The Things That Block the Streets

One month into our return to Central Asia and we’re still able to see some of those things that are quite different from living in the US. This ability will not last forever. Day by day our senses register everything around us the new normal and we stop noticing the differences almost altogether. That is, until some member of a short-term team points them out to us.

One of the things that has jumped out at me recently is the variety of things that block the streets here in our corner of Central Asia that you’d be hard-pressed to ever encounter on a major road in an American community. But for our new/old location of Caravan City, these things are actually quite normal. So, without further ado, I present The Things That Block the Streets.

Winter kerosene distribution. The other day I was driving to the park when I noticed that the road up ahead was completely blocked by a crowd of men waiting with pickup trucks, motorcycle carts, and metal barrels. Eventually, when a large smelly tanker pulled up, I realized what was going on. The crowd was waiting for the annual government kerosene distribution. For several decades now, many local families have relied on the government to provide them with one barrel of fuel for their kerosene heaters that is meant to last them through the coming winter. This is viewed locally almost like a human right, especially for those who are poor or working class, something that no legitimate government should ever ignore. After all, in an oil-rich country, why should anyone not be able to afford some basic kerosene heating? It’s important enough to the civil servants and the citizens that the routes of daily commuters are of no concern when it’s time to distribute this year’s winter fuel. Time until road is open: an hour or two.
Funeral tents. Countless times we’ve been driving through neighborhood streets when we make a turn and are suddenly faced by a large black tent that spans the width of the street, packed on the inside with stackable plastic chairs. This means someone who lived on that street has just passed away. For several days, the street now belongs to the funeral tent and its constant traffic of friends, neighbors, and relatives coming to sit and pay their respects and listen to a Mullah-for-hire occasionally chant the Qur’an. You are welcome to enter the tent on foot and participate in the funeral ritual, but there is no way your car is getting through. Time until road is open: three or four days.
Election time vehicle parade mobs. Our region’s parliament is holding elections soon and I narrowly avoided getting sucked into one of these metal mobs just the other night. You’ve probably seen images or videos of Trump vehicle convoys in the US. Well, put that on steroids. And instead of a single line of pickup trucks, picture instead a multitude of all kinds of vehicles, with people hanging out the window, waving flags, and honking horns, taking up the entire width of the street. Sometimes they camp out in one spot as they celebrate and try to outdo the other vehicle parades in their enthusiasm. One year we got stuck in one of these for two hours. Time until road is open: fifteen minutes to two hours.
Spontaneous lane creation. Lanes painted on the road are optional recommendations here. Especially when traffic is heavy, three lanes may suddenly turn into six as all the local drivers try to inch ahead with margins that make any Western visitors deeply distraught. This usually works out, amazingly, without anyone’s car scraping along the side of someone else’s. But occasionally the locals do get just a little too aggressive in their spontaneous lane creation and the whole thing ends up one big traffic knot. Thankfully, locals – who really are quite gifted drivers in tight spaces – can usually undo this knot without too much trouble. Time until road is open: five to fifteen minutes.
Herds of sheep, goats, cows, or geese. This one is more common on the outskirts of the city or while driving through smaller towns or village areas. Turns out shepherds and cowherds are quite patient people, which is no doubt a good characteristic for their line of work. But this also means they’re in no hurry to get their livestock across the road and happy to let their herd saunter past the growing line of vehicles on either side. Time until road is open: two to five minutes.
Protests. Government not paying your salary on time? Receiving even less electricity than usual? Take to the streets! This is more common in Poet City or in village areas than here in Caravan City, where the locals are more submissive. And of all the things that block the streets, this one is the most dangerous. Not because the protestors themselves are violent – but because the government response might be. It’s not uncommon for tear gas canisters and even bullets to begin flying when a decent-sized protest is blocking the road, so our policy has long been to stay as far away from protests as possible. Time until road is open: depends on how quickly the trucks full of men with AK-47s arrive, but usually an hour or so.

We’ve learned that there is no wisdom in fighting against these things that block the streets. These blockages and delays are simply part of what it means to be a driver in our corner of Central Asia. The best response is to relax, trust God, and to try to find a way around. Or, to turn off your engine and settle in for a good conversation. Who knows? You may even have time to get out of your car, drink a quick shot of chai, and buy some sunflower seeds for munching while you continue to wait in your vehicle. You may have planned your day and your route like a Westerner, but you are in Central Asia now. The things that block the road come with the territory. Rest in God’s plan to make you more patient and maybe even more Central Asian. And eat those sunflower seeds. Seriously, the seeds really do help.

If you would like to help us purchase a vehicle for our family as we serve in Central Asia (only 2k currently needed!), you can reach out here.

Our kids’ Christian school here in Central Asia has an immediate need for a teacher for the combined 2nd and 3rd grade class. An education degree and some experience is required, but the position is salaried, not requiring support raising. If interested, reach out here!

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

*Names of locals and cities changed for security

Photos are from Unsplash.com

Radio, Jail Time, and Regeneration

Sometimes the way the Son sets you free is by first sending you to prison. This is what happened to Red*, a Central Asian friend whose path keeps intersecting with mine in ways both curious and unpredictable. Finding out that he is now born again, a new man, has been one of the best surprises of our return so far.

The first time I met Red I was perusing a bookshop in the heart of the bazaar. This was back in Poet City*, during our first term. I was scanning the shelves when a young bespectacled man approached me, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. He asked, in English, if I was a foreigner. I responded in the local language that yes, I was. He was delighted I could speak his language and introduced himself as Red, telling me that he lived an hour and a half to the east, in one of the most conservative cities in our region.

