Author: Julie Jean Francis

Julie has lived in Southeast Asia since 2012, serving among a large, unreached people group with her husband of 18 years. Together, they raise their seven Third Culture Kids. She is the author of Bowing Low: Rejecting the Idols Around Us to Worship the Living God and its companion Bible study, as well as books for Third Culture Kids and their families, including When We Called Myanmar Home and T is for Thailand. You can find her online at BringingHisWordtoLife.org.

Finding Flickers of Light in the Darkness of Re-entry

One day I’ll write our looking back story — how I can see God’s hand was with me through the darkest valley and how He turned it all to good. One day, I’ll see how the prayers were answered for the best, and I’ll thank God for the ones that weren’t answered. One day.

But today is not that day. I have faith that God is faithful and will be faithful. But today I am in the midst of it, the darkest valley.

I quote the psalm to myself as a promise I’m clinging to: “Even in the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for I know that you are with me.” But it is my faith that prompts me to repeat these words each day, not my feelings.

I am in the smack-dab middle of re-entry. I am not looking ahead in planning mode or looking back triumphantly that I have finally gotten through. I am in the midst of it — the smack-dab middle.

Here is what the middle is actually like and what I would tell you if I could say how hard it’s been without being accused of being ungrateful or unfaithful (neither of which is true). In the smack-dab middle this is how it feels and how faith in what I cannot see is the only thing getting me through.

Some days and some weeks I have felt everything has gone wrong. Our whole family has been exhausted and sick. We’ve had mystery illnesses, staph infection boils, and tormenting lice caught at a summer camp. What we were really hoping would be a spiritual high ended up being a long, drawn-out physical and spiritual battle.

We are trying to enjoy the US, but it’s hard, and we miss so many things already. We miss our healthy food from our host country. We are sick of peanut butter and jelly, hotdogs, chicken strips, and French fries. But we’ve been so busy and transient for weeks that lots of days, that’s all we can manage. We miss unrushed meals together. We miss having a bed that’s ours and our favorite blankets. We miss our pets and our favorite yard tree. We miss routine and rest and family time. We miss life being familiar.

We’re over travel. We’ve driven too many hours to count and spent too much money on gas and car repairs to transport our family. Anxiety over a broken-down car is constantly lingering in my mind behind all the higher-priority anxieties — what will we do if it actually breaks down unrepairable?

It feels like we are living in our car, and it’s felt that way for weeks. We’ve packed and unpacked the car so many times, I am completely exhausted by it. I am almost paralyzed. I can barely bring myself to load and unload, to carry in another bag. But our travel isn’t over. We don’t yet have a home to call our own. And there’s nothing to do but lift the bags and do it again.

We needed a break from the constant travel, so we planned two stationary weeks at a free retreat center. We were hoping for rejuvenation — instead, the remote mountain gravel roads caused car damage and necessitated major repairs. All my previous anxieties confirmed. We had to leave early for repairs, we missed our debrief, and my spiritual renewal gauge went down rather than up. “God, why?” I asked in frustration.

I want to tell you some peoples’ words and encouragement and faith in our next steps have been exactly the cup of cold water we’ve needed in this barren land. But others’ hurtful comments have pierced so deep, it’s hard to imagine a time in the future when the wound could possibly fully heal.

Church member support has been the same mixed bag. Some have shown little or no interest; some have made hurtful comments; some have continued on so faithfully and generously, it brings me to tears thinking of their love and sacrifice. But I have so little to give in this season, I am not thanking them as I should.

In the darkest valley, I want to tell you that we’ve never had so much conflict or so many things go wrong. Yes, even in our life overseas. It’s been in every way a battle, fighting spiritually to hold on to all the beliefs and behaviors we’ve cultivated so many years. It’s taken just as much faith to return as it did to leave, maybe more.

I want to tell you it’s been so hard on our kids, even as they have been so eager and willing to participate in all the new experiences with such courage. They are worn out from the faster pace of life. They are sad that so many people are so busy with their own schedules they barely have time to spend with them. They miss the home they left, even as they want so badly to make a home in this new place, to fit in to this new, foreign world.

This was a planned re-entry for our family. We did plan, grieve, and say goodbye well. Yet, it’s been so hard just the same, and each of us has reacted differently, which has also added to the conflict and confusion and tension we’ve felt. Some of us pre-grieved and are jumping in to our new life with gusto; some of us are post-grieving, and every day we feel the emotional weight of loss.

Knowing all we did beforehand and how carefully we prepared to leave and yet how hard re-entry has still been is at best confusing. I am grateful for our own preparation, full of compassion for those who have no time to prepare their re-entry journeys, and trying to accept the reality that no matter how much anyone prepares, re-entry is still really hard.

We’ve seen light in this dark place, but it’s felt like the flicker of fireflies in a dark forest rather than a constant lighthouse beacon telling us clearly which direction to go. The firefly lights only appear as the sun fades and the darkness is taking over. Then a tiny light here or there appears. But just as quickly, it is gone. Darkness again.

In the darkest times, I haven’t questioned if God is real. An undeserved gift of faith makes me know He is. But I have questioned if He is good. If He will give good gifts, especially to me. If suffering is the only path. If joy will come in the morning.

If this all sounds like a big, faithless complaint, maybe you’ve never walked through your own dark valley. But this is what it feels like to be in the midst of it. My feelings aren’t getting me through; neither are my outward circumstances. I’m walking by faith, not by sight.

My faith tells me He is with me, even in this dark valley. And I’m clinging to that promise. I can’t see my path ahead clearly. The sun is gone. But in the darkness, I’m watching for the fireflies.

Don’t Forget Your Kids as You Minister to Others

My husband and I left a lot to become cross-cultural workers overseas. We believe in the power of God, the power of His Word, and its power to transform lives — that’s why we left in the first place. If you’re a cross-cultural worker, your story probably echoes our story.

But somewhere in the midst of visa trips and market hauls, of ministry activities and prayer groups, of cooking everything from scratch and surviving the bugs and the heat, of participating in church and worship in another language, we can unintentionally forget to share those same life-giving words in our families and with our own children.

Over our fourteen years of living overseas, we’ve seen both thriving families and families in crisis. We’ve seen families whose children somehow are overlooked in their spiritual development as the parents feel busy, burdened, unprepared, or unequipped to take responsibility for their children’s spiritual care.

I’ve written before about The Unchurched Missionary here at A Life Overseas. It is a hard problem many of us face as we go to the ends of the earth to the places and people left who still haven’t heard the gospel. We often go alone or without a lot of local church support. As adults who often grew up in home culture environments with vibrant VBS programs and engaged youth groups, with Sunday school teachers and paid-for curriculum, with Wednesday night class, and with children’s ministers and youth ministers, we can just take for granted or maybe forget that much of our spiritual development was happening outside of our homes in the local church where our parents attended.

A returned missionary who had served nearly two decades once told me that on re-entry to the US she was shocked how much the involvement in the local US church was impacting her younger children. She confessed that her oldest children never got the benefit of being involved in vibrant church programs and ministries in their first language.

Early on in our work overseas, I came to a similar realization: if my kids were going to know the story of Scripture and develop spiritual practices, they were going to have to learn them in our home from me and my husband. We are Bible translators focused on the unreached and unchurched — people who need Scripture in their heart language to grow and develop. We would have to live the life we preached and spent so much ministry time and activity on. We would have to incorporate daily rhythms into our lives that could teach our children in their heart language.

When my oldest was four years old (and I had three younger kids, two still in diapers), I started a very simple, manageable, and consistent “Bible story time” every afternoon after naps at the already established snack time, before more play time and dinner. It was easy and low-stress for me as a mom of many littles. The supplies were extremely simple: I got a quality Bible storybook, and I tore a piece of paper to make a book mark. That’s it.

