Big Questions from Little Hearts

"Mama, will I go to heaven?"

It was bedtime, the light had been turned off, and I was saying a final goodnight to his brothers. My youngest beckoned me over and whispered this question in my ear. I was surprised, not only because it seemingly came out of nowhere but also because I knew that my son already knew the answer to his own question. Yet clearly something had prompted Asa to wonder anew about his salvation.

"Do you believe in Jesus?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"Then, yes, you'll go to heaven." I reminded him what the Bible teaches us: that all we have to do is believe in Jesus and we'll be with Him in heaven. Referencing John 1:12, which we had just read earlier that day, I said, "Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God."

The truth is that we don't have to do anything special to be saved. We don't have to do anything at all. Jesus alone did what needed to be done, and beyond that we don't need to do anything to be in God's good graces.

The comforting assurance I meant to impart to my son did not come. Asa was restless, agitated even.

"But what if I'm not committed?" he asked. "Like Paul. What if I'm not committed like he is?"

"Do you mean, what if you're not as great a Christian as Paul was?"

"Yeah."

Oh, precious son of mine! How the human heart so easily betrays us and questions the truths of God! Yet what follower of Jesus hasn't asked this question in some form? The variations are many, but the essence is the same: Have I done enough? Am I enough?

Often these moments of self-doubt come on the heels of comparison. Have I done enough, like that person? Am I enough, like that person?

Asa was thinking about the apostle Paul and felt that he couldn't compare with such a man, couldn't live up to someone of such commitment.

It's an idea that we are familiar with - the notion that missionaries and other people in ministry are on a pedestal - and an idea that we soundly denounce. But the human heart has a way of convincing us that we are not enough, even if we've been taught and nurtured to know and believe otherwise.

I am a missionary, like Paul. Will I ever have the same kind of impact that Paul had? No, certainly not. I am confident of that. But I am no less worthy of God's love and salvation, no less worthy of His attention, than the apostle Paul. I believe in Jesus, just like Paul did. And I am secure in Christ because of my belief.

So is my son. I reminded him that when Jesus died on the cross, there were two other people crucified at the same time, right next to Him. They were both criminals and one of them, while dying on his own cross, realized who Jesus was and believed in Him then and there. And Jesus said to him, "Today you will be with me in paradise." I told Asa, "That man was a thief and had made some bad decisions in his life, but none of that mattered in the end. The only thing that mattered was that he believed in Jesus. Remember the verse we were just talking about? All we have to do is believe. That's it."

When we do believe, hopefully we'll want to live in a way that glorifies God and pleases His heart. "We'll keep making mistakes our whole life," I said, "because we'll still be sinners our whole life, but hopefully our love for God will impact the way we live and impact the choices we make."

Which brought us back to Paul. Paul loved the Lord and his life was never the same after he made a decision to believe in Jesus. His complete devotion to the Lord was rather awe-inspiring. As my son noted, Paul was truly committed to Jesus.

But the good news is that we don't have to follow in Paul's footsteps in order to love God and glorify Him. We don't have to be a missionary or a pastor or a preacher or do any other kind of intentional ministry. We can love God and bring Him glory in a myriad of ways as we pursue the gifts He has given us.

"Did you know your grandma has been a singer her whole life?" I asked Asa. His head perked up - that kid is a singing machine and was clearly invested in where this conversation was going. "She's been singing ever since she was a kid. And she has been glorifying God by singing her whole life. God gave her the gift of singing, and she loves it and is passionate about it, and she glorifies God and pleases His heart just by singing."

I gave him another example. "What did your grandpa do for a job?"

"He was a doctor."

"Right. Was he a missionary doctor like your dad?"

"No."

"Right. He was a regular doctor in Michigan for decades. And he glorified God by being a doctor. We can all glorify God and please His heart by being regular people doing regular things. Isn't that good news?"

"Mmm hmm."

I asked if he knew what God said is the greatest commandment? Asa shook his head. "To love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength. That's it: love God." I assured him there are many ways we can love God. We can do it by singing, or praying, or working hard, or by doing nothing and resting!

"Did you know that one of the Ten Commandments is to observe the Sabbath and just rest?" Asa did not know that, and judging by the look on his face he was either confounded or amazed or both. (But aren't we all a bit confounded and amazed by that truth?) "We can love God by doing nothing! Isn't that great?" Asa nodded and smiled.

I have said many times that the only true calling any of us have is to love God back. How we do that will look as different as each set of fingerprints on the planet. But at the end of the day (and the end of our time here on earth), the only thing that will matter is if we've responded to the invitation to love God back.

My prayer for our children is that they'll know how loved and cherished they are, and that they'll choose to love God in return. If they do, nothing else matters. The details of how they spend their days and what they do with their lives will be of little consequence because, ultimately, they'll be spending their days and their whole lives loving God.

And, hopefully, their love for Him will impact the way they live. That is true for all of us: our love for God helps us to glorify Him.

"Is Dad glorifying God by not coming home?" Asa asked.

Context: Earlier we'd learned that Eli would not be coming home in time to see the boys before bed like we'd thought. He was flying back from Minnesota and was currently stuck in Chicago with no clear answer as to when he'd make it home. Asa had been rather upset at the news, and now he asked an insightfully good question.

