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a memoir

Nov 6th, 2025 by Amy

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Hot and dry. A thick orangey-red haze coated the landscape as I stepped out of the Lilongwe International Airport. I pushed the heavy cart loaded with maybe three or four suitcases and a large trunk wrapped with luggage straps to keep them from busting open. Brooklyn and Jackson, my siblings, pushed their own carts piled high with luggage as well. With one arm, we all struggled to push the heavy carts through the small airport, while using the other arm to hold the top suitcase in order to keep them from falling. Our mom followed close by, holding Jasper, our youngest brother, by the hand, who was clutching his favorite stuffed bunny and lion. Our dad led the way pushing another cart as we crossed through the doors and into the late afternoon heat.

Up until that moment, never in the sixteen years of my life, had I spent more than five hours on a plane, and I had just finished the longest trip of my life: 30 hours later, from the cushy, clean, and green suburbs of Portland, Oregon, arriving in Lilongwe, Malawi, Africa which was not cushy, clean, or green.

“Takulandirani!” an old man smiled, his wide grin revealing missing teeth.

“Muli bwanji!” a couple of African mamas said, walking past with their babies strapped to their backs with colorful fabrics called kitenges.

People were everywhere, walking in and out of the airport, waiting for the bus, leaning on the sides of their taxis. I looked past the sea of people to see our missionary team. “Welcome to Malawi!” they cheered.

I felt so excited. Finally, we are here! But almost immediately, I felt overstimulated. My ears were filled with words that I never heard of before, the sounds of airplanes taking off, laughter, and motorcycles called tuk tuks tooting their horns. My nose was overwhelmed with the many interesting smells like smoke from the fires that burned the maize fields and body odor. Lots of body odor. People everywhere, some yelling, asking if we needed a taxi, others chatting while waiting for the bus, and then our missionary team waving and smiling and welcoming us to our new home.

After we said our hellos and gave hugs to the welcoming group, we packed all of our luggage into the dirty Toyota Fortuners and headed off to the missionary compound where we would be living for the next few years.

I looked out the dusty window and saw the orange sun begin to set over the Malawian landscape. A herd of skinny goats pranced along the side of the road. Small, stick-like trees sat still in the middle of the maize fields. Long trails of white smoke danced up into the sky. As we travelled down the bumpy red dirt road, the driver swerved to the left and right to avoid potholes and people and asked us how the trip went. I couldn’t believe that we were finally here.

We were “home.”

As much as I would like to share how idyllic, wonderful, and adventurous life was after that day we arrived in sunny, hot Malawi, it unfortunately was not.

From the first night onward, this city girl had no idea what she had gotten herself into. I had heard of culture shock but thought of it as a myth. There’s no way I will deal with culture shock like some people. Maybe it’s because they’re weak? Those were my honest thoughts.

I was wrong.

I lived in perpetual culture shock, whenever I opened my eyes in the morning, to when I closed them to go to sleep. Everywhere I looked and went, there was something new to learn and understand. It felt like I had to learn how to live all over again.

Over the next few weeks, our team members would tell us, “Don’t drink the tap water! The power goes out all the time! We will run out of water! Watch out for the mosquitoes! Lock your doors!” I know they were trying to be helpful, but honestly, it was far from helpful. My already overwhelmed brain was trying to understand all of this new and unfamiliar information.

As I dealt with the shock of being in a third-world country, I started to feel the overwhelming realization that I was living there, and that this was my new reality. I missed my grandparents and my friends. I missed my house and my room. I missed my church and my school. I even missed the little things like brushing my teeth with the sink water, and when the leaves change colors in the fall.

I wanted to go back home to America.

Each day, I started to feel like God was farther and farther away. I wondered where God was. Each night before I would fall asleep, I would think to myself, “Why would God allow this to happen? Why would He take away every single thing I loved so much? Why did my family have to go?” I did not get an answer.

I believed the fact that my family and I were “stuck” in Malawi. I did not have a good attitude about my new life in Africa. Life seemed to be getting harder and harder and my friends and family stateside began to grow farther and farther away. Going to school in Malawi was a horrible experience, and I started to feel so alone. The days turned into months and suddenly the start of a new year began and I was the loneliest I have ever been.

Whispers of a thing called “the coronavirus” started to circulate, and I will never forget the day that the Malawian government shut down the schools. When the government told the country to quarantine, we began a new routine of waking up early, doing school online, and then finding things to do on the compound since we couldn’t leave. As the weeks went by, we heard news via Instagram and Facebook and from concerned family members about how serious the COVID pandemic was getting.

The U.S. Embassy contacted the American expats living in the city to inform about a flight leaving Malawi and going back to the States before the government shut down the airport. Deep down I prayed that my family would leave. I would rather sit in an uncomfortable seat for 12 hours in economy than stay in Malawi.

My wonderful, prayerful parents wanted to leave, too. But to this day, they will say that they did not feel released from God to leave. Soon before the flight’s departure date, my parents sat me and my siblings down after dinner and said: “We have been praying about what to do next, and we feel like we need to stay in Malawi.”

I felt like I was punched in the gut.

What do you mean “stay in Malawi?” All by ourselves? The rest of the team is leaving! What will we do now? I was so disappointed. I did not understand why we had to stay in Malawi when it seemed like this was our ticket out of Malawi for good. Our time in Malawi had been difficult for each one of us, and it was not what we expected. Again, I wondered where God was in all of this. Little did I know that staying would actually be the best thing to ever happen to me and my family.

One by one, the families on our compound left Malawi and went back to the U.S. while my family stayed confined in the red brick walls of our compound. At first, I was mad. Then I felt relieved. Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe there is a reason for all of this. Soon, it was just my little family alone on the compound.

My family had always been a close family, at least closer than most of my friends’. We had family dinners and had movie nights on Fridays and had little traditions throughout the year. But when COVID came to Malawi, everything changed. It forced my family and me to spend lots and lots of time together: watching Lost and Alias, baking from-scratch chocolate cakes, and even celebrating Christmas in July (because it got “cold”). We had so much time to be with each other which we now reflect on as the best time in our lives and laugh at all of the memories we made together.

In the midst of wondering where God was, and whether He abandoned me or not, I decided to turn to Jesus during what was the hardest season of my life. In my room during quarantine, after months and months of asking God why and where He was, I realized that God never left me. He never left my family. Even through difficulty, frustration, and pain, that is where I found Jesus. At 16 years old in the middle of the COVID 19 pandemic, in Malawi, I re-dedicated my life to Jesus. It took moving across the ocean to a foreign land (that I honestly did not know existed) for me to start my own relationship with Him.

When I first got to Malawi, I wondered where God was and what He was doing. Now, years after that first day stepping out of that small airport, I know that God was with me the whole time. I do not know exactly why God sent my family to Malawi specifically. But I believe that it was to change me, draw me closer to Him, and draw me closer to my family. Moving there at 16 years old, prepared me for living a life with God. What I have learned is this: Wherever you are going, wherever God has placed you, He has a purpose and plan. He will use the good, the bad, and the painful to bring us closer to Him and for His glory.

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Posted in 2025, Africa, Faith, Grace, Gratitude, Hope, Life, Transition, Trust, missions | No Comments »

i get knocked down

Oct 30th, 2025 by Amy

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Joel and I recently read the Chronicles of Narnia series with Jasper at bedtime. Last night we finished book number five: The Horse and His Boy. I am going to be honest, after The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, the other books in this series have been very difficult for me to get through. The books lack the compelling storyline that we so greatly loved in the first book of the series.

That is, until we started reading The Horse and His Boy. Typically, we would read a few pages each night (the chapters are long for Jasper), but with this particular book, I found myself wanting to read, read, and keep on reading. It is a book rich with insight and spiritual application.

