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the least

Feb 23rd, 2023 by Amy

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The Least.

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.”

Mark 12:41-43

She didn’t have much. In fact, she didn’t have anything of significant monetary value.

She was a widow, and she was poor.

And she was among the crowd of people coming to the temple to give their offerings. The wealthy made a big show of it, tossing their large sums of money into the temple treasury. She, on the other hand, made no demonstrative display of her gift when she dropped two small copper coins – such a coin was called a lepton, meaning “thin one” – into the treasury. This was not a fat offering. It was, literally, a very lean gift.

Perhaps, as Jesus and his disciples sat on the other side of this scene, nothing looked out-of-the-ordinary. I imagine there were a number of people, walking through the queue, waiting their turn to submit their offerings. This poor widow, most likely obscure in the hustle and bustle of the crowd around her, elicited no extra attention or admiration. She dropped her coins and moved along in the river of humanity.

But Jesus saw her. He didn’t just see her; he pointed her out. He paid significant attention to this woman, invisible to the world.

Jesus does that.

He sees the hidden treasures around us, and he redirects our focus. His heart is drawn to the least of these. He doesn’t praise them because of their lowly status, but he acknowledges and affirms their actions despite their status.

The widow woman, holding her entire earthly wealth in her hands, tossed it all into the offering.

She gave out of her poverty – the least of everyone.

Yet, Jesus said she gave the most.

The kingdom that Jesus taught about throughout his ministry was an upside-down – paradox to the human understanding of greatness – kind of kingdom.

If you want to be great, then you must become a servant – the least of these.

Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all.”

Mark 9:35

When he made this statement to the disciples, he didn’t leave anything out. He was clear and direct. This wasn’t a coaching session on how to become a great leader. It was a difficult conversation speaking to the condition of the disciples’ hearts (the condition of our hearts as well) and expressing this hard-to-swallow kingdom mindset of lowering ourselves to title-less servants of Christ. He gave them no false promises that if they become the very last that they will be servant leaders of all. No. Jesus was very serious about this issue. In fact, rather than teach and express this significant kingdom principle by walking and talking, he sat them down. It was as if he was saying to them, “This is a lesson I don’t want you to miss. If you miss this, you miss everything.” He plainly and intentionally communicated that the greatest, in God’s sight, are the least: the ones who serve, and whose highest ambition is to serve like Christ.

And then he told them that if they sought for greatness in his Kingdom they must find it, not by being first, but by being last; not by being masters, but by being servants of all. It was not that Jesus abolished ambition. Rather, he recreated and sublimated ambition. For the ambition to rule, he substituted the ambition to serve. For the ambition to have things done for us, he substituted the ambition to do things for others.

William Barclay

This way of Jesus shoots straight to the heart. While the disciples were arguing over who would be the greatest, Jesus was always – always- redirecting their gaze…their attention…to the least. We cannot hold on to our self-righteousness when we sit this close to Jesus. His ways are so far beyond ours- the complete and utter opposite of our natural inclinations.

“They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Mark 12:44

The widow woman…who gave her “thin one” to God, gave more than any person who showed up to church that day. The wealthy gave out of their wealth. It is not a sacrifice when there is a deep reservoir to continue to draw from. She, on the other hand, gave all that she had…what might have been useful for oil, or flour, or some form of shelter. Her gift that day was a treasure far weightier than any sack of money poured into the temple bucket. In Christ’s upside-down kingdom, she would be considered “greatest”.

But I don’t think that this kind of greatness is a title that many of us are keen on snatching up. How many of us are truly prepared to be the least- to give an offering that won’t gain us significant earthly approval? How many of us are honestly willing to become servants without promise of promotion?

These are big questions.

This was what Jesus wanted his disciples to grasp.

It is what he wants us to internalize and hold firmly to today.

The greatest is Jesus.

We recognize that not one of us can carry the weight that he carried, so why do we attempt to place man on a scale of greatness when Jesus is part of the equation? Are any one of us prepared to take on the sin of the world and sacrifice our lives on a cross for the redemption of all mankind? It is difficult for me to lay down my life for my husband and family…I’m selfish, and I get tired and irritated and struggle with feelings of entitlement. Can you relate? Even when I do surrender and push aside my selfish will, I find I have to continuously lay my ambitions at the foot of the cross. This act of surrender is a daily act of obedience.

Greatness in God’s eyes is not the pursuit of greatness, but the pursuit of the cross-bearing life; choosing to lay our lives down for others and serving them with the willingness to sacrifice any hope of earthly greatness in the act of giving. It is about our hearts.

In both of these stories, we see that Jesus is shifting the paradigm. It has nothing to do with wealth and poverty in the natural sense, but about the wealth and poverty of the soul. How much are we willing to sacrifice and surrender to God? Greatness has nothing to do with titles and hierarchy, but about laying down our lives for the sake of others; becoming servants of all. Period.

There was a profound difference between a servant and a slave in biblical times. A slave was one who was owned by another person, taken against their will and forced into servitude. A servant, on the other hand, was a person who voluntarily chose to serve. Jesus came, not to be a slave, but he came on his own free will to serve…to give his life. And Jesus exhorted his disciples, and exhorts us today, not to live as slaves but to live as servants; freely giving our lives and our treasure, our gifts and our ambition to Jesus and his purposes.

When we place ourselves in proper alignment to Jesus Christ, we see that we really are the least. That even the greatest accomplishments and skills, gifts, and offerings we offer are like the widow woman’s lepton, “thin one”. While we can never match the sacrifice that Christ made for the world, we can take our two small copper coins – the little we do have – and give it all in service to Jesus. We can humble ourselves to the status of servants.

God honors the least. It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. The math will never add up…it will never equal the greatness that we so often seek. But it is the way of Jesus. It is the way of good. It is the hope this world has. I am so inspired to give my “thin one” to Jesus- to be counted as the least. If it draws me closer to Jesus – to his heart…to his character…to deeper intimacy – then let me be a servant of all.

Humility is the mark of Christ. It is the way of power used rightly. It is Godlike to serve in humility. He who sits on the throne was the servant of all while here, and on the throne he continues to serve us by his Spirit. We must know him well and deeply if his work is to be accomplished.

Diane Langberg, Redeeming Power: Understanding Authority and Abuse in the Church

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Posted in 2023, Faith, Grace, Life, Marriage, Ministry, Motherhood, Spirit-Filled Life, missions | 1 Comment »

how to transition well in a season of chaos #3

Feb 21st, 2023 by Amy

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Self-care in a season of chaos.

When we moved to South Africa, I had come out of a very challenging season in Malawi. It was hard on all fronts – from helping our children transition, to navigating life in a foreign country, the ever-precarious visa process, the insurgence of Covid-19, to understanding a new organization and all of the intricate policies, procedures, and bureaucracy. It was hard. But, like I have said before, we were able to find creative ways to establish stability.

Still, when we arrived in South Africa, I felt like I had run a marathon and was standing at the starting line of yet another marathon. The decision for our move was, primarily, to get help for Jasper. We knew he had some significant developmental issues, and South Africa provided the much-needed resources to help him.

