? Since we started dating 10 years ago (and really before that), our focus has been on the next step to get to Africa. Four years ago, we arrived. Literally. Figuratively. Zambia became home. We bought our first refrigerator and washing machine. We adopted one, then two dogs. We established a routine of cooking from scratch and navigating the markets and learning to communicate at all stops along the way. We arrived in Zambia with rose-colored glasses and an uncrushable spirit.

But to be completely honest, our spirits have been crushed. Through hurtful situations. Through spiritual valleys. Through circumstances far outside our control.

We've tried to stick it out. We've redirected our ministry more than once. We've focused on the things we love (the Zambian people, the pace of life, the climate, tropical fruit, etc.). We've prayed. We've cried. We've prayed some more.

And God has shown us it's time to go. We won't say we're done with Africa. We certainly aren't done with missions. But for now, we will no longer call Zambia home.

We will no longer call Zambia home.

Those are hard words to swallow, but go down so smoothly.

We know home is where God calls us to be at that time. He goes before us and is with us.

So as we once again sell most of our belongings and prepare to say a thousand sad good byes, we look forward to our next home. Details are slowly working themselves out. It looks like Charlotte, North Carolina will be home for the foreseeable future (though we promise our friends and family in Illinois and Missouri to spend the holidays with you).

We will still be missionaries, but for the time being, our role will be to equip and mobilize other missionaries in some way or another from our home office. As we know more, we will share more.

It's all so bittersweet. But we have peace. Peace we've not had in many months, maybe years.

Thank you for praying with us through this transition. Thank you for loving us despite our crushed spirits.

We'll be home for Christmas.

"It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed."- Deut. 31:8

Relating to Jonah

We are fast approaching the six-month “anniversary” of our return to life and ministry in Zambia. Many of you have been keeping up with our Tiffany's facebook posts, prayer letters, and certain blog posts since our return, so it should therefore come as no surprise to you that these months have been marked by a great deal of frustration, stress, and questions. If you were to ask me my thoughts on it all, I’d probably give you a pained expression and a mumbled response along the lines of, “We haven’t done anything” or “We’re basically starting over.”

When things were particularly difficult back in June, I told Tiffany that I felt a lot like Jonah. She asked me why, and I didn’t have a good answer. But it’s still the way I felt. This same conversation came back about two weeks ago after a major training event we had planned for church leaders was cancelled due to scheduling conflicts with our primary instructor. Again, I said I felt like Jonah.

If you’re familiar with the story of Jonah, you might think that he is an odd character to identify with – not exactly a great role model for you or your children. But, in light of all that we’ve experienced, I feel that I can relate with him and everything he did and experienced in the short book bearing his name.

Let me give you some examples…

1) Hastily Fleeing

When we arrived in Zambia in 2010 for our first term as missionaries, we were excited. We knew beyond any doubt that this was where God was calling us. It was difficult at times, but we got through all those times with confidence because THIS was where we were supposed to be. THIS was what God made us for.

Fast forward to our return in April of this year. Gone are those feelings of excitement. We I felt as though we were returning out of obligation to our supporters and to the mission, but I was not fully convinced that returning was what God wanted us to do. Maybe we were supposed to remain in the US and take on a new ministry role there. I had so many questions that lingered in my mind. But we returned. And I felt as though I was running away from something.

Or wanting to run away. Wanting to flee from God’s call.

Much like Jonah was called to go and bring a message of salvation to Nineveh but ended up running away – from his home, from this call, and even from God (Jonah 1) – I felt overwhelmingly like I was either running away from God’s call, or I wanted to run but something was keeping me from doing so. And the questions continued.

Did God have something different – better – for us to do somewhere else, but we returned to Zambia because it was familiar?

When we realized that Sports Friends here had all but fallen apart in our absence and we needed to basically start over, was my frustration and reluctance to move ahead my way of running from the huge task of restarting the ministry?

Whether God was calling us back to Zambia, or indeed calling us to the US, it didn’t really matter. I was running from both. I began shutting down, avoiding all things ministry related. It all seemed to be too much, and I didn’t want to deal with it. So, I fled.

And then the storm hit. Everything around felt like it was flying in my face. Nothing I did was making it better. Like the sailors (Jonah 1:13), I couldn’t get myself out of it. I needed God’s intervention to set me straight.