Red told me that he led a weekly philosophy group with some of his peers and that he wanted me to come and visit the group sometime. I was fascinated. This was the same city that had lost 500 of its young men a few years earlier. They had been radicalized by an extremely violent terrorist group and had gone off to die in Jihad. What was going on with Red and these other students such that rather than go along with the dominant religious culture of their city, they instead gathered to discuss philosophy? Chances were, some of them were genuinely searching for the truth. We exchanged numbers and I fully intended to visit Red’s group. But for some reason, I never made it out to visit those high school students. Recalling this when we were preparing for our first furlough, it felt like I had missed something that I had been supposed to pursue.

For our second term, we were asked to relocate to the Caravan City*, three hours away, where we planned to form a church planting partnership with the international church. And who should approach me after the very first service we attended? Red, of all people. It had been a couple of years since our bookshop encounter, but we recognized one another right away. I was thrilled to see him attending this solid, gospel-preaching church. Red explained to me that he was now going to university in Caravan City and that he had developed a deep love for Jesus – an affection fostered by his discovery, of all things, of “Positive, Encouraging!” American Christian Radio online.

Inwardly, I chuckled at myself. I was not a huge fan of mainstream American Christian radio music. I felt most of the songs were too shallow, too individualistic, too generic, and too “Jesus is my boyfriend.” This kind of disillusionment with Christian pop worship music had even led me to give up on Christian music outside of church settings for about a decade. But just like action figure Jesus or the song, I Have Decided to Follow Jesus, God seemed to enjoy taking parts of American Christian culture that made me cringe and using them to draw Central Asians to himself.

Red was not yet a believer. But he was clearly drawn to Jesus and also to the church community. Though he would often attend the English-language service over the next six months, he didn’t seem interested in attending our local language Bible study. This trend was not uncommon among young men, but it did make it harder to tell if they were genuinely drawn to Jesus versus English and friendships with Americans. Then the Covid lockdowns came, universities shut down, and Red was stuck back in his hometown. It was at this point that he asked me if we could study the Bible together over the Internet. I happily agreed.

Normally, I start in the Book of Matthew with my Muslim friends. Matthew’s concrete language, regular takedowns of pharisaical religion, and slow and steady case for Jesus’ divinity have meant multiple Central Asian friends have come to faith somewhere in the middle of the book. But, remembering that Red was drawn to philosophy, I decided to read the book of John with him. For the next couple of months, we walked through the first half of John together. It seemed like Red’s mind and heart were being engaged by the Word, but it was still not clear that he understood the gospel.

After a short period, our video call Bible studies came to an end. I can’t recall exactly why, but it was right around when my family was suddenly plunged into crisis when my daughter got terribly sick from what we soon learned was new-onset diabetes. By God’s grace, her life was spared. But this meant the next six months were spent, first, in trying to get out of the country at a time when international air travel was almost completely shut down, and then, trying to figure out in the US if we could stabilize enough to come back.

When we finally did return in the fall of 2020, Red had a unique proposition for me. What if we started an English-language radio station together? Red’s father was the owner of dozens of radio towers in our region. Because of this, he had a good relationship with one of the major media networks here. His son had inherited his father’s knack for all things radio, and so with a few good words from Dad, Red had been invited to pitch a new English-language radio station, focused on the youth of our region.

The pitch had gone well, in part due to the executives’ surprise at this cocky 20-year-old who didn’t seem fazed at all to be interviewing with some of the more powerful media men in the country – including the network CEO, the president’s cousin. Red was very confident in his vision for this new English radio station and in his own abilities to form a solid team. In this, he was not wrong. He was extremely smart, a visionary, and able to form a great team. But Red had no idea how to manage his team or how to break down his vision into a practical plan. As a fellow visionary-type myself (at the time trying to lead my own deeply divided team), I could relate. Unfortunately, this weakness as a manager would ultimately spell the doom of Red’s grand radio plans.

I was brought onto the team to do short, engaging content on the history of our region. Because our locals really value concrete, visual proof of competence, I showed up to the next interview in my nicest teacher jacket, carrying a huge stack of history books. When the president’s cousin and the other radio executives asked me what I was doing with all these books, I was able to tell them that they were full of fascinating stories about their past that none of them had ever heard before. Holding up my chai cup as an example, I shared with them how the American revolutionaries’ boycott of British tea eventually led to tea becoming the reigning hot beverage in our region, replacing coffee. The British needed a market for all their excess tea now that the American market was closed, so they pivoted hard to Central Asia. “And that’s why you drink chai so much,” I concluded. Apparently, my little demonstration had the intended effect and I was officially dubbed a history expert fit for national radio.

In the following weeks, we made it as far as visiting a fancy new tower under construction to give our input on the blueprints for our new studio. This step made it seem like it was really going to happen.

There were six of us on the team: Red, myself, a local who had grown up in Canada and was now a gifted trilingual DJ, and several other young men and women who were in charge of running other fun or educational shows. Since I was in my early 30s, I was the old experienced guy among this crew of 20-somethings. I was hoping to leverage my ‘old man’ status to help hold the team together since serious signs of dysfunction were already showing.

Good questions about timing, expectations, and compensation were dismissed by Red as people not being optimistic enough or not truly understanding the vision. Consistently, Red was able to describe the end goal, but not what we needed to do to practically get there. And though he was brilliant in some ways, he was also very young and often unreliable. He might go dark for days at a time, leaving the rest of us to text each other to figure out what was actually happening. When the team found out he had merely been preoccupied with a new girlfriend, for example, tempers flared.

In the end, the new radio station never came to fruition. There was no clear announcement, just longer and longer periods of silence from Red until eventually the rest of us concluded that the thing must have been killed for some reason behind the scenes. The others moved on to other projects. My family found ourselves suddenly asked to move back to Poet City. And the whole radio thing became a strange unfinished story that only came out unexpectedly with friends. “Weren’t you supposed to be doing history stuff on the radio? Whatever happened to that?”

