Category: Practical

Why Do People Follow Jesus?

When I was nineteen, my mom converted from Christianity to Judaism. This sent me on an intense, all-consuming search. I wanted to know the truth, no matter the consequences. Was Jesus the Messiah or not?

My search was long and exhausting as I scoured the Old Testament, read books, and prayed. But my journey was worth the work when it finally led me to a deep and abiding faith in Jesus. 

So when I sat down to interview Sovath, a former Buddhist and Khmer Rouge survivor, I thought I was ready. He too had diverged from the religious path of his mother. I thought in some small way I could relate to his journey.

It was Sovath’s wife who had originally asked me to write his family’s story as a narrative nonfiction book.

“It’s just too miraculous not to be a book,” she had told me. So, with her initial notes in hand, I traveled, interviewed, and read about the Khmer Rouge genocide. Despite the trauma of remembering, Sovath and his siblings recounted their amazing story. 

Everything was going great. Until we came to the very question I thought I could relate to.

“Why did you decide to follow Jesus?” I asked. Ever humble, Sovath mentioned that he had been initially attracted to the extra food and clothing the church distributed. He was taking guitar and English lessons at the church. There was nothing else to do in the refugee camp.

Then he stopped talking.

Knowing Sovath is deeply religious, I tried other questions. 

“What really convinced you?” “How did you know it was true?”

Sovath described the meaningful discussions they had at Bible studies. The agony of knowing he might hurt his mother if he followed Jesus. The way Jesus appeared to him in a vision at the very moment of his greatest confusion.

I wrote furiously. Yet I still wracked my brain for the question that would help me tell the more important story: Why did Sovath choose Jesus?

We ended our interview without an answer. Over the coming months, I prayed about how to write Sovath’s story. I thought back to my years as a missionary in India. For many Hindus, truth is seen as an illusion. This sounds like fancy philosophy, but it trickles down into the worldview of many ordinary people, too.

Buddhism came out of Hinduism, I remembered. What if Sovath’s struggle to follow Jesus was very different from mine?

The next time we met was one year later, and I had a new question: “What made choosing to follow Jesus difficult for you?”

I learned that Sovath’s deepest question was not about the truth at all. In fact, he believed what the Christians taught was true long before he accepted Christ as his personal Savior.

Instead, Sovath’s questions were all related to identity and loyalty. Is Jesus just for Christians, or for all people? Who am I if I’m not a Buddhist? How do I relate to my family and society as a Christian? Is it more important to be loyal to my parents and my country, or to my Creator? 

Once I realized identity was such an important piece of Sovath’s story, I understood the conversion of two of his siblings, too.

These siblings asked the Highest God for a miracle. And He answered. Not only by saving them from certain death, but by giving each of them a new identity. 

Chantana felt she had no voice when the Khmer Rouge treated her like an object to be destroyed. But Jesus heard the cry of her heart and called her His daughter. 

Vudh and Nary, defiantly loving and caring for their young family under a dangerous and brainwashing regime, later found themselves blessed and beloved in the family of God. 

Sovath was torn from his family at eleven years old and forced to work. He almost starved. But God brought him back to his family in time to escape death and ultimately showed him the way to eternal life.

In the end, searching for the right question helped Beyond a Thousand Shadows to represent a little less of my worldview and a little more of Sovath’s. And it reminded me of the importance of understanding the Most Important Questions of others — especially of those who are engaged in the agonizing search for an answer.

 

Read about what God did to save Sovath, Chantana, Vudh, Nary, and their family in my newest book, Beyond a Thousand Shadows.

Introducing an Interactive Tool for Expat Parents Based on the Book Nourished: Third Culture Kids and the Village They Need

Some seasons are harder than others. Now there’s a tool to help you see why.
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You look back on a particular year and think, “I don’t get why that was hard.” Nothing terrible happened, no family crisis, no personal trauma. Yet your child, or younger you, struggled. Something felt lonely. The support just wasn’t there, and you still can’t figure out why.
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One of the central insights in my new book, Nourished: Third Culture Kids and the Village They Need, is that children need specific support structures to build resilience – and for globally mobile families, those structures get disrupted over and over again. Transitions simply do that. When those supports go missing, it leaves a mark that feels hard to pinpoint.
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The Nourished Companion Simulator lets you see all of that, and it’s free.

You can build your own childhood story map by plotting which crucial support structures were in place and where they were missing. You can also build your child’s map alongside it. Suddenly, the harder seasons take a visual form, making sense in a new way. So do the wonderful seasons.

The simulator also includes a library of safe space responses based on the framework by TCK Training. These are phrases that turn hard conversations, even conflict, into connection points rather than walls. They build secure attachment right when things would normally go sideways. Then when a new move or season comes, you can download your story map, reset it, and start again.

Families of faith will also find an interactive Biblical study guide.

This simulator was built by Jason Weimer as a companion to the book, but you don’t have to read the book first. Just start building your map and see what patterns begin to emerge.

Try the Nourished Companion Simulator here — it’s free.

Twenty-one Hermit Crabs and a Fridge Full of Butter: Finding Levity in Life Abroad

My son was very excited to find a hermit crab walking on the street in front of our house. A grandma had been selling hermit crabs to students at the school we run. Children bought the creatures for the small price of 2,000 IDR (15 cents). For days, kids were coming to school with hermit crabs in their pockets. 

This particular one that my son found must have managed to escape. He convinced me to let him keep it, and we set up a little habitat for it in a plastic container. Since all must be fair in a household of two brothers, we quickly purchased one more hermit crab so that my boys each had one. 

But then we went away for the weekend and somehow the little hermit crabs both died. (I think the water dish was perhaps too difficult for them to reach. Oops.) I kept my eyes open for the grandma to return so I could buy replacement hermit crabs, but she did not come. I ended up mentioning it nonchalantly to the mom of the family, requesting to buy five more hermit crabs if the grandma still had some. 

Imagine my surprise the next day when a group of kids brought me a dish filled with twenty-one hermit crabs. My boys were thrilled when they came home from school. We quickly bought a little aquarium and set up a habitat that would (hopefully) keep them alive for a long time. 

This is a silly, yet tangible reminder of how our neighbors care for us — sometimes in extravagant ways. 

Recently I visited a friend who was finishing her six-month tuberculosis treatment. I noticed at least a dozen large cardboard boxes in the corner of her house. Pizza boxes? I wondered. 

Midway through our conversation, she stood up and grabbed a box. She set it in front of me, opening it. “Kak, do you like this?” she asked me. Imagine my surprise when the box held not pizza, but dozens of individual butter packets imported from France. A nearby hotel likes to donate food to part of the slum community we live in, and these boxes of butter had come in a recent donation. 

“The truck brought a hundred boxes!” my friend told me, laughing. “People don’t know what to do with it. It does not have a flavor.” To demonstrate, she opened one butter packet and stuck her finger in it, bringing it to her mouth to show how it lacked any flavor. 

I assured her that I loved butter and would happily take it off her hands if she was not going to use it. That is how our fridge’s bottom drawer got filled with hundreds of little butter packets. Perhaps some of you reading this can appreciate the luxury that is real butter, something that I had gone years without buying since it is expensive here and not part of a normal Indonesian diet. 

Another example of our neighbors’ generosity and God’s sense of humor — providing me with comfort-food in the middle of a slum community. Coincidentally (or not), the next day a different neighbor gave me two kilos of whole wheat flour that someone had given her, another luxury that we rarely ever get. I was now able to make whole wheat bread to eat with real butter! 

Life overseas can be full of hard things, and I often write about the challenges we face in a slum community (tuberculosis, possible eviction, the hard reality of life for our students, etc.). There are also heartbreaking things going on in my family’s life at the moment. 