The following is a brief summary of a moment from this story that struck me as I have wrestled with balancing justice and mercy:

At the end of the book, Prince Rabadash from the kingdom of Tashbaan had been captured and was standing trial for his unprovoked attack on the kingdom of Archenland, breaking the peace agreement between the two nations.

King Lune, the king of Archenland, knew that it was within his rights to kill Prince Rabadash. This execution would be justified by the rule of law. However, King Lune was not at peace with this sentence and proposed to Prince Rabadash a more benevolent plan. King Lune offered to release the prince and send him back to his kingdom, but with the provision that Prince Rabadash would never return or attack Archenland again.

King Lune was offering Prince Rabadash redemption and freedom—a grace and mercy that far exceeded the actions of this evil prince.

Prince Rabadash refused the offer.

Then Aslan entered the picture.

At this poignant moment, everyone in attendance at Prince Rabadash’s trial was moved to silence and awe. Everyone except for the nasty prince. Rather, he grew more hostile and more antagonistic in the presence of the true King of all.

Aslan gave Prince Rabadash multiple opportunities to receive a lesser sentence, but—again—he refused them all. The time had come for Aslan to administer the final judgement for Rabadash.

While screaming out his rage, Rabadash slowly began to morph into the form of a donkey—a donkey that could not speak, unlike the talking animals of Narnia.

As the donkey brayed in shock and confusion, Aslan spoke:

“Now hear me, Rabadash,” said Aslan. “Justice shall be mixed with mercy. You shall not always be an Ass.”[1]

Justice shall be mixed with mercy.

The justice end of Aslan’s judgement was that Rabadash took on the form of an animal—an animal of low regard…an Ass.

The mercy end of Aslan’s judgement was that a way was provided for Rabadash to find freedom from the form of a donkey and to become a human once again. But even his freedom came with a caveat.

Once returned to his human self, Rabadash was forbidden to stray more than ten miles from the great temple in Tashbaan. If he did so, if he so much as placed one foot beyond the boundaries Aslan set in place, Rabadash would instantly become a donkey once again, and this time there would be no chance for redemption.

Prince Rabadash yielded to Aslan’s warning, and he spent the remaining years of his life sequestered within the boundaries of the temple in Tashbaan. He was never remorseful or repentant. While he lived in freedom, he was forever a prisoner locked in the dungeon of his hatred.

C.S. Lewis’s profound understanding of God’s mercy and justice is powerful and palpable. He paints the most exquisite portrait of how both mercy and justice can be mixed together.

I believe that evil requires swift judgment. I have often wrestled with the distorted belief that mercy is giving allowance to bad behavior. But as I read the ending of this intriguing story, I realized that mercy is merely holding the door open for a radical change of heart, rather than shutting it completely—that punishment for wrong actions must be accompanied by hope for redemption.

Mercy and justice come as a package deal. You can’t take one and leave out the other. They are bundled together. Mercy alone will not foster repentance or redemption. Justice alone will do more harm than good; it is punishment without love and concern and can easily spin into retaliation.

However, when mercy—the opportunity to repent and find a new pathway forward—is coupled with justice—the concise and deliberate judgement that I tend to lean into—hope breaks through the hard places. Church hurt will be remedied when justice and mercy are mixed together in an attitude of hope for redemption. This packaged deal, all rolled into one great big bundle, is a reflection of the nature of Christ, both loving and just.

This is a lesson that I have tucked into my heart. It is like a light went on when I read the story of Prince Rabadash, King Lune, and Aslan. I needed that visual to understand the magnitude of what mercy and justice are supposed to look like. When we approach God with all of our ugliness and sin, the appropriate consequence is always death. Romans 6:23 tells us, “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Justice demands a death sentence for our sins. And yet, God mixes justice with mercy in such a beautiful way. If we choose to repent, turn from our sin, and surrender our lives to Jesus—this gift from God—we step into the hope and the assurance of eternity with Him.

I really do believe we will be on a much steadier pathway to working through the mud and muck of church hurt when we operate and handle these situations with both justice and mercy.

I was at a conference recently, and the speaker was telling the story about her sister who was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. I can’t recall all the details about the diagnosis and prognosis of this young woman, but what I do remember clearly is that the speaker’s sister had to undergo a serious surgery. Due to the nature of this cancer, the surgeon had to make an incision from under the ear of one side of her face, down and across her throat, all the way to the side of the opposite ear. Coupled with the urgency of the surgery, this young patient was preparing for her wedding, which was a not too far away from this current crisis.

Her wedding day came, and she bore the scar of the surgery that removed the cancer that had metastasized in her thyroid. The speaker referred to this scar as a healing scar.

When we have been knocked down by church hurt, in whatever form it takes, we are often left with a wound. Sometimes those wounds are deep and invasive. Sometimes it takes a kind of spiritual surgery in the hands of a skilled counselor to extract the cancer and disease that has metastasized around the heart. Eventually, these wounds do heal over time. Some more quickly than others. But for a time, we bear a healing scar—a visual reminder of what we have been through. Even those scars will fade, but they will never disappear forever. And some of us will walk with a limp for the rest of our lives. However, we will walk in the truth that even these scars will be redeemed.

[1] Lewis, C S. The Horse and His Boy (Adult). Harper Collins, 1 June 2005.

Posted in 2025, Faith, Ministry, Truth | No Comments »

the rising concern regarding the Holocaust

Oct 13th, 2025 by Amy

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(Paper written and permission to post by Brooklyn Slater, 2023)

When opening a school textbook, thousands of words pour out and culminate into various stories and events. Sentences connect through the organization of paragraphs, which, in the end, finish as papers, essays, and records. However, not everything read is accurate, and many are eager to argue that certain historical events are entirely fabricated to ease prejudiced minds. One of the most shocking is the claim that the Holocaust was fictitious. The number of individuals who object to the existence of the Holocaust is disturbing; therefore, understanding the Holocaust and its effects on future generations is crucial.

Holocaust deniers’ ideology is supported by the logic that since no written document nor decree from Hitler initiated the Holocaust, it is a fabricated story that served as a justified reason to enter the Second World War and publish the New Deal. Professor John P. Jackson Jr. describes the pre-history: “Holocaust denial grew out of a rejection of the New Deal political order and simultaneous commitment to isolationism in foreign policy” (Jackson 27). Many right-winged men in the United States rejected President Roosevelt and his deal. Jackson elaborates what on one man thought: “Roosevelt sneaking us into war was all of a piece with his creation of unconstitutional agencies to institute his plan for overall regimentation of the U.S. economy and his court-packing scheme to make sure no other branch of government would stop it” (Jackson 27).

Holocaust deniers also theorized that the Holocaust was used to gain reparations from Germany and to allow Israel to become an established state. Willis Carto was one of the many individuals who declared themselves as far-right political figures, anxious to be known as a Jeffersonian or populist; instead, he became known as a raging antisemitic. The Southern Poverty Law Center states that “In 1978, he founded the first major American Holocaust-denial outfit, the Institute for Historical Review” (SPLC 1). Carto used this to instigate and encourage the blaze of hatred towards the Jews: “The revisionist collaborative circle allowed members to manage tensions between the conservative/libertarian individualist ideology and racist antisemitic ideology. Antisemites like Carto tolerated libertarians because their presence provided some political cover for their attack on what they viewed as a massive Jewish conspiracy” (qtd. in Jackson 47). Carto successfully grouped many men to encourage one another’s antisemitic mindsets. His influence and approval are critical factors in the rise of antisemitism in the Western world after the Second World War and throughout the 50s up to the 90s.