Every afternoon, I’d read a story or two from the Bible storybook, talk about it with my kids and ask them simple questions, say a little prayer, and then send the kids off to play while I figured out what dinner I was going to make from scratch with the locally available ingredients.

What began as a very simple rhythm turned into an extremely life-giving, meaningful spiritual practice that our family has maintained now for over a decade. As my kids have gotten older, we have slowly added more age-appropriate spiritual practices to our simple afternoon time.

Years ago, we began adding Scripture memorization to our daily Bible story time. It was natural for us to start at the very beginning, Genesis 1:1: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” We continued to Exodus 20:3: “You shall have no other gods before me.” That verse made a lot of sense and was extremely meaningful to us in a culture where idolatry is so common.

Then, I thought, why not continue to Leviticus? So, I picked Leviticus 19:2: “Be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy.”

My goal was to pick fairly short, meaningful verses. Verses my kids could easily remember and had at least something to do with the main focus of the Bible book it was chosen from.

Soon, I had made my way through the first ten books of the Old Testament. And I realized how much fruit this experiment was already bearing. My kids were learning Bible verses, and they were learning the books of the Bible. I was memorizing Bible verses, too. What if I could pick one passage from every book of the Bible? What if my kids could internalize the content and overarching story of Scripture with a verse memorized from each book of the Bible?

I had a few guidelines in my head from the start about Bible story time and Bible memorization:

Bible story time would be fun. We would have good snacks. It would be the best, most important part of our day together. We would do it even if we hadn’t done homeschool activities that day. We would do it most every day, so the kids would expect it and look forward to it. The kids never forget snacks, so they would remind me if I forgot! We would celebrate every time we finished reading through a Bible storybook with a sweet or special treat. Bible story time would never involve “work,” just listening and talking together.

I wouldn’t reward or punish my kids for memorizing or not memorizing Scripture. I would just make it a natural part of our story time. They would memorize the verses slowly over time through familiarization rather than coercion. I would plant the verses in their hearts and wait slowly for a harvest. They wouldn’t just memorize them for a Sunday school performance. I would give these verses time to take root.

I wouldn’t punish myself for missing a day or missing a week if we were sick or under extreme circumstances. We would just find the torn bookmark in the Bible, grab our list of Bible verses, and start again. We could start back at Genesis or start in the New Testament. We could start where we’d just had other Bible lessons from. We could start anywhere.

I wouldn’t feel guilty as a mom for not preparing more or for not doing something elaborate. I would just do the best I could, consistently over the long haul. I wouldn’t give up or abandon this simple idea for something more flashy or more expensive. I would trust and believe that God’s Word planted in the hearts of my children would grow and would produce fruit.

As the years passed, and I shared our ideas with others on social media, I realized there was a need to make this idea into a flexible resource that other families could use, too.

My husband Daniel is an M. Div. graduate, a Bible translator, and an involved parent. We now have seven children together, and despite our many ministry activities outside of our home, we consider our most important ministry the ministry that happens within our home.

When I discussed the idea of creating this book with him, he got excited. And he offered to write the summaries for each book of the Bible, providing clear context and historical background. Although I’ve published most of my other books and articles under the pen name, Julie Jean Francis, we decided that we would publish this book together under our real names: Daniel and Julie Tignor.

Plant Them in Your Heart is the result of our years of Bible story time, our consistent approach with our kids over the last decade, and the last year of writing and planning and designing the actual book.

Plant Them in Your Heart gives your family a gentle and flexible plan for memorizing Scripture. You’ll discover that learning Scripture doesn’t need to be a chore, but something that fits within your regular rhythms of everyday life. This book is filled with ideas for ways to cover your home and life with reminders of God’s truth.

The 66 carefully chosen passages — one from every book of the Bible — are designed to introduce the major themes of each book and of the entirety of Scripture. A short devotional and family-friendly challenge accompany each passage, as well as a little background information for each book of the Bible. The book includes many ideas for memorizing and engaging with Scripture in fun ways.

The goal isn’t performance. It’s planting. It’s about God’s Word dwelling in you richly, growing, and producing fruit in your life!

Every time you remember the verse in a moment of parenting frustration, every time your child hears one of “your verses” mentioned in Bible class or during a sermon, every time God stirs one of these verses in your heart just when you thought He was silent — all these moments are God’s grace and mercy breaking into your life with His sacred presence and His sacred words.

His Word will come to you in times of need—maybe when you least expect it. Maybe when you have even neglected it. Maybe even when you have abandoned God. But He will not abandon you. He will keep searching for you, pursuing you, looking for you.

God’s Word planted in your heart will always produce a harvest. You can have this same transformational experience for you and your family. So lead your family on this journey. Plant them in your heart, one verse at a time.

If you’d like to try it out for yourself, you can access a free sample of the book here: bringinghiswordtolife.org/books/plant-them-in-your-heart/

The book releases today on Kindle and in paperback.

You can also follow us on Facebook or Instagram. We will be sharing about the book and ideas for using it in your family in the coming months.

Did I Waste My Life in Missions?

What a waste. Or at least on the surface it could seem like it.

A woman comes to Jesus and dumps expensive perfume on His body. The smell, even though overpowering in the room for a short time, wouldn’t last long. Jesus would walk out the door and get His feet dirty again. The value of the perfume was gone immediately. Would there even be any lasting effects of her expensive gift? What was the point of her sacrifice?

Our modern-day sacrifices for Jesus can also seem like a waste on the surface to others.

Maybe you wake up every morning at 5 a.m. to open your Bible, sip your coffee, and sit quietly before no one as you watch the sunrise. You write your prayers or say them. Sometimes you “feel” something, sometimes you hear something, sometimes you don’t. Yet you sit there every morning for an hour doing nothing. Is that a waste?

Maybe you fast from food and seek God’s intervention. Sometimes you receive an answer immediately. Sometimes, you’ve been fasting and praying consistently for the same thing for months, and you haven’t seen any noticeable differences. Is that a waste?

Maybe you continue to pray for the salvation of a people group, or a friend, family member, or neighbor. You pray and pray. You aren’t sure if your prayers are heard by God or if the situation will ever change. Is that a waste?

Maybe you serve doing a job no one else wants to do and no one else appreciates. No one sees you do it and no one says thank you. Is that a waste?

When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. ‘Why this waste?’ they asked. ‘This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.” Aware of this, Jesus said to them, ‘Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. . . . Truly I tell you wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her. (Matthew 26:8-13)

What have I given to Jesus that is seen as a complete waste?

My favorite way to describe spiritual practices that engage us in time with God is “wasting time with God.” Listening in prayer, reading Scripture, fasting, giving, serving, and praying for others can all be things we do to “waste time” with God.

Just like I “waste” time with my best friend or my children. I don’t have to be doing anything or accomplishing anything I can measure. I simply “am” with the other person. God doesn’t have to respond to everything I have on my mind. He doesn’t have to answer all my prayers in my timing. I am not in control of Him. He looks on me with love, and I receive His love as I “waste” my time with Him.

But I don’t just waste my time with God in the mornings during specific spiritual practices. I’ve wasted a lot of my life, too. At least it can look like that from the outside.

I’ve wasted over thirteen years of my life in Asia doing a hard, slow work. We’ve seen some fruit, but it isn’t flashy or valuable in much of the world’s eyes. God has produced what fruit we’ve seen, and we can’t even take any credit for it. He has received all the glory.

Like the critical disciples, I think often we are judged by what “could have been” had we used our gifts for Jesus differently.