2) Uncomfortably Waiting

It got to the point where Tiffany told me that something was very wrong. She was concerned because I seemed to have lost all passion. Something needed to change. So we took time to pray and seek the wise counsel of others who have been there. And through this time, we became more confident that God was calling us to Zambia, at least for now. But, along with this confirmation of our call came an undeniable feeling that we were to wait on the Lord and not take any of this into our own hands.

Waiting isn’t exactly my strong suit.

In Jonah’s case, God had him swallowed up by a big fish. He had nothing to do but wait as he sat in the fish’s GI tract for three days. Wait for God to release Him from the gastric prison. Wait for God to set him back on the dry land, geared up for the ministry he was called to do.

Now, three days does not sound like a long time, but it probably felt like an eternity to Jonah. For me, waiting for three hours can seem like an eternity. Three days would be almost unbearable. But knowing that God was confirming our call to Zambia and simultaneously telling us to wait on Him indefinitely, my mind was reeling. Wait indefinitely?? Can’t I do that in a place that is more comfortable? Maybe closer to my friends and family?

I may still be in this season of waiting – I may always be – and it’s not exactly an easy thing to live with. But I’m learning. Learning to wait for God to work out the details. Learning to trust that He is in control, even when I try to run away or take the reins.

And this season of waiting is causing me to pray like Jonah did in chapter 2 – praying in acknowledgement of my own failures and efforts to flee, praying for His provision and forgiveness, and praying to recommit to the ministry He has called us to, whatever that may look like.

3) Reluctantly Obeying

Have you ever told God that you would obey Him wherever He may lead, and follow through on your commitment, but only out of obligation and not willingly and joyfully? That seems to be what Jonah did. He went to Nineveh and spread the message of repentance and salvation he was told to bring, but then got upset with God for actually saving the people of Nineveh. He did what God called him to do. He did what He told God he would do. But he definitely didn’t seem happy about it, especially after seeing the outcome.

There are times – more often than I care to admit – when I feel the same way.

I told God that I would follow His leading. I told God that, if He calls us to serve Him in Zambia, we will continue to serve Him in Zambia. Where He leads, I will follow. But that doesn’t mean that I’m always happy about it. Sometimes I feel like I’m continuing to do this ministry because nobody else is doing it, and I’m in too deep to give it up at this point. Other times I know that moving forward will be more difficult and more painful, and I really don’t want to deal with that. I do it, because I believe in keeping my commitments, but I’m not always happy about it.

And then I’m reminded that God doesn’t want our half-hearted obedience (Isaiah 1:11ff; Hosea 6:6). He wants our hearts. If I’m not doing this to honor and glorify Him, then He doesn’t want me to continue. The Pharisees were obedient to the laws, but completely missed the point. Balaam did as God commanded him to do, but that didn’t mean he was saved. Reluctant obedience is not a pleasing sacrifice; worshipful and willful obedience to an awesome God in response to the grace He has provided through His Son – now that’s what He’s looking for.

That doesn’t mean it’ll be easy. But it makes the hard times worth it.

So my prayer for me, and my prayer for you if you find yourself going through similar times, is for a deeper relationship with the Lord. A greater, more intimate and personal knowledge of Him. Live to worship Him. This will pull you back from those times when you try to flee. This will give you peace as you wait for God to move. And this will bring you joy even as the path of obedience seems to bring nothing but difficulty.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

And do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He will make your paths straight.

~Proverbs 3:5-6

Great is Thy Faithfulness

Sometimes hard, ugly, painful, scary stuff happens.  Watching the news (or my Facebook newsfeed), it seems rare that there is ever a time when hard, ugly, painful, scary stuff isn't happening. Seriously. While the media can certainly desensitize us to the ugly things of this world, it can also wrench your heart into pieces and send you to your knees in prayer.

Today I woke up to the news that an infection took the life of a young missionary girl in Thailand. In the last few weeks, I had one friend lose her mother and another his son. Good friends from our church are learning a new normal after their three-year-old lost his legs in a lawn mowing accident. So many others I know are dealing with hard decisions, struggling marriages, and a whole lot of other ugly, painful, scary, stuff. I can't even begin to think of the struggles of those whose loved ones were on the Malaysian flight, or are on the front lines in the Gaza strip or the conflict in the Ukraine.

And not to discount the small, everyday weights that may be bearing on you and on us right now. You know, those little things that add up and just push you right over the edge but you stuff them down because it all seems so petty compared to the big, ugly stuff of the world. The car that won't start. The argument with your boss. The cookies that get burnt or the toddler who won't sleep. I hear you brother, sister, and those feelings are very real.