As I sat in our Airbnb one afternoon, completely exhausted and weary, I remember thinking: “Can one lose resiliency? Is it possible that I am not able to bounce back from challenges like I used to?” A friend of mine called me. She and I have known each other since high school, and we are both Third Culture Kids. She said to me, as I was thinking out loud, that the question of resiliency cannot be answered when one is in the middle of transition. She encouraged me to walk slowly and take it one day at a time.

I was beginning to feel like, perhaps, God was disciplining me- that all of this hard stuff we were facing and working through was because I had, somehow, upset and disappointed God. I was stressed out trying to determine if my own frustration and anger at some of the things we had experience had been a result of me not being a good enough Christian, missionary, wife, mother, etc. While I was grateful- deeply grateful- that God had brought us to a place where we could help Jasper, and we had even found incredible resources for him, and for our family, I couldn’t shake this feeling that I was somehow responsible for how hard the past year had been. And I was worried that I might not bounce back from it.

A few months later, I was on a Zoom call with a mentor of mine, sharing with her my fears, my worries, and doubts, and she said to me, in the most empathetic and kind way, “Amy, I think you need to walk in God’s love. His yoke is easy, and his burden is light. He is not disciplining you. He wants you to know that he loves you, and he is with you.” I can’t begin to explain how the combination of my friend’s words and this mentor’s words spoke life to me. They still do. I have a small sign that I received as a gift from this mentor before we moved overseas. It says, “You are loved”, and it is a gentle reminder of this truth that I see each day when I sit at my desk.

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Walk in God’s love.

Be gentle with yourself.

Breathe.

Release these burdens and cares and rest in God’s presence.

Take it one day at a time.

Transition in a season of chaos brings a kind of weariness that is difficult to describe. It overwhelms and saturates so much of our lives. Too often we brush it off, or we blame ourselves for not being strong enough or resilient enough to handle the chaos, rather than recognize that we have limits. And it is okay to have limits. It is okay to say, “I’ve reached my capacity.”

Self-care in a season of chaos, for me, looks like:

1.     Waking up in the morning and reminding myself that I am loved by God.

2.     Loving my husband.

3.     Prioritizing my family.

4.     Homecooked meals.

5.     Handing over the things that are out of my control to God.

6.     Laughter with my family.

7.     Reading books that help me understand the process I am working through.

8.     Regulating social media.

9.     Speaking kind words to myself.

10.  Letting go of guilt when saying “no” to something is the healthy thing to do.

Transition is a season. It is not a lifestyle. The missionary life tends to be more transitory in nature than a regular occupation, but constant transition is not the norm, even for missionary life. It is a season; these seasons pass.

It’s not so much that we’re afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it’s that place in between that we fear…It’s like being between trapezes. It’s Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There’s nothing to hold on to.

Marilyn Ferguson, American Futurist

Transition is the in-between. It’s the letting go and the reaching out with no clear sight of the new beginning. I would add to Marilyn Ferguson’s thought that we, as Christ followers, do have something – Someone – to hold on to. The season of transition breeds all kinds of internal restlessness, and it feels overwhelming when we are in the thick of it. However, we are not alone. As we learn to pivot in the chaos, we have someone in the storm keeping the boat from sinking. Jesus never leaves us. He promises that he has gone before us, and he is also in the middle of all the mess with us…standing strong.

Resting in his love and allowing his presence to carry us through the seas of the in-between, will give us the resilience we need to keep pressing on and moving forward.

It is okay to take care of yourself in these seasons of chaos. It is okay to hit “pause” and remind yourself that you are loved by God. Rather than try to figure out if you are doing it right, or doing it well, give yourself the gift of care – whatever that might look like for you. This is not a race…you don’t lose points for those moments you pause…stop…recalibrate. One of the greatest gifts you can give to yourself- and your family- through periods of transition is self-care. Eventually, you will find yourself on the other side of the trapeze.

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Posted in 2023, Africa, Faith, Grace, Gratitude, Hope, Life, Marriage, Ministry, Motherhood, Peace, Spirit-Filled Life, missions | 1 Comment »

held

Feb 17th, 2023 by Amy

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He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.

Isaiah 40:11

I’ve been a little obsessed with the animal kingdom lately. We were at a game reserve last year, and there seemed to have been a baby boom across the northeastern part of South Africa. We saw so many mamas and babies. What struck me, and what I have not been able to stop thinking about, was how naturally and instinctively these mamas watched over and protected their young, while simultaneously, the babies sought after and stayed within close proximity to their mamas.

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Elephants are highly protective of their young. A mama elephant will charge anything that she perceives to be a threat to her baby. Elephants stick together in family units, and for increased security, they will join with other elephant families to form clans. Many of these family units and clans are comprised of females and their offspring. Lots of mamas protecting their little ones.

Touch is an important communication tool among elephants, especially between mother and calf. Wherever the calf and mother may be, they will be touching. And if the baby is behind the mama, she will reach out and touch her young with her tail. It is a beautiful picture of care, protection, and love.

On the other side of the size scale, sea otters are another fascinating creature! Because of their dense fur, they can sleep in the ocean floating on their backs, but they do not float alone. Sea otters will float in groups called rafts. These rafts can range from two sea otters up to hundreds of otters. They stay close, holding hands in order not to lose each other and to protect themselves from drifting away and becoming vulnerable to predators. Sea otter mamas hold their pups on their tummies and will spend hours fluffing their fur. This is more than just a fussy mom trait, but it is a necessary instinct they do in order to ensure the pup’s fur is prepped well for floating. A mama sea otter will carry her baby through rough waters and hostile environments in order to ensure the safety of the little one.

This picture, illustrated in living color, of intuitive care and motherly instinct is powerful.

Our older three children loved to be held when they were little. Sometimes, if they were feeling exceptionally affectionate, they would run and try to jump into my lap for a quick hug and kiss. Sometimes they would reach their hands up to the sky, a clear message to me to pick them up and hold them in my arms, simply because they wanted to be close to me. Even Jasper, who is not naturally an affectionate little guy, will lay his hand on my lap, or hold my hand close to his chest, when I am singing to him at bedtime. There is something very warm, comforting and affirming when we find ourselves being held by those we love, and who love us.

To be held.

There are so many images and Scriptures throughout the Bible that encourage us to hold on…persevere…cling to Jesus. We can find, in moments of exhaustion, mentally exhorting ourselves to just keep pressing on- and holding on to Jesus.

The challenge is that sometimes we wear out. We let go. Or we wander and get disoriented by the trials and heavy burdens we bear. Our intentions are good and pure…we are doing our best. We are holding on!

He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart…

Thankfully, the burden of our security and our preservation does not lie solely in our hands. Yes, we must hold on, but while we are holding – and in those moments when our grip releases – we are also being held.

We are held in Christ’s hands- gathered up in his strong and capable arms.

He holds us close to his heart.

Like a mother elephant, or the sea otter, he is always near…finding us…touching us with his presence…holding our hands so that we do not drift out to sea.

He will gather them in when they wander, gather them up when they fall, gather them together when they are dispersed, and gather them home to himself at last; and all this with his own arm, out of which none shall be able to pluck them. He will carry them in the bosom of his love and cherish them there. When they tire or are weary, are sick and faint, when they meet with foul ways, he will carry them on, and take care they are not left behind. He will gently lead them.