In the midst of difficult things, however, there are also beautiful ordinary reminders of God’s provision. Like hermit crabs and butter packets. So today I’m pausing to say Thank You. Thank you to the Lord for neighbors who care. 

May you, too, be surprised this week with small gifts from neighbors and from the Lord.

Photo of hermit crab by Ahmed Sobah on Unsplash
Photo of butter by author

Stop Burning Out for Jesus

by Valerie Limmer

Jesus once told a parable about ten bridesmaids — five wise and five foolish. I’ve often heard the parable taught in church as a lesson in being prepared to wait for Jesus’s return and not becoming complacent in the waiting. But is that really what it’s about?

All of the women fell asleep. There was no difference in their level of activity — only in their preparedness. One set literally burned themselves out and didn’t leave anything to replenish themselves with. The other set also fell asleep, but when their lamps ran low, they had brought extra supply. 

Which brings me to a new conclusion: This parable could just as easily be about not burning ourselves out as it is about waiting.

People in ministry love Jesus. They often dedicate their lives, their hobbies, their energy and resources to sharing the good news about Him with others, serving people in the name of Jesus, and advocating for the weak and helpless. This work can be all-consuming. We do it “for the sake of the Gospel.”

But is that what God really asks of us?

I’ve written before about how giving up more than God asks of us can be just as bad as giving up less than He asks. When we do more than what He asks, we risk a different type of disobedience. After all, if a farmer asks me to plow a certain field, and I plow both that field and the one beside it too, am I being helpful—or did I just destroy a crop that wasn’t ready to be harvested?

Missionaries and pastors seem particularly susceptible to the lie that working ourselves to exhaustion is somehow a demonstration of godliness. It may be a demonstration of dedication to our work, but not of our dedication to God. So what does this parable tell us about the right way to approach our work? 

  1. We need to be prepared for Christ to take longer.

He is not — and never was — going to come according to our schedule. He is our leader. We are not His.

If God has called us to ministry, it may be for a lifetime, or it may be for a season. If it’s for a season, He will redeploy us somewhere else when we’re done. In either case, we cannot afford to pour an entire lifetime of energy into only a few years before we burn ourselves out.

Once we burn out, there’s no guarantee we will ever come back. Some people’s personalities and mental health are changed forever.

  1. The things we do may look similar to what others do.

The work of a Christian advocate for the poor might look very similar to that of the work of someone who’s not a Christian, but the nuances will be different. The motivations will be different. The spiritually-holistic approach will be different.

If we anchor our sense of accomplishment and well-being in Jesus rather than the results of our work, our mental and spiritual health will also be different. Jesus can give us the stamina to keep going, to live an entire lifetime of faithfulness. It’s that longevity that often stands out more than anything else to the people who observe and come after us. 

Our testimony doesn’t just consist of what we do. It consists of our faithfulness in doing it. Not just for a few years, but for a lifetime.

  1. We need to leave ourselves enough resources to last, so we can keep burning.

Our lives and ministries should consume those resources at a sustainable rate. In other words, we shouldn’t be constantly edging towards burnout, even if we don’t quite get there. We should always be engaging in self-care practices and rest that replenish our resources.

This “leave enough resources” principle isn’t just intended for the person in ministry, but for their family as well. If we don’t leave ourselves enough to take care of our spouses and families, then, as Paul says, “Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever” (1 Timothy 5:8).

This may mean that as we age, our activities diminish somewhat, apace with diminishing energy. 

It also means that we make rest a part of our rhythms of ministry. Depleted, we may be able to put on a good show for a while — perhaps falling back on old journals and moments of learning during times when we were less worn — but eventually our depletion will show itself in our ministries. 

This could be in the form of ever-decreasing nourishment in the things we teach. It could also be in the form of a fall into sin. Depleted people are more likely to stumble and fall. Rest is not just required for our own refreshment. It’s required to sustain godliness.

If our rest is insufficient, we won’t have the energy to pursue God—really pursue Him in devotions. Sitting in silence takes focus and energy. Meditation takes energy and creativity (another thing that turns off in fatigue). Intensive prayer takes loads of energy. 

Is it any wonder, then, that taking a Sabbath rest is one of the Ten Commandments? That commandment is a fundamental undergirding, a support for our obedience in every other dimension.

In contrast, how many people have become shells of their former selves, have lost their faith, or caused their families to lose their faith because of their obsession with serving with no thought to wisely stewarding their time, efforts, and energy so they’ll be sustainable through the long haul? 

I now think that Jesus’s admonition at the end of the parable of the lamps in Matthew 25 to “keep watch” (“be on the alert,” the NASB says) is actually an admonition to take care of our own resources so that we can keep burning — no matter when He comes.

Originally published here; reprinted with permission.

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Originally from Canada, Valerie Limmer lives in Okinawa, Japan, where she’s served as a missionary with her husband since 2011, partnering with the local church to focus on outreach and discipleship. Their Japanese pastor calls them “bridge-makers,” facilitating relationships with the community. Valerie is the author of Captive Set Free: How to Find Freedom Through Forgiving and On the Potter’s Wheel, a memoir of disability on the mission field. To learn more about her work or to read more of her articles, visit peterandvalerie.com/OurBlog.

Making Growing Up Global Wildly, Outrageously Worth It

She bounded over the dirt hill, her pink shirt clashing gloriously against a red-and-green skirt, blonde ponytail bouncing, dishes allegedly done.

I was eight years old, American, and a rule-follower to my bones. Tirza was Swiss with a hint of spirited spice, and she had just put all the dirty dishes in the oven so she could join me to build a palm frond fort.

When she told me what she’d done, with nonchalance to boot, I could hardly believe my ears, and I lost all composure.

That was the beginning of one of the most formative friendships of my childhood in Cameroon. Tirza became my best friend, but she was also instrumental in unleashing my courage. 

With her at my side, I ventured into parts of Cameroon I never would have explored alone — buying beignets in broken French, taking a canoe downriver for a midmorning picnic, and saying yes to adventures that felt risky enough to be thrilling and just a little bit dangerous. She turned, “But what if I get hurt?” into “Let’s give it a go!”

She connected me to the country in ways a classroom never could have. I grew insatiably curious about Cameroon and whatever adventure lay around the corner. 

I didn’t understand the lasting significance as a child, but Tirza gave me what researchers now call one of the most powerful gifts a child can receive: a friend who helps you feel known, seen, and brave enough to explore an untamed world that’s begging to be discovered.

Growing up global can be outrageously scrumptious. Cross-cultural friendships, markets bartered in, metros taken solo, languages lived rather than memorized, and faith that expands beyond a monocultural lens. There is something deeply formative that happens when a child grows up, leaving no stone unturned in our big, blue world. I want to say that clearly before I say anything else, because what follows is in service of protecting something worth protecting.

What Tirza gave me had a name, it turned out. It was one of seven Positive Childhood Experiences, or anchors that researchers now know dramatically shape a child’s long-term outcomes. They all boil down to connection. Connection in the family and connection in the community. For TCKs, even when all three PCEs related to the home are perfectly intact, the four rooted in community disappear with every move. 

When I learned about these PCEs, I knew everyone touching global life needed to understand this — parents, teachers, grandparents, sending organizations — because every one of them can become an anchor for TCKs no matter where they are in the world.

In 2021, TCK Training published research that woke up the expat community. In a survey of nearly 2,000 TCKs, research director Tanya Crossman found that the international life we love and believe in also correlated with higher rates of childhood trauma. In the general population, a little over one in ten children scored in the high-risk range for Adverse Childhood Experiences in the U.S. For missionary kids, that number climbed to nearly one in five. In the business expat sector, nearly one in three.