Film and the media contribute to confusion and intrigue about the Holocaust. Cinematography is one of the most valuable tools in transforming an individual’s ideas and opinions about some issues. During the Second World War, antisemitic propaganda films, The Eternal Jew, and pro-Nazi propaganda films, Triumph of the Will, were the most discreet ways of spreading falsified information nationwide. Dr. Stefanie Rauch writes about the effect of watching movies taking place during the Holocaust and World War ll in order to discern whether or not the audience takes the message or story literally. Rauch uses her research to explain that:

Despite the paucity of empirical research into individual reception of films about the Holocaust, scholars have often made and perpetuated assumptions regarding the alleged strong impact of Holocaust representations on viewers, which are not adequately substantiated by empirical evidence. This includes both scholars who warn of film and television’s supposed inherent risks and shortcomings and others who have a more positive view of the effects of “Holocaust films” on viewers. (Rauch 4)

Many educated and scholarly individuals agree that Hollywood and independent studios take events and add or remove scenes to portray the vision they have in mind. Rauch notices that the knowledge of how people receive the film afterward is unknown when focusing on the movie’s contents, not the story it is retelling. Everyone who walks out of a movie theatre enjoys or dislikes the story they watched. However, people talk about whether or not the movie stood true to the original afterward and after research. “When it comes to the representation of the Holocaust on film, historiography has largely focused on theoretical, philosophical and ethical considerations, critical and public reception and contemporary media responses” (Rauch 3). It is based mainly on the reception gained from audiences through their letters and opinions. Films such as Conspiracy, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, The Reader, Defiance, and The Grey Zone all focus on different viewpoints, some from the eyes of genuine historical figures/survivors or as a historical fiction story. However, the plot of historical fiction movies is questionable because the story must have been inspired by an actual event or personal testimony, especially if it is a movie about a man or woman in one of the concentration camps.

The Holocaust has been subjected by many towards a list of questionable events; such as the Flat Earth Theory and Bigfoot. “Holocaust deniers argue that this entire chapter of history is an elaborate hoax by Jewish propagandists who simply wanted reparations from Germany, the creation of a Jewish state, and a distraction from their double-dealing” (ADL 1). Younger children are more likely to be exposed to storing this information in their minds, which could confuse them as they are in a school or public setting. The Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum discusses the ten stages of genocide, including examples from the Bosnian, Rwandan, Albanian, and Guatemalan genocides. Dr. George Stanton separated each stage by its title: classification, symbolization, discrimination, dehumanization, organization, polarization, preparation, persecution, extermination, and denial. Dr. Stanton evaluates:

“The perpetrators of genocide […] deny that they committed any crimes and often blame what happened on the victims. They block investigations of the crimes and continue to govern until driven from power by force, when they flee into exile. Unless they are captured and placed of trial, they will continue to deny” (Stanton 4). He continues that trial and punishment are the best and most effective ways of stopping denial. Asserting the evidence in a broad light and publicly displaying records allows people to see for themselves the truth and evidence. From evaluating past massacres, denial is one of the most apparent indicators of a genocidal massacre.

Holocaust ignorance is the outcome of prejudiced minds who have managed to influence many young adults. A study in 2018 announced that nearly two-thirds of young adults between the ages of eighteen and thirty-nine do not know about the Third Reich nor that a genocide even occurred within the concentration camps during the Second World War. “The Internet is now the chief source of Holocaust denial and the chief means of recruiting for Holocaust denial organizations” (Holocaust Encyclopedia 1). Many have ignored or allowed personal biases/opinions to blind their eyes from the truth.

The First Amendment protects students and young adults in the United States of America to speak about whatever they choose; however, the repercussions allow for misinformation and disagreement to be published, confusing the younger generation. Across the globe, in France, Germany, Australia, Belgium, and Canada, antisemitic acts have increased; but action has followed because many have decided to criminalize antisemitic publishes, including neo-Nazi ideology. Even the United States, the land that offers freedom of speech and religion, has a negative past regarding the treatment of Jews. “The history of Jews in America is a history of the ongoing negotiation between hard-won legal freedoms and the lingering social effects of racial and religious prejudice as it persists and reignites in this country” (ADL 1). Books such as Erik Larsons’ novel, based on the written accounts and diaries of the first American ambassadors in Germany before the invasion of Poland, reveal an American viewpoint of what United States citizens saw and thought of Germany. The Pew Research Center discovered that “…visiting a Holocaust museum and knowing someone who is Jewish are strongly linked with Holocaust knowledge” (Pew Research Center 1). These books and museums, such as the Holocaust Museums in Washington D.C. and Texas keep the memory of survivors, victims, and history relevant. It is vital to comprehend that not understanding history, whether ours or not, will significantly impact what the next generation inherits.

Holocaust denial has been rooted in personal bias’, and though action has been made, the statistics show a shocking increase in recent years. Advocates have used their voices and power to aid the Jewish community but face modern issues of technology, films, and personal opinions. Many individuals struggle to break away from the deep past that holocaust denial has created in their families. Film has been a more public podium of advocacy for Jews by sharing testimonies, culture, and events through storytelling. There is hope for the Jewish community, but it will be a matter that can only be dealt with through respectful confrontation and awareness of the signs of racism or discrimination of ethnic groups.

Works Cited

Anti-Defamation League. “A Guide to Old Myths in a New Era.” Antisemitism Uncovered, antisemitism.adl.org/. Accessed 9 Oct. 2023.

Anti-Defamation League. “Antisemitism in American History.” Antisemitism Uncovered, antisemitism.adl.org/antisemitism-in-american-history/. Accessed 10 Oct. 2023.

Anti-Defamation League. “Our Mission and History.” www.adl.org/about/mission-and-history. Accessed 10 Oct. 2023.

Jackson, John P., Jr. “The Pre-History of American Holocaust Denial.” American Jewish History, vol. 105 no. 1, 2021, p. 25-48. Project MUSE, https://doi.org/10.1353/ajh.2021.0002.

Pew Research Center. “What Americans Know About the Holocaust.” Pew Research Center’s Religion & Public Life Project, 22 Jan. 2020, www.pewresearch.org/religion/2020/01/22/what-americans-know-about-the-holocaust/.

Rauch, Stefanie. “Understanding the Holocaust through Film: Audience Reception between Preconceptions and Media Effects.” History and Memory: Studies in Representation of the Past, vol. 30, no. 1, spring-summer 2018, pp. 151+. Gale OneFile: World History, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A553126861/PPWH?u=txshracd2552&sid=bookmark-PPWH&xid=a37e19ec. Accessed 22 Sept. 2023

Stanton, George  H. “Ten Stages of Genocide.” The Genocide Education Project, www.genocideeducation.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/ten_stages_of_genocide.pdf. Accessed 10 Oct. 2023.

The Foundation to Combat Antisemitism. Stand Up to Jewish Hate, 31 Oct. 2023, www.standuptojewishhate.org/.

United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. “Holocaust Deniers and Public Misinformation.” United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/holocaust-deniers-and-public-misinformation. Accessed 21 Oct. 2023.

Posted in 2025, Holocaust, Truth | No Comments »

dream big, sweet girl

Oct 8th, 2025 by Amy

For just a moment, let’s think about Joseph the Dreamer.

We find his story in the book of Genesis. Anyone who grew up going to church will be quite up to speed with this story. I can still see the flannel graph pictures of Joseph surrounded by bales of wheat bowing in his direction during those early morning Sunday school lessons. It is a story most of us have heard many times. But for those of you reading this who are not familiar with Joseph’s story, I want to quickly give you a recap of his life.

Joseph’s story is found in the book of Genesis, chapters 35-50.

He was the firstborn son of Rachel and Jacob (Jacob, who was later renamed Israel after wrestling with God). Joseph had ten older brothers. These were the sons of Leah (Rachel’s sister), Bilhah (Rachel’s maidservant), and Zilpah (Leah’s maidservant).