We could have been actually using our degrees. We could have been financially independent and more in control of our lives rather than relying on the mercy of God and the generosity of others. We could have spared our kids the confusion of always having their hearts in two places. We could have spared ourselves the complication of loving our home and loving a people who continue to see us as not ever truly fitting in. We could have.

But I don’t regret the way I’ve wasted my life. I don’t regret the way I waste my early mornings. I don’t regret the way I’ve wasted whatever worldly gifts or opportunities for income I’ve had. I don’t regret wasting my college degree only doing secular work for four years and then spending my life living on support month to month. I don’t regret wasting my prayers on situations and people that haven’t changed in ways I can see on the surface.

I don’t regret the way I’ve wasted myself for Jesus. I don’t regret wasting anything I’ve given when I’ve given it in love.

And yet, the “indignant” comments from Jesus’ other followers do hurt. The way some think my gifts could have been better spent elsewhere or given to someone else more needy. Some may accuse me of wasting my gifts, being irresponsible, not doing the right thing with something so valuable.

I’ve adjusted my perspective because I believe with my whole heart that God led my family exactly where we were supposed to be doing exactly the work He wanted us to do, despite the lack of flashy fruit to show off for it. We tried to be faithful in everything God put before us.

Looking back, I can see that the biggest fruit God produced was the fruit He produced in me in my own purifying and transformation. All along, it wasn’t what I did for God or gave for God; it was the love I offered to God that mattered most to Him.

This month we are entering the church’s season of Lent. Many people make commitments to spend time with God in prayer, to sacrifice something for God, or to give something to God.

What can you “waste” for God over these next weeks as a gift of love to Him? What small thing can you do with great love? As Mother Teresa reminded us, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

Sometimes I need to be reminded that all that I have “wasted” for God, God sees as a beautiful thing. He knows all my sacrifices, little and big. He knows all the challenges we’ve been through. He knows all the times I chose faithfulness over comfort and trust over my worldly idols. He sees my small gifts given to Him out of love. And while others may be indignant, my Jesus calls my sacrifice beautiful.

A World Without Octobers

Anne Shirley of Anne of Green Gables once said, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” Unfortunately, many of us who live overseas don’t. We live in a world where there are no Octobers that look anything like fall. It’s 100 degrees, and the sweat still pours off me whenever I even slightly exert myself. There are no Novembers and no Decembers, at least not like the land in which I was raised.

It’s the time of year when we are reminded of some of the sacrifices we’ve made to be overseas. I’ve lived for fourteen years where there is no autumn and no October. There are no brisk November mornings. There are no December snow flurries. This season is both blessed and heavy—the hard and the holy collide.

In the last fourteen years, I’ve only spent one Thanksgiving meal with any members of my family. Most years there have been no grandparents, no cousins, no big cozy sweaters, no football games on TV, no turkeys to buy, no leaf piles, no chilly fall weather, and no pumpkin spice lattes.

For years during the week before Thanksgiving, a depression would settle over me like a thick blanket. I’d throw an all-out pity party for myself. I isolated myself and became the only miserable guest. How would I make a Thanksgiving dinner with no canned goods, no turkey, no cream of mushroom soup? How would I muster the physical energy to cook everything from scratch all alone? How would I find the emotional energy to make the holiday special for my young kids without extended family around or even local Western teammates to celebrate with?

I’d mope around and feel the weight of all I didn’t have—the family gatherings, the cool weather, the foods I missed. The heat, the bugs, the open-air markets where I’d search and pray for hard-to-find ingredients made everything harder.

Every year followed the same pattern: withdrawal, self-pity, and then finally a quiet plea for help. A simple prayer said in tears would change me: “God, help!”

Somehow the scales on my eyes would fall off. I’d see my sweet kids, my blessings, the good parts of my life. Then God would change my heart and change my attitude. For many of us overseas, Thanksgiving becomes a spiritual discipline—learning to give thanks even if the world around us looks nothing like the one we left behind.

I’d stop seeing my lack. I’d get creative, and I’d get to work. I’d praise God “even if.”

Even if . . . there was no turkey.

Even if . . . there was no extended family.

Even if . . . I’d cook the meal alone.

After so many years of struggle, I’ve learned some things that have helped me overcome wallowing in the pity party of living in a land where there are no Octobers, no Novembers, and no Decembers (at least not months that look anything like my childhood). I’ve learned to praise God “even if.” Over time, I learned that gratitude wasn’t something that appeared on its own—it was something I had to practice.

Thanksgiving is approaching, and this year I’ve avoided the pity party. After all these years, I’ve finally learned how to be grateful even if. In the end, Thanksgiving isn’t about what we have, but about Who we turn to—even if we don’t have what we long for.

So if you are struggling with the holidays, maybe you can learn from my experience and what has worked for me to overcome the holiday blues.

Ask for Help

Turn toward God and stop hiding from Him. Ask Him for help. Ask others for help too, if you can. Ask God for the desire to be thankful, even when you don’t feel thankful. Just recognizing that I couldn’t change my bad attitude on my own did change my attitude.

Name What Is Real

Name your losses and all the things you are missing. Then take time to name all your blessings that you do have. Take time to acknowledge your internal feelings—lament, grieve, praise. Don’t push down your feelings. Lament your losses and take time to grieve. Then praise God for the blessings that He has given you.

Choose Your Perspective

Make a decision that you will praise God and trust Him “even if.” You can enter the holidays expecting disappointment, or you can enter them expecting God’s presence. Both will shape how you see the days ahead. When you look for His goodness, you’ll begin to find it—even if the circumstances haven’t changed.

Welcome Others as God Welcomes You

We’ve always welcomed others around our Thanksgiving table. Some years we welcomed a local person who had no idea how long it took to make the pumpkin pies and the green bean casserole (and didn’t prefer to eat either!). Some years we welcomed a Western stranger traveling through town who appreciated the comfort food and all my hard work and effort. Some years we’ve celebrated with our small church community. Every year, we’ve tried to practice hospitality and generosity, and we’ve formed a community as best we could wherever we’ve been.

Welcoming others is also a reminder that God welcomed us first. He longs to provide for us and care for us. He longs to spend time with us and be our gracious host. Because He provides for our needs and reminds us of our blessings, we can provide for the needs of others and be a blessing to them. We have to receive from God before we can give to others.

Gratitude isn’t denial—it’s defiance. It declares that God is still good even when life feels lonely or lacking. Whether we sit around a crowded table or a small one, we can join with Habakkuk and proclaim, “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines . . . yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (Hab. 3:17-18).

Finding the Rhythms That Lead to God in Every Season

I can feel the seasons changing. The monsoon rains can seem to last forever, like a Laura Ingalls’s Long Winter that tests my patience, my survival skills, my prayer life, and my ability to hope. But I’ve lived here long enough to know that the seasons will change and the rain will end. Eventually.

As the seasons change, so do my practices. During the rainy season, the mosquitoes keep me inside at dusk and dawn. I look forward to the end of the rains and reinstating my routine of morning coffee on the front porch. It will be nice to hang my laundry out in the sun to dry again and reclaim my hallway for walking and not bulky clothes shelves. But right now I’m still waiting.

Maybe there is a new crispness in the air where you live, or the leaves are falling and changing colors. Maybe, like me, there are more sunny days than rainy days finally, and you know the cool season will be coming soon, too. Maybe your practices are changing, too. Maybe you are leaving the carefree, hot days of summer, sending the kids off to school again, and settling back into a more consistent routine.

As our seasons change, our rhythms and practices change, too. What about your spirit? What season are you in? How are your spiritual rhythms in this season?