Here's what I said:

"I think Dad can glorify God whether he stays in Chicago or whether he comes home. You know why? Because I think glorifying God is less about whether our plans succeed or not and more about how we respond to our plans succeeding or not. If Dad lets his disappointment and frustration make him speak with anger to other people, then he's not glorifying God. But if he chooses to be patient and content, if he speaks to the airline employees with kindness and gratefulness, then he's glorifying God."

To make a final point, I asked him, "Do you remember the fruits of the Spirit?" (On a side note, when I recited them for Asa he corrected me that I'd forgotten about goodness. That precious child of mine knows his Scripture!) "If Dad is loving and kind and patient and so forth, then he is glorifying God whether he comes home tonight or not."

Asa nodded, no longer restless or agitated. This little believer in Jesus has a heart trying to understand Him more, and I praise the Lord for these opportunities to think through these important questions together and remember the truths He's given us.

Heaven is waiting for all who believe in Jesus. And as I've said before and will keep on saying, the only true calling any of us have is to love God back. But let me add an addendum: The only true calling any of us have is to love God back and to allow that love for Him to help us glorify Him forever.

The Ministry of Discipleship

Anyone who's heard us talk about our life and ministry in Kenya knows how passionate we are about training the next generation of African doctors. This is why:

This current map from the World Health Organization shows the global distribution of physicians, showing the number of doctors per 10,000 people. The darker blue areas have the most doctors while the lightest blue areas have the least. Here's the fact that stirs our hearts to action: the continent of Africa has, on average, less than 1 doctor per 40,000 people.

The reality is stark. Simply put, Africa needs more doctors. It also needs healthcare systems with an infrastructure that can support doctors and the supplies and equipment necessary for treating patients.

Our main role in improving healthcare in Africa is to train Family Medicine physicians. I've written before about why we train African doctors, but I haven't yet written about another aspect of what we do, which is equally important.

Not only does Africa need more doctors, but it needs doctors who are Christian leaders.  How do we aspire to achieve this goal? By training them in every facet of the job – how to be a compassionate healthcare provider who seeks to meet the spiritual needs of the patients as well as their physical needs, and how to be a Christian doctor who fights for just and merciful healthcare systems.

What is our method for training them to not only be doctors, but Christian physician leaders?

We disciple them.

What exactly is discipleship? It’s learning how to be disciples, and Christian discipleship is specifically learning how to follow Jesus.

Typically, discipleship doesn’t just happen in a vacuum. Nor does it happen overnight. In truth, it’s a lifelong process. We’re all on a journey of learning to love Jesus back and to follow Him throughout the course of our life. But it’s a process. And it’s a process modeled by Jesus.

Jesus came into the world to save us from our sins. He is the Good News. But not only did He make the sacrifice required to rescue us from sin, He spent time teaching people the truth of God’s love. He spent time proclaiming a message that there’s a better way to live this life than what our sinful hearts are inclined to think and do. We are meant to love God back, and to love each other too.

But Jesus came not only to deliver a message. He came to live out that message with the purpose of demonstrating His love for us and serving as an example for us. Jesus spent time building relationships with people, walking alongside them to help them understand Him and His ways better, and to guide them as they learned to apply His principles.

And that kind of process takes time. Jesus chose twelve specific people to be His disciples – as a starting point – and He spent three years in close proximity with them, intentionally investing in them and helping them grow in knowledge and wisdom and spiritual maturity.

For example, He taught them parables about faith as small as a mustard seed, and he also healed a woman who’d been bleeding for 12 years because her faith was the size of believing that if she could just touch His cloak without being noticed she would be healed – and she was – which served as an example of what that kind of faith looks like. Jesus wanted His disciples to learn from her. Jesus also taught His disciples about prayer, then exemplified prayer for them, both praying in public and removing Himself from everyone and everything in order to pray alone.

Jesus brought a message and He lived that message day in, day out, for His disciples to learn firsthand what it meant to love the Lord wholeheartedly and follow Him.

And the process of discipleship takes time.

Years. Decades. A Lifetime.

We know very well from the Gospels that even though the twelve disciples spent so much close time with Jesus, they were continually confused about a myriad of things throughout that time. They were watching the humble example of Jesus...and were still choosing to speak pridefully. They were listening to His parables...and still had no idea what He was talking about. They were hearing Him say that He would die and rise again three days later...and were clueless that He was speaking literally and seriously. The disciples were bumbling their way through understanding Jesus and trying to follow Him (which I love it because it provides a sense of camaraderie in all of my own bumbling!).

The point is this: learning the ways of Jesus, learning His Word and how to apply it in our daily lives, is an ongoing process. It’s a lifelong process, and somehow along the way, by God’s grace, the journey of maturing spiritually will result in us bearing good fruit.

Jesus spoke about this to His disciples shortly before He was crucified. At the end of their 3-year journey together, the end of their in-person, day in, day out time together, this was one of the things Jesus said to them:

“This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples” (John 15:8).

What a clear and striking picture of discipleship! Disciples of Jesus are meant to bear fruit, which in turn glorifies the Father.

As noted, discipleship is a lifelong process for all of us, but there are seasons of life in which discipleship can be particularly intentional – times when we allow ourselves to be poured into, and times when we pour ourselves back into others.

As Eli and I have undertaken the ministry of discipleship, we’ve come to realize that’s really what it is: taking what has been poured into you and choosing to pour it back out. Our offerings can take many forms – knowledge, education, resources, life experiences. The Lord uses all manner of things so we can both be discipled and do the work of discipling others throughout our life.