We live in a fallen world, folks. Whether your trials are small or immense, they're hard. I get that.

Our house was broken into yesterday. Really, our office, which is attached to our carport, separate from the house. Everything was thrown around as the perpetrator searched for money (not just speculation - he actually wrote "I need cash" in the dust on the hood of our vehicle). There wasn't money to take, but he did make off with an external hard drive, several flash drives, and other small items he could try to sell for the money he needed.

Despite living in a culture that is overwhelmed by poverty and desperation and material "stuff" is just that, this sort of thing can shake you to your core. For Luke with all that he's been struggling with lately, this put him right up onto the edge of burnout. Admittedly, I was shaken for sure, but I felt immense peace in the midst of it. In fact, I think it actually annoyed my husband when I didn't flip out. I just got mad at him for waking Michael up in the middle of it all. I don't know what it is, and I'm not trying to sound super strong and righteous, but God has just filled me with peace lately.

When we received a $700 water bill that our renters didn't pay - peace.

When we discovered that our electric line is sparking in the middle of a tree by our house - peace.

When we struggled to get the ownership on our new vehicle changed - peace.

And when we discovered the office ransacked and things missing - peace.

"I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world."- John 16:33

I can't explain it, other than that maybe God has given me an extra measure of peace at a time when Luke and Michael most need me to be strong.

We've been told that different terms of service on the mission field have different significance and purpose. We've only been here a few months, and I feel like I'm here more for what God is doing in me than what I'm doing for Him. Over and over again He has drawn me into prayer and given me great peace. In these trials - ours and those of the people around us, I just keep seeing His faithfulness.

Friend, He is so faithful. For real. I could basically type out Romans 8 right now and leave it at that.

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." - Romans 8:18

We have hope. Brother, Sister, we have Hope in the hard, ugly, painful, scary stuff. We know the verses. We sing the songs, but I think it is in the midst of that very stuff - the hard, ugly, painful, scary stuff - that we can bask in His face and His glory and His faithfulness. And we have hope.

"For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." - Romans 8:24-25

Luke often sings Great is thy Faithfulness to rock Michael to sleep when he's upset. Today, I found myself doing the same. And he calmed, released, and fell asleep in my arms. Perhaps it was the familiar sound. Perhaps it was the words. Perhaps it was the calm and peace he sensed in me as I was engulfed in the recognition and awe of His faithfulness.

Faithful in His Sovereignty and Grace and Redemption. Faithful in providing all that we could ever want or need. Faithful because He Is all we could ever truly want or need. Faithful in His unconditional Love for His children. Faithful in the promise that He will return and wrong will be made right and good will triumph over evil. Faithful as that very day draws nearer every moment. Great is thy Faithfulness.

"What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died - more than that, who was raised - who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, 'For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.' No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." - Romans 8:31-39 

Friend, in this world we will have troubles. The everyday battles are real - even hard, ugly, painful and scary. But the ultimate battle has been won and faithful is the One who has overcome the world. And we can cling desperately to that hope when the broken stuff of this world threatens to rob us of our strength, our joy, and our peace. He is faithful, and His promises are true - and oh so good.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.'" - Revelation 21:4-5a

He is faithful.

"Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me."

Come Lord Jesus.

What happens when you wait on God....

So since the Wesslers are all about candid honesty today, I thought it only appropriate to give an update on how it's been coming back. I mean, how it's really been.

Before I do that, I'm going to add to Luke's list of things missionaries won't tell you but we'll tell you anyway. We are not superheroes.  We hosted a team last year that likened our missionaries to members of The Avengers. It was encouraging (humbling), but the only superhero talent I possess is knowing exactly what size tupperware I need for the amount of leftovers we have. (Ask my husband - I'm a champ). We are not more righteous or holy than you. We do not have an amazing channel to God that enables us to know exactly His will in every situation and He hasn't spoken to us through any burning bushes (yet?). We even go through times when we feel He isn't hearing our cries. Seriously.  *cue current favorite song* In fact, I think it's knowing our own brokenness and sin and desperate need for Jesus that makes us passionate about sharing who He is and what He did with the world (and we don't even do that very well sometimes). We're not here because we're awesome. We're here because He's awesome, and willing to use us despite our propensity to pretend we're superheroes and try to do things in our strength and end up walking straight into a wall of kryptonite.

