As a kid, missionaries were my heroes. Their tales of adventure, stories of faith, and experiences of the supernatural realm and last-minute miracles made them seem larger than life to me. I certainly put them on a higher spiritual plane in my mind, somewhere between God himself and the great saints of the Bible.
Today, missionaries are still my heroes, but now that I am one myself I realize that none of us are extraordinary or more spiritual than anyone else. Being a missionary is more about being obedient enough to give up home and family and familiarity simply because you realize that God’s vision and mission are greater than your own. It’s about saying yes. Of course there is the initial yes, the big yes when you take that great step into the unknown and commit to serving the Lord in another culture or abroad, but there are also thousands of other yeses that must be said everyday. In the mundane, in the normal, in the difficult, and in the comfortable seasons are when the yeses sometimes matter the most.
I have been blessed to visit and be part of many churches that honor missionaries and feel privileged to give to and support missions work in local and foreign fields. It makes my heart happy to see my childhood and current heroes being honored and esteemed in this way. However, I feel that too often people from sending churches see missionaries the way I used to- as people who are far above the trials and temptations of everyday life, as people who are on their way to achieving well-deserved sainthood with their good, virtuous living and their great sacrifice.
The purpose of this blog series is to give you, the sending Church, a candid look at real missionaries and their true stories. As the stories unfold, you will share in the grief, the tough decisions, the heartache, and the passion of missionaries who are real people that have simply decided to say yes to God. At every twist and turn, you will see how God’s greatness and faithfulness is the common factor that sustains His servants and transforms the most difficult and dangerous situations into amazing revelations of His power and glory. As you read these stories, our hope is that you will realize that you also have what it takes to say yes to God’s mission. It is not only for those aspiring to sainthood, but it is for you. It is for the overwhelmed mom. The struggling student. The frustrated parent. The jealous sibling. The underachiever. The weakest of the weak. Because when it comes down to it, saying yes has nothing at all to do with you or your talents or your abilities or your current living situation. Its all about realizing how great God is and how worthy He and His mission are of your yes.
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
Winter is a season of waiting. Life seemingly slows to a crawl, and things become dormant. Breathing is labored, movement is slower, tears freeze. Cold permeates the senses. The world pauses, as if on edge. And yet, there is a feeling of expectation. A hidden promise in the beauty of each snowfall, the swirling of dreams in every magical icicle, a frozen world reflecting sunlight into images of what will come after the world awakens once again to new life and fresh beginnings.
Yet, winter is long, especially for those who lose sight of what will come next. There are moments when winter seems as if it will last forever. The bitter cold has a tendency to erase the memories of promise. The sharpened breaths necessary to carry on are uncomfortable, and the dreary days can wear on the soul. The weight of the waiting makes it easy to forget that there is a spring around the corner, sometimes a very distant corner, yet coming nonetheless.
Winter seems to leave reluctantly as spring dawns slowly, quietly. The timid heat of the sun warms the soul gently as the ice begins to thaw. The tears that were detained by the frost of seasons past begin their course anew. It becomes easier to breathe again, in and out, soaking up the needed warmth and light of a new day. Promises that seemed frozen in time begin to take on a new life, possible once again. The steady breeze takes with it the last remnants of sleep, and leaves behind the energy to create, to spring forth with renewed fervor.
Spring is the season for planting, for carefully depositing into the fresh soil every dream, wish, and prayer. Care must be taken, tender care, with every single seed, giving it the best possibility to grow and flourish. The process is delicate and must not be rushed. The rhythm is ever-changing; at times fast-paced, and at other times painfully slow. New life begins to bud along with the patience that must continue to grow, as in springtime, the waiting is far from over.
Without warning, summer approahes the waning spring and brusquely pushes it aside, making a dramatic entrance. Although the waiting has seemingly endured forever, summer still comes abruptly, long before all has been made ready. Suddenly, new life rushes in, taking every challenge and dream by storm. The residue of recent tears is chased away by the focus and passion required by this new season. The beauty of summer is intense, from the scorching heat to the thunderous storms and the electric displays of light. It is like a show of fireworks to the senses: sudden, aggressive, beautiful, and impressive.
Breathing accelerates in summer. It must, in order to keep up with the rapid pace, the new rhythms of growth and change. Everything moves quickly, rushing ahead toward the results of every dream that has been pursued. And just when breath catches up to the quicker cadence, summer ends as unexpectedly as it began. Far before it seems it should. Glorious and intense, it seems like it should hold out just a little longer. Yet for all its beauty, the radiance cannot hold its pace forever. It starts to slip away. As if its strength gives out, as if it can no longer hang on, it surrenders to the calm.
Autumn breezes ripple through the water, through the leaves on the trees. The heat fades and the growth withers. The soul feels like it can breathe a little more deeply, a little more slowly, There is a distinct ache that comes when goodbyes are said, yet rest comes on the heels of the ache. Tears of pain and healing run in tandem. Breathing becomes labored, and the awareness of the effort that it requires begins to weary the soul. There is a bittersweet feeling as the season changes from intense to calm, bright to tenuous, crystal clear to hazy golden.
Autumn begins to fall like a cozy blanket. Reassurance of the summer memories and victories won warm the heart, even as temperatures begin to drop. Sneakily and steadily, life and vigor begin to fade into the background. There is a hush in the atmosphere. As the excitement of the former rush dims into a memory, the time for waiting begins again. The wait is painful yet sacred, a time of learning in difficult places. One breath in, one breath out. There is grace for the weary and hope in the uncertain. A new season is not a loss. It is a cherished time for welcoming whatever may come next. New growth, new dreams, new purpose. Renewed life for the old, and fresh perspective for those who have lost their way. A new season is a treasure, a gift, a blessing from the Lord. A new opportunity to say yes. Yes to the quiet, yes to the loud. Yes to the calm, and yes to the chaos. Yes to the Lord, whatever life brings, because no matter the season, He can always be trusted.
Seasons come and go, but each season is an active place of preparation for what comes next. Do not underestimate the value of the season that you are in, because God is working everything out for your good and His glory.
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
Leaving my oldest son at the airport, watching as he bravely waved and walked away, was so surreal. Even though it was just for a week away from home, the fact that he was traveling internationally all by himself caught me by surprise… and I was the one who had bought the ticket!
How did we get here? I couldn’t help but ask myself. And just like when a beloved TV series nearing its end will take a few seconds to show flashbacks of all the best moments, my mind did a rapid replay of all of it. One minute I could see his toothless baby smile and the next I blinked and saw the young man standing in front of me. Suddenly old enough, big enough, grown up enough to get on a plane and fly to another country without me. He may have been a bit nervous and a little scared, but he did it… and I deeply felt every emotion possible.
At the same time, other memories filled my mind, unbidden yet with startling clarity. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was getting on a plane, flying away from my mom and dad? The years fell away and I remembered their faces, filled with visible emotion as they let me go. I put on a determined face, unwilling to show the fear that I was feeling, allowing myself to be taken over by the excitement of the new adventures awaiting me. I did my best to smile, hoping it would somehow make my parents believe that this was good, that this was the right thing. As I looked at the tears in their eyes, I saw the sadness, the uncertainty, and the grief they were experiencing. Somehow, I missed the bravery. So focused on keeping up a brave front myself, I missed the fact that despite their tears, they were doing the same. And when it came time, final hugs and kisses were given, goodbyes were said, and I summoned the strength to smile and wave one last time. They let me go, and I walked away.