As we live and minister in Kenya, we’re trying to be intentional and strategic in how we use the four years we’ve been given with each Family Medicine resident. We teach them and try to model how to be disciples of Jesus. We do this in hopes that they’ll be well prepared to bear good fruit when it’s their time to leave Chogoria and move on to the next place God has called them to, giving glory to the Father wherever they go.

We've been in Kenya for eight years now and have seen five graduating classes emerge from the residency program. We're in a marvelous season of seeing what God is doing with these graduates after they leave the program and pursue medicine and ministry beyond their residency training. We're seeing them understand the Bible more (thanks in large part to Eli's commitment to discussing How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth as part of their spiritual curriculum), we're seeing them step up to host Bible Study, we're hearing them consider mission work for the first time, we're seeing them take on leadership roles at hospitals around the country, we're seeing them move far away from family to pursue ministry among non-Christian patient populations, and we're seeing them make concrete plans to move back to their home countries in order to build up the healthcare system in some of the poorest places on the planet.

These men and women are disciples of Jesus, and they are bearing good fruit. What a privilege, what an honor, what a joy to participate in training and discipling the next generation of Christian physician leaders for Africa!

Life and Death: Nature Speaks

A couple months ago I took extra notice of the vibrant colors around Chogoria.  We had seen photos of the fall colors in the Midwest where our families are - a time of year we always miss - and in an effort to appreciate the beauty in front of me I simply looked up as I walked around our compound.  No leaves change color here on the equator, but there are colors aplenty because flowers are perpetually in bloom.

We are surrounded by color.  Whereas the colors of autumn in the Midwest remind us of death, the colors in this "Land of Eternal Spring" remind us of life.

To be sure, the flowers here follow cycles of life and death like flowers do everywhere, but there is no one season where everything dies all at once.  We never find ourselves surrounded by barrenness.  When one plant loses its flowers, there are plenty more still in full bloom.

Because of where I grew up, I used to think of seasons as either being full of life or death.  Spring and summer were seasons of life, autumn and winter were seasons of death.  Here in Chogoria, we see life and death juxtaposed every day.  They live in tandem, neighbors and allies.  When the flowers of the flame tree fall and litter the ground with their bright orange petals, the frangipani blooms are clinging to their tree and filling the air with their fragrance.  When the purple jacarandas are shriveling under my feet, the pink oleanders are swaying in the breeze.

Life and death coexist year-round, and there is beauty and purpose in both.  It reminds me of the words of Paul in Philippians 1:20b-21: "Now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or death.  For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain."

Our Bible Study has been reading Acts, and so much of the early church's story is about living in the tension between their new life in Christ and the increasing threat to their physical lives.  But what Paul said is true: whether by life or death, Christ will be exalted.

Nature speaks into this truth.  Whether the jacaranda tree is in full bloom, or whether the flowers have long since fallen and turned to dust, the tree gives glory to God.  

Even the sun, which is a dying star, gives light and life to all it reaches.  Nature shouts at us with metaphors about life and death, if we are willing to listen.

As I was missing autumn a couple months ago, my 6th graders were memorizing a poem for school called Come, Little Leaves by George Cooper.  It's about leaves falling, and it's about contentment.  The leaves are not portrayed as dying, but as playing, dancing, and flying.  They are doing what they must, but they are doing it with acceptance and even joy.  My favorite line of the poem is this: "Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went; Winter had called them, and they were content."

Even in death, they were content.  Because nature knows what we are still trying to understand and accept: that whether by life or by death, Christ will be exalted.

Life glorifies God.

Death glorifies God.

Because all of life and death ultimately comes from God.

We are surrounded by both life and death year-round in Chogoria, and we bear witness to the exaltation of the Lord because of it.  The hibiscus and poinsettias are proclaiming the glory of the Lord outside the window right now, and they will proclaim His glory when it's their turn to fade because He who has made them has ordained it to be so.  They submit themselves to the Creator who grants all of life and death.  And they are content.

I pray it will also be so with me.

***********************

The song Every Season by Nichole Nordeman is a favorite of mine because of how beautifully it captures the metaphor of the changing seasons and our lives in Christ.  I encourage you to take a listen.

Jesus, Immanuel

In our predominantly Christian corner of East Africa, the prosperity gospel is often preached in churches and curses are often pronounced by witch doctors in villages.  We have less encounters with other religions than with skewed interpretations and applications of our own religion.  As with anywhere in the world, there is still more room for the Gospel to go forth, to take root, and to grow deep.  In our particular context, the message of Christ has gone forth and taken root in many hearts, but the soil is shallow and the roots are thin.  As Jesus himself said, faith is easily uprooted in those conditions (Matthew 13:20-21).

Our main ministry is discipleship.  With the intention of deepening and strengthening roots, we work to impart the truth of who God really is and how he interacts with us and our world.  This deeply matters because who God is – and isn't – shapes not only how we live our lives but how we relate to our Savior.  It also impacts the meaning of this time of year and how we celebrate the distinctly Christian holiday of Christmas.