That was the last I heard of Red – until this month, that is. Upon our return to Caravan City, I learned that not only had Red been around, but he was now a beloved new believer. He had recently moved back to Poet City and everyone in the church here seemed to miss his presence. Could this be the same Red that I knew? This past week he visited Caravan City again and shared with me what happened.

Last year, Red had traveled to another country in our region. There, for some reason, he took a selfie in front of the Mexican embassy. Apparently, this is a big no-no. Red was arrested and ended up in prison for two whole months before being extradited back to his home country. While this all sounds like overkill to me, it must have been some kind of providential overkill. This is because while in prison, Red came to the end of himself. For the first time, he knew himself to be a sinner. He came under conviction for his different addictions, for his womanizing, for his pride. His Bible came alive to him as he read it for hours every day in his cell. And for the first time, he experienced the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit.

“The Bible is so clear and rich to me now,” he told me. “I could never understand it when we would read it before. But now I feel like I can finally understand it and like I could study it forever.”

Red’s physical demeanor even seemed different to me. True, he had aged a bit. There were now hints of grey showing up in his beard and hair. But he also seemed more at peace than he had before, humble even. He told me excitedly about how he’s hoping to get baptized soon and trying to figure all that out now that he’s going to be joining the international church in Poet City. Because he’s been discipled as a new believer here in Caravan City, the two churches may end up doing a baptism picnic together to celebrate.

Red and I hugged as we said goodbye and laughed about all the ways we keep running into one another over the years, from the bookshop to our season as prospective radio hosts, to the brotherhood we now finally share together. If our future paths are anything like what our past paths have been, then I’m sure I’ll see him again soon.

I now see that same fancy tower where our radio studio was supposed to be every time I look out my bedroom window. It’s a good reminder to pray for Red. In years past, we had prayed a lot for Red to be set free. For that to happen, God had to first send him to prison. An unexpected means of answering prayer? Yes. But Red, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind at all.

If you would like to help us purchase a vehicle for our family as we serve in Central Asia (only 3k currently needed), you can reach out here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

*Names of locals and cities changed for security

Photos are from Unsplash.com

A Pro-Translation God

…perhaps, indeed, we should be talking not of language prestige but language charisma. Sanskrit, besides being the sacred language of Hinduism, has owed much to disciples of the Buddha; and Hebrew would have been lost thousands of years ago with Judaism. Arabic is more ambiguous: in the long term, Islam has proved the fundamental motive for its spread, but it was Arab-led armies which actually took the language into western Asia and northern Africa, creating new states in which proselytising would follow. Arabs were also famous as traders round the Indian Ocean, but the acceptance of Islam in these areas has never given Arabic anything more than a role in liturgy. Curiously, the linguistic effects of spreading conversions turn out to be almost independent of the preachers’ own priorities. Christians have been fairly indifferent to the language in which their faith is expressed, and their classic text, The New Testament, records the sayings of Jesus in translation; and yet Christianity itself has played a crucial role in the preservation of, and indeed the prestige of, many languages, including Aramaic, Greek, Latin and Gothic.

– Ostler, Empires of the Word, pp. 21-22

Ostler makes some interesting observations here on the effect that religion has on languages. It’s a mixed picture. Clearly, religion can be one major factor in why languages spread and how they are preserved. But as he notes, the results can be very unpredictable. The acquisition or spread of a new faith along with a new language sometimes go together. But not always.

In terms of Christianity’s posture toward which language we use to make disciples, we often forget the fact that the sayings of Jesus in the New Testament are a Spirit-inspired translation of his actual words. This is good evidence that God is a pro-translation God, modeling for us that the most important truths in the universe can indeed make the jump from one tongue to another. This apparently holds true even though the range of meanings for an individual word in a given language is always slightly or even vastly different from that of its equivalent in another language – if an equivalent exists at all. Languages are never one-to-one equivalents, and yet God provided four infallible translation accounts of Jesus’ teachings. This provides much hope for those of us involved in translation work that is definitely fallible, but God willing, still good.

Christianity’s preservation of languages through Bible translation alone is something celebrated even by pagans. But languages redeemed to serve the Church can still go awry. Forgetting that not even the language of Jesus was preserved by the authors of the New Testament as the holy language of heaven and earth, believers in certain ages have tried to elevate their own languages instead, whether that be Latin, Greek, Coptic, Syriac, or KJV English. While the desire to preserve a tongue once used mightily by God is commendable, it becomes a bad thing when a rigid ongoing use of that tongue in liturgy or preaching increasingly denies God’s people the kind of hearing that can lead to faith.

Every Sunday for decades, the gospel was utterly unintelligible for one of my closest friends who grew up in an ethnic Christian community here in Central Asia. This was not only because he was not yet born again – but because God’s word had been fossilized in an ancient form of his language that was no longer intelligible to anyone but the priests. Turns out the miracle of the new birth can only take place when the gospel is communicated in a language we can understand.

The language is never the end in and of itself. It is the means by which we reach our goal of spiritual communication. Lose sight of this and we risk losing entire people groups that once were saturated with vibrant churches and true believers.

If you would like to help us purchase a vehicle for our family as we serve in Central Asia (only 3k currently needed), you can reach out here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

Photos are from Wikimedia Commons

International Pig Meat Smugglers, Inc.

In the season just before we found out that Ahab* was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, I was trying to help him start a small business. Ahab was a sharp man with many skills, but he had strangely gone without work for quite some time. Looking back, this should have been another warning sign. What was really going on was that Ahab was unwilling to work another real job since he believed he deserved a ministry salary – especially now that our church plant was meeting in his house. But it took some time for this to come out.

In the meantime, I tried to help him start an illegal pig meat business. At the time, I wasn’t really thinking through the legality of everything, just trying to see if the concept would work. But yes, afterward we found out that we were indeed violating a number of Islamic social and import/export laws. Alas, it was for a good cause.