How is it possible that my child is getting ready to do the same? I felt disbelief that this was happening, that we were ready to cross this bridge. Yet I can’t say I was really surprised to be in this place. I had known it was coming. I had often joked that I would reap what I had sown, and that as I had left my family behind, my children would someday leave me even farther behind. I always said it lightheartedly, but it was only partly in jest. God had been preparing me to take these steps, to be ready to let go, for a long time. Yet, I can’t deny the sadness I felt as I realized how quickly the time had passed. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I chose to put on a brave face once again. I focused on the joy I felt as I saw my son experience something new, taste a little more independence. My own tears were stifled by my immense pride as I watched him take a deep breath and do something that made him feel afraid. His bravery as he wiped his eyes and turned away, stopping one more time to wave a final goodbye and then moving ahead on this new path was heartbreakingly beautiful… and strikingly familiar.
For the first time in my life, I wondered if my parents thought the same things that were now running through my mind, on that long-ago day at a different airport when it was my turn to walk away. I wondered if they felt the same mix of emotions: the pride, the uncertainty, the sorrow, and the fear, all in simultaneous pandemonium. And with deep certainty, I know that they thought and felt it all. My son was now as oblivious to all that was running through my mind, in the same way that I had been oblivious to what my parents were experiencing all those years ago. And somehow, I felt comfort in my realization that I had come full circle. I remembered the excitement and nervousness that spiraled through me as I walked into the unknown for the first time. And I looked back on the many ways the Lord used that moment of obedience in my life, ways that I could’ve never imagined. More than anything, I want all of that for my son, so I took a breath and whispered another “yes” to the Lord as I breathed out my fears at his feet.
God’s got this. He has had us in the palm of his hand since the beginning of our story as mom and son, and even before that. He knows the journey we’ve been on, and He knows how many tears and fears and lies we have battled and overcome to get ready for this moment. There have been so many prayers prayed, so many times we have begged God to show up with mercy and grace, and He has never once failed. He had us then and He’s got us now. We have been through so much leading up to this day, and seeing my son, once a boy and now a young man, take this step of faith was like watching freedom break through the clouds and descend on him. I could see God’s hand on him, and feel God’s hand on me as we both walked through this new door.
I may have a couple more years with my son at home, but God is preparing the way even now for greater things in his life. As much as I will miss him, I yield him to the Father. Like Hannah in the Old Testament, I have fought for and cried over and prayed for my son, my once-child who is growing to be a man of God. And like Hannah, I will release him to the Lord’s work, for the Lord’s purpose and for his glory in due season.
Son, may you go where He will lead, use your gifts and talents for His glory, and fully experience the true adventure of loving God above all else. This is just one step of the many that are to come, and as you say yes to the adventures ahead, I will too.
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
Somewhere out there tonight, there is a little girl experiencing grief that I can only imagine. I don’t know where she is, and I have never actually met her. I only know about her through a friend, someone who entrusted a few pieces of her complicated story to me. Her precious name rings through my thoughts, yet I don’t know what she looks like or anything else about her. But I am haunted by her story, the losses she has experienced, the abuse that she has faced, and the guilt she now carries. I am rocked by the pain she must be feeling and can only cry out to a God I trust with all my heart.
The never-ending battle for my heart to reconcile that although God is only good, there still exists terrible evil in the world has been awakened once again. I cry out to God, asking for answers when there are none that I can understand, wondering why children suffer when a good God is present, why He allows so much horror and heartbreak when He is powerful enough to stop it with a thought.
And yet I know very well that the evil does not come from God at all. God did not create us to be robots, He does not impose His will upon us. He allows us to live as we please, to choose our own path, while offering us His unconditional love and His plans for good. Unfortunately, in our own selfishness we often bypass His plans for our own paths. We choose to do what we want when we want, and we ignore the love that He is freely offering to us. Our choices to ignore Him are what cause pain and sorrow. Our decisions to go our own way bring terrible fallout and sometimes excruciating consequences. And often we are not the only ones to suffer. Our consequences affect others, many times the others that are too small and innocent to even understand what our choices were. And because of our sin, our chosen separation from God, our children suffer as this little girl is suffering tonight.
I don’t know why she is going through the difficult situation that she is. It doesn’t seem fair. It is heart wrenching and cruel. Yet as I weep for her tonight, I remain confident that God is with her. I know He is there, and I know that His heart is broken for her. I know that He cries along with her and is longing for her to turn to Him with her loss and sorrow. And so, I pray that somehow, she would feel His presence. I beg God to do what only He can to make sure that she doesn’t feel alone tonight. I pray for healing for her heart, for God to remove the fear and the guilt and the shame. I pray that God would protect her and send safe people to surround her, people who would care and be a visible representation of God’s great love for her. If there is any way for the death she has experienced to be touched by the life that only God can bring, if there is any way for her trauma to be turned into something beautiful, I know that God is able. I don’t know how, but I will trust and continue to ask for the seemingly impossible to be done in her life.
My heart aches for this sweet little girl who I don’t even know. And my heart grieves knowing that tonight she is not the only one dealing with deep pain. There are so many children around the world, both old and young who are scared, grieving, and in danger. Some of them are in my church, my neighborhood, many of them are very close to home. As I pray for them tonight, the known and unknown faces that come to mind, I know I can trust that despite painful circumstances and deep trauma, God’s love is even greater and more powerful. And as I pray, God is calling me to reach those I can, to be a visible representation of His great love. As much as it hurts, I say yes to recognizing the pain, honoring the heartbreaking stories, and finding a way to bring light and reconciliation to those that I can. I may not be able to solve the problem or bring healing, but I can point them to the Love that gave everything so that they could find freedom. The Love that can do the impossible; bring beauty from ashes and life from death. The Love that will not only hold us in our pain but will make a way out of the pain and into the good plans He ordained for us since the beginning of time.
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
My heart skipped a beat when I received the call. It was my second-cousin, and he was beside himself with the news that his mother, my great aunt, seemed to be suddenly leaving life on earth. What made the turn of events even more devastating was the fact that my cousin and aunt were not home. They were on an extended trip to Mexico, in a town just two hours from where I live, and were facing a language barrier, a different culture, and unfamiliar hospital policies and medical procedures.
When I said I would come, I didn’t even think about it. My husband and I left home as soon as possible and were on our way to the hospital. We were praying almost constantly on the entire drive, with no idea of what we would encounter upon our arrival. When we drove into the parking lot, we were met by a missionary friend who had graciously gone out of her way to make an emergency hospital visit to pray with my cousin and for my aunt. Our friend had good news- it appeared that my aunt had survived the frightening debacle, and she was now stable and resting.
Despite the favorable turn of events, I knew my cousin and aunt needed some support. The unfamiliar culture and language can be daunting on a good day. They are even more so when you are dealing with possible life and death situations. My husband and I decided that I should stay for several days, while he would go back to our children and keep our home life running as smoothly as possible.