Israel, his father, loved Joseph more than any of his brothers. This created jealousy and spite toward Joseph. It did not help matters when Joseph had a dream where all of their sheaves of grain bowed down to his. And again, another dream which he shared with great enthusiasm, where the sun, moon, and eleven stars all bowed down to him.

Infuriated by Joseph’s audacity to imply that they would bow down to him, and even further provoked by their father’s preference for him, the brothers devised a plan to get rid of Joseph forever.

Initially, they intended to kill him, but Reuben—the oldest of all the brothers—convinced the others to throw Joseph into a cistern. (He planned to return later and help Joseph escape.) The brothers agreed to this new plan, and when Joseph arrived, they stripped him of his beautiful robe—a treasured gift from Jacob, and a sign of his favoritism—and tossed The Dreamer into the cistern.

A caravan of Ishmaelites was passing by. Seeing this caravan, Judah (one of the brothers) had the bright idea of selling Joseph into slavery as opposed to killing him, which would leave his blood on their hands. The brothers agreed, and they sold Joseph for twenty shekels of silver.

Realizing that their father would be expecting Joseph to return home at some point, the brothers slaughtered a goat, ripped Joseph’s robe apart, and then dipped the pieces into the goat’s blood. They presented the bloodied robe to their father. Jacob was grief-stricken and tore his clothes. He mourned over the loss of Joseph for many days.

The caravan of Ishmaelites made their way to Egypt, where they sold Joseph to Potiphar, one of Pharaoh’s officials. Joseph worked hard and with great integrity, gaining much favor in the sight of Potiphar. Because of his strong character, much was entrusted to Joseph.

Potiphar’s wife took a liking to Joseph, and she tried to seduce him. She was not a woman who took no for an answer, and she repeatedly invited him into bed with her. Each time Joseph declined. One day, when Joseph and Potiphar’s wife were alone in the house, she grabbed his cloak and pulled it off. Joseph ran away. Potiphar’s wife was humiliated and resented Joseph. She retaliated by accusing him of trying to take advantage of her. Enraged with anger, Potiphar threw Joseph into prison.

I want to pause here.

Joseph, throughout this entire exchange, remained upright and honest. He held on to his character and integrity, and he worked diligently to honor his master. Joseph’s crime against his brothers was simply his own immaturity, and yet he was hated and sold into a life of slavery. Joseph maintained his integrity amidst the ongoing seductions of his master’s wife.

His dreams were shattered, and his good behavior landed him in prison. I wonder if he felt an ounce of confusion or worry, or depression?

How could a person do everything right and still end up in a dungeon?

Have you ever asked the same question regarding your own life? God, how did I end up here after doing everything the right way—the way you asked of me? How?

Back to Joseph’s story…

It did not take long before Joseph won the heart and favor of the prison warden. Once again, Joseph proved himself to be trustworthy and reliable. Genesis, chapter 39, verse 23 says, “The Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did.”

There came a moment of significant hope for Joseph. The king’s cupbearer and baker were both thrown into prison. During that time, each of these men had a dream. They were perplexed as no one could interpret their dreams. When Joseph approached them, he asked them to share their dreams with him, and they did. God gave Joseph the interpretation of these dreams. The baker would be executed, and the cupbearer would return to his position. To the cupbearer, Joseph made one request: that the cupbearer would mention him to Pharaoh and get him out of prison.

Everything that Joseph said to these men proved true, but when the cupbearer returned to his duties, he completely forgot about Joseph.

Two years went by.

Let’s pause again lest we rush through the weightiness of this part of the story.

The cupbearer, who promised to speak on Joseph’s behalf once released from prison, completely forgot about Joseph. Can you picture Joseph sitting in prison waiting for rescue, for reprieve, for freedom? And then waiting for two years? Disheartening. Devastating. Crushing and heartbreaking. These are the words that come to mind when I picture this scene. And yet, what we know is that Joseph continued to live uprightly and with honor.

Two years later, Pharaoh had two disturbing dreams. He called for all the magicians and wise men to come and interpret his dreams. They were unable to do so. It was at this time that the cupbearer remembered Joseph (good for you, cupbearer!), and he told Pharaoh about the prisoner who had interpreted his dream.

Pharaoh called for Joseph. He told him his dreams, and once again, God gave Joseph the interpretation. The news was not favorable. Seven years of abundance would be followed by a seven-year famine that would ravage the land. Pharaoh found himself in need of a wise and discerning man to prepare Egypt for this severe famine to come. Joseph laid out a plan that would prepare Egypt for this great crisis. God’s favor was upon Joseph, and Pharaoh put him in charge of everything. Pharaoh placed his signet ring upon Joseph’s finger and made it clear that nothing could be done without Joseph’s command.

The seven years of abundance came and went. And then the famine set in. The famine spread throughout the world, and people—far and wide—journeyed to Egypt to buy food.

Joseph’s family, still living in Canaan, was one of those many families who traveled to find food.

Joseph was now the governor of Egypt, and he was the one who sold grain to the people who came in search of food. When his brothers arrived, they bowed before Joseph.

This is where the story really kicks into gear. There has been a lot of waiting, of hoping, of wondering about long-lost dreams and deferred hope. And suddenly, in walked Joseph’s brothers.

Joseph, somewhere around twenty years before this moment, had a dream. In this dream, his brothers bowed down to him. He was despised, sold into slavery, and presumed dead because of the jealous rage his brothers had for him. For twenty years, it appeared that this dream had died—that somehow Joseph had misinterpreted the meaning of the bowing sheaves of grain, and the bowing sun, moon, and stars.

The dream was dead.

And yet, here—twenty years later—Joseph stood with his brothers bowing at his feet.

What is incredibly precious about this moment, and cannot be overlooked, is Joseph’s response to his brothers.

He didn’t gloat over their circumstances.

He didn’t smear their hateful behavior in their faces.

He didn’t punish them by withholding food from them and their families.

Rather, through the course of this story, Joseph embraced his brothers. After twenty years, he saw his dreams from a different perspective. Yes, his brothers—and eventually his father—did bow down to him, but not for his own selfish gain or pride.

Joseph’s dreams at the age of seventeen were a partial view of the grander story God was writing upon the life of Joseph. They were true, but they didn’t hold the weight of the responsibility and pain that Joseph would experience to get to that point. Joseph’s recognition of God’s sovereignty and goodness throughout this entire story is most evident in his response to his brothers when he revealed his true identity to them.

“I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt! And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you. For two years now there has been famine in the land, and for the next five years there will not be plowing and reaping. But God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance.

So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God” (Genesis 45:4-8).

Joseph’s dreams were not completely rewritten, but they went through a refining, a reshaping, and a reframing. Joseph’s response to his brothers reveals the work that God was doing in his life throughout the loss, the suffering, the loneliness, and being forgotten.

God was refining Joseph. He was removing the impurities and unwanted elements from Joseph’s heart. He was sifting Joseph.

God was reshaping the dream. Rather than the dream being about Joseph, God was reshaping it into a form that exalted and glorified God.

God was reframing the story. For twenty years, God used every experience, every hardship, and every moment of Joseph’s life to reframe the purpose of the dream. He filled in the gaps and created a solid structure for the dream to be realized.

And from this refining, reshaping, and reframing, we hear the resurrected hope, joy, and praise in Joseph’s voice. “God sent me here.” This was Joseph’s declaration of God’s hand upon his life, and the purpose of the dream God put in his heart.

***

Two years ago, nestled in the safety and comfort of my counselor’s office, she (my counselor) instructed me to close my eyes. I obeyed. For the following thirty minutes, she quietly walked me through a step-by-step exercise that pinpointed the deeper emotions I was wrestling with. I faced the disappointments, fears, insecurities, and pain that I had been working on throughout our sessions together, but this time with the objective of working my way up from them.