I was eager to see if I could help this potential elder start a small business that would provide for his family’s needs in a climate where outspoken believers often face many hurdles to gainful employment. At that time, most locals only lived on $500 a month or less. So, a small business only needed to bring in several hundred dollars a month in profit to be significantly helpful for a family like Ahab’s.

During this first term of ours overseas, my mind was aflame with dozens of business ideas that locals could start. Many of these ideas came from noticing what wasn’t yet available in our area compared to much of the developed world. And one product that was simply nowhere to be found was pork or pig meat of any kind.

This is not too hard to understand since we live in an Islamic country. Yet I was surprised that there was almost no infrastructure whatsoever for selling pork products to the growing population of foreigners. I remember once seeing a store section in Dubai labeled, PORK – NOT FOR MUSLIMS! Our grocery stores had no such sections with intimidating signage. Every once in a while an alcohol store would sell some canned spam of some sort. But even this was a rarity.

Some of our colleagues had decided not to eat pork for the sake of witness. But since eating pork didn’t lead to any loss of relationships in our local culture, others of us decided that we would occasionally partake as a way to point toward gospel freedom, bless local believers, and simply enjoy one of God’s good gifts. But those of us who partook had to content ourselves with precooked bacon or packages of pepperoni occasionally carried over in suitcases. Once, I won an American canned ham in a white elephant Christmas game. That was a good Christmas.

However, I knew that there were abundant wild pigs up in the mountains. Many locals would hunt them for sport. Some would even cook what they killed, bragging to close friends about eating something that had been forbidden to them all their lives.

Putting two and two together, one day I asked Ahab if he knew anyone who regularly went pig hunting.

“Yes, my son-in-law who lives just over the border.”

Like many families, and like our people group as a whole, Ahab’s kinfolk treated international borders much more casually than Westerners would. After all, their people group had been living in these mountains for millennia. Empires rose, kingdoms fell, borders changed – and their people group was still there, fighting rival tribes, marrying women from those same tribes, herding livestock, robbing caravans, and trading between ancestral areas as they pleased. In fact, because of this arbitrary imposition of borders by outsiders, smuggling is still viewed as an honorable trade here. The modern state in all its rigidity continues to gain power and permanence, but for now, the older tribal and semi-nomadic ways still regularly violate its borders and thereby call its legitimacy into question.

“Brother Ahab, could your son-in-law ever bring us pig meat to sell to the foreigners here?”

“Yes… Yes, he could do that. He goes hunting all the time and then comes to visit us or we go to visit them at least once a month.”

“Well,” I continued, “I’m not sure yet, but there might be enough interest among the foreigners such that there would be a monthly demand for fresh pig meat.”

Later that night, I posted a question on one of the expat Facebook pages. “Would anyone be interested in buying fresh wild pig meat were we to start selling it?”

Now, I tend to be an optimist when it comes to business ideas, but the response I got surprised even me. Dozens of expats from at least two big cities said they would be eager to buy wild pig meat from us were we to start selling it. All of a sudden, a plan was coming together.

A few weeks later, we had our first batch of fresh mountain boar meat. These cuts of meat were for us to cook, in hopes that we could develop a good recipe to recommend to buyers.

“Did they give your son-in-law any trouble at the border?” I asked Ahab, worried about what the Islamic border guards might do if they discovered someone transporting haram (Islam’s term for defiling) meat across the border.

“No trouble at all! They asked what it was and he truthfully said, ‘Meat.’ Look at it,” he said, pointing into the cooler full of rich red slabs of mountain pig, “It looks red like cow meat, so they let them right on through.”

Here, our local language did us a favor. The most common term for animal meat in daily usage is a generic one that doesn’t distinguish what animal that meat is coming from. It could be cow, lamb, goat – or pig. The listener doesn’t know unless he asks a specific follow-up question. Even then, the common answer might be given as ‘beast meat’ as opposed to ‘bird meat,’ and the specific beast still might not be named. So, we had at least two levels of linguistic cover.

My wife and I looked up a recipe online for cooking wild pig meat and decided to try one that involved cooking the meat in a slow cooker with garlic, onions, salt and pepper, and red wine. I went down the street to the same liquor store where I had once bought vodka to try and treat a mold infestation.

“I need some red wine for cooking pig meat!” I said, the clerks shaking their heads at these wild excuses I kept giving them for why I was buying alcohol.

For the taste test meal, we invited two other local believers to come and try it with us, serving it with Dijon mustard and barbecue sauces for dipping. Even after soaking in its slow cooker brew, the meat still proved to taste much gamier than normal pork would. Yet it was tender, juicy, and still contained rich flavors that hinted at this wild porker’s distant relation to the pink farm swine so long domesticated in the West.

The foreigners would enjoy this. The local believers? Hit or miss. One of our guests liked it. The other one, unfortunately, pledged afterward to never eat pork again – a vow I believe he has kept to this day. In his defense, when you’ve been told your whole life that pork is the most disgusting and unclean thing you can possibly eat, this can be quite the hurdle to overcome. Regardless of what his tastebuds told him, his mind was convinced it would make him sick. In hindsight, we really should have started him out with bacon, not roast of feral pig. Every local believer we’ve introduced to bacon first has afterward joined us in a long-term enjoyment of this delicious meat of the new covenant.

Having found a recipe we were mostly satisfied with, we then began advertising to the expat Facebook community. The first orders were placed and fulfilled. More cross-border trips took place without any issues. New orders came in. Things were looking promising.

Unfortunately, right about this time is when other local believers started approaching us with very concerning things that Ahab was saying to them behind closed doors. So naturally, our small business efforts halted and then came to an end in parallel to our hopes for Ahab’s future leadership in the church. In the following weeks and months, it became apparent that Ahab was not who he seemed to be, but that we had a very skillful deceiver on our hands. Among many more serious things, this meant that the fledgling pig meat business would also have to come to an end.