I will admit, I was a little nervous. It was unfamiliar territory for me to be in a hospital setting and translating medical terminology to the best of my ability. It was an odd feeling to be without my husband and children, yet I didn’t doubt my decision for a second. I knew my aunt needed me, and that was all there was to it.
The first two days of my stay were a bit scary. My dear aunt seemed to be gaining some stability, but she was very weak and her oxygen levels were dangerously low. The doctor did not seem overly optimistic about her recovery, and all I could do was attend to her needs and pray my heart out. I used my cell phone to play worship songs and hymns, and at times my aunt would gather her strength to sing along in a weak voice. I know we both felt God’s presence in that hospital room, and somehow despite the fear and the negative circumstances, light and hope broke through.
My aunt began to improve steadily, in what the doctor could only call a miracle. It was as if something sacred was playing out before my very eyes, and every advancement in my aunt’s recovery was a beautiful thing to watch. And then something else amazing began to happen. In the beginning I was so focused on my aunt’s recovery that I almost missed it, but God’s presence was there, and quietly I became surrounded by a very holy moment.
As I did my best to take care of my aunt’s needs, she began to talk. She began to tell me stories of the past, moments from her life and our family history that I had never heard before. Slowly, patiently, she shared with me her thoughts on life and faith and Jesus, unwrapping treasure after treasure with her words. In those few days, I got to know her, not just as the adventurous aunt that I had grown up admiring, but as the amazing person she is. She shared her doubts, failures, adventures, and triumphs with me, holding back little, and ministering to me without even knowing it. Before I realized it, I had become the recipient of one of the sweetest gifts I have ever received- welcomed into some sort of inner circle where the past and the present intertwine and the best of both permeates the very atmosphere.
Those days in that hospital room became precious to me as my aunt and I both changed our focus from death and sickness to hope and life. I was eager to hear and learn all I could, and only hoped that I could somehow reciprocate and give something special in return. I began to ponder our God of relationship, who lays out in His Word the importance of relationship with others, especially intergenerationally.
“These are the commands, decrees, and regulations that the Lord your God commanded me to teach you. You must obey them in the land you are about to enter and occupy, and you and your children and grandchildren must fear the Lord your God as long as you live. If you obey all his decrees and commands, you will enjoy a long life.Listen closely, Israel, and be careful to obey. Then all will go well with you, and you will have many children in the land flowing with milk and honey, just as the Lord, the God of your ancestors, promised you.
“Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today.Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up. Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”Deuteronomy 6:1-9 NLT
God expected His very covenant with his people to be passed down from generation to generation. The importance of not only parents teaching their children but all of the older generation collectively and actively teaching the younger generation about his commands, promises, and wonders. There are many other references in the Old Testament, including numerous passages in Psalms and Proverbs that exhort the “sons” to pay heed to the wisdom of the “fathers.” That same theme carries over to the New Testament as we see verses about both honoring parents and valuing youth.
“Don’t let anyone think less of you because you are young. Be an example to all believers in what you say, in the way you live, in your love, your faith, and your purity.” 1 Timothy 4:12 NLT
These types of integenerational relationships were ordained by God, highly esteemed, and expected to be lived out. Yet it is something that our culture seems to have slowly lost, the respect and honor from the young toward the old, and the value the old can place on the excitement and the fresh vision of the up-and-coming generation. My sweet days in the unexpected place of a hospital room reminded me of the value of stopping to listen, to receive, to be spoken into instead of doing and speaking myself. It reminded me that the generations ahead of me are rich in wisdom, experience, and love. It exhorted me to look for opportunities to encourage and invest in the generations behind me in the same profound way.
I didn’t have the same opportunity with my grandparents that God gave me with my aunt. While I loved them all dearly, all four of my grandparents passed away while I was in Mexico. Every time that I missed out on being there in their last months and weeks, each time I had to miss a funeral and being surrounded by family as I grieved, I counted the cost and God brought peace to my heart. It was one of those things that I knew I was called to give up, as the logistics of being in another country don’t lend to quick trips back home. Yet somehow, with my aunt I felt like God was gifting me a piece of what I had missed with my grandparents. I could almost see my grandmother (who was my aunt’s eldest sister) smiling down at me, thanking me for being there with her sister.
Getting to know my aunt, and allowing her to get to know me, may not have changed me much on the outside, but I feel significantly different at the heart-level. I grew in compassion and knowledge, tenderness and maybe even wisdom. And this post is my thank-you letter to her.
I am so grateful for you, Aunt Shirley, thankful that God healed you. Thank you for investing in me, encouraging me, and inspiring me to be better, braver, and stronger. If you could do all that as you were simultaneously fighting to regain your health, I can certainly take every opportunity to encourage the younger generations around me, starting with my own children. All the yeses you have said to the Lord, in the amazingly beautiful times and in the heartwrenchingly difficult, are the legacy you have passed down to me, along with my grandparents, my parents, and many other spiritual parents who have understood the value in bridging the generations. And I believe that everytime I say yes, not to my own agenda but to God’s plans for me, I am saying it for the next generation. Doing my best to lead by example, showing what it means to obey in God’s strength rather than my own. While I never execute it perfectly, I believe that my heart’s stance before the Lord today will be the inheritance I will leave behind for my children and my children’s children.
I am so glad I said yes to the opportunity of going to my aunt and living alongside her for those few days. I could have made a thousand excuses not to go, and many of them would have been justifiable, but I would have missed out on the way God wanted to work in the difficult circumstances. Even the trials are used for our good when we love Him and have been called according to His purpose. And the Lord wants to give generously to us from the sometimes hidden treasure trove, that we can find when we take the time to bridge generations.
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
I was a junior in high school when I had a radical encounter with the Lord that changed my life. I was seventeen years old, loved the Lord and wanted nothing more than to serve Him in whatever ways that I could. As a teenager, I would spend my weekends preaching on the street corners outside of the local homeless shelters. I wanted nothing more than to be used for God’s Kingdom in whatever capacity He saw fit. I remember praying dangerous prayers like, “Here I am, Lord… send me… no matter the cost.”
My personal commission and assignment came to me one Thursday night at a revival meeting where Evangelist Steve Hill from the Brownsville Revival was preaching. He gave an altar call at the end for anyone who wanted more of the Lord. I literally ran down to the altar, and it was there that the Lord met me in a tangible way.
The only way that I can describe what occurred at the altar that night is that I had a Divine encounter that would forever alter the course of my life. I was suddenly hit by the power of God and his weighty presence filled my body. I experienced a supernatural impartation that felt like a physical hit to my gut and I heard the audible voice of the Lord, which was both strong and gentle at the same time, tell me…”It’s India.” In an instant the Lord had deposited a burden and a love for a country that was never even on my radar. I went home and told my parents that God was sending me to India. The Lord, being so kind, repeatedly reassured me of that calling through many signs and confirmations. For the next year and a half, I was laser-focused on finishing high school so I could go to India. At this point, mind you, I didn’t know a soul in India, and I had zero money. But this was just the beginning of a very long journey of faith.
There are so many details in the middle that I don’t have time to get into, but I did end up going on my first trip to India almost two years after that initial call. I had just turned 19 years old when I set foot into this nation that had I carried such a supernatural love for. That first trip was a dream come true for me… I felt so alive and so in my element, so full of purpose and vision.