Now that I've put that out there, I'll share a bit of the nitty gritty. As we were preparing to come back, we shared our concerns regarding Michael's health. In my mind, the only reason we wouldn't return is if we didn't feel it was safe for him. Personally, I felt a bit like Abraham. We prayed and prayed and prayed for a child, and who were we to tell God we wouldn't continue His work because we were afraid He couldn't handle Michael's health needs. I never considered that His work for us might not be Sports Friends. Might not be Zambia. Might not be international missions (don't freak out - just keep reading...). So when all the lights flashed green for Michael to come, I started packing bags and booking tickets.

If you know me, you know I'm a bit impulsive and headstrong. I was ready to come back and didn't consider asking Luke how he really felt. In all honesty, we left our first term absolutely burnt out. Exhausted. Hurt. In hindsight, most of my struggle fell around two things - bitterness and unforgiveness with particular individuals (that has since been resolved), and our struggle to conceive (also resolved, obviously). So as I experienced that healing, along with awesome encouragement from a conference last summer, I felt my cup starting to refill. Apparently, Luke was still running on empty. But once I get an idea in my head (the idea that all was well and we were coming "home" to Zambia), there's usually no telling me otherwise.

Fast forward to April, and we arrived back to a lot of work to be done on our house and only a handful of our churches using their training to impact their communities, and it was hard. As I wrote about in my recent blog, I know my calling right now is to support my husband in his calling and care for our family. But when I saw my normally passionate husband in a lonely, depressed schlump, I literally told him, "I'm not convinced this is still your call."

Ouch.

He'd been wondering the same. But I just put it out there and opened the scary, ugly door. Talk about crying out to God.

Over the next several weeks, we cried out. We prayed. We emailed a handful of people that we knew would give us honest responses and prompt critical questions. We considered the options. We asked ourselves and God those critical questions, and even sat down with some of our Zambian brothers and asked the same things. Does Zambia need Sports Friends? Does it need missionaries at all? What is the biggest need of the church here? What is the goal? Are we equipped and called to help meet those needs? And we waited.

Now before you freak out (or jump for joy (sorry Mom)), we're not leaving. At least not now. Had to put that out there before going any further. All that praying, questioning, refocusing... allowed us to do just that - refocus. One night while we were both waiting for responses from some trusted friends, God gave us each, separately, the same new vision for the ministry (still no burning bush, but it was clear nonetheless). I won't go into all the details, as this is already looking more like a book than a blog, but basically, we both woke up knowing that, yes, we're supposed to be here, and exactly how to move forward with Sports Friends in a way that will help to meet discipleship needs of the churches with whom we work and prepare future leaders for service and mission. We'll hash that out more in future letters/posts.

Some might say we wasted our first two months here, dragging our feet to get going. But sometimes in ministry (especially when "reporting" all of "our success" to supporters back home), I think there is a risk of moving forward in the ways we know or want to do things instead of waiting on God. Those weeks of waiting were hard (did I say I'm impulsive?). Really hard. But I wouldn't trade them in. Why? Because we now feel we are moving forward the way He has shown us rather than just doing ministry for the sake of ministry. Because it's His mission, not ours. And because, sometimes, He's doing a mighty work in us while we wait. *cue second song*

Moses spent 40 years in the wilderness before leading the Israelites out of Egypt. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert before starting his earthly ministry. Paul is said to have spent three years in Arabia and Damascus before starting his missionary journeys in Acts 13. So yeah, maybe we needed some extra time on the front end here. But now we're ready. And we can't wait to see how He uses us in this chapter of His story.

Four Things This Missionary Won't Tell You (But actually will, because he just did...)

There’s a blog post that’s being shared all over facebook that describes the 10 things missionaries won’t tell you. And I’ll admit, I read it. I resonated with a lot of it. And I shared it along with 10,000+ other people (incidentally, that one post has been shared almost as many times as this blog has been seen in the last 7 years combined). It was on my timeline for all of 7 minutes. Then I took it down.

I took it down because, though there’s much I agree with, there were parts that I, well, didn’t so much. It could have been his point, it could’ve been the tone, but either way, I realized that I didn’t want everything he said to be taken as what I would say. It’s not.

And then I realized, I’m a missionary. I have thoughts. And I have a blog. It may be a blog that nobody really reads, and it might need some serious updating, but it’s out there. And I can use it to write my own “things that this missionary won’t tell you but really does because we are open books in this house”. So here’s my list. I’m not speaking for other missionaries here – this is all me.