Matthew Henry’s Commentary

What a reminder of the constant care of God.

Our relationship with God is reciprocal. We reach out to Him and He is reaching out to us. It is not just us holding on to Him, holding His hand, reaching out to Him, but it is also Jesus holding us, leading us, finding us and carrying us. He keeps us safe in rough waters. He is ready to charge when predators come near.

We are safe.

We are loved.

We are His.

How comforting and encouraging.

Wherever we are, whatever we do…in our daily work or our evening rest…as we are holding on to Jesus, He is holding on to us.

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Posted in 2023, Faith, Grace, Ministry, Motherhood, Peace, Trust, missions | No Comments »

how to transition well in a season of chaos #2

Feb 14th, 2023 by Amy

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Transitioning with littles and special needs.

I’ve shared our experience with transitioning with our older children. What about younger children? What does this process of transition look like with a three-year-old? Or a five-year-old? And, even more so, what about a child who has special needs- who, perhaps, cannot articulate their feelings verbally?

Jasper was three years old when we landed in Malawi. What we did not know at the time was that he is on the autism spectrum. If I had known that, it might have helped me a lot in navigating the transition with him. Without that knowledge, we did the best we could.

Jasper’s “speaking up” looked more like massive meltdowns (up to two-plus-hours of meltdown), as well as erratic and repetitive behavior. He was an unregulated little boy plopped into the middle of an unregulated and chaotic setting. From the smells to the language to the sounds and sights, he was overstimulated and out of control. I look back on that year in Malawi, and I can only say that it was God’s grace that brought us through. Sundays were a nightmare. He had no place to go that was a safe space. He was overwhelmed, and he could not string the words or thoughts together to express how he was feeling and what he needed. His language skills were delayed which compounded the emotional strain. I’ve often compared Jasper’s behavior to that of a pinball machine. The triggering stimulus or event would be likened to pulling the lever on a pinball machine that shoots the ball out of the corner. In similar fashion, Jasper would be shot out of his corner in the morning, and he would literally bounce all over the place, directionless and erratically throughout the day.

Picture this: our house in Malawi had five doors that all led to the outside. It is common for people to open up doors and windows of their homes- and keep them open- throughout the day in order to allow the breeze to flow through the house. We did this, initially, until we realized that these open doors created enormous stress for Jasper. He would run like a person on speed, in and out of the house, out one door and in through the next, circling the house over and over again. The running didn’t calm him down or wear him out. It actually revved him up and set him into a physical and emotional tailspin. When we recognized how the open doors were creating an atmosphere of stress for him- and for us- we decided to close all the doors except one. There would be only one open door for coming and going.

It really breaks my heart when I think of how hard that transition must have been for him. I tear up when I think about it because I know I didn’t always handle myself well in those high stress moments.

I can’t go back in time and fix all the mistakes I made in helping Jasper through the transition, but I can take what I’ve learned – and am continuing to learn – and apply it in our current transition and future transitions, and hopefully spark some creativity and hope to those who are also going through something similar to this.

With younger children, we have to slow down. We have to get on pace with them and their emotional process. I’ve heard it said multiple times that moving overseas is much easier with little ones than it is with older children. Speaking from my own experience, I would say that I disagree. It is not easier, just different.

Little ones explode in behavior. They meltdown, and they wear out easily. Fatigue creates a tired and angry little tyrant. They verbally can’t tell us, “Hey, I feel uncomfortable in this situation.” Or “I am scared, and I don’t understand what is happening.” We have to interpret their emotions, feelings, and grief through the negative behaviors we observe.

Slowing down means just that: slowing down. We want to take our new life by the horns and run, but our little ones need us to take them by the hand and adjust our pace to theirs. Jasper’s three-year-old legs were, and still are, significantly shorter than mine and Joel’s. If he was physically so much smaller than Joel and me, try to imagine the emotional equivalent of this disparity. We had to modify our pace both physically and emotionally to meet Jasper’s needs. It comes down to recognizing that the mountain we are so determined to conquer in one, two, or even four years, may take two, four-year terms instead of one. And we have to accept that and be okay with it. It’s not that the mountain will never be conquered; we will get to the top, but maybe not as quickly and heroically (from the perspective of the world) as we had anticipated. But to be very honest, I don’t want to make it to the top of the mountain by myself…a wise parent/leader wants to get there with their people. And so, we slow down.

Walking through the daily routines, creating visual schedules, and becoming intentional observers of our little ones helps them to feel more regulated and gives everyone a sense of control. Talking to them pre-event, rehearsing and play-acting on what a new experience might be like, also alleviates some of the internal stress. Pictures of places, people and possible sights that they will experience also prepares the child mentally for what is to come. They now have a frame of reference for the “new thing”.

The visual schedule, while not a miracle-working resource, was a huge help in regulating Jasper. I found pictures online that would match his daily routines and printed them out. He and I went over them together multiple times before we started implementing them. For him to “see” the process of his day was incredibly regulating.

Creating visual stories also became a part of his life and has helped him significantly with all manner of transitions. From starting a new school year, to toilet training, to preparing to fly on an airplane, visual stories have helped give him a picture of what is coming up and what he can expect.

Just as routine and structure have been good for me and our older kids, it is of utmost priority for our little guy on the autism spectrum (and I would add that it is critical for any young child, on or off of the spectrum). Routine regulates. Structure creates security. When chaos abounds, the little ones need a place of refuge, and that refuge is home. This is not a critique on working moms. I’m not pushing an agenda. I am speaking directly to helping a child process transition in a season of chaos, and home is their refuge. It takes incredible focus and intentionality to create a place of stability in a complex situation. If a caretaker is sidetracked with work and meetings and the demands of a job, then the child is not going to get the focused attention that he, or she, needs. Meltdowns will intensify, and the family will live in an elongated season of chaos. This, I guarantee.

This pathway to adjustment is a slow path and also requires keen discernment on what to say “yes” to and what to say “no” to. I have found that in our current transition, I am saying “no” to things that I normally wouldn’t say “no” to. I am doing this because I see the ripple effect of each of those choices, and I have had to get really selfish with my time and my energy. The ripple effect is real. One decision impacts a million other areas of our lives. Some of those decisions are good, and the ripple effect is beneficial. Some of those decisions are necessary, and we have to learn to roll with the punches (and be really aware of how this unavoidable stress will affect our little ones). Some of the decisions we are faced with are not necessarily wrong or bad, but unnecessary. They can wait. If it can wait, then wait on it. Wait until life is more regulated. Because eventually, it will settle down, and everyone will be in a place of strength, and not constantly pulling from a tapped-out reservoir.

In addition to this thought, little ones- specifically little ones on the spectrum- are going to struggle with smells, sounds, tastes, and textures. They lack, especially without adequate resources, the internal fortitude to “handle” uncomfortable situations. From temperature to the volume of music, singing, talking, to the smell of new foods, Jasper was a walking time bomb. While I wanted to show respect in our new home/country, I also recognized that forcing Jasper to eat these strange foods, or force him stay in the church during service, was futile. The quickest way to completely unhinge that little boy was to force him into compliance. I had to let go of trying to please all the people. I had to say “no” to a lot of things. Those decisions to let my expectations fall were the best (and wisest considering I had no idea what I was doing) I have ever made.