I ended up moving to India two months later where I still serve and live today… 21 years later.
I met my husband, who is Indian, on my first mission trip when I was 19. We now have four amazing children, who live and serve alongside us on the field.
In 2008, we founded an organization that cares for orphans and widows and we have seen so many miracles over the years. We now have our own ministry base located in a remote village and have built a campus that is a refuge for many kids and women in need. We are currently in the process of building and starting a school as well. I stand amazed at what the Lord has done through our simple obedience, our response to the dangerous prayers I found myself praying as a teenager.
We are now seeing the fruit of so many years of labor but it definitely hasn’t been easy…
A fellow missionary and friend of mine said, “India is a very hard country to try and serve in- it’s almost like she wants to fight you back.” I felt that statement deeply. If you had told me that when I was 19 and in the honeymoon-stage of missions, I wouldn’t have agreed. I would have said something to the effect of, “I’m probably more dedicated than most,” or “I can adjust easier than most,” or “I am stronger than others who couldn’t hack it.” However, the truth is that this life has been harder than I could have ever imagined.
In my first few years on the field, I was exposed to a lot of food- and water-borne illnesses, and my general health quickly went downhill after that. It started with gastrointestinal issues and parasites. Three years after I moved there, I was down to 100 pounds and weaker than I had ever been. I stabilized and gained back some weight but only to be hit again with typhoid fever in 2005. It nearly took my life. Hit after hit of various parasites and water- and mosquito-borne illnesses really took a toll on my health. At the age of 23, I began having trouble breathing along with terrible fatigue, and have struggled with this off and on for the last 17 years.
My husband and kids have been the only ones who have really seen the extent of my suffering. I am good at masking it in front of others and then collapsing when I get home. Even though I’ve been dealing with this for so long, I’m not willing to let myself identify with me being THIS person. I am still contending for healing and doing everything that I know to do health wise.
After 17 years of dealing with this mystery illness, we finally discovered that I had undiagnosed Lyme disease. Not only was I positive for Lyme, but also many co-infections such as babesia, (which is a blood parasite and cousin to malaria,) along with bartonella, mycoplasma, heavy metals and various parasites and flukes. No wonder I felt like I was dying every day!
Sickness is a part of the missionary life that not many people openly talk about. Not everyone on the mission field deals with chronic illness, but I know that so many do struggle with their health due to the environment that they are exposed to on the field. I remember reading about the missionary Amy Carmichael who moved to India in 1895 and wrote most of her books from her bed due to dealing with chronic illness that she had acquired living overseas. She rescued over 1000 kids and accomplished amazing things despite her health issues. Her legacy is strong and her schools are still open and running to this day. Stories like this give me hope.
I have been in treatment for the last three years and have made progress, but I still have a long way to go. I have more functional days now, but I have to pace myself and give myself permission to rest. We will continue to treat, to pray, and to believe for healing. For now, we take it one day at a time.
My life on the mission field isn’t exactly what I thought it would look like. I am not able to do all the things that I foresaw myself doing when I first started out on this journey, and I have learned to be so much gentler with myself. I do what I can and no longer stress about what I cannot. I will not give up, as I have seen firsthand how God can and does use anyone who is willing despite one’s inabilities and weaknesses. Answering the call is not for the faint of heart… but it is so worth it!
My life is not my own, and those dangerous prayers that I prayed as a 17-year-old girl, willing to risk it all for the sake of the Gospel… I meant them. Knowing what I know now, even how my life would turn out, I would still say YES every single time.
If I could say anything to my 19-year-old self who was just setting foot into this nation, I would tell her, “It’s gonna be a beautiful, faith-filled journey and you are going to do a lot of good here, but its going to be so much harder than you think. You’re going to want to quit so many times… but keep holding on to the hand of the Father and He will carry you through.”
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me”. Corinthians 12:19
Christ’s power has certainly rested on me, and the Lord has been faithful to carry me through. When I don’t feel like I can go on, I see the smiles of the kids we have rescued and now care for everyday, I am reminded of those dangerous prayers that I began praying so long ago. I was so young, and had no idea what kind of life awaited ahead. Yet because of God’s goodness, it has been worth every moment, and I continue to pray those dangerous prayers today. “Here I am, Lord… send me… no matter the cost.”
Colleen has been a missionary to India since 2001. The call she received from the Lord as a teenager, and the love He gave her for the nation of India, has blossomed into a beautiful ministry and a lasting legacy. She continues to serve faithfully alongside her husband and children, as they direct a children’s home, care for women in difficult circumstances, and plan to open a school.
Today is the eight-year anniversary of my miscarriage, of losing the baby I never got to hold. In some ways it still feels like it was yesterday, yet at the same time life has stopped for nothing. As time passes, the memories become distant, but I still carry it with me every day. It is a part of the story God is writing in my life, and I will never forget.
It was the pregnancy that ended far too soon, and a time in my life where the emptiness in my heart matched the emptiness in my arms. It was my sixth pregnancy and I had no reason to suspect that anything would go wrong. My previous pregnancies had been healthy and had all ended with the same result- a beautiful blessing from God in the form of a baby. When my husband and I found out that we were expecting for the sixth time, we were ecstatic. We shared the news with our children as soon as possible, and all of them shared our joy. We tracked the baby’s growth and progress on a daily basis. We chose names for our baby and we made so many plans. As we organized our calendar for the coming months, the new baby was at the forefront of our minds. Every thought, every plan, was made taking into account the new little life that had already changed our lives and our family.
In my fourth month of the pregnancy, a small spot of blood sent us quickly to see my doctor for an unplanned appointment. The doctor asked me a few questions and then decided to do an ultrasound. When she told me that she couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat, I felt as if my own heart had stopped in my chest. My mind froze as my doctor’s words took me under like an ocean wave. My baby had died, and a miscarriage was inevitable. Besides the feelings of incredible loss, the dark hole that I was trying not to drown in, I could not imagine telling my other children that this baby- the baby they had prayed and waited for, the baby they were so excited to share their lives with- would never be born. I cried out to God for wisdom, for the words that my mind could not formulate as my heart wept, and I suddenly knew one thing for sure. We needed to share our grief with them. We needed to allow them to voice their doubts and ask their questions. We needed them to see how this loss so deeply affected us, how this tiny life would always be a part of us and our story.
The kids cried and asked their questions- the same questions that were swirling in my mind, though I didn’t have the courage to voice them. “How could God let this happen? Didn’t he hear our prayers? Couldn’t he have healed whatever was wrong with our baby? Why did he let our baby die?” And in the middle of this storm of uncertainty, there was an echo of truth that resonated within my soul and left my mouth in response. We can trust that God is good all the time. Even when we don’t understand the things that he does, even when life doesn’t make sense, we can trust Him. And even now, He is not afraid of our questions, doubts, and fears. We can pray them to Him, shout them at Him, and He will not be moved. In fact, He loves us so much that He cries with us, He holds us in our grief, and we can trust Him to bring us through this loss.
When your baby dies, a piece of you dies as well. The guilt, the feeling that you’ve failed as a mother at the most basic level, tries to eat you alive. You wonder if your baby would’ve had your smile or your quick wit. You wonder if your baby would’ve had your pointy ears or your quirky nose. You wonder what your baby would have grown up to be. Not a day goes by when you don’t think of your child…not a holiday goes by when you don’t wish your child were with you…not a year goes by when you don’t silently count back, thinking how old your baby would be right now if only things had turned out differently. The hole in your heart, the hole in your family, it never goes away.