Is it the dry season? Is it a carefree, relaxed time where all you want to do is the next fun thing with Jesus? Or do you feel committed but spiritually parched and distant from God?

Is it the monsoon season? Maybe it’s a monsoon of blessing pouring over you. Or maybe it is a monsoon of extra work, trouble, sickness, drowning in responsibilities, and losing hope, waiting desperately for the deluge to cease.

Is it a cool season? Is the weather just right for contemplation and coffee sipped in quiet moments with Jesus on your spiritual front porch? Or maybe you feel Jesus has given you the cold shoulder and He isn’t answering your prayers?

How can you feel your season changing? How do you want it to change?

Whatever season you find yourself in, you can intentionally include rhythms of both engagement and rest that open you up to transformation by the Holy Spirit. These are spiritual practices or disciplines that we can both pursue and receive from God in order to bear fruit in our lives for the benefit of others. When our seasons change, our practices can change, too.

Some spiritual practices include:

Scripture study Scripture meditation Praying Scripture Lectio Divina Sabbath Noticing Examen Pilgrimage Visio Divina Unplugging Slowing down Hospitality Confession Forgiveness Intercessory prayer Centering prayer Journaling Time in nature Worship Gratitude Silence Solitude Simplicity Service Celebration Fasting Pursuing justice

I’ve included a long list intentionally to remind us all: No one can do all of these at once! These practices are intended to create space for life, peace, and joy. They are not prescriptive, fundamental, overbearing killers of grace.

As I heard in a sermon recently, “Discipline is not the point, but it is the path.” Spiritual practices do not have to produce something; we can just enjoy “wasting time” with God and being with God. Spiritual practices remind us of the Creator God who loves us and breaks into our ordinary lives as a generous host. He offers us His love, and He offers Himself—Immanuel, God with us. No matter what season we find ourselves in.

Most of these practices can be exercised both alone and in community. Maybe your community is a church, but maybe it is just your roommate, your family, or you and your children. Even a small bit of community can help provide accountability to engage in the practice and overflow blessing into the lives of others.

Limited by Our Season of Life

Just as our climate shapes our daily routines, our life circumstances shape our spiritual rhythms. Just as the monsoon rains necessitate that I hang my wet laundry inconveniently in the hallway. Just as the dry, hot season means extra time inside during the scorching hours of the day. Our daily life rhythms are limited by the seasons, and our spiritual life rhythms are also limited by the season of life we are in.

Are you single but with many work responsibilities and deadlines? Are you a new mom with a baby? Or a seasoned mom homeschooling a senior? Are your family members well, or are they sick and in need of extra care? Are you in the midst of culture shock, or have you just made a big move? All of these circumstances can influence our spiritual practices and rhythms. And that’s OK — even normal.

Each of us will perhaps have a favorite season, but God is present through every season. We can learn to hold on to God and create space for God to transform us in every season we are in. Spiritual disciplines can help us pursue God in whatever season we are in and also receive from God in whatever season we are in.

After nearly fourteen years of living in Southeast Asia, I can feel the seasons changing. After almost fourteen years of living cross-culturally, I have experienced many varied spiritual seasons as well. I have seen dry seasons and monsoon seasons and cool seasons. I have experienced transition, grief, loss, births, and deaths. Some of the hard seasons felt like they would never end. Like Laura Ingalls, I’ve wondered if the winter would indeed last forever.

I still have my favorite season and the season I dread. But, in some small testament to the spiritual work God has done in me, I have learned to be content in the season that I find myself. Spiritual practices and rhythms have anchored me through every storm and through every season. He has held me fast. Some of my spiritual practices and rhythms have changed drastically as my season has changed, while other practices have remained constant no matter the season.

What season do you find yourself in right now, today? Do you think God is with you in it? Do you feel the season changing? Do you desire the changes you are sensing, or are you dreading the approaching season?

How is God speaking to you through the season you are in? What rhythms and practices can you incorporate into the season you find yourself in, in order to create space for God?

Do you need to focus on practices of rest or practices of engagement? Look at the above non-exhaustive list. Could you choose three practices to focus on for this season?

Whatever season you find yourself in, parched dry, soaked through, or gently refreshed, God is with you, tending to you in the season you are in right now. He gives you permission to rest. He gives you permission to engage. He gives you permission to abide in Him through every season. He is inviting us to come as we are and meet Him, sometimes in action, sometimes in rest, but always secure in His love.

This week, choose one small practice that fits your current season — a practice that will create space for God to speak and transform you, and for you to listen and receive from God. Then watch for the ways His Spirit meets you there, in this season, just as you are.

The Ants Are Not Under Control

The ants are under control. They are. They must be. The poison has been put out. The food crumbs are swept up. All the sugar is sealed tight. We’re using oils now, and home remedies, and all the things anyone has ever told us about.

My husband even bought the chemical-laden death spray. He has a hobby of finding the source of the ants and exterminating all he finds. He takes time every afternoon to spray around the house, around the yard, and over the doors and windows. Day after day, he does this work. So one day, he finally announced to me, “The ants are under control.”

Except—they aren’t. They aren’t under control.
Despite the daily chemical poison routine.
Despite the daily checks.
Despite the sweeping and mopping and wiping and sealing.

They aren’t under control.
They always seem to find a way to come back.

Before you lecture me on a new ant-repelling technique or some far-fangled home remedy you’ve heard of, let me guarantee you: the ants where we live are different. There are a million different kinds. And if by chance you get one kind under control, another type will move in and take its place.

Wood-eating ants. Food-eating ants. Even ants that eat rubber bands and latex balloons and the rubber off toys. Big ants, little ants. Red ants, black ants. Tree ants. House ants. Big reddish-orange leaf-cutting ants that live in the trees. Black ants that live in the ground. Ants that come up from the cracks in our wood floors at night and walk in lines on patrol.

Remedies for one type don’t seem to work on the others. And after almost thirteen years serving here, I still find new types to identify, study, and hate.

The ants are not under control.
But the bigger problem I face in a life overseas is this:
I am not in control.
Even when I’ve given my very best effort trying.

Will it ever not be hard?
Will life ever slow down?
Will the visa paperwork and immigration check-ins ever cease?
Will there ever be fewer problems and more time?
Will we ever not be disrupted by forced travel, sickness, unexpected expenses, short-term visitors, and government paperwork?

How can I rest in God when the ants keep creating new and inventive techniques to invade my home and life?

Could I learn to live with the ants, even as I work to diminish their negative presence in my home and life?
Could I learn to live with joy and hope and peace and love, even as the ants are invading?

This isn’t about ants.

Life overseas changes when we accept the reality that the “ants” will always be with us. Like death and taxes and the poor, we will always have the “ants.”

Life is full of struggles. We know this—yet somehow, we think we are personally immune to it. “In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus tells us. “But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

We remain surprised at the troubles we face, despite Peter’s warning:

“Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed” (1 Peter 4:12–13).

Life overseas changes when we accept the reality that our spiritual formation happens in the midst of the challenges of daily life—not sequestered away from them. We can trust that God’s presence and peace will be with us despite the circumstances we are facing.

I’ve written a lot about control in my book about American idols, because it is the biggest idol I struggle with. You can’t wait until the ants are under control to become the spiritual person you want to be.

You can’t wait until the baby sleeps through the night, until the toddler stops throwing food on the floor, until your five-year-old starts kindergarten. You can’t wait until your kid learns to read, until the visa paperwork is finished, until the weather is just right. You can’t wait until “life slows down.”

You can’t wait until you’ve mustered some false sense of control.
Control is a lie.
Control is the anti-faith.
Control is the belief that my worry and self-directed actions are more important than my trust and Spirit-led actions.