Does that mean growing up global is bad for kids? Well no, because we also learned something else. 71% of TCKs say global life is the best way to grow up, and 90% say their childhood was overall good. Global life is good. But something does need to change. 

Positive Childhood Experiences are the very factors that mitigate those risks. TCKs with all seven were 63% less likely to be diagnosed with anxiety, 86% less likely to develop PTSD, and 2.2 times more likely to be proud of their parents’ work abroad. These kids weren’t just treading water with global life. They were proud of it. The anchors work — but only when they’re attached to the boat needing them. 

The stats made sense. I knew the world needed to hear it because the adult TCKs I spoke with and the families I debriefed were all saying the same thing, “This stuff makes a difference, I wish I would have known this sooner.”

The stats needed flesh. The research needed to become personal and usable. But beyond that, I wanted parents to know more than risk mitigation. They needed to know just how incredible a global childhood can be and why. Nourished is what came from that need. It’s where research, story, empathy, and actionable steps meet in a user-friendly way for parents and caregivers who are already giving their all and who need someone who understands their story and what’s getting in the way.

When I started writing Nourished, I had no idea the magnitude of the task I was taking on. I was determined that four questions needed clear answers for each PCE, and anything short of that depth would fall short. For each one we needed to know: Why does it matter? What happens in adulthood for kids who don’t get it? What unique challenges do parents abroad face in providing it? And how do we actually provide it?

The rigorous research alone took an immense amount of time, and the pages kept filling up. I quickly realized that the faith-based integrations I cared deeply about were not going to be done justice if I tried to cram them into this book, so I developed a companion Biblical Study Guide, specifically for faith-based families.

Nourished isn’t a magic bullet for raising a family overseas. But it does provide language for why your gut might feel like something needs to change—and exactly what pivots might help. Or why your child does so well in one place and not in another. Or why two children growing up in the same home may have such different experiences and how to better support the gaps.

What I keep hearing from readers is, “I feel seen” and “This isn’t just for TCKs. All kids need this.” Which takes me back to something I wrote on page 54:

The public high school teacher in me wants to shout from the mountaintops that PCEs are crucial for all children. Whether you work with TCKs or monocultural kids, you’re changing outcomes for the kids in your care. But TCKs face unique vulnerabilities that make supportive relationships even more critical. We’re not just trying to avoid adverse outcomes. We want to actively unleash the beautiful potential that comes from growing up global.

At nineteen, newly repatriated from my childhood in Cameroon, I walked across a Midwest university campus drowning in a sea of people who looked exactly like me, but had no idea who I was. I started making choices that confused even me. I hadn’t lost my faith. I hadn’t turned into someone unrecognizable for no reason. I had simply lost too many anchors. And without them, even the most resilient, faith-filled child may drift in the storm.

I know now why having Tirza was a much bigger part of God’s plan for childhood than someone to build forts with. So was our English teacher, Ms. Baker, who made cookies for us after soccer practice, the annual missionary game nights, and the jungle that left its untamable imprint on my heart. These were the parts of belonging to a global village that God meant to work together for my good and His glory. TCKs feel it deeply when any of these pieces are missing. And when they’re present, so many TCKs grow to develop the exact strengths we crave to see in the world. 

In your world right now, there is a TCK with the potential for exactly what Tirza gave me — a friendship that flings the door open to exploration, a knowledge that the world is huge and also within reach, and a global childhood that makes them ferociously alive. And friendship is only one of seven key anchors. Nourished is your guide to all of them, and to building the kind of village that makes a global childhood wildly, outrageously worth it.

Access Nourished here.

Access the companion Biblical study guide here.

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. 

Say No More: The Words We Too Often Use to Silence Each Other



Shut up!

After raising five children, it’s hard for me to even type those words, much less say them out loud. Telling someone to “Shut up!” was an extreme offense in our family’s younger days. My wife reminds me of the time our pastor said the phrase from the pulpit while quoting someone in a story he was telling. Our children turned to us wide-eyed. “We’ll talk about it later,” she whispered to them.

Even now, the taboo still sticks with me.

While not as rude, there are other words in the English language used to get people to quit talking. “Stop!” we say, or “Be quiet!” “Hush!” “Pipe down!” “That’s enough!” “Shush!” “Shhh!” “Put a sock in it!” or “Talk to the hand!” (remember that one?). The vocabulary may be different, but the gist is the same.

In the church, in ministry, in work, in life, there are those who would tell us to stop talking when our words are inconvenient or troublesome. In my interview with Silas West from a few months ago, he speaks about this silencing of those who report spiritual abuse:

“What I frequently see,” he says, “is a concerted effort to silence the problem in order to get on to business as usual—but the problem that is getting silenced is the victim, not the abuser or the abusive culture.”

All of us long to be heard, but we don’t always want to listen. In the church community we have come up with some words and phrases that we use to keep others quiet. They’re things we should be cautious of when we hear them, and we should be careful when we consider saying them ourselves. Here are a few:

Gossip
This is one that A Life Overseas‘ Jonathan Trotter points out in Serving Well: Help for the Wannabe, Newbie, or Weary Cross-cultural Christian Worker, in the chapter “Four Tools of Spiritual Manipulators.” “Manipulators,” he writes, “will use a w i d e definition of gossip—and apply it liberally” to any kind of “negative talk.” After pointing out the sinfulness of gossip, “they magically remove their own responsibility to deal with the truth.”

“Be aware that despite all the preaching and teaching on gossip, a concrete definition will be absent,” he says.

But what happens when a concrete definition is present? Well, even then it depends on what it is and how it’s used. When you hear someone defining and condemning gossip, ask yourself what their motivation is. Is it correcting detrimental behaviors and guiding others to address problems in a better way? Or is it exerting control, shaping the narrative, and making sure that only those in leadership are allowed to discuss difficult issues? Is it being used by those in power to protect themselves and a broken status quo?

The best definitions I’ve heard of gossip* deal with the attitude and intent of the “gossiper.” I think we should use the same test for the ones applying the label.

Matthew 18
Jesus teaches on a number of topics in the 18th chapter of Matthew, but “Matthew 18” is often shorthand for Jesus’ teaching on how to handle a fellow Christian who has committed a sin. First, Jesus says, go to the person one-on-one. If the person doesn’t listen and repent, take one or two others with you. If that doesn’t work, tell the church.

Jesus gives this direction to show us how to deal with sin at progressive levels, with the aim of restoring our brothers and sisters. It should not be flipped on its head and enforced against an accuser to let abuse continue in the shadows.

Not all complaints involve confronting sin, and not all sins can be easily confronted alone, face-to-face—such as when an abuser holds complete authority over the other person or when there is danger in approaching an abuser in private. Also, in cases of abuse, having an individual listen to you and admit their wrong won’t be enough to rectify the situation, especially when others are being harmed or are at risk.

But that doesn’t stop some people from saying that if you don’t follow Matthew 18 to the letter, your accusations are invalid. Transgressions should not be allowed to continue simply because they were reported in the “wrong” way.

Root of bitterness
Hebrews 12:15 says, “See to it that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many” (NIV).

Hebrews’ “bitter root” (or “root of bitterness,” as in some translations) harkens back to Deuteronomy 29:18, where we read, “Make sure there is no man or woman, clan or tribe among you today whose heart turns away from the Lord our God to go and worship the gods of those nations; make sure there is no root among you that produces such bitter poison” (NIV).

While this speaks of the bitter (or poisonous) root as one or more people who lead others astray, today we often hear it applied to “bitterness” fostered in ones heart, an anger that one refuses to release. In this way, root of bitterness can become another label that shuts down discourse. “You need to forgive and forget,” they say. “You need to let go of your grudge.” “You need to quit living in the past and move on.” “You need to kill the bitter root inside of you.”