Get the professional help and resources you need as quickly as possible. If you have a clear and professional diagnosis for your child before the major move, then you are well on your way to a “smoother” transition. I think it is most ideal if you are able to locate the necessary resources before you land at your new destination. If not, finding the appropriate doctors, therapists, and schooling options should be a priority upon arrival.

We came to South Africa, not with a formal diagnosis, but with a high recommendation from two doctors of what kind of help Jasper would need. We were referred to a Pediatric Developmental Psychologist in Durban, where we live, and as soon as the December holiday was over, we began the process of getting a formal diagnosis for Jasper. From that point on, we were thrust into a beautiful community of support, therapists, and resources for Jasper and our family. Having access to these tools has been- and continues to be- a blessing for all of us.

I believe the key to navigating transition with a child on the spectrum is formulating a plan of action well before the transition, ensuring that where you are landing will have the adequate resources you need, and adjusting your expectations on how it is all going to unfold.

And give yourself a lot of grace. It’s going to be messy. It’s going to be hard. There are going to be good days and bad days. That’s okay. Breathe deeply, and rest in grace.

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Posted in 2023, Faith, Grace, Ministry, Motherhood, Trust, missions | 1 Comment »

the activity of Jesus

Feb 10th, 2023 by Amy

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The activity of Jesus, from the location of where he was teaching to the content he was teaching, to the miracles he performed, was always intentional and multidimensional.

On the Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues…

Luke 13:10

Jesus was teaching on the Sabbath, which hardly seems out of the ordinary, but it is a critical component of this story as this would be no ordinary Sabbath. There was a bigger plan – a greater purpose for those in attendance that day – and Christ, positioning himself in the synagogue to teach, understood and could see the critical nature of this timing.

…and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all.

Luke 13:11

This crippled woman was not possessed by a demon. Her affliction was a result of an oppressive spirit, crippling her from the outside. This spirit could not, and did not, possess her. She was bound up physically. The pain and the anguish she felt – and it should be noted, not because of some hidden sin in her life – was evidenced in her broken body. To shame her for her condition is likened to that of shaming an individual dealing with the crushing weight of depression or a physical illness that has plagued them for years. We tend to fault the depressed and call out their behavior as a character issue- that somehow, they are the maker of their own despair. We have no compassion, no grace, no place in our systems for those crippled by the physiological and psychological constraints of depression. We overanalyze the chronically ill. We can’t figure out why they are dealing with this disease, and why it cannot be remedied, so we accuse. We find a solution that fits our paradigm: “this person must be filled with the sin of bitterness or unforgiveness or addiction”, and we marginalize the wounded and broken that are desperately searching for grace and healing.

This woman, so bent over and so bound up physically, Christ called a “daughter of Abraham” (vs. 16). She was not an outsider. She followed the laws. She was chosen, but she could not claim her position. The enemy was tormenting her. For eighteen years, she was crippled by a despair that few of us can truly relate to. Imagine if your body took on the nature of your depression, anxiety, insecurity, and fear. Imagine the tangled mess of your internal life exposed to the outside world. Imagine the stares and raised brows when you entered a room. Or, perhaps, like this woman, your torment would cripple you to the point of being hidden and invisible. Imagine that feeling for a moment. Put yourself in her shoes.

The blessed assurance of Christ that was, and still is, our hope and security, was his awareness of all things…every detail. While this crumpled-up, tormented woman was invisible to the crowd, she was not invisible to Christ. He saw her…just like he sees you and me. He saw her in her torment; and rather than try to explain it away, or pile on more shame that somehow, she was the maker of this trouble, he had compassion on her. Jesus always had his eye on the marginalized, the unlovely, and the weak.

And his eye is ever upon on our torment, our pain, and our troubled hearts. While the crowd marginalizes, Christ draws out and redeems the broken.

When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, “Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God.

Luke 13:12, 13

This miracle is saturated with warmth, beauty, hope, justice, and indescribable love. It is a beautiful story of our Savior’s beautiful heart. Christ is always moved to compassion toward the suffering. His word and his touch are a promise of restoration, healing and redemption.

Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, “There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”

Luke 13:14

The synagogue ruler passive aggressively spoke to the people crowding in to see Jesus and to be touched by their Savior. Rather than speak to Jesus directly he told the people that their needs held very little value in light of the Sabbath…the holy day. He set the day over the need. He was bound to the system, giving it far greater authority and honor than the One who was the giver of the Sabbath. People became objects, stripped of their humanity, serving the system, rather than the system serving their needs.

There is nothing new under the sun (Ecclesiastes 1:9). From this ancient context – this miraculous event in a synagogue – to today, we see that history repeats itself over and over. Manmade systems will all eventually follow the same trajectory. What may have, at one time, been implemented with sincerity and faith, will eventually become a burden too heavy to bear. The wisdom of man cannot hold the brokenness of this world. It takes the wisdom of Christ, and the redemption of the cross, to carry with compassion, grace and mercy, the weight of the crippled believer. True Christianity places the person- the individual- above the system.

And that is exactly what Christ did for this woman.

The Lord answered him, “You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?”

Luke 13:15, 16

Jesus responded directly to the synagogue ruler. He didn’t speak to the crowd as the ruler did. Jesus wasn’t going to triangulate and turn this into a match of wits with the crowd playing the intermediary. He took up this case with the one who was making the accusation, and he made it clear that the system, meant to bring hope and rest to the weary, was abusively broken.

In the world and in the church we are constantly in peril of loving systems more than we love God and more than we love men.

William Barclay

It was actually legal to allow animals who are typically bound up, to be led from their stalls to water on the Sabbath. Jesus rebuked this whole paradigm. At what point did these rulers subordinate the freedom and restoration of a human life under that of these animals used for work? When did an animal hold more value than a human?

Jesus made it clear that, even though he could have waited until the following day to heal this woman, it was unthinkable to allow her to suffer one more minute…especially in the presence of the Messiah.

Jesus Christ came for moments just like this one. He came for individuals just like this crippled woman. He didn’t come to impress the high and mighty. He wasn’t on the lookout for the influencers and the beautiful people. He came for the broken – both internally and externally – the marginalized, the hopeless, the dying, the dead and diseased. He came for the wealthy and the poor, the hungry and the well-fed. He came for the hearts desperate for truth, for peace, for hope, for a Savior.

Jesus always looked for the cast-offs and the marginalized. He sought them out. Even when a poor woman touched his garment and received healing, he knew. His eyes and his ears were dialed in to the sights and sounds of the least of these. And he called them to himself. His compassion and his deep love brought them healing, and most importantly, redemption.

He has called us to do the same. He has called us to seek out the lost, the dying, and the lame. He has commissioned every believer to “Go…and make disciples.” (Matthew 28:19). Regardless of whatever title we may or may not carry, we are all commissioned to bring the lost to Jesus…to help untie the ropes and the constraints that have bound them up and lead them to the living water.

