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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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Posted in Faith, Hope, Life, Trust | No Comments »

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.

Posted in Current Events, Faith, Life, Ministry, missions | No Comments »

Easter Sunday

Apr 8th, 2023 by Amy

bruno-van-der-kraan-v2HgNzRDfII-unsplash

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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Posted in 2023, Faith, Holy Week, Hope, Joy | No Comments »

Good Friday

Apr 7th, 2023 by Amy

eberhard-grossgasteiger-CytHrRFp2wU-unsplash

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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Posted in 2023, Faith, Forgiveness, Grace, Gratitude, Holy Week, Love | No Comments »

Maundy Thursday

Apr 6th, 2023 by Amy

tim-wildsmith-lxeMkcxANmQ-unsplash

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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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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wrestling with the fear of looking incompetent – transition #4

Feb 28th, 2023 by Amy

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Our daughter, Sydney, would often get completely stressed out when learning something new at school. She lived with this misguided perception that she needed to be capable of operating in a skill, whether in math or language arts, before the material had been presented. She would feel anxious and place unnecessary pressure on herself when learning something new wasn’t grasped immediately or easily. There were many, many nights when Joel and I would sit with her as she wrestled her way through the emotions of fear, anger, and disappointment because of this false narrative in her mind. She didn’t understand that the whole point of going to school was to learn something new. She wasn’t in school to prove that she already knew complex fractions and how to diagram a sentence. She was in school to learn.

Anytime we do something new there is a learning curve. There is a space between starting and finishing, and the length of that space is unpredictable. It all depends on the level of complexity of the new skill, and all of the external factors – predictable and unpredictable – in which one is trying to learn this new skill.

There are many difficulties that we face in the middle of the wilderness season. There are curve balls that get thrown our way at our most vulnerable moments. Wrestling with the fear of looking incompetent is a true struggle in the middle of transition. Oftentimes, it is not the actual work that catches us off-guard, but the context in which we are doing this work that compounds the challenge and brings us into a complete state of humility (and I use that word “humility” not in the spiritual sense of a “humble heart”, but in the sense of “I have completely humiliated myself because I look inept trying to do something I’ve been doing for 20 years, but somehow here, in this context, I can’t even figure out how to spell my name” kind of humility). Learning new things can be humiliating. Especially when you are midway in your career and there is a “felt” expectation that you can perform at a significantly higher capacity than your younger counterparts.

But transition is not selective. Transition doesn’t care how many acronyms one has at the end of their name or how many years’ experience you carry on your resume. Transition doesn’t choose favorites. Transition will highlight one’s weaknesses and push all of the strengths to the bottom of the heap. Learning how to do something new, learning how to adapt to new rhythms, new structures, new cultures, new driving systems, new organizational flowcharts and protocols, is confusing, humiliating and stressful. The fear of looking incompetent will bubble up when it is least expected.

I was standing at the checkout station at one of our grocery markets in Malawi, Africa. The cashier rang up all of the items I was purchasing, and while I could see the total on the register, in my stress I could not read the number of zeros in the total. I tried to pay with my debit card, but the internet was not working (a very common issue), and I was going to have to pay with cash. At that time, the conversion rate from Kwacha to Dollars was K780 to $1. So, for instance, if I was buying $50 worth of groceries, the total in Kwacha would be approximately K39,000. That is a lot of Kwacha. To add to the complexity of it, the largest denomination they have is a K2000 bill. I cannot remember the total of my groceries on that particular day, but there were many zeros behind the number, and I found myself panicking as I was counting out my Kwacha in order to pay the bill.

An older and seasoned missionary had advised me to never pull my money out of my purse in public when counting out the Kwacha. She had also given me a little “Kwacha hack” – to divide the Kwacha into bundles of K10,000 so that, when paying a large sum, one could pull out the bundles and not have to rummage through counting out K39,000 in front of a large group of spectators.

On this particular day, even with my K10,000 bundles, my brain went blank and I couldn’t count, I couldn’t make out the total on the register, and I started to panic. I ended up handing the cashier all of the Kwacha I had in my purse so that she could count it out for me. She looked at me like I was insane, and I kind of was. My heart was pounding, beads of sweat were starting to drip down the side of my face, and I had a massive lump in my throat. The cashier began counting out the bills and returned to me a stack of unnecessary Kwacha. I have no idea what the people in the queue behind me were thinking, and by that point, I simply didn’t care. I just wanted to get the whole experience over with and get out of there as quickly as possible.

In this moment, I felt completely incompetent. Everything seemed upside down. For a split second, I could see just how much I was mentally, physically, and emotionally adapting.

Thankfully, it didn’t take me a year to figure out a system for paying for groceries and any other item I needed to purchase. While it wasn’t one big moment of enlightenment in which I figured my way out, it was, rather, that I grew into a new way of thinking, processing, and navigating the various situations I found myself in. It happened in time, but I had to embrace the reality of my incompetence and not allow that to break me or cause me to pull back. I had to keep going to the grocery store, continue to swallow my pride, and step back up to bat every single day.

Transition – this wilderness season of change – is a time of learning something new. Not much will come naturally. It will take time to decouple from the old way of doing normal to a new way of doing normal. And it will require humility. It will take all of one’s accomplishments and bury them deep underneath incompetency. The soul will have to learn how to surrender and be at peace with the process.

I know this may come across rather simplistic and theoretical. I know if I read something like what I’ve just written, I would probably wonder about the nitty-gritty of wrestling with the fear of looking incompetent. I would need some practical tools to guide me through all the discomforts of this particular component of transition. So, I am going to share a few actions steps that Joel and I took when we faced the reality of our incompetence.

Seek out safe people.