Yes, there are passages in the Bible that warn against resentful and unforgiving attitudes, but I don’t think that’s the focus of this one. And yet it is so easily applied to quickly silence, and shift blame to, the accuser.

Protect the work
When abuse, or another wrong, is threatened to be exposed, there may be those who want to cover it up for the sake of the ministry. “If this gets out, ” they will say, “we’ll all be sent home. That’s what the enemy wants, and what will happen to God’s work then?”

And if the work is successful, the voices may deny the accusations on the grounds that the methods or workers can’t be bad or God wouldn’t be blessing them. But the enemy is present in the sin and the coverup. The Spirit is present in bringing the truth to light so that repentance and healing can occur. God’s work can handle the exposing of sin. Exposing sin is part of God’s work.

To be clear, there is danger in ignoring any of the instructions referenced above. Gossip (as presented in the Bible) is wrong, Matthew 18 should be followed, bitterness should be guarded against, and good work is worth protecting. But when someone uses such words as wholesale labels to quickly shut down any unwanted complaints, that is a misuse of them for one’s own ends.

I’ve presented the above examples of what abuse victims should not accept as reasons for being silenced. Now I’d like to shift gears somewhat and talk about some more-benign phrases that I often hear that are more broadly used by those in leadership. If you’re a leader, please be careful if you find these part of your vocabulary. What you’re wanting to say may not be what is received by those you’re saying it to.

I don’t do drama
“I don’t do drama” can sound a lot like “I don’t do people.” Off-the-shelf people typically come with issues and conflicts and problems. Issues and conflicts and problems are sometimes difficult to deal with, but that’s part of what leadership is about. It’s not just taking care of the work, it’s also taking care of the people doing the work. While over-the-top theatrics should be minimized, drama should not be invoked to dismiss and belittle those with struggles and complaints.

Stop the complaints
I’m glad that my doctor doesn’t chide me for my complaining. Instead, she types into her notes something like, “Patient complained of a sore throat,” not “Ahhh, this time it’s throat pain. Every time it’s complaining, complaining, complaining!” No, our coworkers aren’t our patients, but we should be attentive to the problems they bring up. If all someone does is complain, then that attitude can be addressed, but it’s not sufficient to say that complaining in and of itself is wrong. I’ve been in several situations where we’ve discussed giving people a forum to voice their opinions, and someone will say, “We don’t want it to be all complaining and have it turn into a gripe session.” My thought is that if there’s that much to complain about, we probably need a gripe session. The focus should be on finding ways to remedy the problems, rather than on labeling, and condemning, the way the messages are being delivered.

Don’t bring me problems without solutions
Again, I’m glad this isn’t in my doctor’s repertoire of phrases. When someone is in over their head, they’re often not equipped to know how to dig their way out. Maybe those higher up, with more experience and wisdom, know the answer. Maybe collaboration can lead to a fix. Maybe just talking through it will help sort it out. Some issues should be figured out independently, but telling someone to solve everything on their own will lead to isolation, distrust, and frustration.

I want results, not excuses
Excuses is another word we redefine to end discussion. But one person’s excuse is another person’s legitimate reason for not being able to get something done. Excuses aren’t always valid, but often they are. And we won’t be able to determine that unless we listen.

Yes, listen—as in being quick to listen, à la James 1:19. When I hear West say that abusive cultures don’t want to listen but instead want to silence victims and get back to “business as usual,” I think of the song title “Shut Up and Dance.” Some ministry or workplace cultures could adopt that as their mantra. In that case, the tune for the dance is set by unhealthy systems.

When we listen to each other, though, even to things that are uncomfortable or worrying, we can work together to hear God through each other’s voices. In that way, we can get in step with God’s beautiful melody, as messy as it may be to get there. And that’s a song worth dancing to.

*Gossip is a word that’s easier to apply than it is to define. It’s originally from the Old English godsibb, which means “a kinsman in the Lord,” or “godparent.” Later, it came to mean someone who reveals intimate or personal details of a closely related friend or relative. Biblical usage expands on that meaning, and translations of the Bible interchange gossip with words such as whisperer, scandal monger, talebearer, and slanderer.

[photo: “shh!” by Ann, used under a Creative Commons license]

5 Digital Rules for Missionaries

by Naomi Johnston

In a world of increasing busyness and distraction, even in the missional sense, the digital world pulls us into its steady stream of consciousness, asking for as much as we can give, and then some. We are sorely mistaken if we think that as ministry workers we will avoid this. In fact, I find it more common that as we lose control of much of our surroundings and personal choices, we tend to try to take some control back by allowing ourselves freedoms in our personal time.

I personally struggle with my tendency to finish all my jobs, tidy my house to a reasonable standard (sometimes), and then flop onto my couch, phone in hand, for some “well-deserved me-time.” Far be it from me to discredit the comfort that provides. Rather I would like to challenge the lack of conscious thought around this and how we can implement healthy boundaries to perhaps better enjoy both the distraction itself and the life we lead outside of the screen.

I’ve been reading a lot on this in a general sense, and I liked some of the boundaries given by people who are thinking and working in this space constantly on behalf of the church. John Mark Comer has wrestled through this problem himself and seems to have found himself in a better place, if not on the other side of this possible addiction. Strahan constantly calls the wider church to return to contemplative practices regularly in life, sometimes more clearly calling us to leave our screens behind for a time. And there’s an ample supply of writers calling us to spiritual disciplines that ask us to ‘step away’ from normal life to encounter silence, and sometimes perhaps God’s voice.

So here I’ve collected a few of these and applied them to the missional life. I hope it comes as a call, an encouraging hand held out to help you set up some boundary lines around your life, as I continue to attempt this myself.

 

1. Take digital breaks as self-care.

Personally, struggle street for me is what I have fondly nicknamed ‘witching hour’—the hours before sleep when the child has settled down, the jobs and the eating have been done, and what’s left is to relax and settle in for the night. This is usually when the doomscrolling happens, sometimes eating away literal hours of my evening, to my deep shame.

One of the habits that has allowed me to reclaim some of this time is the action of ‘putting my phone to bed.’ I first learned this phrase through Comer and mistook it to mean that the phone goes to bed when I do. But actually in The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, he writes about the practice of ‘parenting your phone’ which basically means putting your phone to bed before you do and making it sleep in—giving yourself time both in the evening and morning to live without your phone in hand. Insert horrified gasp here. But when this constant action becomes a habit, the spaaaaaace you feel mentally turns it into a self-rewarding habit.

Another digital break I have been regularly applying is the deletion of the doomscroll apps. I do this semi-regularly when I notice my use starting to creep up again. And by creep up again I mean when hours have literally been wasted over a month or so. I’m no saint; I haven’t been able to apply this discipline constantly and liberally, but it does work, and I have just now done it again. The relief is almost as immediate as the regret, but the regret doesn’t last as long.

 

2. Put your family first.

It’s tempting to get into a habit of always having your phone in hand, especially in the family moments. Nothing is more attractive to our newsletter readers and social media followers than a casual picture of the children playing in a foreign playground with tasty cultural differences littered around the scene. And yes, we should do that on occasion.

But what’s more difficult is that once the phone is out, it remains out for longer than we would like. And we get distracted by the notification that just popped up. And someone’s gran just replied to the last picture and all of a sudden you’re sucked back in.

One of the ways around this, I mentioned previously, is to remove the socials from your phone. It will allow you the chance to take the picture, save the memory and then get straight back to the family.