And for those who are bound up, crumpled over and distressed, Christ hears you and sees you. If you have been marginalized, shoved to the side, forgotten or made invisible by an impossible system, I know that Jesus is sitting right in the middle of it, and he knows where you are. He is not unaware. His heart is moved to compassion, and his hands are ready to touch you and heal you. After Christ put his hands on the crippled woman, she immediately straightened up. Immediately. His power to redeem the broken spaces of your life is immediate. And it is complete.

Rest assured that Christ’s power is enough to untie the ropes and set us free. He doesn’t waste time.

When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing.

Luke 13:17

The people…that crowd in the synagogue…were delighted. I find myself delighted in picturing this moment. And I find myself walking in delight, knowing that Christ is still redeeming the crippled and doing it in the most unconventional ways.

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how to transition well in a season of chaos #1

Feb 7th, 2023 by Amy

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How to Transition Well in a Season of Chaos

1. Give your people space to speak up and process.

Silence is not always a good sign. We often misread silent cooperation as a sign of compliance and agreement, when, in fact, what is going on internally is the complete opposite. The silent follower will eventually silently walk away.

I would much rather have a very vocal response to transition and change in the people I am leading – whether family or team – because then, I know exactly what is going on in their minds and hearts. A vocal dissent can be addressed. Knowing where the pain point is, or where the frustration lies, allows me to know how to better walk with someone through the transition. Silence seems golden, but it can be very costly. Navigating through unhappy and frustrated discussions is much more likely to turn into authentic support and authentic compliance.

When we moved to Malawi with our four children, there was a great deal of negative discourse on the whole matter.

Our oldest daughter was sixteen years old and knew exactly all of the amazing experiences she would be missing during the course of our first term. She was extremely vocal in expressing her anger and grief. I had no question in my mind where Sydney stood regarding our move to Malawi. She was very clear, even to the point of emphatically declaring, “I hate Africa!” There was no confusion. Her honest and verbal expression of her feelings gave us all the raw material we needed to walk alongside her through the process of transition.

Our older son, Jackson, was 12, on the verge of turning 13. He, too, was highly expressive with his negative feelings about living in Malawi. He was also dealing with severe anxiety, which began to surface the year prior to our move. He was struggling both overtly and internally with this transition. As difficult as it was to hear and receive all of Jackson’s negativity, we allowed him the space he needed to explode and process. It tore at our hearts, but at least we knew what was going on in that head of his. Even when he went silent, the physical manifestation of his anxiety gave him away. These outward and inward expressions of upset allowed us to know where he was and how to walk him through each phase of the transition process.

Our second daughter, aged 14, was our silent follower. Brooklyn is a peacemaker. She longs for harmony and will sacrifice her own needs in order to keep everyone happy. Her biggest fear in all of this transition was being an additional “burden” (her perception) on her parents. And so, she quietly went along, while feeling all the same emotions and fears as her siblings. I had a sense that she wasn’t doing as well as she was trying to portray, but oftentimes, due to the very loud and negative voices echoing through our home, her quiet struggles were buried.

Brooklyn wasn’t just wrestling with the grief of losing her life in the United States; of all of our older three children, she experienced, what I would refer to as, the most “trauma” at their new school. She was unjustly, and inappropriately, reprimanded by the headmistress for something she did not do; she was the target of ongoing teasing by the boys in her class, while simultaneously the girls in her class ignored her and marginalized her; and when she was struggling to understand a concept in math, her teacher yelled at her for asking questions (thankfully, he apologized to both Brooklyn and us, quickly recognizing his out-of-bounds behavior). It was awful. Brooklyn, our easy-going, life-loving girl, went deeply inward. She pretended to be sick in order to miss school and walked around in a state of apathy for the greater part of those first six months.

It took Covid-19 and a quarantine to give us a chance to dig deep into the heart of what Brooklyn was going through. I often reflect on what a gift Covid-19 was for our family. While Brooklyn followed along and didn’t rock the boat, out of our three older children, she was the one that was probably at the most critical place of brokenness by the time we were able to address her pain. I remember doing a Bible study with her and Sydney during our quarantine, and she shared with me that she was angry at God. Her pain was deep. Her grief was intense. Those precious months of processing with her opened up a tremendous opportunity for healing.

As difficult as it is as a parent, or a leader, to hear dissent, to hear the irritation and frustration of those we are leading through change, we have to challenge ourselves to see it as a gift, not a burden. Like I said at the beginning, I would much rather hear, and know, how my people are feeling – the good, the bad, and the ugly – than to think that because everyone is smiling and going along with everything without complaint that all is well. I can guarantee one thing for sure, no matter what the change or transition, there will always be internal struggles, fears, and negative feelings at some point. It is inevitable, and perhaps why there are so many books written on leading through change (Managing Transitions, by William Bridges; Tempered Resilience, by Tod E. Bolsinger; The Grief Tower, by Lauren Wells…to name a few).

Let the vocal dissent become your friend. Let it guide you as you walk with those you lead. An empathetic and listening ear will open up the heart of those who follow you and create trust. Dismissing authentic feelings as “difficult” or “bothersome” will inevitably create anger and hostility, and a lack of trust.

2. Walk your people through the transition.

What does it look like to walk people through transition? Every person has different needs in the transition process. For some, they need to understand the plan and to feel like they can get a handle on the part they play in all of it. Some just need to their feelings to be validated and noticed. Some need to take the transition in bite-size pieces.

First, as best as you can in the chaos of transition, create structure. Brooklyn needed to walk through the transition one step at a time. We have always created routines and rhythms in our home, regardless of where in the world we live. I function at my best in routine and structure, and so does our family. They need to know that there are consistent benchmarks that guide our days/weeks/months. For all of our kids, the daily structure we set in place gave them security, especially for Brooklyn. Taking life day-by-day, rather than event-by-event, gave her breathing room and a sense of normality that her new life in a very complex context did not always give to her.

Sydney has often shared with me that the effort we put into creating “normal” in her daily life helped her to feel safe and regulated. We told our kids that they were to pick an after-school activity to participate in (this was both when we were living in Malawi and before we transitioned to an online school). This was a non-negotiable. It turns out, even though there was some initial push back on this, that having an activity in their lives ended up being a huge part of what helped them settle into our “new normal”.

Second, create an atmosphere for processing. Regular and consistent family meetings that allowed our kids to open up and share, times for listening to music and worshiping together, prayer and laughter,  gave them a firm spiritual foundation in the chaos. We never pressured our children or told them, “You must love Africa.” Or, “You need to get on board and love this.” Giving them the freedom to not love any of it was the catalyst for changing their hearts. Those evening family times saved our family and relieved the pressure to feel feelings that they were not ready to feel.

Third, a very important part of this process is having a sense of humor. Laughter is therapeutic. Transition is so serious and stressful. It zaps us of our energy. Finding times to play and laugh and just pull out of the heaviness of the moment brings rest, hope and cohesiveness.