In the years since we’ve not attempted it again. Yes, the later revelations that it was technically illegal were one part of this. But the concept still comes up every now and then. Just last week I was talking to our kids’ school director about small business ideas for the students as they learn about entrepreneurship.

“We need a decent sausage business here!” I told her. “There are no good sausages or hot dogs available whatsoever. Even if it’s only some good beef and chicken franks, I’m convinced there’s a market here for it among the expats and locals who have come back from Europe.”

“And…” I continued, “Maybe you could have a secret menu of pork sausages.”

I do know it’s not illegal here for Christians to sell pork products to other Christians, so we may yet have a sausage company here someday. But yes, this time we’d be careful to do some legal research ahead of time. We’ll also keep things simple by sourcing our feral pigs domestically. No international smuggling required – just a trusty local hunter with a good rifle and decent cooler.

And if, in the good providence of God, our illegal pig meat operation with Ahab somehow eventually contributes to a solid small business for some missionary kids, then that would be worth celebrating. All things for good. Even ill-conceived pig meat smuggling operations.

If you would like to help us purchase a vehicle for our family as we serve in Central Asia (4k currently needed), you can reach out here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

*Names of locals changed for security

Photos are from Unsplash.com

The Important Role of Foreign Stabilizers

“I’m worried about us local believers,” a new local friend said to me yesterday as we sat in a cafe dating back to the 1880s, sipping a brew made from wild tree nuts.

“We don’t know how to be steady. We are concerned with so many things and get upset so quickly and leave the church.”

“That’s not too unusual for new believers,” I responded. “And it points to one way the foreigners can help in this season. We model stability until, slowly-slowly, the local believers can also become stable.”

The ironic thing is that missionaries are some of the least stable and most transient people I know, at least in terms of physical presence. We move constantly. We take a lot of trips in and out of the country. We get uprooted by family needs or leadership gaps or security crises. At first glance, we may seem to make poor examples of being “steadfast, immovable.”

And yet one of the most important roles for missionaries in places like Central Asia is that of the stabilizer. We may be familiar with the concept of a foreign agitator, some kind of spy whose presence is meant to stir up discontent and division among the locals. Well, when it comes to our posture among the local believers, I am more and more convinced that we are to be foreign stabilizers – especially in terms of spiritual stability. To put it in terms of being on a journey, when surrounded by our younger brothers and sisters who want to sprint, grumble, fight, go off trail, give up, or go back, we simply keep plodding and modeling the “long obedience in the same direction.” We are, or should be, a lot like faithful, stubborn turtles.

When it comes to the believers from our particular region, there really is for a good many years a restlessness, a spiritual and emotional flailing around, a great struggle with steady commitment and contentment. Many stumble over the simplicity and repetitive, quiet nature of true spiritual growth, whether that’s the growth of an individual or that of a local church. Like adults with traumatic childhoods, some internal part of them tends to freak out and go on the attack when finally offered true stability – even when that’s what they most desperately long for and need.

Now, add into this mix Westerners’ expectations of speed and results and their fear of wielding spiritual authority and you get one very destructive brew. The very last thing my local friends need is a foreign missionary who himself is restless because he’s overcome by the immensity of the lostness, or, who is terrified of ‘contaminating’ the locals with his culture. Or, even worse, those willing to turn to money to catalyze some kind of ‘movement’ because they’re doing the math and realize unhappily that at the rate of fifteen believers after five years they won’t ever reach their goal of one million believers they’d set back when they were fundraising in America.

No, what will truly serve my local friends is if we set our course for faithfulness – and simply keep going whether they join us or not. In order to really help them, we must be honest appraisers of the lack of stability that is currently there, while at the same time being incredibly hopeful about the fact that Jesus really will eventually create the needed spiritual steadfastness in them. We must not depend on them when it comes to our own initial role of modeling faithfulness and healthy church, while also constantly reminding them that it is our heart’s desire that someday we will depend on them completely. We must ourselves be the stable core of the local church plant that will, Lord-willing, one day, fully thrive without us.

This kind of posture may be offensive to other missionaries. After all, it places the foreigner at the visible beating center of the work, sometimes for a good long time. In the short run, it may draw accusations of paternalism or building one’s own kingdom or not trusting the Spirit. But if the missionary takes on this role of foreign stabilizer for the sake of loving his currently unstable brothers and sisters, then time will show that this kind of foreigner-leading-by-example-as-long-as-it-takes model is actually the one that best raises up locals in the long-run. Missionaries are afraid to take charge like this because it looks bad. But good missions work should always be less concerned with optics and more concerned with what’s actually most loving for others.

This sort of model is not without its dangers, of course. But the alternative – attempting to stay in the background and using salaries to prop up locals prematurely – is far, far more dangerous. Ministry salaries follow spiritual and emotional maturity. They cannot create it.

The traditional analogy for missionaries is that we are like scaffolding – temporary, only present until the permanent structure of the indigenous Church can be built. This is a great analogy in many ways. But at least for our context, its focus on external support doesn’t communicate well the necessity of the missionary’s central stabilizing role. A better analogy might be that the missionary is like some kind of planet orbiting a star that by nature of its own gravity pulls other renegade space rocks and moons into, first, its own orbit, and then eventually into that of its sun. I’m not very good at science illustrations, so if this would never happen in the real universe, you’ll have to forgive me. But I think you see my point.

I don’t presume that every unreached context will need the same thing. Due to differences in how common grace has been dispersed, some people groups will not have the same kind of radical spiritual instability that ours do. But I do presume that there are other contexts out there a lot like ours, where missionaries have been told they are not supposed to be front and center, that this would be taking a step backward as it were, who are now confused because being the stable center seems to be the most loving and effective way forward.