But another way to help is to have ‘Family Focus Hours’ where the screens once again get packed away, and that next hour or hours are spent with your family, paying attention to them and their needs.

Lastly on this note, don’t take everyone with you on holiday. Again, the memories are good to keep, so take the photos and videos, but don’t let the screens and the social media buzz that we get when we share exotic and new locations pull you back into that space while you’re there. Save it for afterwards if you must.

 

3. Consume wholesome content.

Now I know that when the word ‘wholesome’ comes out, we immediately move to thinking that I’m about to warn against unwholesome R16 or R18 movies and content. But I also want to warn against the impact of staying online ingesting miles and miles of newsfeed about what’s going on in the world.

A common note around digital and screen use is that mostly it’s all good, but the amount and the pace of ingestion are not always good. Staying on top of the news and keeping informed, great. Letting it inhabit every waking thought and scroll? Not so great.

The amount of mental and emotional energy I’ve given to the state of the world’s affairs has been a little over the top. I now limit myself to the occasional post by well-regarded journalists that might show up in my email inbox or on my Instagram. But I don’t scroll, and I don’t allow myself to wander down the rabbit hole . . . very often. Of course we will have times we want to follow the scent, but we need to limit when and where.

Our jobs as missionaries and cross-cultural workers rely on our ability to be in hard situations and be able to focus on the good. The news cycle often works in the opposite spirit. Our job is to unify cultures in one way or another; don’t allow yourself to be dragged over to the other side.

 

4. Purpose before play.

Don’t spend your online energy on junk content before you get around to doing your work.

Some of us have the privilege of representing our work to the countries we have been sent from. We have to take what we are experiencing in terms of the work God is doing where we are, and we are privileged to share that with our sending churches and communities.

But sometimes, when it comes time to write and share, our mental capacity for that has been slowly leaking out through the days and weeks in other online interactions, and we have no energy for the supporting communities that have been partnering with us to get us there!

This is yet another reason why ‘parenting your phone’ is a good boundary. Save your screen time for when it matters most. Don’t squander time on entertainment or disengaging. Use it wisely—it’s not a never-ending resource.

 

5. Be where your feet are.

We have given up so much to be where we are. Some of us have given up dreams, homes, family, possessions, relationships, potential relationships, the list could go on.

Why should we now get to where we are and use that time looking back over our shoulder at what was, or looking over someone else’s shoulder at what they have, or the state of the world where they are?

Guys, be where your feet are. Invest in the community you have. Share meals with the people who live next door. Run your child’s daily energy out at the playground and look other parents in the eye.

We have been given such a great gift, and to squander it on digital disengagement is frustratingly normal. Let’s push back on that and continue to strengthen the discipline of being present.

We’re not truly honouring the place we are and learning from the new culture if we’re constantly disengaging and disassociating. Dig your toes in. Plant firmly. Put your phone down.