During this exercise, with my eyes closed in the quiet of the office, a picture came to my mind.

I was in a small wooden fishing boat floating out in the middle of the ocean. It was dark. The color of the sky, a midnight blue. Off in the distance, there were dark shadows of mountains or hills. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I knew they were there. The water around me was dark—a rippled blackness. I was standing at the helm of this small wooden boat, the wind blowing in my face, causing a chill through my body. I was weary. I couldn’t see where I was going, and I felt the weight of disappointment as I had no idea what to do next. Without any backstory as to how I ended up in this boat, I seemed to know—intuitively—that this boat represented my life.

Slowly, I turned away from the helm of the boat and lowered my body down to take a break. From the corner of my eye, I could see movement at the other end of the small vessel. While I could not make out the face of this person, I knew it was Jesus. As I was lying down, He was making His way to the front of the boat. It rocked side-to-side as my head rested on the bottom. He laid a hand on my arm as if to say, “It is okay, Amy. You can rest now. I will take care of everything.” He then stood at the helm and began to direct the boat.

Opening my eyes after seeing this picture so vividly in my mind, the profound message that I sensed in my heart was this: while my life was moving in a direction that I couldn’t understand, and dreams that I had dreamed for so long were lost in the misty fog of a nighttime sea, Jesus was still in control.

The reality hit me that God will never let our boats sink or float off into oblivion. He has a purpose for each one of us, and His desire is to use us—our gifts, our abilities, and our experiences—to bring glory to His name. He will not waste anyone or anything. My boat was in safe hands. If Jesus was at the helm, then I knew my boat was headed somewhere. I may not know exactly where, but He would carry it to a place that would bring me the greatest satisfaction.

I prayed a prayer in that moment, “God, give me a new dream. Plant new desires in my heart. Show me a new way.”

Some dreams die, and it is a permanent death.

Some dreams die in order to be resurrected.

And some dreams die so that God can breathe new life, new hope, and new purposes into them.

When we returned to South Africa in January 2024, I asked Emma Fogleman, the daughter of our colleagues, if she would be willing to create a painting of the boat picture I had in mind (I would, of course, pay her). She is a very gifted artist, and as I shared with her the meaning of this picture and how it tied into hopes and dreams and God’s sovereignty, she agreed to take the job. Emma proceeded to create the most beautiful watercolor painting of which I have named “Dream Big, Sweet Girl.” It hangs in my office.

Dream_Big

When we returned to South Africa in January 2024, I asked Emma Fogelman, the daughter of our colleagues, if she would be willing to create a painting of the boat picture I had in mind (I would, of course, pay her). She is a very gifted artist, and as I shared with her the meaning of this picture and how it tied into hopes and dreams and God’s sovereignty, she agreed to take the job. Emma proceeded to create the most beautiful watercolor painting of which I have named “Dream Big, Sweet Girl.” It hangs in my office.When we returned to South Africa in January 2024, I asked Emma Fogelman, the daughter of our colleagues, if she would be willing to create a painting of the boat picture I had in mind (I would, of course, pay her). She is a very gifted artist, and as I shared with her the meaning of this picture and how it tied into hopes and dreams and God’s sovereignty, she agreed to take the job. Emma proceeded to create the most beautiful watercolor painting of which I have named “Dream Big, Sweet Girl.” It hangs in my office.

I baked a chocolate cake today. It’s not a holiday. It’s nobody’s birthday. There is nothing of great significance to celebrate today. Sometimes we just need cake. Sometimes we need a little special something to remind us that while the mundane ordinariness of life may roll along, whipping us into step with to-do lists and obligations, there is still hope and still joy and still a little something cake-worthy.

What we can celebrate is that even in this moment, God is doing something. He doesn’t waste any part of our lives or our stories. Joseph bears witness to the powerful and redemptive work God does with our dreams. This is a cake with frosting moment. Our dreams are in His hands. And we can trust the path He has laid out for us.

So, dream big, my sweet friends.

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comrades marathon

Jun 9th, 2024 by Amy

The Comrades Marathon
Today, over 20,000 individuals from all over the world have converged upon Durban, South Africa, to participate in the prestigious Comrades Marathon.
The race was conceptualized by a South African World War I veteran, Vic Clapham. After enduring a 27,000 kilometer walk through German, East Africa—witnessing the physical and mental challenges that he and his fellow soldiers faced—Vic’s goal was to create a way for the average person to experience that same sense of overcoming hardship and adversity. The first race was held on May 24, 1921.
The Comrades Marathon is considered an ultramarathon. It runs from Durban to Pietermaritzburg in the Kwa Zulu Natal province of South Africa. Each year the race alternates between uphill and downhill. It is about 88 kilometers from start to finish. This year runners are tackling the uphill race.
Eighty-eight kilometers all uphill.
When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about the fierce determination each of these runners must have in order to start and complete this ultramarathon. And then I was thinking about the premise of the Comrades Marathon—to endure with one another through intense adversity.
The fundamental goal for Vic Clapham when he developed the race was not for the soul purpose of one individual winning the prize, although that does happen, but for the collective to endure and face the challenging course together. Pushing each other along to win the day.
It made me think about this Christian race we are running. The Comrades Marathon is a picture of what our faith journey should look like.
I Thessalonians 2:11 & 12 says: “For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into his kingdom and glory.”
Hebrews 10:24 exhorts us to “consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.”
The Acts 2 church met with one another, broke bread, shared a table, and their hearts were glad.
We are running the “Ekklesia Marathon.”
As a body of believers, we are the Church—the Ekklesia.
And yet, rather than cheer each other on and hold each other up when we feel too weak and weary to take the next step, we smack each other down. We create silos in our ministries. We marginalize fellow laborers and build platforms for ourselves rather than slowing down our pace to lift each other up.
It saddens my heart that we as the Church—the Hope of the world—are more interested in reflecting the values of the world—competition, financial and numerical success, leadership and position, platform and influence—than we are in running this ultramarathon with grace, humility, kindness, and love.
What might our testimonies look like to the world if we, the Church, came alongside each other and ran this faith marathon as brothers and sisters—as comrades?
What if we cared more about how our fellow believers were managing through the hardships this life throws at us instead of beating each other up?
What negative accusation could be hurled at us if we were the first to offer hope, love, and encouragement to those who are struggling, hurting, and lost?
What kind of beauty might we see if we held each other up during days of joy and days of sorrow?
This marathon is hard to run alone.
Church, we need each other, and we need to be kind. We need to be humble. We need to shed our egos and we need to remember to Whom we have been called.
Let us be ones who run together through adversity.
Christ expects that.
He is returning for His bride, not for individual achievers.
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus” (Hebrews 12:1,2).
This morning, my thoughts were on the Comrades Marathon. And more specifically, my thoughts have turned toward the Church.
I want to run this race well, but I don’t want to run alone.

miguel-a-amutio-QDv-uBc-poY-unsplash

The Comrades Marathon


Today, over 20,000 individuals from all over the world have converged upon Durban, South Africa, to participate in the prestigious Comrades Marathon.


The race was conceptualized by a South African World War I veteran, Vic Clapham. After enduring a 2,700 kilometer walk through German, East Africa—witnessing the physical and mental challenges that he and his fellow soldiers faced—Vic’s goal was to create a way for the average person to experience that same sense of overcoming hardship and adversity. The first race was held on May 24, 1921.


The Comrades Marathon is considered an ultramarathon. It runs from Durban to Pietermaritzburg in the Kwa Zulu Natal province of South Africa. Each year the race alternates between uphill and downhill. It is about 88 kilometers from start to finish. This year runners are tackling the uphill race.