Clichés and platitudes offered in moments of loss are often over-used and misinterpreted. While the intention behind them may be good, hearing that God has a plan for everything, or that your baby has become your guardian angel, is not helpful. It all seems empty, like fantasies that you are unable to reconcile with the cold realities of life. There simply are no words that can alleviate the sorrow. But no matter the grief, no matter how big the loss, you can be sure that God will be there. He will cry with you and carry you through. He will be with you as you face a new normal, even as it includes the hole from the loss that has changed you forever.
And so it was. The most difficult season of our lives became a sacred place where we met with the God who grieves with us and holds us in his love when we can’t understand what is happening around us. Our loss became a holy ground moment, where we showed up with our tears and fears and uncertainties, and God met us there to change the moment forever. As our Avery slipped to the other side of eternity, my comfort was in knowing that the arms that were holding my baby were the exact same arms that were holding me in my grief.
“Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail nor abandon you.” Deuteronomy 31:8 NLT
“I waited patiently for the Lord; And He inclined to me and heard my cry. He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, and He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; Many will see and hear and will trust in the Lord.” Psalm 40:1-3 NASB
“When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames with not consume you.” Isaiah 43:2 NLT
“You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, Each tearentered in your ledger, each ache written in your book…I’m proud to praise God, proud to praise God. Fearless now, I trust in God; what can mere mortals do to me? God, you did everything you promised, and I’m thanking you with all my heart. You pulled me from the brink of death, my feet from the cliff-edge of doom.” Psalm 56:8, 10-13
So, today we remember. Today is a day we commemorate with our very own version of camping out, including roasted marshmallows and fireworks. We remember Avery Evan, the baby who’s short life changed our lives forever. We remember how God showed up in a tangible way during such a painful time. And we remember how God’s faithfulness has sustained us and brought us to today.
If you are going through pain or loss today, be assured that God is walking with you. Physical reality may make you doubt those words, but hang on to what is true. God has not left you, and He is at work even in the painful and the messy. He is holding you, and someday you will look back on today and you will remember.
If you would like to read more about my miscarriage story, grab a copy of my book, A Painful Kind of Holy
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
In August 1999, I answered the call from God to move from my home in Tacoma, Washington to Mexico to start life as a missionary. My husband and I moved our family of 5 to the small town of El Carmen, outside of Monterrey, Nuevo Leon. Our first few years in Mexico were spent at a local language school where we were able to have an immersive experience learning both local language and culture. Those initial years were not without their challenges, but there was also much excitement for what we were learning and the new life that God was leading us in. After our time in El Carmen, we felt God moving us to work in Michoacan, a state in central Mexico. It was there, over the course of ten years, that my husband and I opened a rehabilitation home for those addicted to drugs and alcohol and co-pastored two thriving church plants.
It was during this time that I witnessed the physical abuse and neglect of many young women. I began to share my concerns with other indigenous missionaries who furthermore opened my eyes to the desperate situation unravelling in Mexico involving sex trafficking and the exploitation of young girls. I learned that city resources were few and infrastructure was rare which pulled my heart toward finding ways to help these victims. As a result of seeing the great need, we began to pivot our ministry in this direction. Our focus was simple- provide refuge and resources for these victimized girls.
In early 2017, we sought to establish The Treasure House. Our first step in doing so was to identify key relationships. These included: a Mexican legal team, two orphanages, and a network of educators, social workers, administrators and the Mexican Department of Victims of Criminals. The Treasure House then began to engage in direct conversation with government officials, the local and national police, the militia, and numerous social services. While this was, and is still, challenging due to corruption, government leadership etc, we continued to faithfully and courageously invest in this ministry. Later in 2017, we were able to secure a housing structure, through a wonderful landlord (who also supported all the required permitting).
In November of 2017, The Treasure House was given custody of our first child. A 10 year old who was being sexually exploited by a family member. As a proud mom of three adult children, grandmother of eight grandchildren, the development of, and work at, the Treasure House became my principal ministry and passion. Yet, just as this new ministry was taking off, my marriage was falling apart.
The hidden, stormy areas of our marriage came to the forefront, and soon my husband was gone. At first I wasn’t sure how to respond when the curious would inquire, so I would just say that my husband was out of town, but eventually I realized the need to add a little more to the story. To many, the breakup of our marriage was shocking and sudden, but I am especially aware now of all the warning signs that there were since the beginning of our married life. The end of my marriage could have caused the end of my ministry, which is a scary thing. So for this blog, I’d like to go further back into my history and share some of the details in the hope that others will pay attention to warning signs and get help before it’s too late.
My now ex-husband and I were a couple who never fought much, very little actually. But it wasn’t long into our marriage that I realized he was not exactly interested in me sexually. At first, I’ll have to admit, it didn’t bother me much because I was soon very busy raising 3 little ones and had a low sex drive. As our children became older I began to acknowledge that, even though I spent much time in prayer about it, we needed some external help. It wasn’t long until the Lord opened doors for us to attend the Married For Life program, and we quickly became co-leaders and then leaders of this wonderful ministry. Things improved dramatically and we even developed a little romance in our relationship. Tragedy then hit, but it didn’t come blasting in as a large hurricane, tornado or full-on earthquake. No, the sneaky little enemy snuck in slowly and ate at us until finally the walls we had built began to crumble.
In hindsight, I knew something was wrong, but I was so busy envisioning and planning for the new Treasure House ministry, instead of paying heed to my husband’s lack of sexual desire or even his increasing ungodliness. As the opening of Treasure House drew near, I was becoming more and more concerned about him. The Lord finally encouraged me to speak with a Christian psychologist (which I originally thought I’d never do!). I had not wanted to bring this mounting problem up, over the years, to my own leaders or spiritual parents because of its nature, but felt comfortable doing so with someone who did not know either of us. With the encouragement of the psychologist, I tried setting up Zoom meetings with the 3 of us; then the emails disappeared and I lost contact with her. A couple months later, our daughter began to receive her father’s credit card statements which revealed charges to pornagraphy sites. He was confronted and swore to stop; but he did not. I threatened to go to our spiritual covering and again he swore to stop; he did not.
I finally spent 2 full nights worshipping my God, pleading for His presence and His voice on what to do and He directed me to speak out. This was a huge step of faith for me because I had to truly die to the vision the Lord had planted in my heart years earlier. I had to be ready to resign to the fact that we could be easily called off the mission field to work on our marriage, the number one priority! I cannot thank my Jesus enough for the way my spiritual covering and leadership handled the situation! The director and co-director, who just happen to be very close friends of ours and live only 10 minutes from us, began to meet with my husband in hopes of true restoration. I see now that it would have been no good thing to yank me out of ministry along with him, because he was beyond wanting real help and refused to stop his ungodly behavior. His heart was unrepentant, and he chose to leave me, the ministry, and the country we had both grown to love.