None of us will do this perfectly. Screens and social media are woven deeply into our work and our lives now. But small boundaries can make a big difference. A few simple habits can slowly return our attention to the people, places, and calling God has placed right in front of us.

~~~~~~~~~~

Naomi Johnston is a photographer, designer, and writer from New Zealand serving in Europe with One Mission Society. Together with her husband and daughter, she is part of a missionary community working across Europe and the Middle East. Through photography and writing, Naomi shares stories from the field and reflects on faith, culture, and life in cross-cultural ministry. She writes regularly at www.thejohnstonjourney.com and can also be found on Facebook and Instagram as @thejohnstonjourney.

Confronting Risk and Managing Fear in the Uncertainty of War

by Anna Hampton

The uncertainty and danger of war, along with the threat of conflict, often trigger deep fear. Armed clashes, devastating strikes, and expanding regional involvement have made fear a daily reality for millions. Seeing weapons in the sky, cities battered by disruptions, and chaos spreading through economies and families stirs strong emotions. Images of smoke, evacuation orders, and increasing volatility activate our natural instinct to protect what we hold dear, reminding us how little we truly control.

Fear, though natural, need not freeze us. History shows that Christ followers in war have found ways to face risks without succumbing to dread. How do we recognize today’s dangers—strategic escalations, humanitarian suffering, financial shocks—while building resilience to handle them? The difference between failure and endurance often depends on how we respond to fear, assess threats, and develop a mindset that allows Christ followers to act wisely during chaos.

Threat Regulation and Neurobiology of Hope

In war, our brains activate alarms. The amygdala floods us with stress and worry, urging us to avoid danger. This survival system works in real emergencies, but when threats feel endless, it can leave us overwhelmed.[1]

While feeling fear is part of being human, it doesn’t have to define us. Hope travels through different brain pathways, especially the prefrontal cortex, which manages planning, motivation, and thinking about the future. Hope encourages us to set goals, find solutions, and believe we can take meaningful steps even during difficult times.

Research shows that people with stronger hope have brain patterns that support action and motivation, including changes in areas linked to turning intentions into concrete steps and focusing on positive possibilities. The prefrontal cortex also helps calm the fear response, making it easier to think and act wisely.[2]

Here’s the encouraging truth: hope is not the opposite of fear — it is its powerful partner. While fear yells, “Danger!” hope quietly says, “You still have a future.” By focusing on small, manageable actions — like daily routines, helping others, or taking one step toward daily responsibilities — we actively train our brains to shift from panic to purpose.[3]

Fear is a natural part of threats, so it’s normal to engage in both fear management and threat analysis. While fear may come easily, hope is something we choose to pursue, especially when chaos and suffering feel overwhelming. Hope requires practice. Often, it’s a moment-by-moment effort to hold onto hope. Choosing to focus our minds on hope in Christ instead of our fear is an act of righteousness. Even amid conflict, Christ followers, with God’s help, can choose courage and take action. Moving forward involves choosing hope—one thought, one prayer, one step at a time.

How to Manage Fear in Uncertainty

A helpful tool for managing fear during war and uncertain times is the NAME acrostic.[4] First, clearly identify and write down your fears, ranking them from least to most intense. Then, ask yourself: if this fear came true, what would be the worst part, and how would it affect you emotionally and physically? Next, reflect on Meaning and Imagination: visualize where God would be in the situation, how He might bring purpose from the pain, and imagine Jesus interceding for you with compassion (Romans 8:34, Hebrews 7:25). Finally, entrust your fears to God through prayer, asking for His help and the courage to take one small, obedient step forward. (Editor’s note: see the Resources section for guided articles, videos, and worksheets of the NAME acrostic tool.)

This process of focused attention does several things at once: it strengthens the hope neuro pathway, weakens the anxiety (fear) neuro pathway, nurtures a secure attachment to God, and builds courage by shifting focus from threat to trust. By practicing this process for 10-12 seconds at a time, neuron by neuron, we can change our brain. In difficult times, naming and trusting fear prevents it from paralyzing us, enabling clearer thinking and hopeful action.

Moral Decision-Making During Uncertainty and the Threat of Death

When war brings deep uncertainty and the shadow of death, ethical choices can feel paralyzing. How do we make wise decisions when information is limited and fear is high? There are two key skills that help with this: first, threat assessment; and second, ethical decision-making that incorporates three decision-making aspects. These skills should not be used solely by the security specialist on the team. All team members will benefit from becoming better equipped in this area.

In Leadership and Ethical Responsibility: The Three Aspects of Every Decision, Thomas Schirrmacher demonstrates that the Bible never pits the three aspects of ethical decisions against each other. Mature Christian ethics consistently integrate them: the normative (God’s clear commandments), the situational (practical wisdom), and the existential (heart and conscience).

The normative aspect grounds us in unchanging biblical values—love for God and neighbor, the sanctity of life, and truth and justice. Even during a crisis, we ask, “What does Scripture require?” The situational aspect calls for wisdom: evaluating the real context, limited options, consequences, and seeking counsel—without needing perfect foresight or abandoning God’s standards. The existential aspect touches the heart—internalizing decisions before God with a clear conscience, genuine trust, and love.

Facing death requires genuine surrender: a willingness to entrust our lives to God, refusing to act solely out of panic or self-preservation. Ignoring any part of ethics results in unbalanced decisions. Combining all three aspects brings clarity, courage, and confidence. In times of uncertainty, this balance allows us to act with integrity, compassion, and hope—trusting the outcome to the One who holds our lives.

Who Is My Enemy? Nationalism, Syncretism, and Christian Hospitality

In wartime, uncertainty often heightens the question: “Who is my enemy?” Governments, media, and national loyalties quickly provide the answer—yet as followers of Christ, we must evaluate every answer against Scripture rather than simply accept the state’s definition.

Normatively, the Bible clearly states: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). The command to love God and neighbor (Matthew 22:37-39) extends beyond national borders. Treating another nation as an enemy simply because our government labels them as such is not biblical ethics; it is syncretism—merging Christianity with nationalism until the flag and the cross become indistinguishable. This distorts the gospel, which proclaims in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female” (Galatians 3:28).

Situationally, wisdom evaluates threats without exaggeration or demonization. Evil exists, and governments bear the sword (Romans 13:4). But wisdom recognizes when fear inflates “the enemy” to justify hatred. History shows Christians have baptized wars as holy, only to later repent for endorsing hate.

Existentially, the heart and conscience must be shaped by the cross. Jesus welcomed the Samaritan, the Roman centurion, and Judas. Hospitality—welcoming strangers, feeding the hungry, sheltering the displaced—is not optional in hostile times (Hebrews 13:2; Matthew 25:35-40). It is obedience. When fear whispers that the “other side” is irredeemable, we respond with Christ’s mindset: our true enemy is not flesh and blood, but the powers of darkness (Ephesians 6:12). Every person remains an image-bearer loved by the same Savior. In the fog of war, this truth frees us from hatred and calls us to courageous hospitality. Fear labels enemies; Christ names neighbors. We choose His voice.

War and Trauma

Trauma reveals knowledge we were not meant to carry, but how we handle war trauma shapes not only our healing but also what we pass on to future generations.[5] The challenge is to see trauma as the opposite of God’s beauty and choose how we process it instead of being overwhelmed by it.

Modern ethics and mental health often reverse the order of the transcendentals (Truth, Goodness, Beauty). Western thought emphasizes truth (facts, rationality) first, then goodness (rules), while downplaying beauty. This reversal disadvantages trauma victims.

Appeals to “the war is over” (truth) or “you should act this way now” (goodness) rarely reach the traumatized. Author Timothy Patitsas considers trauma to be more than just psychological damage—it is a profound anti-theophany, an overwhelming confrontation with ugliness that resembles a false revelation.[6]

It reveals a “truth” that the world is malevolent or indifferent, that God is unloving, and that fellow humans are enemies. This shatters communion (with self, others, and God), unravels character, and embeds a heretical lie deep in the heart that cannot simply be reasoned or moralized away. Victims often remain in a kind of communion with this false knowledge.

Trauma disrupts the integrating, life-giving power of liturgy and genuine beauty. Healing through a “beauty-first” approach requires restoring a focus on beauty, grounded in orthodox spirituality. True Beauty—ultimately Christ and His incarnate, cruciform love—serves as a true reflection of the divine. It reorients the soul by presenting a powerful new view of reality that challenges the ugly “revelation” of trauma. Trauma victims need to fall in love with Beauty before they can be guided back toward righteous moral direction. Beauty unites the fractured self, restores communion, and makes truth and goodness livable again.

Trauma recovery is connected to overall soul-healing. Only by recognizing and emulating true Beauty (which leads to Goodness and Truth) can the soul’s deepest scars from ugliness be healed, and the lies of a godless, hostile world be unraveled.

God’s Spirit Over Chaos

The chaos of Genesis 1 still threatens Earth. But God’s Spirit remains, like a mother hovering over her young. Christ is here. Our Father is not caught off guard by your circumstances as you read this. My heart reaches out to you, whatever you’re facing, as your sister in Christ, to encourage you to stay alert, stand firm, and trust that His hand is on your shoulder, and He will faithfully provide all you need in the real and present danger you or your loved ones face. —Anna

Additional Resources

Fear Management for Adults from Anna Hampton:
Fear Management for Adults Article
Fear Management Video
N.A.M.E. Tool for Adults

Fear Management for Teens from Anna Hampton:
Fear Management for Teens Article
Dealing with Fear Video
Fear worksheet (used in video)

Fear Management for Children from Anna Hampton:
Fear Management Children 5-12 Article
Fear Management for Kids 5-12 Facilitator Guide
Facing Fears Worksheet for Children

Risk Tolerance Inventory from Anna Hampton (available in multiple languages)

Articles from Scott Brawner:
The Watchman’s Brief
Thresholds for Departure and Benchmarks for Return
Individual Stay-Go Assessment

Notes
[1] Marek et al., 2013, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3678031/.
[2] Delgado et al., 2008, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3061554/.
[3] Sharot et al., 2012, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3424419/.
[4] Hampton, Anna. Facing Fear. 2023. William Carey Publishing.
[5] Levinson, Leila. Gated Grief. 2011. Cable Publishing.
[6] Patitsas, Timothy. Ethics of Beauty. 2019. St. Nicholas Press.

~~~~~~~~~~

Anna Hampton is a global risk consultant and specialist in a theology of risk. She has over thirty years of ministry experience, raised her family in Afghanistan and Turkey, and serves with Barnabas International, providing pastoral support to Christ followers working in dangerous areas. This article is based on her books, Facing Danger: A Guide Through Risk, 2nd ed. (William Carey Publications, 2024) and Facing Fear: The Journey to Mature Courage in Risk and Persecution (William Carey Publications, 2023). She is currently writing Facing Persecution: The Spirituality and Ethics of Loving Your Enemy. Hampton holds a doctorate in religious studies from Trinity Theological Seminary (Newburgh). She can be contacted at TheologyofRisk.com, on Instagram as @Theology.of.Risk, and via email at anna.hampton@barnabas.org.

An Open Letter to Relatives of Workers in Conflict Zones

Dear parent or sibling of a loved one living in a conflict zone,

I see you. Oh how I see you. I see you grabbing your phone before you are even out of bed to see what happened overnight in the Middle East and find reassurances that your family there is okay. I see you wondering why they haven’t gotten on an airplane and come back “home” to safety. I see you texting them, asking them several times a week (several times a day maybe?) “How are you? How are the kids? What do you need?” 

I know the many what ifs in your head. I know the plans you’ve made to get the house ready, “just in case.” 

You are weary after the last three years of wars in the Middle East, especially. You said goodbye years ago and have kept saying goodbye every time your loved ones come on home assignment or you visit them. You miss your kids and grandkids, and this added component of instability (again!) feels like maybe a bit too much.

You are struggling to understand why your dear ones are making the decisions they are, decisions that may be putting them at risk. The government is even calling Westerners to leave the region — why are they not heeding that call? 

A Little Reassurance 

First I want to reassure you by saying that most organizations that send workers overseas are really well trained in how to handle security issues for their workers in country. Not only do they have really accurate intel on security, but many have trained their workers in how to assess risks and how to stay safe when they are overseas.

Most teams usually have contingency plans in place, with different levels of care depending on the nature of the threat. When war in a region breaks out, the safest thing isn’t always to run away and leave your home. There are many other things to consider, and usually workers on the ground are doing very heavy lifting of considering all those things with their spouses, children, teammates, leaders, and organizations. 