Life overseas changes when we accept that God can use the ants in our lives to grow our walk with Him. We must learn to see the struggles in our everyday lives as an opportunity for spiritual growth.

Where is life out of your control?
Where are you seeking control when control is not yours to take?

Where do you need to abide in Him and trust that God is doing something in you—even when the situation outside of you is out of control?

Faith is believing God is the one who does it. We submit ourselves to Him not through our willpower or goodness or holiness or strength. We submit to Him in humble faithfulness.

Belonging to God means letting go of all of our control. We believe that God will bring good out of what we cannot control. And He, in His grace, transforms us—our sin, our ugliness, our failures, our “ants”—all for His good and His glory.

Deliver Us From Evil (my reluctant entrance into spiritual warfare)

I was unprepared. When the darkness crept in so thickly I could feel it to my bones. When I felt a presence in the room I can only describe as evil. When my neighbor volunteered to make a sacrifice so my baby would stop crying. When my house worker wanted to make an offering in my backyard because she had seen a snake. When my kids woke up screaming in the night seeing things in their bedroom. When my landlord showed me the elaborate “spirit house” in the yard of my newly rented house.

What do you do when the evil creeps in and interrupts your life in tangible ways? What do you do when your theology and faith are stretched to the limits of what you expected to even be possible?

One option is to explain it away. Surely that was not an evil spirit in my kids’ bedroom. They must have just had a bad dream or maybe they are just scared of the dark (aren’t all kids?). Surely that “curse” my neighbor told me about is just an outdated, meaningless superstition. Surely this rational, explainable world has a logical, scientific explanation– one that is devoid of a belief in the supernatural (or even God).

Another option is to ignore it. Refuse to think about it. Do nothing. Carry on. Don’t let those new experiences affect my long-held beliefs and acceptable religious tradition. Don’t talk about those weird “out-there” experiences to my supporters, family, fellow workers, or friends. They might think I’ve turned into an even more of an extreme spiritual wack-job. I’ll just put all those experiences in a box and forget about them — at least when I am on home assignment or writing newsletters.

My last option was to dig deep and acknowledge that maybe Scripture had been there all along warning me about the spiritual battle that would happen when I carried my light into the world’s darkness. My last option was to show humility and realize that alone I had no power over the darkness, but through the power of God, his Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit he had given to live within me, the darkness would indeed cower and flee.

My last option was to hold out my light, His Light, and walk bravely into the unknown of spiritual warfare.

Praise God for his timing. On a home assignment, the leader of our organization organized a short retreat on the very topic I needed: confronting the evil around us. I took notes furiously as he spoke. I opened myself up to learn something that a few years before I didn’t even think existed.

I studied Scripture again, reading it anew with the scales off my eyes. I got back home to Asia and began to study the armor of God along with my children. I researched ancient practices and learned more about church history. I actually listened to my local friends and what they had to say instead of explaining or ignoring what I couldn’t easily understand.

And then I moved beyond study and reflection and did the hardest step of all: I started to put it all into practice. I realized my strongest defense against the darkness was the Word of God, prayed in new ways.

I started praying the Jesus Prayer. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner. (Luke 18:38)

I started praying the Lord’s Prayer and actually meant the words I was saying. Deliver us from evil. (Matthew 6:9-13)

I started praying against the darkness and evil around me in the holy name of Jesus. At the name of Jesus every knee should bow. (Philippians 2:10)

In my praying, I started actually having confidence that Christ’s victory on the cross meant spiritual victory over the forces of evil both within me and around me.

Some days, I still can feel hesitant to put on the armor of God and confront the darkness around me, especially when I know it will make the other people around me feel just as uncomfortable as I first felt when I made my first foray into spiritual warfare. And some days the power of darkness can seem stronger than the flicker of light I carry. But He is faithful, and I will hold tightly to His promises.

I know I am not alone, for He is living within me. I can carry my candle into the darkness in confidence knowing that, as St. Francis of Assisi said, “All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

I know I am not alone, for there are many other faithful followers of Christ also shining brightly. Although at times my individual light may be dim, all of us together can join together to walk bravely into the darkness, into the unknown, into the uncomfortable, into the world, calling others also to walk in the Light.

May God indeed deliver us from evil and use us to lead others to the hope we have in Him.

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin” and “We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of the evil one. We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true. And we are in him who is true by being in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life.

1 John 1:7; 1 John 5:19-20

An Invitation to Join the Bowing Low Online Group

The apostle John tells us, “Dear children, keep away from anything that might take God’s place in your hearts” (1 John 5:21). This verse informs the center of my book, Bowing Low: Rejecting the Idols Around Us to Worship the Living God.

But even if we can identify the idols in our lives, how can we lay them down when many of our idols are held tightly by our culture? That’s the purpose of the upcoming online meditative Bible study, which starts on January 4, 2025.

The details for the Bible study are at the end of this post, but first I want to share an excerpt from Bowing Low that illustrates the posture behind the book.

~~~

I remember the first time I saw it–unbelievable, I thought. Gold reflecting in the hot sun towering above the city skyline. Surely this is a strange, exotic place. So bizarre compared to the small-town life of my childhood, where the only thing that jutted above the city was an old, blue water tower.

The gold point stretched into the sky reaching towards heaven and commanding a certain humble awe. I was impressed.

The 300-foot golden stupa was covered with pure gold plates. At the top, visible only by a telescope: a giant 76-karat diamond surrounded by thousands of diamonds and precious stones. On every high hill, another idol stood proudly– in all directions, as far as my eyes could reach. Golden pagodas and stone statues visible in all directions. Idols were everywhere.

That was the first temple I saw, but far from the last. On my first visit, I was a tourist on a tourist visa. In the country only 28 days to see the very, very surface of a place and culture. It was easy to be overwhelmed by the newness, the glitter, and the shine. I admit it: It was easy to be impressed by the idols.

After more than 12 years of living in Southeast Asia, the newness has been replaced by awareness and understanding. I still have questions, but I understand so much more: not just about the outward actions, but the inward motivations permeating this culture. I am not impressed by the idols around me anymore. The idols have lost their shine and attraction for me.

And I’ve come to realize that while the outward manifestations of idol worship here look very different from my home culture, maybe the inward motivations are much the same. Seeing the idols in another culture revealed the idols in my own. Maybe my experience as an American has more in common with this exotic idolatry, now everywhere around me, than I first thought.

My time here has changed me. My time outside of the United States has helped me recognize the glaring idols from my home culture. Our Western idols are unlike those on every high hill in Southeast Asia, but maybe we are all trying to fulfill the longing in our hearts with the idols around us. We are drawn to what reflects, what shines. Drawn to the idea that our good actions can benefit our futures if we just get the process right. We’re drawn to things we can control and a system we can understand. We’re drawn to things that look like us. We’re drawn to the idols around us, but only God can fulfill the longing in our hearts. Will we open the eyes of our hearts to see them?

Health. Prosperity. Security. Entertainment and Worthless Things. Independence. Political Power. Control. They don’t stand gleaming in the sunlight, towering above our cities in tangible ways like the idols in Southeast Asia. They may be invisible at first. But they surround us nonetheless, dotting our landscape on all sides calling to us with their shiny promises.

God will not share his glory with idols, even our refined American ones.

My husband and I, with our children, have spent most of our time in Southeast Asia very isolated from other Westerners and expats. After a couple years of national language study, we moved to a rural area where we were very alone. As our isolation grew, so did our dependence on God. God began to chip away at my devotion to my own cultural idols with each passing year.

It’s been a long process, little by little, here and there, again and again. A process that has pruned me and removed the scales from my eyes. God has revealed the hold American, Western idols have held on my heart, the empty promises they’ve left behind, and how useless they are to me here.

Behind every one of our cultural idols is a longing and hunger that can only be filled with God himself, in the oneness of his three-person fullness. Until we identify our idols, our misplaced trust, and our deepest longings, we cannot fully fill ourselves with the love of God.

I don’t identify the idols in a foreign culture to condemn, but to reveal the ways in which the True and Living God can fulfill that need. I don’t identify the idols in my home American culture to shame or condemn, but to reveal the ways in which the True and Living God can fulfill that need. As Saint Augustine has said, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”

He wants our whole hearts. He wants us to live holy lives. He is worthy!