There were three missionary families that became guideposts for Joel and me throughout those early months in Malawi. They were all from different mission organizations, and they had Malawi experience that ranged from eight months to almost 15 years. Each family had insights and experience that filled in many gaps in the learning curve. While they couldn’t predict how various lessons would play out in such an unpredictable context, they could speak to the emotional and mental challenges we were working though. They became our resources for anything from schooling for our children to finding a language tutor, to visa challenges to those vulnerable moments of “I think I’m losing my mind and I just need to vent”. They were safe. They loved Jesus. And for some reason that I can’t quite understand, they loved us enough to bring us into their circle. Safe people won’t judge you when you look incompetent or are having a tough day. They won’t look at your deficiencies as character flaws, but as a normal part of the transition process. Seek these kinds of people out. They will be your life preservers.

Lower your expectations.

Most individuals who make it through the process of full missionary appointment are go-getters. They are self-driven and self-leading. They have proven their competence by jumping through the many hoops it takes to become fully appointed missionaries. They have taken multiple psychological assessments, written out pages of personal history, sat through interviews, allowed their flaws to be highlighted and discussed, read stacks of books, and sat through hours of training. These individuals are not slackers. And, I would imagine, live with high personal expectations.

While this is all good and admirable, when such individuals hit the field with the same high level of personal expectation, it can be devastating when they hit the wall of incompetency. It will feel like running into a plate glass window.

“What happened to me?”

“Why can’t I seem to get into the rhythm of this new life/culture/language/routine?”

“I feel so slow.”

“I can’t keep my eyes open past 7pm.”

“I’m hitting a wall.”

“I’m confused and disoriented.”

These are all normal feelings and experiences. They are part-and-parcel of transition. If you feel like your world has just been shaken up and chaos abounds, then know that this is normal. And it is okay to lower your expectations for a little while. Set smaller goals for yourself. Take inventory of what is critical and what can sit on a shelf momentarily. Sometimes the critical stuff is not the fun stuff- like working through the visa process or facing cultural barriers. It would be much more fulfilling to jump into the things that are safe and do not create a state of vulnerability or humility for ourselves. We, by nature, want to look strong. However, in order to push through this particular phase of transition, vulnerability and humility are essential. Lower your expectations for excellence and surrender to the learning process.

Embrace your weaknesses and lean into Jesus.

In 2 Corinthians chapter 12, the Apostle Paul writes in humility and vulnerability about the weaknesses he faces, and his complete dependence upon the grace of God. He says in verses 8-10:

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me (this thorn in the flesh – this struggle – weakness – something that caused him great distress but is never clarified as to what this “thorn in the flesh” actually was). But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Facing the reality of our incompetence is essentially facing the reality of our weaknesses. With so many leadership buzz words and strategies and all the things that fill our heads and hearts and weigh us down, it is tempting to try and cover up our incompetency with skill and tactics that perpetuate this need to hide what is really going on inside of us. The truth in all of this is that we are weak people. And when thrust into an inconsistent and volatile environment, stripped of our previous identities and coping mechanisms, we have to embrace the reality of our weaknesses. When we land on the mission field, the only way to survive is to allow the vulnerability we are feeling to be exposed. We would all say that Paul was a great man of God. We wouldn’t argue with that statement. From our side of history, we see how God took this ordinary man, with all his weaknesses and flaws, and turned those flaws into a powerful expression of God’s work through him.

But he was weak.

Paul had flaws.

Paul needed Jesus.

As simplistic as this may sound, we have to lean on Jesus every single step of the painful and humiliating journey of incompetence and transition. Will you fall down and mess up and look frail and scattered and disjointed? Absolutely. Yes. Emphatically, yes. It will be the most painful part of the process.

And that is why we need Jesus so much. After we fall, we get back up and we allow God to strengthen us through our weaknesses and use us in spite of them. I think that is one of the most mystifying realities to me – that God could use me in spite of all the ways I mess up and fall down and fail.

I relate to Paul. I don’t count myself as a great leader or great missionary or even completely mentally stable (half-joking). I know how far I fail on the daily. And yet, God still chooses to use me. To use Joel. To use our family. It is mind-blowing. I think to myself, “Wow…if God can use us, then it is not a half-hearted notion that he can use anybody.”

As you wrestle through the fear of looking incompetent, give yourself the grace to rest in God’s strength and allow him to work through your weaknesses. Whether the daunting task of language learning, or the discomfort of working with people you don’t really click with. Allow him to strengthen you, refresh you, refine you, and do his work in spite of you.

Isaiah 40:29 became an anchor verse to me during our first year on the mission field. I still cling to it because it is a precious reminder to me that I am not alone, and that it is okay to admit incompetency. It says:

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

While I don’t have the time to go into the full history of this Scripture and walk you through the context in which Isaiah was prophesying, I will say this: the character of God from the day those words were spoken and written down is the same today.

God has not changed, and he continues to prove himself true to us – to be our strength, to increase our power when we are at our weakest – even when, in the eyes of man, we don’t deserve it.

His promise of strength and power will see us through the fears, the anxieties and the many moments of incompetency. We can forego the wrestling match, and lean into his grace that is all-sufficient, humble ourselves in those vulnerable and exposed moments, and allow his power to enable us to get back up and try and try again.
Remember, in this season of transition we are learning something new.

And here’s a little curve ball I’m going to throw your way…we will always be learning something new. Always. There is no finish line to the unknowns and our incompetency. For every new thing we learn, there will be a hundred more that we have yet to discover.

So, as you navigate through the early stages of transition, don’t forget to…

Find your safe people.

Lower your expectations.

Embrace your weaknesses.

And lean hard into Jesus.

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

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 »

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