Earlier this year I sat outside a Buddhist temple with my nine-year-old son and talked about what God requires of us.  Our family had traveled to Thailand for a missions conference and had the privilege of visiting two temples during our time there.  The first temple we visited was particularly memorable because of its design.  We had never been to a place like that before and our fantasy-loving boys were instantly enamored with the dragons carved into the temple architecture.  Truth be told, I was enamored too.  But it wasn’t just the dragons that intrigued me.  The entire building was magnificent, clearly constructed with care and tended to with honor and respect.  The red walls complimented the gold columns and statues and perfectly matched the red, white, and gold patterned tiles on the floor.

We admired the devotion of the Buddhists who had originally built the structure as well as the worshippers visiting the temple that day.  We ourselves had walked through the temple, first taking off our shoes like everyone else, and marveled at the architectural masterpiece we found ourselves in.  Incense filled our noses with unfamiliar scents and filled our minds with questions.  The numerous Buddhas sprinkled throughout the temple drew our attention again and again.  The entire experience proved a powerful conversation tool for talking with our boys about religion.  We talked about why people were lighting incense, why they knelt before the Buddha, why they walked laps around the temple.  The experience ignited their minds.

It was at the second temple we visited, with a golden Buddha as tall as the building itself, that our son asked me pointed questions about God and people as we sat outside putting our shoes back on.  “Why are all these people doing this?  God said we don’t have to do stuff like this to be saved.”  My son was right, but these people didn’t know that.  When I told him such, he heaved a huge sigh.  His heart was full of the truth of God and full of the grief that comes with knowing other people are unaware of that truth.  I told my son the worshippers walking in and out of the temple were doing what they thought was best, or even necessary, to please God.  They wanted to please God, which is good.  But our human nature thinks we need to do something to win God’s approval, to do something to earn salvation.  “But we don’t need to,” my son said.  And he was right, because he knows who God really is and who he isn’t.

Sometime later, back in Kenya, I read The Iliad with our boys as a part of our homeschool history unit on ancient civilizations.  What stood out to us was how often the Greek gods meddled with the minds of men and women for their own selfish ends, or, perhaps worse, for their own entertainment.  It was shocking, really, to read about gods who came to earth to dwell among men but who did so to take advantage of them or to prove their own power and authority.  Those gods deceived their worshippers, tearing them down in order to build themselves up.

After Ancient Greece we studied Ancient Rome, and then had the privilege of visiting Rome during travels to Europe for a leadership conference where we walked the same ancient streets as emperors who attained godhood upon their deaths (and sometimes were worshipped as a god during their lifetime).  God didn’t have to come down; God was already here, an inherent deity running through the veins of a man in power over an empire.  This “emperor god” had his own interests at heart – that of expanding the empire and ensuring his supreme authority by enforcing submissive “peace” throughout the empire, the same “peace” that destroyed Jerusalem in AD 70 and used the spoils of war to fund the building of the Colosseum back in Rome.

This year, our globally mobile lifestyle helped us think about religions around the world, both ancient and contemporary.  Learning about the gods of other religions helped us learn about our own God too – who He is and who He isn’t.

Our God is love, and our God is near.  He is Love Come Down, not to have his own needs met but to meet our needs instead.

Our God makes no demands.  He is graciously present – gracious because His very presence is an unmerited gift which expects nothing in return.  He chooses to dwell with us not to exact punishment or mischief or deception, but to demonstrate His choice of us.

Our God is hope personified.  We have eternal hope in Him because salvation comes to us, not because of us and our good deeds.

In the captivating book, God With Us: A Journey Home, Jeremy Pierre beautifully describes who our God is when he explains the two names of the Messiah: Jesus (The Lord Saves) and Immanuel (God With Us).  “These two names are only good news when they go together.  God With Us is dangerous news for sinners, unless he also comes as God is Salvation.  Together, these names are the gospel.”

Our family is rejoicing anew as we celebrate Christmas in Kenya this year.  We celebrate that God kept His promise to send a Savior.  We celebrate that God came near.  We celebrate that God came in love.  We celebrate that His coming is our salvation.  We celebrate that His salvation calls for repentance without penance.

We rejoice in these truths, and we proclaim them.  This is the Gospel, and we hope and pray it will not only go forth, but take root and grow deep in our corner of the world.

Reflections on Paul's First Missionary Journey

This summer I studied the life of Saul/Paul with our boys.  Although I've read his staggering story many times, several things jumped out at me this time around, particularly about his first missionary journey in Acts 13-14.  While countless books have been written about Paul as a missionary, I will humbly submit my own reflections here.

Paul's first missionary journey is packed with action, but it begins with the simple act of prayer.

Actually, even before that, it begins with worshiping and fasting.  "While they [prophets and teachers in the church in Syrian Antioch] were worshiping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, 'Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them'" (13:2).  A group of leaders in the church intentionally spent time worshiping and fasting together, and in that environment the Holy Spirit chose to speak to them.  I find this as a powerful challenge to the Church.  Communal worship and fasting not only unites us, but invites the Holy Spirit to fill us and speak to us.  In this specific situation, He spoke about sending some of the Syrian Antioch church leaders on mission.