~~~

The Bowing Low study is a call to the restless in heart. To those who want to find God and find peace. To those who are ready to reject the cultural idols around them and see that our Western idols are damaging our relationships with God and with each other and leaving us empty.

The values held most closely at the center of a culture’s worldview are the “high places” that can become worshiped as idols. These values are deeply held and revered. They are protected and defended. And people can go berserk defending these cultural idols. Health, Prosperity, Entertainment and Worthless Things, Independence, Security, Political Power, and Control. These values have become our idols. They are our raw spots and hold our cultural assumptions about reality. They are our cultural high places.

The online Bowing Low Meditative Bible study is an invitation to explore the seven idols to which Western culture bows and the Biblical truths that will tear them down. What if our primary task in tearing down the idols is fighting against the things that we can’t see–the spiritual powers and the spiritual strongholds set up on every cultural high hill around us?

Do you long for a Bible study that goes deeper? Do you want to study in a community with others who serve overseas? This online study is for you. You will be challenged. Your love of God, His Son, His Spirit, and His Word will deepen. You will encounter God. And you will never see your cultural idols the same again. Using the ancient Christian practice of lectio divina, we will create space for you to hear God’s voice. You will also practice prayer, confession, and putting your faith into action.

God With Us will be our guide on this journey. We believe that He is with us. He is waiting for us to return to Him with our whole hearts, and He is ready to extend His mercy and lovingkindness.

This new 15-week online class of “Bowing Low” starts on January 4. That’s 15 weeks before Easter.

Use the Lenten season to grow closer to Christ. God will meet you where you are and lead you into a deeper, richer relationship with Him as you tear down cultural idols and fully commit yourself to the Living God.

Each week you will:

Read one chapter from Bowing Low: Rejecting the Idols Around Us to Worship the Living God, available here on Amazon in paperback or Kindle.
Have access to an online community group with weekly short videos posted by Julie Jean Francis, discussion questions, reflections, and prayer.
(Optionally) Use the Bowing Low Workbook: A Meditative Bible Study daily as part of your personal quiet time with God using ancient Christian practices including lectio divina, available here.
(Optionally) Meet for a live online group call for a Biblical message, prayer, discussion, and encouragement with Julie Jean Francis and other members of the A Life Overseas community.

The cost of this online class with Julie Jean Francis is $30. To join the 15-week online study of Bowing Low: Rejecting the Idols Around Us to Worship the Living God, please first fill out this Google Form.

The class begins January 4th! Please register before December 14th.

An Expat’s Prayer for a Divided Nation

For America, the beautiful,
My passport country, my home culture, and land that I love.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Woe to me; I am undone.
I am but a human of unclean lips:
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner!

And I live among a people of unclean lips.
And my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty!

We are a weary, worn, and worried people.
We are a people divided, dejected, and on the edge of despair.
Yet, we hope in you and your unfailing love and mercy.

We confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
Lord, forgive us our sins!

Another election and another dissection of our nation,
A vote that, no matter the outcome,
Will anger and enrage half of us and
Seek to divide all of us, even those of us who call on your Name.

O, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on us, sinners!
O, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, grant us your wisdom and your peace!

For all those running for office,
For all those serving as leaders among us,
We pray to the Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer!

For those who must vote to absolve their conscience,
For those who cannot vote to absolve their conscience,
We pray to the Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer!

May we seek you, Lord, as our greatest good.
May we seek you, Lord, as our only true Hope.

For the Red States,
For the Blue States,
We pray to the Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer!

For the expats, away from home, who pray from a distance in a foreign land,
For the locals, where they are, who are the hands and feet of Jesus in their communities,
We pray to the Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer!

May we all in unity represent the Kingdom of Jesus Christ,
May we all in unity be ambassadors for Christ the King.

For those whose idol in political power has fallen face down, like Dagon,
For those whose idol is still the democratic process,
We pray to the Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer!

For those who are fearful,
For those who are hopeful,
We pray to the Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer!

May we trust not in chariots or horses or elections, but in the name of the Lord our God.
May we submit ourselves to every authority, knowing that the blood of the Lamb was followed by the blood of the saints who refused to bow in worship to the idols.

For all the innocents: for the unborn, the children, the weak and the poor, the disabled and elderly, the widow, orphan, and foreigner,
For all the perpetrators: for the exploiters, the deceivers and deniers, the evil, those seeking power, money, and glory, the cruel and the abusive,
Oh, King Jesus, lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of Thy mercy,
We pray to the Lord.
Lord, hear our prayer!

May your Light shine in this darkness.
May your white radiance of purity and grace cover both the red states and the blue.

May your people show your eternal Kingdom that never ends.
May your people wear the shining white robes of sacrifice,
A symbol of your Light and Grace
That we may be a City on a Hill that cannot be hidden.

Holy, spotless Lamb, crucified for the sins of the world,
Forgive us our sins and save us!
Holy, spotless Lamb of God, killed by the authorities,
Show us your mercy!
God, the Father, who is Love,
Help us to love you and love each other!

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit
In the Holy Name of Jesus Christ, our Savior,
Lord Almighty, Savior of the World, Eternal King seated on the Throne of Heaven,
Never needing an election, ruling forever.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.

Amen.

The Missionary’s Search for True Identity

I struggled with identity long before I became a foreign weirdo living cross-culturally. Maybe it is no huge surprise, then, that I chose to follow a calling that has at times alienated me further, stretched me farther, and pushed all bounds of my identity and who I thought I was.

I am a female and an American. I’m the youngest child of a large family. I’m a rural farm girl from Montana, but one of my most formative childhood years was spent in urban California. I grew up in a poor, hard-working family. But I was loved and privileged, too, with education, encouragement, and opportunities that have carried me outside of my rural community. I was dutiful and obedient, diligent and smart. I was a “good” child and a people pleaser. I avoided obvious sin and the wild life. I pleased others but often felt like they didn’t really know me and maybe I didn’t really know myself.

I got a scholarship to a Christian college. The world opened up to me, and my mind was expanded. I traveled and I learned. I gained real friends and strong mentors. My faith was stretched, and my commitment to Christ was deepened. I thought I knew who I was. I got married.

Then, just as my confidence in myself was growing as a capable, competent member of society and adulthood, I began serving overseas as a missionary. And all over again, I had no idea who I was.

None of my credentials mattered, and my education was a moot point. I babbled like a baby learning language. I didn’t know the proper way to dress or how to eat. I didn’t know how to navigate a market or what I was doing.

A number of years went by, and I had another identity crisis. I did know the language and culture. I did know the community I served. I knew how to dress and what to eat. I knew our goals and plans and what I was doing (on most days!). But I was still often seen as a foreigner weirdo. I couldn’t change my hair or my skin or my passport country. I couldn’t be fully, completely accepted. I would always stand out and be different.

There was still a barrier to being fully accepted or trusted despite my very best efforts. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. So I entered a new identity crisis.

Who am I? How do I define myself?