If this is you, then my encouragement would be to forget what it looks like. Love your local friends by being the stable example they need. Teach, preach, lead, counsel, worship, rebuke, gather, host, visit – do the work of the ministry in a steadfast, immovable fashion. Your local friends can eventually ‘catch’ Christian stability by observing you. So, be the kind of steady believer they have never seen before. Be an example, and thereby, a foreign stabilizer.

If you would like to help us purchase a vehicle for our family as we serve in Central Asia (8k currently needed), you can reach out here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

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Go Into All The World And Make Friends

My son recently asked me who my best friends are. I took a moment to think, then said, “My best friend in the U.S. is Reza* and my best friend in Central Asia is Darius*.” I smiled as I said it, realizing these two brothers from Muslim backgrounds—one a refugee and one a new pastor in his home city—really are two of my closest friends.

Humanly speaking, we shouldn’t be friends at all. But the gospel has done something remarkable in us, such that we now love one another with a deep and happy loyalty. For this, I’m indebted to these brothers who’ve so often pursued the relationship. I’m also indebted to my parents who modeled a deep love and friendship for the local believers they served as missionaries in Melanesia. When I eventually became a missionary, I naturally followed in their footsteps.

Yet when it comes to missions, few speak explicitly about the centrality of friendship. Of course, we might have close friends back home, our own Andrew Fullers who hold the ropes for us. Or we might value the close fellowship and camaraderie of teammates on the field. But we seldom consider how affectionate friendships of equality with locals are one of the primary goals and rewards of a life spent proclaiming the gospel among the nations.

Friendship with God

One way to describe the missionary’s goal is to see others become friends with the eternal God and his Son, Jesus Christ. This is the vertical side of friendship in missions. We shouldn’t lose sight of the scandal of this invitation. How can it be that rebellious sinners, lifelong enemies of God, are welcomed into friendship with the holy God they’ve so long spurned? Yet this is the language of the Bible.

Abraham, the father of all who are saved by faith, is called a friend of God (James 2:23). Jesus was known as the friend of sinners (Matt. 11:19). He explicitly tells his disciples they’re no longer only servants but friends (John 15:13–15).

As a missionary, I have the privilege of seeing Central Asians befriended by God. That’s my goal. It’s also my reward.

Befriending Locals

In faithful cross-cultural ministry, we invite the nations into friendship with God. However, by virtue of their new relationship with Christ, they should also become friends with us. This is the horizontal side of friendship in missions; not only does God gain new and eternal friends but so do we. At least we will if we follow in the footsteps of Paul, whose ministry overflowed with affectionate friendship toward those who believed the gospel.

Paul didn’t only give the gospel to local believers; he shared his life with them (1 Thess. 2:8). He didn’t limit himself to ministry relationships or even task-focused partnerships. In addition to being their loving father in the faith, he became their devoted friend (Acts 24:23).

We see this friendship through Paul’s constant, thankful, joyful prayers for local believers. We see it in his unembarrassed professions of affection and longing to spend time with them (Phil. 1:3–4, 8; 1 Thess. 3:6, 10). Paul truly held these believers in his heart, delighting in them in person while also doing his best to stay in touch with them from a distance (Phil. 1:7; 4:21–22; 1 Cor. 16:7). He lived sacrificially for them and allowed them to care for his needs (Phil. 2:17; 4:16). He treated them as equals, calling them brothers. He was proud of them, calling them his crown (4:1). Paul and his friends even wept with and for one another (Acts 20:37).

Problem of Self-Protection

But we must be honest about something. When you talk to local believers in many missions contexts, they’ll tell you missionaries seem hesitant to enter into this kind of close friendship with them. Many try to keep a safer relational distance from locals.

Why is that? Maybe it’s because missionaries know they’re transient. This is perhaps an act of self-protection in a lifestyle given to so many costly goodbyes. Others may struggle to befriend locals out of confusion about what healthy boundaries are. Sadly, some may quietly despise the culture or even unconsciously look down on locals. Whatever the reason, missionaries should try to understand why they’re keeping locals at arm’s length—then repent.

As one of my pastors in Central Asia recently told me, the diversity of our friendships is meant to display the gospel’s beauty. Wealthy local friends should marvel that you also befriend the street cleaner. And your fellow countrymen back home should be surprised by the depth of your friendships with local believers whose backgrounds are so different from your own.

Worth the Risk

Missionaries may be effective in many aspects of their ministry with locals. They may have solid partnerships, even a level of trust. But that’s not the same as risking the vulnerability and equality that characterizes true spiritual friendship. It’s not the same as the shared delight that missionaries have with those from their own culture. And locals can tell the difference.

However, the most beloved (and hence effective) missionaries are genuine friends with the local believers. Yes, this will make missions more costly. Sin, betrayal, and abandonment will break your heart when you’ve entrusted it to local believers. I’ve gone through seasons when I dared not risk such friendships. Too many had left, had failed, had turned on us when we needed them most. Yet I’m so glad the Lord didn’t leave me in that place but gently brought my heart back to a posture of vulnerability—and I once again tasted the sweet rewards of affection.

Some of my fondest moments as a missionary have been when my Central Asian friends and I dream together about the new heavens and earth. We talk about how much we look forward to being there together with Jesus, telling stories, and sipping New Jerusalem chai. If our friendship now with one another and with Jesus is such a kind gift—such an undeserved reward—then just imagine what it’ll be like in the resurrection.

Go Make Friends

The Scottish missionary John Paton knew the costs and rewards of friendship on the mission field. He also anticipated the joys of those friendships perfected in glory. Recounting the death of his friend Chief Kowia, he writes,

Thus died a man who had been a cannibal Chief, but by the grace of God and the love of Jesus changed, transfigured into a character of light and beauty. I lost, in losing him, one of my best friends and most courageous helpers; but I knew that day, and I know now, that there is one soul at least from Tanna to sing the glories of Jesus in Heaven—and, oh, the rapture when I meet him there!