Because of the way our leaders dealt with us, I was given the choice to stay on the mission-field or return home. It was a scary thing at the time to consider staying alone. Yet, I could feel God calling me to say yes once again to the calling He had placed on my life all those many years ago. It may have been easier to leave, to be near to my children and grandchildren as I grieved the huge loss. But I chose to say yes. I chose to stay because of the Lord’s peace and comfort (that passes all understanding!), and continued growing The Treasure House. Even though my world was rocked after a 37-year marriage was destroyed, God has been faithful to me, and has never abandoned me or left me alone. Because of His expansive grace, I have continued to be happy and content in what the Lord has called me to do!
God’s presence and leading has been great in the midst of the heartache and the loss of something that was so precious to me. Even as my husband left, God was growing a new spiritual family for me through The Treasure House. I now consider myself a mom to many. I’ve had the privilege to love and welcome precious treasures into my home, and teach them about the God I know. The God who was with me when everything fell apart. The faithful God who loves us and calls us in the middle of the mess.
Karen David has been in Mexico since 1999, establishing and refining the call of God on her life. Since moving to the state of Michoacan (just south of Guadalajara) in 2002, she has helped raise up a rehabilitation home for drug addicts and has planted 2 churches with the heart for revival and for the loving power of Christ to be revealed. The development of, and work at, the Treasure House is now her principal ministry and passion. Karen is a proud mom of three adult children, and grandmother of eight grandchildren.
Social media has opened our world up in ways that generations before us could have never imagined! The ability to see people live across the world from us, find information as fast as we can ask for it, shop instantaneously, and connect with groups and ideas is full of advantages, but along with all the good comes the negative side of it all- constant comparison. We are bombarded by images and videos that tell us what everyone else is doing. What they wore today, what they ate, how they discipline their kids, and how they treat their significant other. How they feel about pop culture and politics. Their opinions about everything from religion to travel to popular footwear. There is so much to take in, and so many ways in which we can feel that we will never measure up to all THAT. We fall into the trap of thinking bigger is better, and the bigger our accomplishments, the better or more worthy we are. There are so many resources available to us at the drop of a hat, and we feel pressured to be the best at all of it. After all, if everyone else can do it, than we should, too! Unfortunately in the middle of all the pressure we feel to immediately implement all of the fabulous into our lives, we forget that social media focuses on the big. It focuses on the success stories, the pretty pictures, and the victories. And when we start to make our lives revolve around the successes, we tend to miss the importance of the little things.
As missionaries this “bigger is better” mentality can be a huge pitfall, as it is very easy to buy into this thinking when most of your supporters never see your ministry in person. Supporting churches tend to focus on results in the form of numbers, and that can create pressure to exaggerate our experiences just to keep up with everyone else and not get lost in the crowd. One thing I’ve had to realize during our years on the mission field is that every single ministry is different. Some missionaries are building on a work that started many years before them. Others are doing a groundbreaking labor in a ministry that is just being planted. Some are in the reaping stage, some are still in the planting phase. For some, results in numbers seem to increase on a monthly basis, for others, just surviving the month with integrity is the biggest victory. This knowledge has helped me when I feel tempted to start comparing what we do to other faithful missionaries with anointed ministries around the world. I realize that my only responsibility is to be faithful in what God has given me. It might not be big, and it may not look pretty, but wherever I am is where God has placed me for a reason. And he is not impressed with my efforts, neither big nor small. See, the results are all God. The numbers and the exciting reports are all about what He is doing. We can’t attain the results with our own efforts, because they are not about us at all.
I share this example from our experience in missions because its something that we personally dealt with long before social media was easily accessible, but I think the situation can apply to all of us today. In our social media saturated lives, its very easy the feel the need to wow or impress others on screen. We may feel inspired by other’s successess to be bigger and better than we were before. Sometimes this can motivate us to keep reaching for new goals, but oftentimes it leaves us frustrated. Because no matter how far we get or how high we reach, at the end of the day we always find ourselves lacking. We can never attain the perfection we long for, and we can get bogged down in all our little failures along the way.
These thoughts from my ministry life have rolled over into my personal life as well. I tend to be very goal-oriented and can tend to rate my worth based on my accomplishments. Yet, I have come to realize that the real victories are in the small day-to-day things. The decisions I make, the habits I form, and the choice I have to follow Jesus with my attitudes and actions. These things are the daily decisions we all face, and from a missionary persepective, you’ll never see any of them in our newsletters or on our Facebook page. But it is these small, unseen things, the things that are really matters of the heart, where true victories are won. The big accomplishments, if there are any at all, are all God’s work and His grace. The small accomplishments, if there are any at all, are all God’s work and His grace.
So today, I let go of the pressure of comparison. I openly admit that I can’t do all of it. I don’t have all the answers, and my messy life is usually not ready for a spontaneous photo shoot. There are many things God has allowed me to do, and there are many more things that I hope I will still be able to do. Yet, I empty myself of all of that. I let go and allow Him to accomplish whatever He will. I focus on the small things that I am called to today. Today I am called to honor my husband, respect and encourage him. Today I am called to love my kids and teach them a little more about God’s love for them. As I referee arguments, I am called to teach forgiveness. As I encounter frustrations, I am called to model patience and peace. When I come against the unexpected, I am called to trust. In the middle of fear, I am called to faith. When doubt enters my heart, I will anchor myself on the Lord who is my Rock. When selfishness rears its ugly head in my heart, I will surrender that to the work of the Holy Spirit. When ungrateful thoughts enter my mind, I will take them captive. I will focus on what I have been called to, and leave all the rest in the dust. In the little things, the day-to-day things, victories will be won, leaving room for God to accomplish the big things that only He can.
Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious and merciful to me, For my soul finds shelterandsafety in You, And in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge and be confidently secure Until destruction passes by. I will cry to God Most High, Who accomplishes all things on my behalf [for He completes my purpose in His plan]. He will send from heaven and save me; He calls to account him who tramples me down. God will send out His lovingkindness and His truth.
My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast and confident! I will sing, yes, I will sing praises [to You]! Awake, my glory! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn. I will praise and give thanks to You, O Lord, among the people; I will sing praises to You among the nations. For Your faithfulness and lovingkindness are great, reaching to the heavens, And Your truth to the clouds. Be exalted above the heavens, O God; Let Your glory and majesty be over all the earth.
Psalms 57:1-3, 7-11
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
I always thought of myself as a compliant person. I would have described myself as someone willing to freely give of my time and resources to help the people that we are living with and ministering to. Unfortunately, I realized rather abruptly that this was only true to an extent. I liked obeying, or rather avoiding trouble, but only when I had time to plan out the steps and to think ahead about how I was willing to obey. I wanted my obedience to follow a plan, and give the appearance of happy compliance even while I wrestled with it. I wanted my giving to be convenient. It was hard for me to spontaneously give what the Lord required of me, and I came to the realization that I was ignoring certain things that he would speak to me because I felt they were too uncomfortable.
One day many years ago, my husband saw an immediate need that he felt led to take care of. He saw a family who was helping at our church plant and they were so faithful to the ministry and faithful to God’s service, but they lacked a faithful means of transportation. My husband came home and said to me, “I feel like God wants us to give this family our car.” He shocked me into silence. This wasn’t part of any plan that we had made! We had saved and struggled together to come up with just enough money to buy what was our first vehicle as a married couple, and it didn’t seem logical that God, after providing this car for us, would ask us to give it up so quickly. Obedience seemed silly, even unwise. And if in fact, it was really God who was speaking to my husband, my husband must certainly be hearing wrong!