Eighty-eight kilometers all uphill.


When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about the fierce determination each of these runners must have in order to start and complete this ultramarathon. And then I was thinking about the premise of the Comrades Marathon—to endure with one another through intense adversity.


The fundamental goal for Vic Clapham when he developed the race was not for the soul purpose of one individual winning the prize, although that does happen, but for the collective to endure and face the challenging course together. Pushing each other along to win the day.


It made me think about this Christian race we are running. The Comrades Marathon is a picture of what our faith journey should look like.


I Thessalonians 2:11 & 12 says: “For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into his kingdom and glory.”


Hebrews 10:24 exhorts us to “consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.”


The Acts 2 church met with one another, broke bread, shared a table, and their hearts were glad.


We are running the “Ekklesia Marathon.”


As a body of believers, we are the Church—the Ekklesia.


And yet, rather than cheer each other on and hold each other up when we feel too weak and weary to take the next step, we smack each other down. We create silos in our ministries. We marginalize fellow laborers and build platforms for ourselves rather than slowing down our pace to lift each other up.


It saddens my heart that we as the Church—the Hope of the world—are more interested in reflecting the values of the world—competition, financial and numerical success, leadership and position, platform and influence—than we are in running this ultramarathon with grace, humility, kindness, and love.


What might our testimonies look like to the world if we, the Church, came alongside each other and ran this faith marathon as brothers and sisters—as comrades?


What if we cared more about how our fellow believers were managing through the hardships this life throws at us instead of beating each other up?


What negative accusation could be hurled at us if we were the first to offer hope, love, and encouragement to those who are struggling, hurting, and lost?


What kind of beauty might we see if we held each other up during days of joy and days of sorrow?


This marathon is hard to run alone.


Church, we need each other, and we need to be kind. We need to be humble. We need to shed our egos and we need to remember to Whom we have been called.


Let us be ones who run together through adversity.


Christ expects that.


He is returning for His bride, not for individual achievers.


“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus” (Hebrews 12:1,2).


This morning, my thoughts were on the Comrades Marathon. And more specifically, my thoughts have turned toward the Church.


I want to run this race well, but I don’t want to run alone.

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Easter Sunday

Apr 8th, 2023 by Amy

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Death and mourning. Sadness and despair.

It seemed the story was over. Christ had died and his body lay in a tomb. It was the end of an era as far as anyone could tell.

There was weeping, mourning, uncertainty, and confusion.

What next?

Mary Magdalene stood at the empty grave…certainly, there must be some explanation. Her heart gave way to tears, and she wept.

One of the most captivating statements I find in this resurrection account is the question the angels ask Mary as she is looking into the tomb…searching for answers.

“Woman, why are you crying?”

John 20:13

Good Friday calls us to pause, reflect, and contemplate the cost that Christ bore for our sins. Because we know there is a resurrection, we can so easily lose sight of the significance that mourning plays in the story.

This question, posed to Mary- “Woman, why are you crying?”- might have seemed silly or inappropriate in light of the crucifixion.

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”

John 20:13

Distraught that something might have happened to the body of Jesus, Mary’s heart was wrestling with fear and grief. When she turned around, she stood face-to-face with Jesus…but she did not recognize him.

He, too, asked her why she was crying.

“Woman,” he said, “why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”

John 20:15

She was looking for Jesus, who was standing right in front of her.

Carrying the sadness of Friday into Sunday, she could not see her Messiah. Resurrection had come, but she had yet to grasp it.

Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher).

John 20:15,16

In an instant, Mary’s eyes were opened…and she could see her Lord. Overwhelmed with emotion, she reached out for him…clinging to her living Savior.

The question, “Why are you crying?” makes sense now. Why would she, or anyone, cry in the presence of the greatest miracle in history? Death defeated. Resurrection. Redemption. Complete victory.

May the only tears we shed on Easter Sunday be tears of joy!

After this encounter with Jesus, Mary ran to the disciples to share this amazing news.

“I have seen the Lord.”

John 20:18

Can you imagine their reaction? “I have seen the Lord.” No more tears. No more sorrow. Jesus is alive.

While there continues to be much to grieve in this world…death, brokenness, heartache, and sorrow…Easter reminds us that victory has come…death has been defeated…and, through both Christ’s death and resurrection, there is a greater hope.

The empty tomb was not something to weep over.

The empty tomb was the reason to rejoice.

No more crying.

“I have seen the Lord.”

Christ has risen.

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Good Friday

Apr 7th, 2023 by Amy

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A crucifixion.

The events of Good Friday were filled with a kind of drama that we cannot fully comprehend. It was ugly. The worst of human nature spilled out into every street and every corner of the city. Jealousy and envy had blossomed into hate, and hate burned hot. All of life, nature, and the whole world collided with goodness, mercy, and love, and everything stood still.

He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Isaiah 53:3

Despised and rejected.

The suffering he bore made him familiar with our own suffering and pain.

It was so hideous that we had to turn our faces away. This kind of suffering, we cannot truly grasp.

Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
stricken by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:4-6

Did he see my face as he hung on the cross? As he was pierced through and his body hung crushed, were my sins and my failures and my pride and my transgressions on his mind? Was he thinking about me as he took his last breath?

When the angel visited Mary and gave her the exciting news that she would conceive a baby through the Holy Spirit who would be God’s Son…the Messiah…and to her question, “How can this be?”…the angel’s reply was, “Nothing is impossible for God.” I do believe that Jesus, the Son of God – God in the flesh – could see the face of every human life – past, present, and future – as he hung dying for the forgiveness of all mankind. Because nothing is impossible for God.

His punishment…the horror of his death…brought you and me the peace we long for and the healing of every wound. Forgiveness, grace, restoration, and completeness became ours through Christ’s brutal death.

The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Thank you, Jesus, for the cross on which you died…where you saw my face and you bore my sin.

He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
for the transgression of my people he was punished.
He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
nor was any deceit in his mouth.

Isaiah 53:7-9

Innocent, he walked the path of death.

Jesus, sinless and pure, took the grave of the wicked for the redemption of the world.

And he did so in silence…without a cry of “not guilty”…without a word of self-justification.

So many misunderstand the necessity of this part of the Easter story. They would rather bask in the resurrection than pause and reflect on the gravitas of the cross. Were it not for this poignant moment of mourning, we could not truly rejoice in the victory three days later.

Death was not the finale of this story, but it cannot be brushed over. God allowed his Son to suffer…and his Son, Jesus, chose the way of suffering. God so loved the world that He gave…and Jesus so loved the world that He gave.

Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.
After he has suffered,
he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge, my righteous servant will justify many,
and he will bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,
and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
because he poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
and made intercession for the transgressors.

Isaiah 53:10-12

He made intercession for the transgressors.

Those transgressors are you and me. Those transgressors are any human that has ever lived, is currently living, and will live in the future. Jesus made intercession for us all.

Because Christ poured out his life unto death, and because he continues to intercede on our behalf, we have hope…we have redemption.

Good Friday is not just another date on the calendar to fill with another service, another gathering, or another ritual to observe. No. It is a sobering moment to pause and reflect on the suffering of Christ on behalf of you and me.

I do believe that He saw my face and yours as he hung, dying, broken, abandoned, and alone.

And when he said, “It is finished.” (John 19:30), he was declaring the end of striving…the end of fear…the end of hopelessness…the end of shame, and the end of death. He took our iniquity and he bore our sin…once…for all…upon the cross.

Words do not suffice for the enormity of gratitude I feel. But with words, frail and broken…limited and simple…I say to Jesus from the depths of this sinful heart, “Thank you, Jesus.”