Paul already knew that God had called him to preach the Good News to the Gentiles, and also that he would suffer along the way.  Jesus made that clear during Paul's radical conversion experience on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:15-16).  So this instance of the Holy Spirit speaking was not Paul's initial call to missions.  Rather, I believe it served three other important purposes: 1) to inform the other church leaders that the Lord was indeed calling Paul to be a missionary; 2) to include Barnabas in the call; 3) to confirm to Paul that this was still what God wanted him to do.  Confirmation is a marvelous thing, and the Lord graciously provided it here.  So, after confirming the call, Paul officially embarked on his first missionary journey.  This is where the simple act of prayer begins Paul's life as a missionary.  "So after they had fasted and prayed, they placed their hands on them and sent them off" (13:3).

A couple things are important to note here.  First, Paul obeyed.  He heard God's call on his life and he agreed to it.  Not everyone is willing to obey what God says, but Paul does and thereby sets an example for the rest of us (not least of which because he said yes to something incredibly arduous).  Secondly, Paul and Barnabas were sent off with the support and blessing of the Church.  What the Church's support looks like will vary, but having its support and blessing is vital to a missionary.

The first stop on this journey was Cyprus (13:4-12).  There, as they were sharing the Gospel with the proconsul, they met direct opposition from a sorcerer and false prophet named Bar-Jesus.  To counter this hostility, God allowed Paul to oppose the sorcerer right back and even blind him.  (Perhaps Paul was remembering his own experience with blindness and how terrifying it was, but also how it helped to turn him to the Lord.)  The phenomenon of instantaneously blinding a man not only captured the attention of the proconsul but led him to believe in the power of Jesus.  We often think of miracles as some marvelous act turning a bad situation into something good - and often that is the case - but if we understand a miracle as being something only God can do, then the blinding of this sorcerer was in fact a miracle.  And it did, indeed, lead to something good: the salvation of the proconsul of Cyprus.

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, He moves on our behalf and it looks and feels like God is fighting for us.

Leaving Cyprus, Paul and Barnabas ventured on toward Pisidian Antioch (13:13-52).  Upon entering the synagogue and being invited to speak, they boldly preached the Gospel.  They were so convincing, "the people invited them to speak further about these things on the next Sabbath" (13:42).  When they returned the next week, however, some Jews were jealous and spiteful of their popularity and made it clear they were no longer welcome.  They "talked abusively against what Paul was saying.... They stirred up persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them from their region" (13:45, 50b).

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, there are mixed results and it looks and feels like God hasn't made up His mind about what's happening.

They moved on to Iconium where they also received a divided response (14:1-7).  Although "a great number of Jews and Gentiles believed" Paul and Barnabas ultimately had to flee because of "a plot afoot among the [unbelieving] Gentiles and Jews, together with their leaders, to mistreat them and stone them."  This was the second time in a row a visit had ended poorly.

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, we experience the joy of fruitful ministry only to be rewarded by an attack from the enemy, and it looks and feels like God is playing a joke on us.

They fled to Lystra and, persevering, continued preaching the Gospel (14:6-20).  One day Paul encountered a crippled man who'd been lame since birth.  By the power of God, Paul healed the man.  The crowd that witnessed the miracle could only understand it in light of their own Greek worldview and thus interpreted the act as the gods appearing among them.  They're not far from the truth - "the living God, who made heaven and earth and sea and everything in them" (14:15b) was truly there and had truly worked a miracle in this man's life - but they're in need of further explanation about this one true God they are confusing with their false gods.  They ascribe godhood to both Paul and Barnabas which, understandably, upsets them greatly and thus ensues a back-and-forth about what really happened.  The public spectacle consumes enough time that the apostles' enemies from Pisidian Antioch and Iconium have time to catch up with them and convince the crowd to stone Paul.  He'd successfully escaped being stoned by them earlier, but now he is caught and stoned in the end - stoned so badly that he was presumed dead and his persecutors disposed of his body by dragging it outside the city (14:19).

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, it ends in shambles because God doesn't protect us and instead allows us to suffer great persecution.  (Notice that Paul wasn't given the ability to blind any of his enemies in Lystra like he had on Cyprus).

Remarkably, Paul soldiers on and together with Barnabas he goes to Derbe and preaches the Gospel yet again (14:20-21a).  Seemingly, all goes according to plan in Derbe and they "won a large number of disciples without any disruption to their ministry (14:21).

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, he gives us a break and lets us not only experience success but lets us bask peacefully in it too.

Paul and Barnabas then decide it's time to return to Syrian Antioch, where they'd began this journey, and they choose to go back the way they'd come, passing through Lystra, Iconium, and Pisidian Antioch.  What fortitude!  To go back to the places where they'd been stoned, run out of town, and persecuted!  They are either complete fools with a glutton for punishment, or they are so convicted of their call and filled with the Holy Spirit that they can't help but take the risk.  I believe the latter is true.

As it happens, their return trip continues without a hitch.  Paul and Barnabas strengthen and encourage the believers in these places, specifically reminding them "we must go through hardships to enter the kingdom of God" (14:22).  Paul is surely saying these words to himself as well, remembering that part of his initial call included the injunction from Jesus, "I will show [Paul] how much he must suffer for my name" (9:16), but Paul wants other believers to know they are also included in this reality by virtue of being a follower of Jesus.  Paul's sufferings are unique in their prevalence and difficulty (see 2 Corinthians 11:23b-27), but all followers of Jesus should expect to face trials and sufferings.  Paul wants them to know this so they can be encouraged that their hardships are not in vain.