Even though it is an unequal comparison, I see shades of Abraham and Isaac in this story. If you are not familiar with the story from the book of Genesis chapter 22, I will catch you up a bit. Abraham was a guy who left everything to follow God. He had no idea where he was going, but God asked him to leave his home, his family, and everything that was familiar in order to go to the land that God would show him. Abraham obeyed, and God promises to bless him by making his descandants more than the grains of sand and the stars in the sky. The funny thing about that was that Abraham and his wife Sarah were both growing old and they had no children. God told Abraham many times that he would bless him through his children, but many years passed before their son Isaac was born. Abraham and Sarah had waited decades for a child of their own, and finally they had a son! God had fulfilled his promise to them, and they were overjoyed! However, not long after God makes what appears to be a strange request of Abraham. God asks him to take his son Isaac to Mount Moriah and sacrifice him to the Lord in worship. WHAT???? I know what I think of this, so I can only imagine what you are thinking. This doesn’t seem fair, does it? To wait so long for a son, to be given the son by God Himself, only to have to give him back so soon? How would this work? Hadn’t God promised to bless Abraham through his descendants? How would that come to pass if Abraham had no descendants?
According to the Bible, it seems like Abraham went to obey immediately. How he managed that, I am not sure. I have to believe that he was conversing with God, perhaps reasoning and arguing the entire time, telling God how little sense this all made. This was obedience of the truly uncomfortable sort: knowing God well enough to trust him in the unthinkable, and at the same time not understanding at all. But let me tell you the end of the story, just to ease the minds of those who are not familiar with it. Abraham goes to obey God, prepares to sacrifice his only son, and then God stops him. He speaks to Abraham, honors his obedience, and provides an animal to take Isacc’s place for the sacrifice, caught in the nearby bushes. Isaac’s life is spared, Abraham’s father-heart is spared, and God’s ability to provide in impossible places in the most improbable ways is highlighted.
Although a car quite obviously does not carry the same value as the life of a child, I saw the similarities with my current dilemma. It didn’t seem to make sense at all. It didn’t seem to follow any plan. It seemed God was asking us to do something out of the blue that had no rhyme or reason. Yes, giving away our car would be a blessing to this family, but it would leave us in a bit of a lurch. We would find ourselves back at square one, a growing family without transportation. It was difficult for me to see how this could possibly be God. Yet I could not deny the pull I felt to place our vehicle on the metaphorical altar and give it to this family.
I was weak and I did not feel prepared to make the decision that God was asking me to make. I started my walk up that mountain to make my meager sacrifice with a begrudging heart. I would obey, but I would make sure God knew how much this act of obedience was costing me. Thankfully I had a husband who was more than willing to lead me in this sacrifice, because I may never have done it on my own. It bugged me that it didn’t even seem difficult for him. He called the family right away and told them that we wanted to give them our vehicle. They were so thankful and so blessed, and I was internally mourning the lack of preparation, the lack of time that I had to assimilate what seemed like a huge sacrifice for our family. I was obedient to God, but more because my husband was willing to obey, and I just followed along.
Somehow in my murmuring about how unfair this all seemed, I forgot that the point of the whole story of Abraham and Isaac was not about the sacrifice, but about God’s provision. God’s provision was needed because Abraham was obedient. Abraham’s obedience to God was the building block for the blessings that would follow, and God’s provision as a result of that obedience was of the sort that would not be soon forgotten. While none of this made sense to me, I believed God had a plan and He was at work. As I connected with God and sought answers from Him, I felt that God was reminding me that I don’t need to know everything. His ways are not the same as ours. Because of that, not everything will be easy for me, but it is still my job to trust and obey. To be where He leads me and to obey what He tells me. And when I obey, He will provide.
We received a surprise phone call just a few weeks later. We hadn’t shared with anyone that we had given our car away, mostly because I was afraid people would think we were ridiculous. There was no way that our friends and family would see giving our car away as a wise move! But I picked up the phone to hear the voice of someone that we hardly ever communicated with. Without a lot of chit-chat, he quickly cut to the chase. “Would you guys happen to need a vehicle?” My jaw dropped as he proceeded to tell me that he had thought of us and purchased a minivan for us. I don’t think he was really sure why he had done it, and he was definitely surprised when we told him our side of the story! He had no idea that our need was so recent or so great. But God knew all along.
God’s plan had far exceeded my personal plan, or lack thereof, when it came to giving our car away. And his provision was beyond what we had given up. I was amazed then, and retelling the story today I am amazed all over again. This story happened so many years ago, but I needed the reminder again today. God often requires things of us that make us uncomfortable. Since his ways are not the same as ours, it makes sense that his ways would shake our lives up a bit. God is speaking to me currently about some new things he wants to do in my life. I have been dragging my feet a bit, wallowing in my insecurities, and then I remembered this story and I was confronted with this question: Should my discomfort justify my disobedience?
My immediate reaction is no, of course not! Disobedience is still disobedience. My comfort level does not change that. It seems so absurd that I am questioning God’s ways yet again- but instead of feeling chastened by the Holy Spirit with this knowledge, what resounds gently in my spirit is that if I obey, God will provide what I need when I get there. My obedience to God is the building block for what will follow, and His provision will come in response to that obedience.
Whatever God is asking, whatever we need to give up or let go of, we can be sure that God will be faithful to provide. The journey up the mountain is the hard part. Abraham had no idea what awaited at the top, but he knew God so well that he knew He could be trusted. Even in the unthinkable. Maybe you need to let go of something that makes you feel secure. Maybe you need to say goodbye to someone who is important to you. Maybe there is a new challenge that God is inviting you to say yes to, yet you feel unable or insufficient. No matter how big or how small, whether it seems life-changing or insignificant, you can be sure that God is there. Just as he walked with Abraham, giving him the strength for the journey up the mountain, God goes with you. Through the loneliness, the heartbreak, the insecurity, the fear. And just as God had Abraham’s provision already waiting at the top of that mountain, so He has your provision waiting for you. Don’t let the uncomfortable sway you from obedience. Obey and simply trust God in the unknown. Because God wants to bless you, more than you can ask or imagine.
Holly Joy Clemente has always had a passion to see others get involved in the Great Commission. She prayed and dreamed of a way to use her writing to that end, and God gave her the vision for this blog. Her hope is that others will be encouraged and inspired to trust God and step out in faith when it comes to leaving comfort zones for the sake of the Gospel.
November, 2019. Tears carved tiny streams down my cheeks as I stood at the kitchen sink, hands plunged into hot water. My thoughts screamed out in anguish. “I can’t DO this God! How can I live so far from my babies?” my heart cried. “God, how do I do this letting go thing? How can I serve You here in Kenya when my young men need me in the States? I can’t do this missionary life without them!”