“It seemed as if hell were put into His cup; He seized it, and at one tremendous draught of love, He drank damnation dry.”
Charles Spurgeon

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Maundy Thursday

Apr 6th, 2023 by Amy

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Maundy Thursday is the day the church recognizes and observes the Last Supper of Jesus.

Defined as “the ceremony of washing the feet of the poor, esp. commemorating Jesus’ washing of His disciples’ feet on Maundy Thursday” by the Collins English Dictionary, Maundy Thursday calls our attention to those final moments between Christ and his disciples before his death and resurrection.

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with a towel that was wrapped around him.

John 13:3-5

If we believe we can carry the mantles of leadership and shepherd without walking through the acts of sacrificial service and suffering like our Lord, then we are deceiving ourselves. Christ, throughout his entire earthly ministry, spoke clearly and modeled humbly the expectation for those who chose to be called disciples. The true significance of Passion Week was not Christ’s triumphant entry and the cheers of “Hosannah” as he rode into Jerusalem nor was it in the dramatic display of Christ’s authority as he drove out the money changers from the Temple. Rather, the significance of this week was in the quiet and humble declaration that Christ was King and that all the hierarchy and position that was hoped for and expected were not the markers of his power and authority. It was found in the act of washing his disciples’ feet.

When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord’, and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”

John 13:12-15

In Luke’s account of the Last Supper with Jesus, he includes an additional story that took place during this pivotal moment in history. Having shared with these men that one of them would betray him, the disciples began to murmur and discuss which of them would do such a thing. This conversation led to an argument about who would be considered the greatest. Jesus stopped them in their tracks with this statement:

“The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.”

Luke 22:24-27

This was not the first time Jesus addressed this seemingly difficult-to-grasp concept with the disciples. In their humanness, the question of greatness came up often, as it does so today. We are sin-driven people. We hunger for power. We yearn for a seat at the table. And Jesus addressed this hunger for position over and over again. And we, now 2,000 years later, witness Christ’s example and hear his words of gentle conviction. It is not about having a seat at the table; it is about a heart humble to service.

“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things you will be blessed if you do them.”

John 13:15-17

The blessing we yearn for comes not from elevating ourselves to places and platforms of greatness. Those often look like blessings from a distance. The crowds the lights, and the influence can draw our affection towards a counterfeit kind of blessing. But from Christ’s own words, and by his authority, true blessing comes from laying down our lives, our pride, and our status, wrapping a towel around our waist and washing the feet – serving in unseen and unglorified ways – of those in our home, our marriage, our family, our workplace or ministry.

Jesus told the disciples to follow Him. The heart will constantly tug towards greatness defined by the world, but Jesus said, “Do as I have done for you.” His standard is high. It takes far more strength, maturity, and character to lower ourselves in a Christlike way than it does to climb our way up the ladder.

On Maundy Thursday, as we enter into this time of reflection and remembering, let us recall the moment we said yes to Jesus…the moment we chose to identify ourselves with Christ…when we surrendered to the One who stooped down to live among humanity, the One who knelt down to wash the dirty feet of his disciples, and the One who reaches down into our hearts and draws us to himself.

He made himself low for us.

And our act of gratitude is to do the same for others.

If we truly believe that Christ is the greatest…that he is our Teacher and Lord, then why would we seek any other form of greatness? To align with Christ is to align with serving and suffering. His grace compels us to act in love and sacrifice. His love compels us to serve.

“The strange thing is that it is the man who stoops like that–like Christ–whom men in the end honour as a king, and the memory of whom they will not willingly let die.”

William Barclay

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remember your true joy

Mar 17th, 2023 by Amy

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The seventy-two returned with joy and said, “Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.” He replied, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

Luke 10:17-20

However…

That one word – however – pulling the attention of the listener away from the events that just occurred, and even Christ’s acknowledgment, support, and affirmation is the paradox once again observed in Christ’s kingdom.

Luke chapter 10 opens with the story of Jesus sending out seventy-two disciples to go into every town and proclaim the kingdom of God. His instructions were simple but direct. Their main objective was to preach the kingdom of God and heal the sick. He knew there would be challenges and hardships – “I am sending you out like lambs among wolves.” vs.3 – but he encouraged them and gave them the assurances they needed, “He who listens to you listens to me; he who rejects you rejects me…” vs.16.

And off they went, entering towns, proclaiming God’s kingdom, healing the sick, and casting out demons. When they returned, they were elated! They were so excited to report back to Jesus everything that had happened. I imagine their feelings were much like the excitement and joy we feel after we have just returned from a missions trip. We have stories and photos and slide shows and testimonies, and we just can’t wait to share all the things with all the people. We want others to share in our joy; to see what we saw and acknowledge that God powerfully used us. We want to celebrate the good that God did. We also tend to shine a light on the part we played in the story.

When the seventy-two returned there was much joy and much celebration because of what had happened.

“Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.” vs.17

This is typically the moment when the audience jumps to their feet with applause. Instead, Jesus turned this moment into a teachable moment…a very important moment for the seventy-two, and for us today.

He replied, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.” vs.18

What was Jesus saying here? There are two different thoughts on the meaning of this particular phrase. According to William Barclay, it can mean that while the disciples were out proclaiming the kingdom of God and seeing miraculous signs and wonders, Christ could see in the spirit what was happening to Satan; that his power had taken quite a blow.

Another thought is that this statement was warning the disciples against pride. It is understood that it was because of pride and arrogance in his heart that, once the most beautiful of all the angels, Satan was cast out of heaven. Pride was his destruction. And in this statement, Jesus was calling the seventy-two to pause and reflect.

It may be that Jesus was saying to the Seventy, “You have had your triumphs; keep yourselves from pride, for once the chief of all the angels fell to pride and was cast from heaven.”

William Barclay

Jesus spoke a great deal about pride throughout his ministry, so it would not be difficult to believe that rather than hoisting the seventy-two up on his shoulders as great champions of faith, he was warning them to guard their hearts against pride.

The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?

Jeremiah 17:9

Jesus knows our hearts better than we know our hearts. He sees our motivations that are often hidden behind even the best of intentions. As Jeremiah inquired, “Who can understand it?” We certainly cannot, but Jesus can…and he did. He wasn’t trying to squash their victories or shame them for feeling joyful, nor was he downplaying the incredible good that had been done, but his greatest concern was that the hearts of the seventy-two remained grounded in humility and surrender to God.

“I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.” vs.19

The work that took place in each town and village wherein the seventy-two ministered was good that came directly from the power and authority of Jesus Christ. And it was after he acknowledged the miraculous deeds that had happened through those individuals that he switched the focus to what was truly worth rejoicing about.

“However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” vs.20

The perspective is convicting.

As missionaries, we carry genuine and perceived expectations on our shoulders. We struggle with how to articulate what we are doing, how we are approaching ministry, and how to communicate our work in such a way that will cause others to be proud of us, to choose to support us, or keep people from choosing not to support us. It’s a tricky balance of telling our stories and sharing our victories without creating a small, but very real, platform of celebrity for ourselves. The truth is, I think we all struggle with this. Our wicked hearts get in the way, and while we do things in the Name of Jesus, we also do things to receive the pat on the back, the thumbs up, and the applause from the audience.

Jesus wasn’t just speaking to the seventy-two in this story. He was speaking to you and me. And while it is not a story that prohibits sharing, rejoicing, and celebrating the victories – on the contrary – it is a story reminding us that our greatest source of joy, and purpose for celebrating, is the fact that our names are written in heaven. That is truly a reason to rejoice! Our salvation is secure…our hope is eternity with Jesus. Our greatest earthly accomplishments are not nearly as miraculous as the forgiveness of our sins and the redemption of our souls. There is nothing we do – the greatest or the smallest things – that can outshine our salvation.