The icing on the cake happened in 2021, when a military coup meant our evacuation from the country and people we loved. We lost all our belongings, our home, our friends, our work, our direction, our identity. We were evacuated to the US, bewildered and needing care. Within a few months, still reeling from that upheaval, I lost my father. We’d had a complex relationship.

For most of that year and the next, I frequently asked myself “Who am I?”

I have tried to be many things in my life. I have worked hard to get affirmation and acceptance in many different places. I have learned new customs and languages. I have tried to overcome my status as the youngest, an “unwanted” child of parents who had too many kids. I have tried to be enough, do enough, change enough, accomplish enough.

How do we define ourselves? Through our relationships? Our accomplishments? Our belongings? In the voices we hear others calling us?

Henri Nouwen calls these the Three Big Lies of the human experience:

I am what I have.
I am what I do.
I am what others say about me.

I had a difficult relationship with my father. But he taught me many good things, too. One of my favorite memories of my dad is him telling me “Remember whose you are” anytime I stepped out of his old pickup truck to go anywhere. It’s the words he scratched at the bottom of his will, and the words he always said that have continued to stick with me.

I never felt like I belonged where I was, and maybe my dad never felt like he belonged where he was either. As I look back on his life and compare it to my own, I realize one reason we didn’t always get along is because we were so similar and struggled with such similar identity issues.

I have often forgotten who I was and who I belonged to. All my childhood experiences and personality leanings, all my travels and cross-cultural living, all the re-entry reverse culture shock and… and… and… have made me question my identity or made me feel like I had multiple identities. I have not felt fully known by anyone, ever. I have often forgotten who I am.

I became the older son from Luke 15 who is resentful and unforgiving. Who has forgotten the reason he has been dutiful and obedient and can’t remember why he wanted to stay home and serve his father in the first place. What was it all for anyway?

I have not struggled with the first Big Lie: “I am what I have.” Perhaps it is because most of my life I have had very little. But I have very often struggled with the next two: “I am what I do” and “I am what others say about me.”

My identity has been intertwined with my ministry, my image as a missionary. My sense of identity has often been inflated or depressed by what others say about me.

Before Christ began his ministry, before he selected his disciples, before his temptation in the wilderness, before he is called by others a “friend of tax collectors and sinners,” before he is called “John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah or one of the prophets,” before any of that happens to shape, warp, or inflate his identity, Jesus is called “My Beloved Son” (Matt 3:17).

I am not a child anymore, wondering whether I am loved or unwanted in my family. I am not a newbie to cross-cultural missions, wondering if I am good enough at language learning or if I am making strategic mistakes. I am not a foreign weirdo who will never be fully accepted or welcomed. I am not a fatherless daughter. I am not the rebellious youngest child or the dutiful eldest bitter one. I am not what I own. I am not my vocation or what others say about me. I am not more valuable or less valuable based on what I do.

I remember whose I am: I am a child of God. I am a beloved, adopted by the Father. I refuse to believe the three big lies of the world. I embrace my identity in Christ.

I am reclaiming my identity in Christ above all my other identities and affiliations, above all the things said about me, above my childhood, above my relationships, above my vocation. I will become like a child again and enter into God’s Kingdom as His beloved. I see Him running to embrace me and welcome me home.

I’ve spent time this week reflecting on Henri Nouwen’s Return of the Prodigal Son. I’ve seen myself as the younger son who wanted to run away from home and my upbringing and go to an exciting foreign land. I’ve seen myself as the elder son who must overcome resentment and bitterness, who can envy the easy, carefree life of others, who must learn to trust the Father and be grateful for a Father who says, “All that I have is yours.”

But like Nouwen, I also believe God has called each child of God to become the Father who can extend that unconditional love to those around us.

5 Ways to Cope When Your Incarnational Ministry Becomes Remote

Over a decade ago we joined an organization whose primary goal was Bible translation and church planting with a focus on incarnational ministry.

We did national language in a large city for three years before God nudged us to step out in faith and make a big move to a more rural area where we could live among the people group we had been led to serve in Bible translation.

This move was fraught with challenges and change. No one within our organization had ever moved out to the rural areas of our country before. We’d be the first to attempt it. Could we do it?

We had to figure out a visa situation (and once we did, we had to leave the country every 70 days to renew it). We had to find housing. We had to travel with our three very young children (ages 4, 2, and baby at the time). We knew absolutely no one in the area to help us. I was also pregnant with baby number four. It was… a lot.

But God. We felt a call to go, and we went. It was difficult. And God showed up through each difficulty. My husband met just the right people who helped set up a perfect visa situation for us. We made some connections. We thought the city was livable and doable. Even my little four-year-old’s prayers were answered for a “sparkly house,” which we had initially told her might not happen because houses in our country of service were never “sparkly.”

After a month of trial and difficulty, we had a visa, a house, a few connections, and hope that God had called us to serve incarnationally in this place we could grow to love. We felt hope and peace.

God grew our community and ministry. Our home became the center of our lives and our incarnational ministry. We had no privacy; but we did have friends, neighbors, and national co-laborers who saw us living out our Christian faith day in and day out.

We loved our simple, yet hard life. We ate fresh food from the market, which I had to buy daily. We struggled with lack of consistent electricity and mosquito-borne illnesses. We struggled with isolation, loneliness, and a lack of Christian community.

Yet we felt called to this life of incarnational ministry, and the sacrifices seemed worth it. We felt God was with us, was for us, and had planned this life for us.

Then covid hit. We decided to stay in our home in our country of service, come what may. Isolation became even more of a reality. Opportunities for incarnational ministry waned. Ministry goals were put on hold.

We started becoming disconnected even from our national co-laborers who were either home in their villages or confined to work from their homes. It was a very difficult time for our family and the life of our ministry. We couldn’t wait for the covid restrictions to end.

And then, an even greater disaster struck: a military coup. The instability and violence that followed prompted our organization to ask us to leave. We left our home in 24 hours with two suitcases for our entire family, which had grown to eight.

We had lived in our rural area for five years. We had no time to say proper goodbyes or give any of us proper closure. We had no choice and no warning. Our incarnational ministry in the land and country we loved was over.

That was in 2021. We’ve recently commemorated the third year anniversary of the military coup that changed our lives forever. We haven’t stopped our work; the ministry has continued in our absence. But it isn’t the same.

Despite our organization’s focus on incarnational ministry, despite our ministry plans and long-term goals, despite what we wish would have happened, we haven’t been able to go back and live among the people we desire to serve.

And we aren’t alone. We’ve met so many people over the last three years in our same situation and predicament. Covid. Visa issues. Political instability. War. Evacuation. Loss.

Whatever has caused your ministry disruption over the last few years, I pray that these five reminders will help you adjust your expectations and continue to move forward, even though things have not turned out how you envisioned.

1. Grieve what you’ve lost.
Take time to lament to God why you’re mad, frustrated, angry, sad, disappointed, or heartbroken that what you wanted didn’t happen. Write a poem. Journal. Pray with a friend. Confess your feelings in a small group. Get counseling. Write a list of all the things you no longer have. Then, loop through that grieving process again (and again) until you feel you have unstacked all those hard emotions and shared them with God and with good listeners.

2. Accept the new reality.
This step was perhaps the hardest for me. It is hard to let go of one dream to live in a new reality you weren’t planning on. But it is necessary to both grieve what you’ve lost and then move forward in accepting the new reality and making the most of it. Things aren’t what you planned or what you wanted, but can you accept that your life isn’t over and that God can still use you in a new way during a new season?

3. Make prayer your key strategy.
Make your dependence on God the forefront of your ministry and personal goals. God knows the situation that led to your ministry changing, and he knows you intimately. He cares about the people you serve and the work you are doing. Petition God in prayer to lead you, your team, and your ministry.