In the United States’ case (and I am guessing this is true of other countries as well) the State Department has a “no double standard” policy that if their embassies and official U.S. personnel in a foreign country are in danger, and they are pulling them out of the country, they need to share with non-official U.S. citizens the potential threat. But when an embassy is attacked and personnel is evacuated, it doesn’t necessarily mean that every single Westerner needs to leave that region. 

We may feel urgency when we hear that the State Department has issued a call for everyone to leave a conflict zone, but it doesn’t mean that if someone chooses to stay they are in immediate danger or that they are doing something foolish. The government is covering their bases, but each unit/family gets to decide what is best for their family and specific situation. For a team, there may be units that need to leave, and we bless that. And on that same team, there are others who will choose to stay, and we bless that too. Each unit needs to prayerfully seek the wisdom of the Lord for their specific lives.

Remember too, that your relatives are not tourists stuck in a foreign land. They likely speak the local language, know how to navigate their cities, and know which areas to avoid when there is unrest. They have access to food and water, have a local community linking arms with them, and have rhythms of safety in place. Simply said, they have made their home in that land. Sometimes the actual lived experience of people on the ground is very different from the one that is reported on the news, and it is much less disruptive for families to stay put, for their kids to continue to go to school and keep a sense of normalcy. 

So I hope these things help you feel more at ease — that your relatives are likely trained and are being led by others who value their safety and have contingency plans in place. And that staying in the region might be far better in the longer term for your relatives than uprooting their families and lives for an indeterminate period of time. 

Two Tips Backed by Brain Science 

At the same time, I don’t want to minimize the impact of this situation on you. You are experiencing real distress and concern for your relatives, and when our nervous systems are activated, we often feel the need to reach out and to do something. And that makes so much sense. 

Something to understand, though, is that our nervous systems don’t exist in a vacuum. They are wired to communicate with each other. God has given us mirror neurons that respond to what we observe in others.

When you share a lot of anxiety and deep fear about your loved ones and their decisions, their nervous systems pick up on that. And instead of you being able to be a safe space for them in their vulnerability, they feel the stress and burden of caring for you and your emotional response to the situation. It is also hard for them when they sense that their judgment and their ability to make wise calls is being questioned. 

I know you want to love well, and I know you want to be a safe space for your loved ones. So in light of how God created our nervous systems and how they communicate with each other, I want to share a couple of tips on how to interact:

1.) Communicate confidence in God’s guidance and in your relatives’ discernment and capacity to follow the Spirit as they follow Christ. They don’t need to hear what you think they need to do. They don’t need to hear deep fear. Please remember they are walking a tightrope and that their stress levels are already high. They feel the extreme responsibility of caring for their children and those in their care. In that space, they need a listening ear, they need validation that what they are experiencing is hard, and they also need reminders that they are not alone and that however God leads them, God will be faithful. Your confidence in God is one of the best gifts you can give to them in this season. 

2.) If you realize that your nervous system is activated, name it and move the energy in your body, preferably before having interaction with your loved ones. Take care of yourself first and of your emotional capacity, so that you have the capacity to be there for them. Do breathing exercises, go on a walk, call a safe friend that will be tender with you.

A Comforting Presence 

Lastly, dear relative, I know you know this — we have a Shepherd who is with us and who serves us a feast even in the presence of our enemies (Psalm 23). He knows you and sees you as you care for and carry heaviness over people you dearly love. He is with you in this valley. 

The song “Surrounded” by Josh Garrels has been such a huge blessing to me. Remembering our generous host, Jesus, who has given us Himself to be our feast through His body and blood is how we fight our battles. We take the bread and drink the wine, we believe He has overcome, we praise Him, and we wait for Him to deliver us and our loved ones. 

Surely goodness and mercy are pursuing you specifically as someone who loves people in a conflict zone. You matter, and your love for your kids, grandkids, siblings, or parents is a beautiful, good thing. The Lord honors that love. Your love goes around all those precious people and even better, our Triune God’s love goes around all of you, all at the same time. In the presence of such a God, our tender hearts rest. 

And if you are not a relative but you know of relatives of people overseas, reach out to them. Ask them how they are holding up. Show them that you see them. Ask for specific, tangible ways you can help. Sometimes reaching out to these relatives is the best way you can serve workers overseas. Reaching out to them directly may be overwhelming. But letting their families know they are not forgotten is a gift they will not soon forget. 

May you sense tangibly how held you are,
Lilly 

How do I help a missionary kid who is hurting herself?

I sat in an empty classroom at a Christian international school. A tenth-grade girl perched on a desk, head lowered, hair covering her face, heels kicking back and forth.

Her parents were missionaries. Her mother taught at the school to cover tuition. Earlier in the day, another teacher noticed fresh cuts high on her thigh. It wasn’t the first time. 

She said she was okay. She said she’d stop. They didn’t believe her. They knew she needed to talk to someone. She refused to see the guidance counsellor – but said she’d talk to me.

She didn’t look at me as she explained her perspective, trusting me to understand. She didn’t want anyone to worry. She really was okay. She had no intention to actually hurt herself. 

Cutting gave her clarity. It quieted the chaos of her emotions long enough for her to focus on schoolwork. It wasn’t the first time a teenage TCK had told me that.

Missionary Kids and Self-harm

Mental health challenges are common among missionary kids. Naming this does not mean we need to panic – and there is good news. Before we discuss the good news, let’s look at the stats.

According to TCK Training’s 2024 survey of 1,643 TCKs, 83% of missionary kids experienced symptoms of at least one mental health concern during their lifetime. Among Gen Z missionary kids, 79% experienced symptoms during childhood (before age 18).

Self-harm is defined as intentionally causing harm to oneself, whether or not there is suicidal intent. A large portion of self-harm falls under non-suicidal self-injury (NSSI), which includes behaviours such as cutting or burning.

A 2019 study spanning 41 countries found that around 22% of children and adolescents globally had engaged in self-harm, with onset most commonly around age 13. Cutting was the most frequent method (Lim et al., 2019).

When we compare this to what missionary kids report, we see:

  • 22% of children globally self-harmed before age 18.
  • 18% of missionary kids overall self-harmed before age 18.
  • 29% of Gen Z missionary kids self-harmed before age 18.

While these are different studies with different parameters, the message is clear: The missionary lifestyle does not provide immunity from self-harm or other mental health challenges.

Effective Prevention of Self-harm

These numbers are sobering, but they are not the end of the story. There are things we can do now to lower the risk of self-harm in our missionary kids.

TCK Training’s research consistently shows that Positive Childhood Experiences (PCEs) are strongly associated with lower rates of self-harm among TCKs, including missionary kids.

  • Missionary kids with 5-7 PCEs were 59% less likely to self-harm in childhood than those with 0-4.
  • Only 7% of missionary kids with all 7 PCEs self-harmed during childhood.
  • Gen Z missionary kids with all 7 PCEs were 82% less likely to self-harm than those with 0-2 PCEs.

PCEs have a huge impact, but they are not magic nor are they overly complicated. They are just indicators of emotionally safe homes, supportive friendships, and connected communities.

From a TCK’s point of view, the seven PCEs are:

  • I receive emotional support at home (my feelings are heard and accepted).
  • My family stands by me in difficult times.
  • An adult in my home makes me feel safe and protected.
  • There are two non-parent adults in my life who take a genuine interest in me.
  • I enjoy participating in community traditions.
  • I feel supported by friends.
  • I feel a sense of belonging during my teen years.

Each one of these matters. They aren’t difficult, but they require intentionality – especially when global mobility and cross-cultural living is involved. (Learn more about PCEs with this free course on Implementing PCEs.)