Pride bars from heaven; humility is the passport to the presence of God.

William Barclay

This is what Jesus wants us to grasp. It is by Jesus, for Jesus, and through Jesus that our stories and our testimonies and those miraculous moments were done. Through him, and him alone. Our salvation – this gift from God – is our treasure…and our true joy.

At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.” vs.21

I appreciate how Luke’s narrative of this story has captured the emotion Jesus was feeling at this moment. Jesus was feeling good! He rejoiced in the souls that had been open to the message of salvation. He was full of joy through the Holy Spirit. The testimonies and the miracles that the seventy-two brought to him were good and wonderful stories that brought joy to Jesus’ heart, and he said it was for God’s pleasure! If we, at any point in this story, only see Jesus as a joy killer, then we have misunderstood the whole thing. The simple truths were received by those with childlike faith. Again, the paradox of God’s kingdom. The greatest in the kingdom will be like children. Not because Jesus favors youth over maturity, but because those with open and childlike hearts are more receptive to Christ’s message. Jesus was happy. And therefore we, too, can be happy when God’s message is received. Yes, we can absolutely celebrate that!

As we approach the work that God has put in our hands, may we remember by whose power and authority we have been commissioned. May we celebrate the victories, but with humility, knowing that each soul redeemed, and each life transformed has been done only through the power of Jesus Christ. We are simply the stewards of his work. Pride is sneaky. Our hearts rarely detect it. This is why it is imperative for us to continuously lay our pride and our weaknesses at the foot of the cross. If we think that one act of surrender and sacrifice is sufficient, then we are lying to ourselves.

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.

Galatians 6:14

Remember your true joy. Boast in the work of Christ and seek humility at the foot of the cross.

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Posted in 2023, Faith, Grace, Gratitude, Joy, Ministry, Spirit-Filled Life, missions | No Comments »

wilderness seasons are pruning seasons – transition #5

Mar 14th, 2023 by Amy

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When God starts chopping away at the branches of my life, I can’t say that I am full of joyful surrender. I typically resist the spiritual machete that starts swinging in my direction. I don’t want it. “God, you can keep your machete to yourself. I’ll happily live with overgrown branches and dead limbs.” But the reality is that life in the Spirit – life in sync with Christ – requires a life surrendered to the pruning seasons.

There is a natural ebb and flow to the life of a Christ-follower: Pruning and Fruit-bearing.

When there are too many dead branches or the limbs are hanging low, they will no longer produce fruit, or, the fruit will not be as sweet. A good farmer knows about pruning.

We had rose bushes galore in our garden in Malawi. They were absolutely breathtaking. The family that lived in the house before us had planted this rose garden. As I poured my morning cup of coffee, I would look out of the kitchen window and gaze on the rich and colorful roses…

…Until the fully blossomed roses dried up and fell to the ground…one petal at time. Eventually, as the weeks progressed, the thorny branches of the rose bushes started growing in all kinds of directions. And they rarely produced any roses.

I’m not a gardener. I, honestly, have no idea how to keep any type of plant alive. As was confirmed in the case of our roses, I was clueless to the fact that the branches needed to be pruned in order for the roses to come back to life. I thought “the bigger the better”, but apparently that is not true…not true at all.

Our day guard came to me one day and asked me if I would mind if he cut the branches down. Kindly, he explained that the reason the roses were not blooming was because they needed to be pruned. No fruit could be produced until pruning had taken place. I gave him the go ahead to do whatever needed to be done to bring the roses back to life. After cutting them back, to what looked like baby bushes, and after some rain and cultivating of the soil, the rose bushes blossomed in full once again.

Pruning is a gift in the wilderness season of transition.

The empty nothingness of the in-between is often the perfect time for God to get into our lives and start pruning out the old and dead branches. This pruning is deep and, often, painful work.

“I feel like I got shot out of a cannon and straight into a plate glass window. I’m still pulling out shards of glass. I’m not sure how long it is going to take to heal.”

Joel shared this with me during one of our weekly breakfast dates. Still reeling from the pain and hurt he experienced in Malawi, it seemed like the process of healing was taking its sweet time. God wasn’t/isn’t done with the pruning.

When we are looking out upon the wilderness of transition it is not merely a vast nothingness that doesn’t make sense, but it is purposeful in the shedding of the old identity and claiming the new one. Part of the shedding process is pruning the old away so that the new can grow. It is imperative for this to happen. And so, we feel pain in the in-between, but that pain is a gift from God.

In John chapter 15 Jesus is challenging us to surrender to the pruning process. He is comforting us, even though it is painful, with the profound truth that in order to grow, in order to produce lasting and rich fruit, we must give ourselves completely to the pruning process:

“I am the vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit…”

John 15:1

There are branches in our lives that are not fruit bearing branches. It is God’s grace that offers to cut them out so that we are no longer enslaved to the superfluous materials and waste that clutter up our hearts, minds, focus and purposes. He cuts off every branch – every distraction and hidden issue – that does not bear fruit. What an incredible gift.

The in-between season in transition is probably the most vulnerable of stages in the process. Everything is laid bare. We can’t hide our dead and fruitless branches from anyone. While we may have been able to block out those hidden things behind our old identities and our old successes, when we step out of that place of comfort every single part of our souls become exposed.

And God graciously uses this time to cut off the dead branches.

“…while every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

John 15:1

Guess what…not every branch and every limb needs to be chopped. This is good news! In spite of ourselves, if we are walking with Christ and abiding in Christ, we will produce fruit. This is encouraging to me. However, like my rose bushes in Malawi, in order for the plant to continue to grow and become even more fruitful, it had to be pruned.

In his book, “Building a Discipling Culture”, Mike Breen discusses the natural rhythms of life in our spiritual journey. Like a pendulum that moves from one side to the other in a focused rhythm and steady speed, so our lives move from pruning to growing. Both seasons are necessary for ongoing growth and fruitfulness. He also likens this process to the balance of rest and work. These seasons of pruning – that we surmise as punishment or discipline or something painful to be avoided – are actually seasons of rest.

The pruning season allows us to rest in submission to the purposeful work God is longing to do in us spiritually. He prunes back the fruitful branches. Yes, we had experienced a great season of fruitfulness in our previous ministry and identities. We can point to specific victories that bolster our faith and give us the confidence to move forward. But to move forward and into an increased season of fruit bearing, even those past victories must be pruned. And the best way to walk through this process is to surrender to it and rest in it.

Breathe.

Take a Sabbath rest.

Inventory the areas that God is pruning, and let them go. Allow him access to every single fruit bearing branch.

Because, the next season to come is growth.

How do we do this? How do we allow this pruning process to take over?

Simple:

“Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing (emphasis mine).”

John 15:5

The first gift we receive from the wilderness of transition is pruning. The way to allow God full access to work out this process is by abiding and remaining in him. The fruit we bore in the past, and the fruit we will bear in the future, are not harvests we can manufacture on our own. This fruit is from God. Apart from him we bear nothing but dried up dead branches.

I don’t want leftover fruit. I want fresh fruit to grow out of my life and the only way to accomplish that is to remain steadfast in Christ. He is the vine…he is the source and the resource…apart from him I can do nothing.

Recognizing this and embracing this process will set you up to move into your new identity and your new beginning with humility and grace.

The wilderness is not a final destination, and neither is the pruning season. We were not meant to live in either of these stages forever. There will be many more in-between seasons to navigate throughout our lives, just as there will be regular seasons of pruning. Walk slowly and rest in the gift of the pruning zone.  Allow God’s work to be accomplished, and keep your eyes focused on Jesus.

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Posted in 2023, Faith, Grace, Life, Remain, Spirit-Filled Life, Transition, Trust, missions | 1 Comment »

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