Along with encouraging them, Paul and Barnabas also appointed elders in the local churches.  They ran into nary a problem on the way back to their home base.  Why?  Perhaps they kept quiet as they visited those cities again.  Perhaps their influential enemies were all out of town.  Perhaps God placed His hand of protection over them.  Who knows?  Regardless, they were successful and the churches were strengthened and encouraged.

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, His favor is abundantly clear and His kindness and generosity knows no bounds.

Paul's first missionary journey is a study of contrasts.  So much success and so much struggle.  As a missionary, the struggles have a way of catching my attention in particular.  I can't help but wonder how I would manage if faced with the same animosities and despairs.  I can easily imagine that I wouldn't have the same fortitude or commitment that Paul did.

As we studied Acts 13 and 14, one glaring question presented itself: "In the face of so much opposition and persecution on his first missionary journey, why didn't Paul give up?"

I've been tempted to think that Paul just had an overwhelmingly intense personality - the kind that never runs out of energy or passion or vision, the kind that truly runs their race.  (And to be honest, missions definitely attracts an uncanny number of those personalities.)  Maybe that's part of it.  There's certainly enough evidence in Scripture to attest to Paul's fiery and zealous persona.

But there's more to Paul's steadfastness than a strong personality.

We must remember that he had a blessedly clear call from the Lord.  And what a gift!  To know without doubt what the Lord has invited you to do?  Such a thing should never be taken for granted.  Paul had this, and he took it seriously.  The Lord informed Paul at the very beginning, on the road to Damascus, that he would be preaching the Gospel to the Gentiles (and also suffering along the way), and then the call was confirmed at Syrian Antioch.  So whether the mission was going well or not, Paul could always remind himself of that clear call from the Lord Jesus Christ and could therefore stay the course with confidence.

The other incredibly important thing to remember was Paul's motivation to share the love of Christ.  He did not give up despite opposition and persecution because his desire for others to also know the transforming power of Christ was so great that he could do nothing else but press on.  Paul well knew what it was like to live in darkness, to be separated from God, to live for self and self alone.  He knew what bitterness and anger taste like.  He knew that hatred and vengeance lead to destruction.  He knew the agony of living with a complete lack of hope and peace.

He also knew life, light, joy, and shalom when he surrendered his life to Christ.  Because of that, he couldn't stop sharing the Good News with anyone who would listen.  Paul wanted others to have the same experience he had of learning to trust and love the Savior.

Not everyone can claim a clear call from the Lord, but every follower of Jesus can be motivated by His love and grace and forgiveness.  Like Paul, that motivation should compel us to not give up being a witness, by word and deed, to the love of Jesus.  Wherever we find ourselves in the world, we can pursue being a source of light in this dark world.

As for me, I'm encouraged by this part of Paul's story.  The Lord helped him throughout his entire first missionary journey.  God strengthened him, empowered him, granted him courage, brought other believers alongside to help and assist him, and brought him back "home" to testify to what God had done and to receive a time of rest and refreshment (14:26-28).

I'm encouraged to not give up, and to believe that the Lord will watch over me and provide for me as He sees fit, like He did for Paul, and to trust that what He sees fit is truly for my good and for His glory.

Faithfully

This year marks seven years since we moved to Kenya.  Africa had been on our hearts and minds for more than a decade before we moved here, and now we've spent the past seven years pouring our hearts and minds into living and loving here.  This place, this life, is home.

Although a myriad of reflections come to mind, the one at the forefront has to do with a song.  Since my memory is terrible, I can't remember when it became pivotal to us.  I can't remember when Eli made the connection between this song and our life, or when he started singing it to our boys at night.  But many years ago the song became an anthem of sorts, and ever since it's been a way of putting into words what we sometimes can't voice ourselves but resonate with completely when we hear the familiar opening strain and subsequent lyrics.

"Faithfully" by Journey has reminded us of the call we pursue and the commitment we make every day, to the ministry and to each other.

Highway run into the midnight sun

Wheels go 'round and 'round, you're on my mind

Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight

Sendin' all my love along the wire

They say that the road ain't no place to start a family

Right down the line, it's been you and me

And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be

Oh, girl, you stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully

Circus life under the big-top world

We all need the clowns to make us smile

Through space and time, always another show

Wonderin' where I am lost without you

And being apart ain't easy on this love affair

Two strangers learn to fall in love again

I get the joy of rediscovering you

Oh, girl, you stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully

Whoa-oh, oh-oh

Whoa-oh, oh-oh, oh

Whoa-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

Faithfully

I'm still yours

I'm forever yours

Forever yours

Faithfully

I would not have felt a particular connection to this song on my own, but when Eli first told me what the song meant to him and why, I recognized how meaningful it was.

The song is about a musician touring on the road and spending long days away from his love, away from his family.  But if you replace the musician in the song with a medical missionary, it hits home for us.  (And, I would wager, it would hit home for any number of staff working at a mission hospital.  We have dear friends/colleagues who similarly struggle to balance life and ministry and who would definitely resonate with all of these thoughts.)

"They say the road ain't no place to start a family."

Medical missions ain't no way to start a family either.  Although Eli isn't literally travelling away from home most of the time, he gives a significant amount of time to the hospital and is gone from home because of it.  I vividly recall the lonely days and nights of taking care of our three little kids single-handedly while Eli took care of everyone else at the hospital.  Even now, our kids are familiar with the routine of calling Dad to say goodnight because he won't make it home before bedtime.  I don't feel the weight of it as much as I did when we had babies and toddlers, but it's never easy for the boys to say goodbye to Eli in the morning and then not see him again that day.