Friendship is one of the primary goals and richest rewards of missions. I’m convinced faithful missionaries should exhibit a posture of humility and vulnerability, pursuing affectionate and mutual love with local believers. Because we don’t go to the ends of the earth only to make disciples. We also go to make friends.

This post was originally published at The Gospel Coalition

If you would like to help us purchase a vehicle for our family as we serve in Central Asia (11k currently needed), you can reach out here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

*Names Changed for Security

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A Proverb Against Silly Self Denial

Are you a melon eater or a melon picker?

– local oral tradition

I just learned this one this week and I’m so glad I did. Allegedly, it’s a saying all our locals know well. However, it does require some explanation.

In our Central Asian culture, there are a lot of honorable and repeated refusals of generous offers of hospitality. Now, when these offers are made in the honorable-hypothetical way, turning down an invitation is exactly what you are supposed to do. But when it’s a genuine offer from a friend, something clearly good and helpful, or something you would simply be foolish to refuse, that’s when this saying comes out.

The logic of this saying is that, given the choice, everyone would rather sit and eat sweet juicy melons than go out into the heat of the late summer fields and pick them. A clearer way to phrase these sentiments in English might be, “Are you actually choosing to go out and harvest melons when I’m offering to serve them to you? I’ve already done the work. Why are you denying yourself something good that I’m clearly ready to bless you with?”

There are times when self-denial and refusing others’ service or help is good, right, and noble. And then there are times when it’s just silly – or even a form of pride. True humility not only avoids taking advantage of others’ hospitality and generosity but is also willing to receive it. Sometimes we need to swallow our pride and just enjoy that good gift that is being genuinely extended to us.

I can easily picture a Central Asian mama, hands on her hips, scolding her brother who’s come for a visit, but is for some reason refusing to sit and take a minute to rest.

“Don’t be dumb. It’s 111 degrees outside. Sit and eat some cold melon for a minute.”

While this is a more informal proverb, I’m curious if it might also work for those who object that the free gift of salvation in Jesus is simply way too easy. Many here feel that salvation through faith in God’s promises is not a difficult enough road for them. They would rather walk the anxiety-ridden path of works righteousness than rest in the free gift of salvation being offered them in Jesus. Why? Because the gift is all of grace – and therefore it means they can’t feel proud of themselves for having earned it.

Don’t be a melon picker. Be a melon eater. Receive the good gifts of God.

If you would like to help us afford a solid set of wheels for driving around our corner of Central Asia (11k needed), you can reach out here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

Photos are from Unsplash.com

We’re Off Again! Plus Some Thoughts on Taxis

Tomorrow evening we’ll board the first flight of our return trip to Central Asia. Yes, tomorrow! A lot has taken place in the last few weeks and the fast-paced developments have shifted us into quick-move-the-household mode and prevented me from writing as much as I would prefer.

In short, all of the sudden we are nearly fully funded. Many generous friends have come together to provide enough support for us to get the green light to buy tickets so that we’re on the ground a full two days before our kids’ school starts. The very last piece that we are working to raise is 14k for our vehicle (If you can help with this one-time need, let us know!).

In the meantime, we’ll be making use of our city’s over-abundance of taxis – and hopefully getting into some good conversations with them. You never know what kind of conversation you might fall into with a Central Asian taxi driver. Sometimes they may teach you some classic Central Asian poetry lamenting the pharisaical tendencies of Islam:

A wish for the days of homemade naan
In a thousand homes, a pilgrim only one
Now for all, “Pilgrimmy pilgrim” is claimed
But pilgrims they’re not, nor their bread e’en homemade

Or, they may take things in a more political direction, complaining about the corruption in their government or telling me who they would vote for if they were an American citizen (Our taxi drivers strongly favor Republicans). Many will also ask if we know how they can get a visa to the West or even secure an American wife. That will be a negative on both fronts, my dear driver.

Somewhere in there, they’ll often ask us if we are Muslims. This of course is a wonderful opening into sharing what we believe. “You know, there’s a lot of external similarity between Christianity and Islam, but at the core, their messages about how a person is saved are completely contradictory…”

I hear we may even be getting fare meters on our taxis soon, which will be a nice change from the haggling typically required before you get in one (which I am particularly bad at). Now, if we could only help them to stop driving like they’re auditioning for a Central Asian version of The Fast and the Furious.

During an especially harrowing taxi ride through the mountains some years ago, I leaned over to a wide-eyed friend visiting from our sending church and hollered, “Times like this make you glad to be a Calvinist, eh?” Needless to say, the best of all possible worlds meant that we did indeed survive that ride, in spite of several close calls with oncoming semis. That same friend is now supporting us as we go back. I have a suspicion the taxis have something to do with this.

How did a post that started as an announcement of our return to Central Asia turn into an exploration of local taxis? I am not completely sure, yet here we are.

Tomorrow we get on a plane and so conclude twenty two months of transition. We came back from the field in late 2022, pretty certain we wouldn’t be able to return. Now, because of God’s kindness to us and the faithful friendships of so many brothers and sisters, we are not only going back, but are excited to do so. We covet your prayers.

As for the writing, I am excited to continue. Moving from one world to another is always a special time of being able to temporarily see things that will soon be overlooked as normal. I’ll be keeping my eyes open for these little glimpses of the absurd and the delightful.

And, more likely than not, a post or two will come from a particularly interesting conversation with a taxi driver.

