Chances are good if you attend church regularly, you’ve met a missionary family. And chances are even better that they’ve asked you for financial support.
I was sitting at the table this morning when my wife began recapping a story she’s been reading to our little ones.
It’s the story of a boy and his sheep (Mountain Born), but in this scene, the boy’s mentor is using another lamb to draw in wolves that have been decimating the larger flock.
Here I am, sitting in a hotel room more than 9,000 miles from my home in Tennessee, and I should be spending the evening reviewing and refreshing the material I plan to teach about 50 pastors tomorrow morning.
I recently received word that a friend and supporter of our ministry had died following a brief respite in hospice for brain cancer.
Slightly older than me, he had already lived years longer than the weeks, maybe months, doctors had given him. And while clean brain scans for much of that time gave him an appreciation for life that few of us will ever have, he used that period to tell people about the peace God had given him no matter what the outcome.
The Gospel is universal but the language we use to share it is not.
And that can at times make it difficult — so difficult that only the very grace of the God we’re trying to explain makes it possible.
I recently took a trip to visit my parents. Took most of the children with me so that my wife could finish a book project she’s been writing.
This isn’t the first time I’ve slipped away with the children but every time is different as they each get older.
As much as I’d like to escape some of my first-world problems while overseas, sadly I cannot.
Life just doesn’t stop here because I’m there.
There have been trips almost cut short because of fevers so high in one of the children they were having seizures. Other trips have been stopped before I even left the country due to emergency surgery.
I met Babita when she was 12, two years after we first placed her picture on our refrigerator.
It was the summer of 2009, and finally, yes, finally, after years of prayer, I was in Nepal, a country that God had placed in my heart before I ever knew a thing about it.
There she was, at a children’s home in Kathmandu, where she had come to stay a few years earlier. It was an awkward meeting in front of the other children, me handing her a teddy bear just like all the others that each of our children, who at that point numbered five, had tucked in their beds at home.
During my recent trip to Nepal, I spent a lot of time teaching and training young men and women who are preparing their lives for a future in ministry. Continue reading
God’s timing is a concept I don’t think I’ll ever understand.
Months ago, feeling the call to travel again to Haiti and take my son, Jack, with me, it was clear God was the one talking.