Remember that all your work depends on the grace of God, and all your “success” depends on God calling people to himself. God’s Holy Spirit could only come after Jesus ascended to heaven. God’s Spirit will continue to work even after you’ve had to leave.

4. Enlist help for #3.
As you make prayer your ministry strategy, share your detailed needs with your family, churches, and supporters. We’ve found it helpful to get supporters to commit to pray one day each month for you and your ministry and coworkers rather than just include prayer requests in newsletters (although that is good too).

You can ask people to “adopt” a day between 1 and 31 and ask them to pray and send a brief message on that day each month. It adds daily prayer support to your ministry and adds accountability. We’ve also created monthly prayer guides focusing on a specific aspect of ministry, shared prayer requests in a closed social media group, sent out emails and newsletters, and shared specific personal prayer needs with specific people.

5. Keep hope that God will turn evil into good for His Kingdom.
It’s easy to give up and become cynical about visa problems, government politics, war, and conflict. It’s easy to abandon the goals for your work and ministry as impossible because of a situation that is out of your control. Resist that temptation. Hold on to hope that God has always used evil for His good and for the expansion of His Kingdom.

Your role and work may have changed, your location may have changed, your ministry may look different than you wanted it to, but God is still working. He is still with you and your national coworkers. He still loves you, and He still loves the people you serve.

So hold onto hope. Keep praying, and keep working. Remember that God’s Spirit makes up for our lack. Trust that God’s Word will go where we cannot. And keep believing that God’s light will shine in the darkness.

5 Ways to Accept Impermanence and Create Roots Anyway

The one-year lease just came up on our house here in Southeast Asia. We love this house. My anxiety set in: Will we get to rent another year? Will the rent go up? How long can this place be “home?”

The cross-cultural life is full of impermanence. I avoid buying my kids big stuffed animals because I know they won’t fit in the suitcases when we leave. I avoid buying too many sets of clothes because a week’s worth is all that will fit in a suitcase anyway. I avoid buying furniture besides the bare minimum or much of any household or seasonal decorations because this house/place/location isn’t forever. We were reluctant to get a pet for the same reasons – though in the end we did.

I know someday we’ll be moving on. This isn’t our passport country. Maybe we won’t get our visas next year. Maybe the government will be unfriendly to foreigners. Maybe a crisis will bring us back to America, or maybe we’ll move because of our kids’ educational or emotional needs. Maybe we’ll get sick and need better medical care, or maybe our funding just won’t come in. Saying “maybe” in this impermanent life is both second nature and a constant opportunity to worry.

Permanence feels like security, and in Western culture, security is something that we crave, idealize, sacrifice to, and worship. In my book about American idols, security is seated near the top. Security in our house, our job, our relationships, our finances, our safety makes us feel in control. (Incidentally, I believe control is the American idol at the very top.)

I serve in a Buddhist context. One of the most important ideas in Buddhism is the idea of impermanence. Buddhists believe we can avoid suffering by being unattached to life. Unattached to physical things, but also unattached from relationships, family, and love. The goal is to empty yourself of desire until you can reach enlightenment. You can follow in the way of Buddha and leave your family, become a monk, unattached and unsecure, relying on your daily ration of rice given each morning by the generous neighbors surrounding the pagoda in your community. Impermanence is a central tenet of Buddhism.

We aren’t Buddhists. We follow Jesus Christ. But on some points, Buddhism and Christianity can have some common ground. Minimalism is good for the Christian. We see Jesus choose that path and encourage His followers to walk in His steps. It is good to live a simple life that is not focused on the accumulation of things to fill the emptiness in our lives. As Jesus says, “Where your treasure is, there your heart is also.”

One of the central claims of Jesus is that “to save your life, you must lose it.” As believers, we hope and believe in the Resurrection of Jesus. Just as He rose again, we will rise again to a permanent, eternal life in a new heaven and new earth. “This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through,” we sing together with vigor. But our daily lives often don’t reflect this impermanent reality.

For Christians, minimalism and impermanence help us to more readily follow Jesus and focus on our eternal life after death. But what about feeling planted and grounded in a community and a culture? What about creating healthy spaces for our TCKs to grow and develop? What about our Christian ideals to encourage the connections to community, love, and family?

How can we develop healthy family patterns and routines that give us stability and ground our kids in an ever-changing impermanent environment filled with instability, loss, and a constant supply of “maybes”?

Here are five practices our family has found to be helpful.

Accept that change is a part of normal.

Impermanence is part of life, whether living overseas or in your passport country. Our friends who have never lived cross-culturally can and do understand unexpected change that leads to loss. We may have experienced different types of losses, but we have a lot in common, too. Security in permanence is an illusion, no matter where we live.

Practice gratitude.

Gratitude is consistently linked to greater happiness and more positive emotions in modern psychology. We are commanded to show gratitude to God, but it should also be a natural overflow of our Christian life. Start a gratitude practice of actually writing down what you are thankful for each day, especially when you are in a season of transition or when you are struggling to accept the changes in life.

Develop family rituals and routines that you can take with you wherever you go.

Get creative and be simple. Start routines that can easily transfer with you regardless of location or special supplies. Maybe you can do your daily Bible story/snack time every afternoon. Or you can say the Lord’s Prayer together every night before bed. Make holiday traditions transferable, too. We “trick or treat” to each door in our house on Halloween and hand out candy, and we hang up a paper and cardboard Season’s Tree in our dining room to decorate for each season.

Do what works for your family, but do something! Find simple and sustainable traditions and routines that can ground your family and create continuity between locations. Seek out education, help, and resources for your TCKs. The time, money, and energy are worth the investment for their future. Help them process and mourn their grief when things change.

I’ve developed a free processing tool that goes along with my new children’s book, When We Called Myanmar Home. There are also many other activities and processing tools available from varied sources. Ask your community or organization for recommendations and help.

Don’t isolate yourself from love and connection, even when those friendships or family members may not be here forever.

Turn to others for comfort and support. Share and mourn the impermanent losses together with others who can listen and understand. Talk about your desire for security, home, and physical objects with others. Keep your heart soft. Stay connected with key relationships in your life, and keep investing in new relationships.

Accept impermanence as a promise of God, rather than a threat to your security.

Remind yourself again that everyone’s lives are impermanent and sometimes unpredictable. Security and control are Western cultural idols, and God won’t share His glory. He will knock the idols down on their faces.

God promises both “peace that passes understanding” and that “in this world you will have troubles, but I have overcome the world.” Each day has enough worry of its own, and Jesus has come to “give us life to the full.”

Our circumstances, location, and relationships may change, but God’s promises are true and lasting. “For all the promises of God in Him are Yes, and in Him Amen, to the glory of God through us” (2 Corinthians 1:20).

If you, like me, struggle at times to feel secure in the promises of God to be your security in an ever-changing world, start a “Promises of God” journal, writing down His promises to you as you read them in Scripture or as He speaks to your heart in prayer. Read through the journal when you are struggling to see God’s promises fulfilled in your current circumstance. Lament to God and share your feelings with Him. He will be faithful to you.

We can be healthy, and we can have healthy families even as we live and serve in a world of impermanence and uncertainty. Colossians 2:6-7 tells us, “Just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to follow him. Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him.” We can be rooted in Him wherever we go.

God created this world to be impermanent, but our eternal life on the new heaven and new earth will last forever. He is “the Alpha and the Omega—the beginning and the end . . . the one who is, who always was, and who is still to come—the Almighty One.” We can be rooted in our relationships, in our routines and traditions, in our gratitude, in the promises of God, and in Christ himself, the one who “is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”