By the end of March, 2020 Covid-19 had shut everything down, and while Malawi never imposed a formal lockdown, most businesses were closed, and life came to a screeching halt. School migrated to an online format, which brought on a whole new kind of stress, and our routine and structure had to pivot quickly. By July, we were beginning to feel a little stir-crazy. And so, we decided to do “Christmas in July.” We put up our Christmas decorations, baked Christmas cookies, set up our video projector to watch Christmas movies, and even did our traditional “Secret Santa” gift exchange. For a week, we escaped the mundane and the heaviness of the pandemic and played. It was marvelous, and our children will tell you it is one of their favorite memories.

3. Validate. Don’t alienate.

In chaos, none of us are functioning at our best. I will forget side conversations, and sometimes the bigger vision gets buried in all of the chaos of transition. And so, I like to ask questions. I have learned that not everyone likes or appreciates questions. In chaos, I also will reach out for clarity or even request structure to help me along the process. I have also learned that this, too, is not always appreciated. The sad thing is, the more those questions, efforts at clarity-seeking, and requests go ignored, the less I feel compelled to continue following along, and it feels alienating. In seasons of chaos and transition, when we want our people close, our dismissive behaviors actually push our people away.

I noticed this a lot with our kids during transition. I think I’ve made myself clear. I’ve answered the same questions and explained the plan a dozen times, and then someone comes and asks for clarification. I can get frustrated and irritated because in my mind, I’ve already answered those questions. Why do I need to repeat myself one.more.time?

The reality is, when we are in transition, when the chaos is all around us, our brains can’t hold on to all the information, and we struggle to keep the facts in order. Therefore, we continue to ask questions.

It is somewhat like we revert to our preschool selves. Have you ever watched a group of preschoolers play at recess? Their play is often a representation of something they are trying to internalize. For instance, when I taught preschool, there was a little girl in my class who wanted to play “funeral” every single day at recess. She would gather her friends and they would reenact a funeral over and over again. I thought to myself, “why on earth would a bunch of three-year-olds want to play such a dark game of pretend?” Then, when this little girl’s mom came to pick her up from school, she briefly mentioned that they had been to a funeral over the weekend, and it had been a heavy week for their family. This little girl was processing all that she experienced and observed over the course of the previous weekend. She used play to solidify the experience. It was how she made sense of something so enormous. And here is the key…she didn’t just play “funeral” one time. She played “funeral” for a solid week until she understood her experience.

I believe this same concept can be appropriated to life transition. We keep asking questions in order to grasp what is happening. Questions should NEVER be seen as a threat. As the leader/parent, we should really be proactive in repeating the vision, the purpose, the plan, and the daily goals over and over again, no matter how repetitive it may seem. The repetition will bring ownership and peace. When we think we’ve made ourselves clear, we need to repeat all of the above again (and again, and again).

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Posted in 2023, Africa, Grace, Life, Marriage, Ministry, Motherhood, missions | 3 Comments »

ordinary

Feb 2nd, 2023 by Amy

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Ordinary is highly under-rated.

It seems the sincere longing for significance has pushed past contentment in doing a job well done, to that of being a world changer…influencer…and platform-creator. It is not enough, anymore, to do the hard and consistent daily work of investing our lives into meaningful, yet oftentimes, ordinary endeavors. Today, we are driven to be seen…to be heard…to position ourselves for greater significance and greater influence. Ordinary is boring and old-school, and it certainly doesn’t illicit the kind of attention that so many of us are seeking today.

And yet, there is something extraordinary about the ordinary.

My days are not so impressive on the outside. In this season of life, I am in the throes of child-rearing, home-managing and integrating culture into the impressionable minds and hearts of our children. I grocery shop, do the laundry, plan meals for the week, cook, clean, pack lunches, help with homework, create schedules, maintain order, educate my children on the importance of table manners and etiquette (this is never-ending work!), balance the checkbook, keep the budget, go on coffee dates with Joel and the kids, and oversee the day-in/day-out lives of my family, while developing relationships and ongoing connections with the people in our sphere.  It’s not all that exciting.

It is very ordinary.

And while my calendar boasts of a very ordinary life, there is something quite extraordinary happening between the lines and the dates, the appointments and the pen strokes. The lives of our children are being shaped, formed, developed, and discipled. Within the ordinary, God is doing extraordinary work. It is tempting to want to create for myself a profile that makes me look special and significant, but in doing so, it minimizes the good work that is taking place within the constraints of the ordinary. Ordinary is highly under-rated. Ordinary invites the time and space for deeper relationships, honest conversations, and focused attention.

Maybe I am feeling inspired to write this because I need to remind myself of these timeless truths, and maybe there is someone out there that needs to read it too. Maybe we both need the gentle reminder that our significance is not written in the headlines, but rooted in the ordinary work we are doing right now…in this moment…at the dinner table…in the bedtime prayers…in the middle of the meltdown…during those car ride conversations and marathon Lego days…in the tone of that email…or the slow pace of the project we’ve been overseeing. We need that little voice pulling us out of the drive for external significance and back into the precious gift of these ordinary days.

While the world craves more hype, more incentives to participate, more flash, more enticements and rewards, my heart is craving a more quiet and ordinary life. The world is temperamental…it shifts too quickly and too impulsively. The world (and this includes the church/ministry world) is becoming more and more addicted to performance – lights, cameras, action. Trying to keep up with it all creates instability, insecurity and a frenetic pace that eventually leads to burn out. I am, quite bluntly, less impressed with all the hype, glam and glitz, and more drawn to the daily and consistent rhythms of the ordinary.

The world is saying, “Speed up!” and my heart is saying, “Slow down!”.

Christ’s life was, in many regards, ordinary. He talked to his followers, not about how to build a platform or create a movement, but about bearing the weight of the cross. His invitation was to pick up their cross and follow him, and through the New Testament Scriptures, we know where that path led them…not to fame, fortune or a flashy title, but to suffering, marginalization, and death. The ordinary means – producing extraordinary fruit – of walking with people, listening, daily discipleship and the cross of suffering was, and still is, the way of Christ.

Obedience to God’s ways of bringing about the kingdom is the only way, even when those ways seem small, obscure, and weak. Even when no one notices. Even when our kingdom work can’t be captured and packaged for a ready-made inspirational social media update. Someone earnestly desiring to do great things for God can have all the right motives but all the wrong mechanisms. Jesus’ obedience tells us that mechanisms matter – if godly ends are pursued by ungodly means, the whole project will be ruined.

– Katelyn Beaty, Celebrities for Jesus

I have thought a lot about the cost of obedience and the return to the ordinary.

Obedience is, in the very truest sense, letting go of our own will and surrendering it to Jesus. There is nothing very glamourous about that. We step off of platforms rather than hoist ourselves up to be seen.

There are men and women caught up in the fast running current of trying to find significance through extraordinary means. There are a great number, I can only imagine, that want to do great things for God, and wrestle with the ordinary days in which they are living. There is an altruistic desire to please God, while at the same time a fear that a hidden life in Christ will amount to being forgotten by the world.

And yet, if we really want to get down to it…to the reality of what following and serving Christ is all about it comes to this:

He must become greater; I must become less.