Minutes ticked by as I wrestled there at the sink. My soapy hand whisked tears away as I continued washing dishes and kept on praying and pleading for God to help me make sense out of this new season of life. We had just launched our oldest two sons in January 2019, leaving them in the U.S. (one in the workforce and one a freshman in college) while we returned to Kenya with our youngest two. Our third son only had six more months with us before he too launched into the world of college and apartments. Having three sons close together was hard in the early years, but OH so much harder now. What a whirlwind year of change and transition for our family! Only our youngest, age 12, remained at home. And now, just weeks after returning to our place of ministry, I was not ok. Pity slinked its sneaky way into my thoughts.
So I cried.
I thought about all the little things I was missing out on in their young adult lives. Things like a surprise visit to take them to lunch on campus; a phone call without wondering if they were sleeping or in class due to time zone differences (Kenya is 8 hours ahead of them); popping a letter in the mail anytime I wanted to instead of coordinating with people crossing the Atlantic pond or waiting on international mail delivery; doing their laundry on the weekends or on breaks; and a host of other little things that suddenly I felt robbed of.
Kids going off to college is not unusual by any means, and I knew I wasn’t the only mom who struggled. In fact, there was a whole parent session at my second son’s university about parents letting go. But what WAS unusual is that I live on another continent, a missionary in Africa, where an airplane flight is expensive and takes 18 hours or more. This is the season of life when many missionary families leave the mission field. I could understand why. Yet we had barely begun our missionary journey, just passing the four year mark. I felt my heart breaking into a million pieces as I stood there by the sink. I felt alone in my grief. Pity grows well in isolation.
So I cried.
Having to entrust the welfare of my boys into the hands of other people felt like a double edged sword: relief that we had other people to entrust them to and grief that we weren’t available in the same way. So. Many. Emotions. Questions plagued me. “Have I done enough to prepare them? Would our homeschooling efforts pay off? Will they be ok? Will they make the right decisions? Will they tell me if they aren’t ok? When will we see them again? Can we afford to bring them back to Kenya, and do they even want to come?” Tears fell again as I longed to have them all under my own roof one more time.
But my roof is in Africa. Their roof is not. Our family of six was now split into two equal pieces – 3 here and 3 there. Life as we had always known it was forever altered, forever changed. There was no going back to what was before. Grief hit hard in that moment in the kitchen. Pity tends to dwell on what is lost.
So I cried.
I recognized this sudden change in our family. Having three children leave the nest in one year’s time brought about sharp and overwhelming loss. I needed to identify and validate this loss in order to move forward. Loss of the intense role of motherhood, loss of siblings for my youngest, loss of homeschooling high school that had been part of our routine for six years, loss of how we do life in our place of ministry, loss of seeing my sons on a regular basis, and even loss of protection as my three big teenagers provided a sense of security for me.
So I cried.
Paused in this daily task. Wrestling. Fighting for Truth. My head knew I’d be going through all these lessons and losses no matter where we lived. Parents have been doing this for ages. But I hadn’t. This was new for me. The reality was that if we were in the States, the letting go process would have been more gradual and subtle. Not so sudden and abrupt. Pity slips easily down the depression road.
So I cried.
I dried my hands off, unsure of what to do. God hadn’t answered my questions yet. I picked up my phone, just needing someone to pray, understand and let me know that it was going to be ok. My husband wouldn’t be home for hours. I slumped into a chair unable to even stand. “God! This is the hardest ‘Yes’ You have ever asked of me! Give me Peace – give me strength,” I whispered. “Show me why I’m here; why You want us here in Kenya. Why are You asking this of me?”
In a moment of vulnerability, I sent off a quick text message to my teammate, also with kids in college. “Missing my kids so much and the tears are just coming. Can’t talk. Just pray for my heart.” I felt something release, just a little, by admitting to someone I was struggling. Her short response back let me know she was praying and that I wasn’t alone. Pity can’t stand up to prayer.
I wiped my tears.
My heart still ached for purpose. By habit I clicked on Facebook, knowing that comfort would not come from that realm. My heart would not be able to handle seeing smiling faces preparing for fall break activities and holidays. Oh, how I was dreading those holidays without my boys for the very first time. No, Facebook would NOT bring me comfort. But for some reason, I clicked anyway.
I scrolled through trivial posts quickly, and then my eye caught a picture from a missionary pilot friend, one of our own pilots from our mission agency AIM AIR. My breath caught as I stopped scrolling to look at this photo. My husband’s role as a mechanic specialist with AIM AIR didn’t capture photos like this. I don’t often get to see the people our pilots fly. I don’t often see what’s happening “out there” in the bush. I lingered on this picture, drawn to the significance of what it represented. The burning in my heart started to ease. Pity loosens its grip with truthful Perspective.
Tears streamed again, but for a different reason.
Photo credit: Elisha Stock, AIM AIR pilot
Boxes of Bibles sat in the hard-packed dirt beside a Cessna Caravan preparing to go to Central African Republic. CAR, a country of constant turmoil and war, hardship and despair. A place where many brave missionaries endeavor to share the Gospel. Missionaries and nationals we support with aviation. These Zande Bibles headed to refugee camps spoke to my aching heart. Suddenly, my spiritual eyes were able to see beyond the physical realm – beyond my personal grief and sense of loss. Oh, Jesus! I am part of something so much bigger than myself. We bring the Word of God to dark places – this is why!
This is why we are here, this is why I said “yes” to begin with: to bring Light and Hope to those who have never heard, to those who have never had the Bible in their own language before (can you even imagine?), to be feet on the ground – this African ground. It was as if God was asking me again, “EJ, will you say yes? Will you trust Me with your children? Will you continue to do what I’ve called you to do?”
Holy Spirit was not harsh or demanding. He was gentle. Kind. Compassionate even. As if He knew exactly what He was asking. With that simple photo, His peace descended upon my aching heart like a blanket. Pity succumbs to Peace.
So I cried as I surrendered my grief.
“I say yes. Give me grace for this journey,” I prayed. Tears of release replaced the tears of grief and anguish. The words of my own children came back to my memory. “Mom,” son #3’s voice trembled with emotion as we were able to leave him on a strange campus, “Mom, I KNOW this is where God wants me to be. It’s ok.” My 2nd son’s arm wrapped around me as he said with a grin, “Mom, I’ve got bragging rights on you guys!” And my oldest, who assured us that his place was there in the U.S., turned to his youngest brother and admonished, “Watch out for Mom.” Somehow, knowing that this missionary life went way beyond my own self changed my perspective.
Don’t get me wrong. I still miss my kids! Some days are harder than others. But I choose not to give in to pity anymore. In that moment, the bigger picture enveloped me and God’s eternal perspective swept in to remind me of His purpose. It gave me another opportunity to say yes to God and His Kingdom work.
Pity releases its hold when subjected to Truth.
Little did I know that the next opportunity was only a few months away when Kenya would close international travel due to Covid-19. The wrestling match in my heart on that November day prepared me for what was to come, allowing me to say yes to staying in Kenya in a world gone crazy. All six of us, each in our specific place, move forward in confidence knowing that we are exactly where we are supposed to be. Peace always reigns over pity.
Phil and EJ Blohm live in Nairobi, Kenya, where Phil serves as a maintenance specialist with Africa Inland Mission’s aviation branch, AIM AIR. EJ is a diehard eclectic homeschooler (3 graduates now!) and loves to come alongside other moms in their homeschooling journey. She serves on the leadership team of a multicultural homeschool co-op in Nairobi.
why we said yes 