If you would like to help us afford a solid set of wheels for driving around our corner of Central Asia (14k needed), you can reach out here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

Photos are from Unsplash.com

Define: Contextualization

This brief video from the Great Commission Council puts forward a solid definition of one of the more fought-over aspects of missions: contextualization. It’s a huge topic, but this definition is a great place to start – Contextualization is the task of making the message of the gospel comprehensible to all cultures and contexts.

In case you’re wondering, each of these GCC teaser videos will also soon be followed with a published article going deeper into the topic. Many of these articles will be rolling out in the next few months. We got to be a part of the discussions that led to these articles and got to read the rough drafts – and they are so good. I can’t wait for these thoughtful and biblical resources to be made available for the churches and missionaries.

The final item we need to raise support for is a vehicle to use while on the field. If you can help us fund this practical need, you can shoot us a message here. Thanks so much!

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

Photos are from Unsplash.com

On Being a Language Pragmatist

The goal of language learning and language use for any missionary should be effective spiritual communication. The goal is not the language itself, but rather faith that comes by hearing. Because of this, language is the necessary tool, the vehicle by which a missionary is able to achieve effective communication.

Now, if you have been reading this blog for a while you will know that I think language itself is a stunning and wonderful thing – but that it’s also a limited thing. Humans in general are not usually awake to the wonder of language. And many missionaries don’t learn the local language nearly well enough because doing so can be such hard work. However, many missionaries also like to fight about language, elevating language learning and language usage choices to the level of dogma, seemingly believing that it will make or break a ministry or church planting movement if you don’t get it perfect.

But because we love language and yet are also very aware of its limitations, we are language pragmatists. This posture means we will happily use whatever language makes for the deepest understanding of the truth we are trying to communicate. In this posture of language pragmatism, I believe we have a precedent in God himself, who in the Bible happily switches from Hebrew to Aramaic to Greek and also throws in 80-some Persian loan words for good measure. In this, the God of the Bible is refreshingly contrasted with the deity of Islam who rigidly confines the language of heaven and prayer to one earthly tongue – 7th century Arabic – and demands that all his followers do the same now and in the life to come. As if the weight of eternity could possibly be borne by one human tongue alone.

Now, don’t get me wrong. This posture of language pragmatism doesn’t make us care less about language learning. It actually makes us more serious about our study of a given tongue. Again, when the goal is effective communication of God’s truth, then you can’t help but notice when the majority of the population isn’t being reached by the global, regional, or trade languages being used by most Christian efforts among your people group. These other tongues might be good for reaching a subset of the population who have second or third-language proficiency in them. But if they are ineffective in carrying gospel truth to those inner places of the heart and mind where true understanding takes place, then the language pragmatist will adjust accordingly and try to master the indigenous tongue. He’ll be bad at it for a good long while, but that same filter of effective communication will drive him forward until he reaches a higher and higher level in the local language – or whatever language he needs in order to fulfill his ministry.

Perhaps some stories will help illustrate what this looks like on the ground. During the beginning of our first term, our supervisors told us explicitly not to share the gospel in English. They were worried that if we got into this habit, we would lack the motivation to learn the local language well enough to be able to share in it effectively. And also, that our local friendships would stay forever fixed in the language they began in.

The problem was we were English teachers. So, while we were still speaking the local language like toddlers, some of our advanced students were reading English versions of Orwell’s dystopian novel, 1984, and wanting to discuss it with us. When the doors opened for spiritual conversation with these advanced students, we felt conscience-bound to switch to English as often as necessary for the sake of clarity and understanding. Our supervisors, in their zeal for the local language, had fallen into a kind of rigidity that caused them to confuse the goal with the means.

In the long run, we found that our local friends were also language pragmatists. They were happy to switch to whichever language led to deeper understanding or relational connection. To this day, we still might bounce back and forth between advanced local language and advanced English as needed in a given conversation.

Consider another example. One of our sister people groups speaks their mother tongue at home and with one another, but is only able to read and write in the dominant regional language. This means that their Bible studies are always a bilingual affair. The Bible is read in the regional language but the discussion takes place in their oral mother tongue. Our colleagues who work among this people group have taken the wise (and pragmatic) approach of seeking to learn both languages.

Some language purists might object that the real goal should be to get these locals reading and writing their own language. And this may very well be an excellent long-term goal. We fully support increased literacy all around, especially when it comes to the language a person dreams in, prays desperate prayers in, and yells in when they stub their toe. But in the meantime, use the tools you have, and don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

While using those good tools, ask these two questions continually: 1) Is effective communication currently taking place? And 2) Would our communication of spiritual things be more effective were we to use a different language? These questions keep the missionary safe from the risk of assuming communication is actually taking place – an assumption that is all too easy when you’ve been told by others the ‘right’ language in which to do ministry.

But hold on, isn’t pragmatism bad when it comes to missions? Only sometimes. Only when we are being pragmatic about things the Bible would have us be principled about. Using ministry salaries to bribe people into becoming Christians is pragmatic in the wrong way. Using whichever language is best to communicate a concept such as atonement is being pragmatic in the best sense. When the Bible gives freedom to follow practical wisdom in a given area, then Christians should walk in that freedom – enjoy it, even – rather than creating their own little missiological laws to then be bound by.

The wonderful truth is that the Bible does not demand we use any given language in order to do God’s work. Instead, we are completely and utterly free to use any of them to effectively communicate the gospel. Each of the world’s 6,000-plus languages has a unique glory all its own, one that will shine forth in worship in this age as well as in the age to come. This means they each belong to us, the heirs of that resurrection. And we can grab any handful of them that we need to (as our limited brains allow) in order to preach the gospel, plant churches, and disciple the saints.

So, consider joining us in becoming pragmatists – language pragmatists, that is. It’s really quite freeing.

If 22 more friends join us as monthly supporters, we should be 100% funded and able to return to the field! If you would like to join our support team, reach out here. Both monthly and one-time gifts are very helpful right now. Many thanks!

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

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