"And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be."

The work of a medical missionary can often sound exciting and exotic - working in a remote, resource-deprived context and saving lives.  While that is true, it's also true that living the life of a medical missionary takes a huge toll on these healthcare workers who see more death than anyone should have to in a lifetime, and who feel completely inadequate on a regular basis to meet the insurmountable needs of too many people with too few personnel to bear the load.  And this life also takes a toll on the family members of the medical missionary.  When Eli comes home depleted after a long day at the hospital, it impacts us.  When he has to take phone calls at all times of day or night, it impacts us.  When he has to attend another meeting after the meeting he just finished, it impacts us.  "Lovin' a medical missionary ain't always what it's supposed to be."  It's not always glamorous.

"Through space and time, always another show."

We really resonate with this.  There's always something else to be done, always someone else who needs his attention, always one more phone call before coming home.  There's never an end to the work, just pausing until it demands to be picked up again.  And often the work follows you home.  One of the themes of medical missions is that there's never enough people to do all the work.  It's a reality that doesn't change, and a reality every medical missionary has to come to terms with and learn how to cope with.

"I get the joy of rediscovering you."

It is true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, whether you're literally not in the same geographic location or whether you're like ships passing in the night and much of life together gets exchanged for other commitments.  Eli's long days make the reunions all the sweeter.  When I get to have a full conversation with my husband, or when we get to snuggle on the couch late at night and watch a sitcom, is particularly sweet after days of mere snippets of conversation and a complete lack of time for real connection.  I also love how our boys display their joy at seeing their daddy again after he's been at the hospital.  They have a beautiful habit of running to Eli every time he comes walking home.  Their sweet shouts of "Daddy!" matched with the immediate forfeiture of whatever else they're currently doing in order to run and jump in his arms - every single time - gives me joy like little else can.

"Oh, girl, you stand by me."

Yep, I do.  Because this life is worth it.  It has its fair share of sacrifices, and it's worth it.  It's worth every life saved, every resident trained, every step forward in improving the overall healthcare of a continent in desperate need of better medical outcomes.

"I'm forever yours."

I made a promise to Eli the day we married to pursue this calling of medical missions together for as long as the Lord directed us down this path.  That promise remains.

"Faithfully."

Yes, yes, and yes again.

*********************************************

Boyce Avenue does a fantastic cover of Faithfully and it's worth a listen.

Legacy of Encouragement

It was our first year of marriage and we were at the Horn family farm in Cambridge.  Alma, who was in her early 80s, stood among the flurry of family and beamed up at us.

We were young and naïve.  We were also eager and hopeful and confident in our call (which often comes with being young and naïve).  The combination of being fledgling adults with such a clear yet highly unusual trajectory in life certainly made some people pause and question what we were thinking.  Other people didn't believe that we'd follow through with it.  Still others thought we were simply insane.

But that day at the farm, Alma looked at us as if we were more sane than insane.  She looked at us with joy and pride.  She knew of our plans - to go to Cameroon, then return to the States for medical school and residency, and finally go back to Africa for long-term missionary service - and she believed in us.

Her reassuring opinion of us newlyweds bolstered us because Alma and her husband Dale had done the same thing half a century before.  When they were young and naïve (and eager and hopeful and confident in their calling), they went to Asia and served as missionaries.

Alma saw a bit of herself in us.  We triggered memories and she told us of taking a boat to China and about their later transition from there to Japan.  She didn't give a sermon or a soliloquy (although her years of living overseas could certainly warrant such), but instead she spoke simple words of encouragement that made a forever impression on our hearts.  She encouraged us to stay the course of pursuing missions, even though it would take us years to get there.  She blessed the path before us and promised to pray for us.  That day, Alma created a milestone marker in our missions journey because her encouragement came from genuine excitement as well as first-hand experience.

Alma and Dale before sailing to China

Alma was Eli's great-aunt and she passed away this month at the age of 99.  Her husband, Dale, was Eli's Grandma Horn's brother, and although I never had the privilege of meeting Dale, we've been encouraged by him also.  A scrapbook we discovered at the farm during our first Home Ministry Assignment told a bit of his story of being called to ministry.  When one of his high school teachers asked why he was choosing to pursue ministry after graduation, Dale responded, "This is not my choice.  If it were simply a matter of choice, I would be choosing more scientific pursuits.  This is God's choice for me and I am just making His choice mine."

Alma clearly did the same, and together they obeyed God's choice for them by going overseas and eventually coming back to America when the Lord called them to return.

During our first year of marriage, when we were raising funds and putting things in order to go to Cameroon, we didn't even know what questions to ask Alma that day.  We couldn't possibly understand what moving overseas and ministering cross-culturally truly meant.  We thought it would stretch and grow us, but we didn't know how.  We imagined it would be a complicated mixture of joy and struggle, but we couldn't understand what that would look like day to day.  We had vague ideas but no concrete perception of how being a missionary would impact our hearts and minds.