Responding to Self-harm

How adults respond to a struggling child matters, both before and after a child discloses. The way we talk about emotions, stress, faith, and struggle teaches children whether we are ‘safe’ people with whom to share their inner struggles. Many young people ‘test’ potential helpers by sharing smaller concerns first. If those are brushed off, the larger problems stay hidden. 

Most TCKs I’ve worked with who self-harmed fell into the non-suicidal self-injury (NSSI) category. They knew it wasn’t exactly healthy, but believed it was the least harmful way they knew to cope. That means our first response should not be panic or control, but curiosity. (That’s one of the four Safe Space Responses – access a free course on them here.)

Trying to stop behaviour without understanding why it developed rarely leads to lasting change. Non-judgmental listening allows us to uncover the emotions underneath and opens the door to healthier coping strategies. Next we connect the young person and their family with professional support, a crucial tool for long-term wellbeing. 

That’s what I did in that classroom. I listened. I asked questions. I helped her imagine a life where the stress didn’t pile so high she felt she needed a blade to get through it.

Together, we created a plan: mentoring, regular counselling, and a mediated meeting with the school to reduce academic pressure. Then we shared that plan with her mother.

Anyone Can Learn to Support an MK in Need

For anyone who regularly spends time with missionary kids – whether pastors, teachers, mentors, family friends, and even parents themselves – training matters. You don’t need to become a therapist, but you do need tools. I highly recommend both Youth Mental Health First Aid for TCKs and Suicide Intervention for TCKs.

To go deeper, there is Groundwork for anyone who interacts with TCKs regularly, which includes both the YMHFA and Suicide Intervention certifications, and TCK Crisis Care Training. 

Because missionary kids don’t need us to be perfect. They need us to be prepared when they are ready to reach out.

 

Note: If your family or a family you care about is in crisis, don’t wait. You are not alone, and support is available. Finding a licensed therapist your child feels comfortable with is critical for long-term wellbeing. Here is a great list of TCK-informed therapists you can refer to for assistance. The Season of Crisis Toolbox is also a great starting point for working out how to support your family as a whole while navigating difficult seasons together.

Making Friends While Serving Solo

by Esther Harder

Being a single woman on the mission field is tough.

I volunteered abroad in Uganda with a faith-based development organization for four years straight out of college. Serving overseas was something I had been looking forward to my entire life; it was a dream-fulfillment scenario for the missionary kid in me who just wanted to return to the familiar smells, sounds, and lifeways found in Africa.

My optimism about how great my assignment was going to be sailed me through my weeklong orientation session in the States without deeply considering the challenges of serving solo. While I do remember attending a session or two on security protocols in our placements, including one on identifying and reporting sexual harassment, I did not anticipate just how lonely I would feel and how hard it would be to make friends as a twenty-something single white woman in Uganda.

In my life up to that point, I leaned into my interests to make friends. But there was a mismatch between my interests and the typical (accepted) interests of Ugandan women my age. At the time, I was a sports fanatic. I thrived in competitive settings and felt most at home in my body while sweating under a scoreboard.

At home, I had a healthy mix of male and female friends. One of my first questions after I had settled into Soroti Town was where young people went to play sports. My hosts took me to the sports ground, an open multi-use field near the government offices which contained areas for volleyball, netball, soccer, and squash. I was in for three of those, netball being outside my frame of reference as an American — was that a broken basketball hoop?

I entered the grounds with great anticipation, sure that I would find friends. The problem was that the majority of the players who gathered in the evenings were men. And my presence garnered a lot of unwanted attention.

It was difficult to be “of marriageable age” but uninterested in marriage. It was also difficult to represent a country that markets female sexuality and availability in the bulk of its media and have my disinterest read as a genuine “no.”

I was an anomaly. And anomalies tend to garner more interest, not less. So, while I would have loved to compete every evening on the sports ground, I knew it wouldn’t get me closer to developing the secure friendships I sought; I had to find where the women my age hung out.

That’s where things got even tougher. It turned out that most Ugandan women of my age and socioeconomic status were either in a degree program in a larger city or were established in a home with so many responsibilities that they were generally unavailable to “just hang out.” The fact that I had leisure time was another anomaly.

I reflected on these challenges with my host mother one evening, joining her on the mat she had pulled out into the shade. Stretching her aging legs in front of her and sitting ramrod straight beside a basin of peanuts, she began shelling what she needed for the peanut sauce that evening.

I, too, sat, spread my skirt to cover my knees, and mimicked her motions, scooping up a handful of peanuts, popping them open, dropping the shells to the mat and the nuts into her basin. Along with the peanuts, my story opened; I laid out my challenges for my host mother to see. How could I make genuine friendships with people my age?

“You can do this,” she said, motioning to our shared work. “You can visit your friends and join what they are doing. There’s always work to do; it is lighter when we do it together.”

This was the key. So straightforward. So actionable. But not easy. Internally, I had to wrestle with my deeply held “shoulds” that raged against women having to do the bulk of the unpaid labor in the household. But if I wanted friends, I needed to meet them where they were, and where they were was in the laboring.

Additionally, I needed women to trust me enough to allow me into that work space, and that meant moving from official visitor status into potential friend status: from formal sitting room and finest china to tea in a chipped mug out back on the mat shelling peanuts and sharing stories.

I tried this out with my language teacher, Rose, the woman I had grown closest to. We would sit side by side on her couches, holding a primer between us — I, struggling to string new words together; she, patient and encouraging. There always came a point where the lesson blended into evening tea, and Rose would usually excuse herself to gather the hot water flask, the tea leaves, and the accompanying treat — banana, boiled egg, bread with fresh peanut butter.

The first time I asked if I could help with the tea, she froze. I could read her indecision on her still face as she considered the ramifications of her response.

Allowing me to the back of her house meant that I would see that she didn’t have a cabinet for her dishes but kept them neatly stacked on a plastic rack in her pantry that also held a giant sack of charcoal for her outdoor cook stove and several sacks of dried sweet potatoes and peanuts, a testament to her latest harvest. Allowing me to the back of her house meant that I would notice that the reason we usually moved outside to take our evening tea was because her house had no electricity. Allowing me to the back of her house made our curiosity, expectations, and judgment of one another take on new depth.

What courage it took for Rose to say yes, to show me where she kept her tea things, to chat evenly all the while, though internally she was likely wondering what I was about to say or ask next. All I had hope for was the possibility of sharing deeper, truer stories about our lives. Of becoming friends. I held Rose’s yes with such tenderness, not wanting to shatter this generous extension of trust.

The fact that Rose said yes and handed me the tea tray transformed my life in Uganda from one on the periphery as a visitor to one where I was included and even expected to do the dishes from time to time. Through our friendship, our time together expanded. Rose taught me to crochet wonderfully detailed placemats. I taught her to play Rook, the Mennonite trick-taking card game. We cooked together, taking turns teaching one another our favorite dishes. We shifted most of our interactions outdoors, near the cook stove, reserving the sitting room for the days when we were hosting other friends, together.

What I learned in my friend-making adventures while serving solo is that I had to make an effort to demonstrate cultural understanding throughout the process. I had to leave the sports ground and find women in their homes. I had to spend time sharing food formally as an official visitor before I could make the audacious request of becoming a regular friend. And when that request was granted, everything and everyone felt a little more real in the best way possible. I might still have been serving solo, but I was no longer alone.

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Esther Harder manages the Substack Write Like an Outsider. She is a book coach who helps missionaries and expats transform their life journeys into stories that lead readers home. She served in Uganda from 2003-2008 and Rwanda from 2011-2012. Find out more about Esther on estherharder.com.