I’ve been thinking a lot about chains lately. Home assignment has a way of bringing certain things into view—changing pace enough to notice what may normally fall out of sight.
When you live overseas, it’s natural to focus on the immediate and often overwhelming needs of people and ministry right in front of you. But home assignment creates space to pause, look back, and remember that what happens “on the field” is only one part of a much bigger story.
Our organization’s director often talks about the “chain of the gospel”—the idea that each link represents individuals all working together to make missions possible. It’s a helpful picture, especially because it expands the way we often think of missionary work. We tend to picture the person on the front line sharing the gospel as the definition of what missions is, but in reality they are just one link in a much longer chain.
This “chain of the gospel” exists because the message itself was never meant to stay in one place. From the beginning, God’s heart has been for the whole world—every nation, every people group. Jesus’ command to go and make disciples of all nations wasn’t just for a few, but for every believer, each playing a part. We’re given a glimpse of the end of that story in Revelation: people from every tribe, language, and nation gathered around the throne in worship. That’s where this chain is leading.
Our family serves overseas in mission aviation. That’s our link in this gospel chain.
From our base in the highlands, our helicopters fly out over dense, jungle-covered mountain ranges in support of those serving in places where no road or airstrip exists. What happens in those remote villages can feel worlds away, yet it’s deeply connected to so many people. Every flight represents a network of individuals—pilots, mechanics, office staff, supportive family members, donors, prayer partners, and more.
A few months ago, a tribe on our island heard a clear presentation of the gospel message in their own language for the very first time. As I write, another tribe in another language group is studying through the just-translated book of 1 Corinthians. I often pause and try to imagine that moment, reading Paul’s letter for the first time and realizing its also meant for you. What would it feel like to sit on a faraway mountainside and hear the greeting of chapter 1 verse 2 to the church in Corinth—“Together with all those everywhere who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ”—and understand that “everywhere” includes your village?
It’s humbling. And it’s not the work of one person.
Years ago, during my first long-term experience in missions, I served onboard a hospital ship. One evening, the First Officer shared his testimony. His words have stayed with me ever since. He said simply, “I’m not a doctor or a preacher, but I can get them there safely.”
He clearly understood his link in the gospel chain.
That perspective has shaped how I see my own role, as well as how I see others. Last week my husband, my mom, and I had the opportunity to visit a ladies’ Bible study group here in the U.S. This small group of women coming together from several area churches decided to become prayer and financial supporters a few years ago.
One woman serves as the point person, coordinating monthly donations and regularly reaching out to ask how they can pray. Simple, faithful actions. But sitting with them, hearing their questions, feeling their genuine care didn’t feel small at all. It felt like coming home to friends.
Their prayers, encouragement, and financial support have carried us in ways we can’t fully express. As we shared stories from our last term, it was clear that these aren’t just our stories. The stories belong to them too.
These ladies understand their link in the gospel chain.
As we reconnect with friends and family, small groups and churches, a powerful truth comes into focus. The gospel moves forward through connections. Not everyone flies the helicopter. Not everyone translates Scripture. Not everyone preaches. But everyone has a place. All are needed.
The chain is only as strong as its links—and it’s a beautiful thing to realize that no link is insignificant. This isn’t about our individual roles, but about God drawing people from every corner of the world to Himself.
So, wherever you find yourself today, perhaps it’s worth asking, “What is my link?” And then faithfully, joyfully, step into it.