John 3:30

That statement: I must become less, is not a directive to become less than who God has created you to be; that somehow wallowing in the dirt and lowering oneself to nothingness is the key to pleasing God. But rather, becoming less is putting ourselves in the right order and right place with God. It is releasing the striving and driving towards worldly acceptance and acknowledgement into God’s hands, and taking the ordinary tasks that he gives us each day and carrying them out to the best of our ability so that God gets the glory…God gets the greatness…so that God is seen above our talents, gifts and charisma.

In my ordinary days I find such encouragement when I see that God is using me to disciple and shape our children to follow Christ. That’s a big deal. It’s not always visible to the outside world. This is a slow and weighty work.

Your ordinary will look different than mine, but it is incredibly significant. It is the means by which God will do extraordinary things. It may never make the headlines, and it may never evoke a rush on social media, but if your ordinary work points the world to Christ and brings Him glory, then it is extraordinary.

The significance of the ordinary is not how amazingly we can do it, or how creatively we can brand it; the significance is that this is how God chooses to do his most astounding work; His quiet, steady, and world-changing work. He uses you and me. He takes the materials in our hands, the season of our lives, our brokenness and all of our flaws, and says, “Follow me.”

Stop striving.

Slow down.

Let the God do the extraordinary through our ordinariness.

It is God who makes us significant, not all the kingdoms we create.

Rest in that.

And rest in the precious gift of these ordinary days.

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persistence in prayer

Jan 20th, 2023 by Amy

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They shouted, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!” Matthew 20:29

Jesus was walking, talking, and teaching as was customary in Palestine for a Rabbi to teach as well as walk with their followers. Christ’s “students” were trying ever-so-hard to listen, straining their ears to hear what Jesus was saying, as two blind men were crying and pleading for Jesus’ attention.

These beggars were being disruptive and distracting.

The crowd was frustrated and told them to be quiet. There was no space in this paradigm for these men to have access to Jesus. But that did not restrain them. While the crowd tried to silence their pleas, they persisted. Rather than back off, they cried out louder, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

Can you imagine?

Have you ever been so desperate as to lose all sense of your status and place in society, to shed all decorum and comportment, that you would be willing to cry out, above the shushing crowd, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”?

What a sight that must of have been! I’ve been trying to imagine it in our post-modern, year-2023, world. The underprivileged or the over-privileged, stepping out of their subsequent roles, and being so desperate for Jesus that they would be willing to become the object of annoyance or shame from society. These two blind men, when given even the slightest hope of contact with the Messiah, did not sit back in unspoken, passive hope that Jesus would see them and notice them, but they cried out persistently for the attention of the Son of David. Would I be willing to do the same if I thought there might be a chance that Jesus could change my life?

While the crowd rebuked, Jesus stopped. He paused. He listened. He noticed. And he called them to come.

“What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. Matthew 20:32

Such a fascinating question: What do you want me to do for you?

It seems obvious, doesn’t it? “I’m blind. What do you think I want you to do for me?”

Blindness in that time and context relegated these men to a life of poverty. There were no government programs or schools for the blind, benefits or books written in braille, no therapies or medical technologies that a blind person could access in order to help them integrate into society. They had nothing.

Their persistence was understandable. And yet, Jesus still asked, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.” Matthew 20:33

They stated what they wanted- clearly and simply. There was no pause, no trying to find the right words, no guilt or shame.

They wanted to see.

Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him. Matthew 20:34

The blind men were so desperate that they had no problem causing a disturbance. They knew Jesus could heal them, and they couldn’t remain silent. When Jesus asked them what they wanted, he already knew, but he wanted them to declare it. Rather than hold this longing in their hearts and minds, Jesus’ question pushed them to speak out loud, and subsequently declare, that Jesus was the true Messiah, the only person who could meet this particular need. Their cries were not for money, which they could get from any passerby, but their cries were for healing, which could only come from a Savior.

And not just healing in the broad sense, but the request was very specific.  There was no ambiguity. They didn’t just ask Jesus to heal them; they were direct and said they wanted their sight.

Then, Jesus had compassion on them. Jesus looked at these two blind men, and his heart was moved. Out of compassion, Jesus touched them. He didn’t lay a hand on their heads or shoulders or hold their hands, but rather, he touched them where their need was – he touched their eyes, and they received their sight.

His compassion touched them at their point of need.

The persistence of these two blind men opened the opportunity for Christ to meet them – in their darkness – and heal them in a very specific and meaningful way. I suppose any healing from Christ would be meaningful, but that Jesus’ touch was so intentional, so directly on the point of pain, makes this miracle incredibly significant to the ones who received it.

As I’ve contemplated this story, I find myself encouraged to persist in prayer. To continue to reach out, cry out, and shout out as loudly as I can, to the One who can heal…to the one who can place his hands on the wounds of my life, and bring the restoration, the healing and the completeness that I need.

I think that we stop too soon in our prayers. I think we get discouraged when it seems that Jesus cannot hear us above the crowd. And I wonder if we just grow weary of asking. But what I believe this story tells us is that Jesus’ heart is for us, and his compassion moves us to him.

I cannot make a guarantee to anyone that if you just pray more persistently, the blind will see, the dead will rise, and the sick will be healed, but I can promise that the more we persist in our pursuit of Jesus – Son of David, Messiah and Savior – he will be there, and he will touch us. There is no question about that. His healing runs far deeper than our physical pains, wounds and disabilities. His healing makes us whole from the inside out.

I suppose we are all very much the two blind men in this miraculous story. However, our blindness is not physical, and our desperate pleas are not that we would be able to see trees and faces, animals and sky. But the healing we need is for the spiritual darkness to be lifted and our hearts to fully see Christ as our Savior. This is healing from the inside out. This is truly seeing. And this comes through our persistent prayers.

A mouth open in unceasing prayer will result in open eyes that see faith clearly. So, pray in the darkness, even if there seems to be no hope of light. When God, who is light, moves a poor sinner to plead and cry out with the commitment to continue until the blessing comes, he doesn’t even consider disregarding that poor crying heart. Perseverance in prayer is a sure sign that the day of opening the eyes of the blind is near.

Charles H. Spurgeon, “Life in Christ: Lessons from Our Lord’s Miracles and Parables”

Pray. Pray. And keep on praying.

Be persistent in prayer.

Trust God with the outcome.

His compassion will touch you, too, at your point of need.

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miracles

Jan 12th, 2023 by Amy

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As I watched the clock strike midnight, its hand leaving 2021 and tick-tock-ticking its way into 2022, I felt a wave of relief. Covid and transition left me feeling kind of empty. Rather than enter the new year with a bang, I mostly coasted in on fumes.

I came down with a fever on Christmas Day and spent the following week either in bed or on the couch. Sydney was with us for a very short period of time, and I desperately wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, in spite of the flu. By the time New Years’ Day arrived, my days were mush as I spent the first week of 2022 packing Christmas away and catching up on life.

My word for 2022 was “Whole”. As a family, we were on a trajectory of healing…processing and working through some hard-to-articulate wounds from the past few years. Joel and I both sensed, individually, that God had a very personal work he wanted to do in us and in our family. And he did just that. While I can’t say it was all neat and orderly, God was very much at work. There were many moments throughout 2022 that I honestly wondered what in the world God was doing because his work did not look like healing or wholeness. Yet, as I reflect on the year past, I do see God’s hand, and his handiwork.