But Alma knew.  And even though she didn't regale us with scads of stories of the triumphs and tribulations of life and ministry overseas, we knew that she understood what we would understand for ourselves someday.  She knew the delicate balance between ministry and family as well as the guilt when the balance fails, she knew the pressures of being responsible to supporters, she knew the depths of joy of cross-cultural friendships, she knew the satisfaction of toiling for something for years and finally seeing the goal realized, she knew the sensation of loving and loathing different cultural values, she knew the loneliness of not being able to articulate all the thoughts and feelings of missionary life in a meaningful way to anyone else but Jesus.  She knew things we were years away from beginning to comprehend.

That day at the farm was over 16 years ago, and although we've only been living overseas for 7 years now, we've come to understand some of what must have been in Alma's heart that day as she looked at two newlyweds wanting to embark on a similar path that she and her husband had taken.  And we appreciate her encouragement all the more now.  We understand the gratification of staying the course and actually moving overseas and raising a family here.  We are continually experiencing how the Lord transforms our worldview and increases our understanding of His ways - how He works in individuals and communities and cultures.  We know how blessedly diverse and beautiful the Church is.  We've seen that God's kingdom is built more with small bricks over time than giant blocks in a hurry.

But we understood none of this that day at the farm.  We couldn't have understood.  We were too young and naïve.  Thankfully, Alma saw people with potential, and she poured encouragement onto that potential and covered it with prayer.

Of all the legacies this 99-year old woman is leaving behind, that is the legacy she's left for us.  We can only hope that one day the Lord will put some young and naïve people in our path that we can encourage on their journey toward missions.  Because being encouraged by someone who's gone before you on such a unique and often questioned course can make an indelibly positive impact.

Eli's grandma and her brother Dale

Writing and Life

This year has not been a great year of writing for me.  Even though writing is a creative outlet and something that often gives me energy, the fact is that it's also a lot of work and requires a lot of energy at the outset.

But this has not been a year in which I've had a lot of energy at the outset.

The demands of homeschooling wring out most of my allotted energy for the day, and the constant noise and interruptions that occur around our house throughout the rest of the day drain whatever energy may be left.

For the record, the noise and interruptions are not just from our own boys.  Our community has been blessed with many children and they do what children do: create noise!  Trying to silence everything around me so I can pull from the reserves of my creative energy has been a most difficult task this year.

And it's simply been a busy year.  Lots of visitors to host, lots of events to plan or participate in, lots of traveling for meetings, appointments, conferences, and weddings and funerals.  And for me personally, lots of hours logged on Zoom meetings for our field leadership team.  The number of available hours to sit and write have been few.

Besides the literal lack of hours in a day to write, I've felt a lack of emotional energy towards that end.  A lot of my emotional energy has been put toward a long season of trying to be an anchor while others around us have gone through seasons of stress and/or transition.  There's been a lot of transition within our community this year.  Constant comings and goings are a norm around here, but there've been some unexpected comings and goings on top of it all which have added another layer of grief and stress.  After nearly seven years of learning how to say goodbyes and hellos like it's our job, it's still hard, and harder still when it happens suddenly.  Despite how hard it is, these situations require people who are in a season of stability to step up and hold down the fort, to keep an eye on the community and plan the events and farewells, to be "the mom of the compound" and check on the kids whose parents are gone, to be "the keeper of the keys" to the houses that are empty and need cleaning and oversight and management of househelpers, and to host official hospital visitors that no one else is available to do.

Our family has been stable.  We haven't had any major life transitions or literal transitions to navigate (except helping each other process how the transitions of others impact ourselves), so we've tried to offer a sense of stability and normalcy for those around us.  We've made ourselves available to be the people others can come to, to be a listening ear or a logistics coordinator, to be an anchor.

It's been good for us to fill this role.  I feel (I hope) that we've carried it well for this season.  But it's demanded a lot of energy and has forced other endeavors to take a backseat, like my writing.

Although my personal writing projects have taken a hit this year, as well as regular blogging, the one thing I've been able to consistently maintain are my newsletters sent every few months.  That has been the most important way to maintain some level of connection with people interested in our missions journey.

And despite my overall discouragement at the output (or lack thereof) of writing, I've been recently encouraged because one of my projects this year was to print off every blog post and newsletter I've written since beginning this missions journey and put them in a binder so they could read like one big story.  To date, I've written 76 posts on our missions blog (including this one), 7 posts on the blog A Life Overseas, and have created 31 newsletters (and am about to send #32).  These numbers are significant to me because writing is how I process.  It's how I remember, reflect, and sometimes reorient myself in order to learn and grow and move forward.

I'm encouraged because, overall, that binder (which is actually two big binders at this point) is a kind of physical proof that I've done a lot of processing since I started writing missions-related material over eight years ago.  I've done a lot of reflecting, a lot of soul-searching, a lot of growing.  And I hope a lot of encouraging as other people have read my writing and been able to reflect as well.

It's humbling to know that other people read my writing even though it's just my unprofessional musings, and even more humbling when someone reaches out and tells me they were blessed by it.

My hope is that as we enter into a new season of more stability in our community, there will be a bit more time and space and energy for me to focus on writing.  There are no guarantees because if there's one thing that's true of this life, it's that there is always something else to demand your attention and relegate the non-essentials to the bottom of the priority list.  But writing is an essential for me.  At least, it's supposed to be.  I'm hoping it can feel that way again, like a core part of myself that serves a good purpose.

Because the ultimate purpose of writing, for me, is to process life.  I desire to live life and to process it so I can live it more deeply and graciously moving forward.