Our African "wildlife"

First off, communication. We know we need to write more updates and send more thank you notes. We are constantly talking about how we need to update our blog. And it’s not because we aren’t writers that we don’t update. (Well, that’s part of why I don’t update. Tiffany’s a writer, so that’s not really her reason.) I don’t write many updates because, as hard as this might be to believe, there’s really not that much to talk about most of the time.

Yes, we live in Africa, but we don’t have wild animals wandering around outside our house. We have two dogs and a cat. Our neighbors next door have some goats. Across the street, more dogs. Want to see traditional African wildlife? We can take a three-hour car ride to the game park and see some there if we’re lucky.

Yes, we are missionaries doing full-time ministry. But, much like those in full-time ministry in the US, that doesn’t mean we are seeing people trusting in Christ by the hundreds on a day-to-day basis. It doesn’t even mean we are out in the community spending countless hours building relationships with the local people. Because the people we work with have jobs, and families, and lives, just like we do. We build relationships and spend time with them when we can and when they can, but it’s not an every day thing. In fact, my typical day involves waking up (probably way earlier than I want to because the dogs are barking or Michael decides to wake up), doing my quiet time while I drink my coffee, then spending a bajillion hours holed away in my office reading and researching and planning and writing training materials. A few times in the week I’m able to have a brief phone conversation with a local sports minister or pastor. Wednesdays I spend most of the morning working in our garden, and then in the afternoon I make macaroni and cheese for my lunch/dinner. Basically, if you spend a day with me, you’d be bored out of your mind. And so I don’t write about it, because it’d be about as interesting to read as Little Women (which I will admit I haven’t read, but if it’s anything like the movie, I would imagine passing a kidney stone to be more enjoyable).

Which brings me to my second point: prayer requests. We need your prayers, and we deeply appreciate everybody who has been and continues to pray for us. We try to keep you all updated with our more pressing and immediate concerns, whether it’s illness or upcoming meetings or something involving the people we work with. But, that’s not all we need prayer for. Life in full-time ministry is hard, living and working on a spiritual battlefield. It’s true in the US, and it’s true here. We get down. We have bad days (weeks?). We question our effectiveness and even our calling from time to time. But we don’t always share all of these requests with everybody. In fact, I’ll even say that we probably need the most prayer when you haven’t heard anything from us in a while. Sometimes it gets so hard, we don’t know how to articulate it, so we don’t say anything at all.

Next up, money. Not all missionaries have to raise support; we do. But we haven’t found this to be some great burden that we must do in order to do what we want to do. We have been blown away time and again by the way God has provided for our needs, as we have never found ourselves under-supported and unable to continue. I have a friend who recently wrote a book about support-raising as worship, and really, it is. It is an opportunity for us to share what God is doing around the world, and it is an opportunity for people to join in this work. It’s not our work or our ministry; it’s God’s work. We may be on the front lines, but we aren’t the only ones involved. And assembling this team has been one of the greatest encouragements in ministry. Thank you to all who are a part of it.

Finally, loneliness. Yes, we are lonely. I mean, is that really surprising to anybody? Missionaries leave their friends and family behind and move to a new and different place. Obviously we are lonely. And that gets amplified by a number of factors. Yes, I have a relationship with Christ so I’m never actually alone. Yes, I have a wonderful wife who I love spending time with. But, I’m an extrovert, so not having people around me with whom I can relate is extremely draining, and I can’t put the responsibility on introverted somewhat-less-extroverted-than-meTiffany to keep me energized and entertained all day every day. The longer we live in Zambia, this becomes less of an issue as we are better able to relate with the Zambian people without necessarily feeling like we have to be “on” in order to be culturally relevant and appropriate. But, it’s still an issue.

But sometimes loneliness comes because the people around us, with whom we should be able to relate well, we just don’t get along with for one reason or another. Yes, everybody deals with conflict between coworkers from time to time. I get that. But when you live in a completely different country and these are the only people around who share a similar background, it’s hard. You can feel like you have nobody else to lean on, and so you end up feeling…lonely. (Caveat: I’m not saying we don’t get along with our fellow missionaries here. I’m simply saying that, even a small disagreement can seem bigger and more difficult because you’re not on the same page with the people around you who are inherently most like you.)

And though we are lonely, we are often too proud to say so. Or, we don’t know how to say it. I mean, do you get on facebook and say “I’m really lonely today. Maybe somebody should say hi”? But we do get on facebook. And we do appreciate when people “like” what we say. I actually click through to find out who “likes” it. Because it tells me that, though you may not have anything to say back, you at least acknowledge our existence, and that makes us feel a little bit more connected to somebody. (Interestingly enough, facebook stalking is just as creepy to us here, so if you’re going to mention one of our posts in a future conversation with us, please at least like what we had to say.)