Miracles happened. Not the big and audacious kind that we love to talk about, but the small and internal kind that water deeper growth and spiritual resilience. The kind of miracles that don’t always elicit external awe.

Miracles are still happening. Healing is a process, and it is still in process. I wish I could boast of some grandiose moment of instantaneous healing, but that is not the way in which God has chosen to work. Rather, he is taking our lives, moment-by-moment, and awaking our hearts to not just find personal healing, but to have an awareness of the much-needed healing in the lives of others. His work is never just for “us”, but for his glory and the benefit of others. If my pain can be a catalyst for connection and healing of another, then this pain is worth it all.

And it is not just the heart wounds that God uses, but the physical deficiencies that plague our bodies. Jackson, as we have openly shared, deals with a genetic eye condition by which his optic nerve is slowly atrophying which has caused significant visual impairment. Because we believe that God is a God who heals, we have prayed for complete healing. This supernatural kind of healing has not come. This is not to indicate that I have lost faith in God’s capabilities, but it is our present reality. I still pray and believe for healing, but likewise, I am praying God’s will…his most perfect will to be done in the life of Jackson…whatever that may look like.

I’ve asked myself multiple times this past year: “What if…”

What if the miracle is not Jackson’s eyesight being restored, but rather the miracle is learning to trust God’s goodness regardless of the outcome of our prayers? What if the greatest miracle of all in Jackson’s story is spiritual insight and sensitivity rather than physical sight?

What if our current circumstances do not change, or – even worse – get harder, do I still believe and trust that God is good?

What if the hope of seeing our dreams unfold never materializes? Can I still hold on to Jesus and trust his plan? Is Jesus really enough for me? Is this the miracle we are waiting for…simply Jesus?

The awe and wonder this side of 2022 is that Jesus never left us; his hand was always in the middle of the process.

The miracle of “wholeness” was not the absence of disappointment.

The miracle of “wholeness” was God’s complete presence in the midst of a really hard year.

Perhaps the most audacious prayer we can pray is, “God, give me the grace to accept hard things, give me the strength to endure unmet expectations, and give me your joy in perseverance.”

The miracle is not all the big answers to prayers.

The miracle is God’s grace, strength and joy in spite of our circumstances. It is Christ’s character being formed in us, and in turn, conforming our desires to his desires.

This truly is a miracle.

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Posted in 2023, Faith, Grace, Hope, Joy, Ministry, Peace, Spirit-Filled Life, Trust, missions | 2 Comments »

recalibrate – 2023

Jan 1st, 2023 by Amy

Recalibrate.

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New year. New word. New focus.

This year my word is “Recalibrate”.

“Recalibrate” is not a word that I particularly like. It doesn’t immediately jump out to me or inspire me. It’s the kind of word that Joel would choose, or my dad. To me, it sounds very masculine, not very poetic (and I love poetic words!).

Still, at the beginning of December, when my thoughts turned to the anticipation of a new year, this word kept coming to mind. I couldn’t shake it. And when I slowed down long enough to look a little more intentionally at the word “recalibrate”, I started to see its significance for my life.

In order to appreciate the meaning of “recalibrate”, we have to take a look its root word: “calibrate”.

Calibrate is a verb. It indicates the act of measuring something. Merriam-Webster defines “calibrate” as “to make standard (as a measuring instrument) by finding out and correcting for the differences from an accepted or ideal value”.

In other words, when we calibrate something, we are looking at an accepted value and then correcting what we have in order to fit that ideal. When this something begins to slip off track, when it drifts off course, we do the act of recalibrating…getting it back on track.

I think the most significant part of the definition is looking at the “ideal value”. I have to ask myself, what is the “ideal value” that I am recalibrating myself to? This is something to ponder.

In our noisy world, polluted with opinions, self-help books and podcasts all declaring their own ideal value, it is critical to pull away from it all in order to gain clarity. The true picture of what is ideal can get fuzzy if we are looking into our culture for direction. The ideal value will never be found in a program or a person. Man-made ideals will continuously leave us fractured and inadequate. Cultures and systems and structures built around personalities and preferences will only lead to discouragement, fallout and failure. People get hurt in personality-driven ideals.

So, where do we find this “ideal value”? To what are we calibrating and recalibrating ourselves? We have definitely drifted off course, so what do we do and where do we go from here?

In the process of growing up…getting older (and hopefully wiser), I am more and more convinced that the simplicity of God’s word is the compass that keeps us on the trajectory of our true north…our true path…our ideal value. Even as a Christ-follower, it is easy to veer off and into ideals that are not truly God’s ideal. They may not be bad, but they are not the best.

To find the “ideal value” we look to the “ideal”, and that is Jesus Christ. If you are a Christ- follower, like me, then the Holy Spirit dwells within us. We are image bearers of our Savior. The Bible tells us that the world will know us by our fruit. The outpouring of our lives should be the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness and self-control (Galatians 5:22). Christ embodied each one of these…he was a living picture of the fruit of the Spirit. Our “ideal value” is to be the same…to pursue a life that models Christ, and Christ alone.

We must re-calibrate to Christ’s “ideal value”.

In addition to this, Christ has given us the priceless gift of discernment: the Holy Spirit. I worry that this gift has gotten shoved into a corner and is becoming more and more obsolete in our fast-paced world that yearns for instant gratification and celebrity platforms. Discernment calls us to pause, pray, and consider. We can’t rush wisdom and discernment. We have to be willing to patiently wait as God brings clarity and peace.

But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth.

John 16:13

The gift of discernment is the act of listening to that still, small voice inside of us (the Holy Spirit) that warns us when something is off, that brings conviction when we have veered off course, and leads us gently along the path that God has prepared for us – it is the gift of truth. The Holy Spirit guides us in all truth, which sets us free as we follow Christ. This discernment ensures that we are calibrated to the “ideal value”; it is the “measuring instrument” that keeps us on course. We cannot do this life, this God-honoring work of discipleship, without it.

And this is where, and to what, I feel driven to recalibrate. This obedience – a long obedience in the same direction (Eugene Peterson) – to the leading, prompting, directing and ministry of the Holy Spirit within me. This is not some super-spooky-natural new age practice. It is, frankly, the fundamentals of living the Christian life. And this is where I sense the Lord leading me. Recalibrate to the “ideal value”, which is Jesus Christ. No more people pleasing, no more playing a role that doesn’t fit, and no more living outside my values. This year will be about listening more intentionally to the still, small voice inside of me, and recalibrating my attention and my life to God’s ideal value.

And, my hope and sincere desire, is to open up my heart and share very transparently my journey here. If you have been broken, my prayer is that, in this space, you will find a safe place to land. If you have been hurt, may you find refuge and healing through Jesus Christ, and in the safety of this community. And if you, too, feel the urgency to recalibrate, may grace abound as you seek to follow and obey, to set your eyes on the ideal value, and allow the Holy Spirit to do His ongoing work of aligning you to the truth. This year promises blessings and challenges. And it also promises God’s faithfulness and goodness each step of the way.

Recalibrating in 2023.

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

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