This isn’t really a cry for attention – well, maybe a little one. It’s just a simple request from this missionary. I don’t often say write much, but when I do, I like to know if people are listening reading.

So, that’s my long list of only four things that this missionary won’t say but actually just did. I’m sure there are more, and this may be followed by an addendum or two in the future. 

My Great Ambition

You want to hear something crazy? Being a wife and mom is hard work. Before you get alarmed, I’m not saying I don’t love my husband and child. No, my love for them is the very reason the job is so hard. Because sometimes loving them just doesn’t seem like enough.

You see, the last month has been a struggle. Me, I feel like I’m doing great – but I also feel like I’m the one holding all the pieces together. Some of it is the normal stuff I’m sure every mom goes through: when baby is teething and fighting sleep and no matter how much rocking, how many songs, and how much well-intentioned advice I try to apply, nothing makes him feel better. I want to be able to fix it all and make my sweet baby boy happy and healthy and sometimes all I can do is love him, pray for him, and let him know that I will be with him through the discomfort and yucky days.

How do I do the same for my husband? I’m trying my hardest to meet Michael’s needs and sometimes missing the fact that Luke desperately needs my attention, care, and love as well. Don’t get me wrong –Luke is healthy and fully capable of feeding and washing himself and definitely doesn’t fight sleep. But as we settle back into life and ministry here and my extroverted husband feels virtually friendless and exhausted before he even starts, he needs my tender care and support.

At my ladies Bible study this week a friend challenged us to pray about our ambitions. What are our ambitions for this next year? What has God placed on our hearts to do for Him this year? Well, normally I jump on those big hairy audacious tasks about taking His Word to the nations and helping His Name be known (as any good missionary would do), but man, when I started praying, God made it so clear to me: 

"Love your husband. Forget the big tasks – I’ll give those to Luke. You need to be there to love him, support him, pray for him and give him a place of safety and respite at the end of the day. Your job right now is to be his helpmate."

“But for Adam, no suitable helper was found. So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.” – Genesis 2:20b-22

 For many women, this may seem so easy. But if you know me, you know I’m a doer. I want to be on the front lines for the Kingdom. So to be given the task of essentially doing less is quite ambitious for me. Pray for your husband. Be there for him. Aside from your tasks in the home, don’t do anything – be there.

So when you ask me what my ministry is here, my answer may surprise you. Yes, I will still be involved in the ladies Bible study and I’m sure I will dabble in bits of this and that at times, but my number one role right now is wife and mom. The Lord has put it on my heart that our ministry (collectively, as a family), will be far more fruitful if I stand behind my husband than if I take off running alongside or ahead thinking that by doing so we will accomplish more.

And man is this a challenge for me. I want to do do do! And I find myself quick to push Luke to do do do more to make up for my lack of doing. I was the runner and he was the cheerleader – and if you know me you know I laugh when people ask if I was also a cheerleader. I don’t cheer from the sidelines. I want to be cheered by millions of adoring fans as I list off all of my accomplishments from the day/week/year.

But again I hear that still small voice calling on me to just love him, pray for him, care for him, and let him know I’m his biggest cheerleader and fan. After all, it’s not for my glory. It’s not for Luke’s glory either. Our roles here – our lives – are 100 percent for the Glory of God. And according to the Father Himself, my life of washing diapers and nursing Michael and cooking meals and buying groceries and praying for my husband and child can bring Him glory as well, and is more than enough.

“Her husband has full confidence in her

and lacks nothing of value.

She brings him good, not harm,

all the days of her life…

She gets up while it is still dark;

she provides food for her family

and portions for her servant girls….

Her husband is respected at the city gate,

where he takes his seat among the elders of the land….

She speaks with wisdom,

And faithful instruction is on her tongue.

She watches over the affairs of her household

and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Her children arise and call her blessed;

Her husband also, and he praises her.”

-excerpts from Proverbs 31

May my husband have full confidence in me as I care for our family.  I know I will have to do some serious growing as I battle issues of selfishness and self-worth, but as we wrote in our most recent prayer letter, our worth is in Him. If His will for me right now is to rock my teething child to sleep, plan dinner and pray, pray and pray some more, then who am I to question if that is enough? He has provided, and He will do the rest.

What is His ambition for you this year?