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.

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 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.

Photos are from Unsplash.com

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

Photos are from Unsplash.com

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!

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When Mom and Dad Quietly Cast Out a Demon

This is the story of the one and only exorcism that my parents performed while they were Baptist missionaries in Melanesia – at least the only one that they were aware of. We’ll have to wait til heaven to find out what other spirits may have been driven off unawares as my parents went about their normal missionary work of sharing the gospel and strengthening young churches in the Melanesian highlands. Given how dark and pervasive the worship of the spirits is in that part of the world, I for one would not be surprised to learn in eternity that much more of this kind of warfare was going on than was obvious and visible at the time.

One of the areas my parents worked in was about a half hour’s muddy drive up a mountain from where we lived – when the road was open and clear, that is. At one point, tribal fighting had broken out. In a bid to keep the police from burning down the warring parties’ grass homes, the locals had burned enough of the planks in the one bridge that crossed the river into their area to make it virtually impassable.

For a while, my dad went into the area on his own, to avoid putting our family at risk. He’d ford the river on his motorbike in order to still be able to preach Sunday mornings in the church plant. The river was just shallow enough to do this, although it was full of large river boulders – just as the road itself was shot through with large boulders, rocks, and ruts.

After the fighting settled down, I clearly remember us fording the river as a family in our 1980s Hilux truck and often getting stuck in the orange clay-mud on the far bank. We were regularly dug out by crews of kind villagers who placed large stones and grass clods under our spinning tires and pushed, laughing and knee-deep in mud, until our truck sprang free. This kind of thing could turn a thirty-minute trip into one that took two hours.

At times, my parents would bring their own wooden planks to lay across the bridge’s steel beams so that they could make two temporary tracks for our pickup to drive across. Eventually, the rainy season washed away all the soil on the bank attached to our end of the bridge, and we were back to fording the river.

This area of the highlands was deeply animistic. The people were still largely in bondage to the fear of the spirits of nature and of their deceased relatives, but a veneer of Christianity had been painted over all this by different groups. The Catholics and Seventh-day Adventists had claimed this particular area as their territory. At one point, an aggressive crowd of “Skin Christian” (so-called by the local believers because their Christianity was only skin-deep) Catholics and SDAs surrounded my dad, angry that the Baptists would dare to do ministry on their turf.

One of the regular attendees at the church plant was herself from one of these Catholic families. She went by the Western name of Janet and she was so faithful in her participation that my parents thought she had likely come to faith under their teammates who had begun the church plant.

One day, my parents had stopped to pick up Janet on the way to the church when her family told them she was ill and not able to get out of bed. Janet’s family had requested my parents to come see her on our way back from church. Unalarmed, they continued up the mountain to the church.

Once there, Janet’s friends at church told my parents how scared they were for her. Janet wasn’t just ill. Evil spirits had taken away her ability to speak. For some reason, one evening she had gone down to what was believed to be a dangerously spirit-infested part of the river, at the forbidden time of dusk. This was the same time of day and part of the river where her grandmother had also been attacked by spirits, losing her ability to speak and also to eat. Janet’s grandmother had quickly died afterward. The terrified church folks believed that Janet would suffer the same fate. The Catholic prayers and exorcism with ‘holy water’ had accomplished nothing. The other traditional tribal remedies had also been for naught. Could my parents – the Baptists – do anything to save Janet’s life?

My parents hadn’t been in the country long and had never faced a situation like this. They had thought Janet was a believer. How was this possible? Over the next several hours while the jungle cicadas screamed and my dad tried to preach over them, my mom prayed fervently. Afterward, we all drove part way down the mountain to the hut where Janet was living. My parents, not sure of what they would encounter inside, left us kids in the truck with some other local believers who were getting rides back to the area where we lived.

Going inside, my mom and dad saw Janet and began to try to speak with her. Janet could understand them but confirmed through nods and signs that she was completely unable to speak.

So, my dad got out his Bible. Not completely sure of what was going on, but knowing that evil spirits have no power over those who believe the gospel, my dad turned to one passage after another that proclaimed the good news about Jesus and about those who believe in him. He finished with 1st John 4:4, “Little children, you are from God and have overcome them, for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.”

My dad asked Janet if she truly believed the gospel message that he had been reading to her from the Bible. She nodded yes. So, my dad told her that if that was the case, then according to 1st John 4, the Holy Spirit now in her was more powerful than any evil spirit that had caused her inability to speak. He told her that he was going to pray and that he wanted her to repeat after him. Janet nodded a willingness to try this.

The small group together in the hut bowed in prayer. My dad prayed the first sentence and waited.

Then, Janet repeated it after him.

As my dad continued to pray, Janet was able to repeat every line of the prayer after him. The power that had stopped her from being able to speak was now broken. She belonged to Jesus, so the river spirits no longer had any claim on her. My parents, the Baptist missionaries, had seemingly just cast out a demon.

Later, when Janet shared her testimony in front of the church, she shared that this was when she had truly repented and believed. Previously, she had not yet been a true Christian. If this was the case, then it makes sense that the spirits would have previously had the authority to cause her muteness – and that they would have lost that authority the moment she was indwelt by the Spirit of God.

I’ve always appreciated this story from my parents’ ministry because I believe it’s a good example of the simple power of the gospel over the demonic. My parents didn’t do anything flashy or fancy to try to release this woman from demonic oppression. They showed her Bible verses and prayed with her.

It reminds me of one time in college when I heard pastors John Piper and Tom Steller talking about one of the few times they’d been asked to intervene on behalf of someone who seemed to be demon-oppressed. As I recall, they said it involved a lot of praying, a lot of singing, and a lot of sitting together with her until she was released. These kind of activities seem so, well, normal. Yet in the spiritual realm, in the real world so often hidden from us, they must have remarkable power.

I believe that a straightforward reading of Scripture and church history shows us particular seasons of concentrated miracles and visible battles with the demonic. Corresponding to this, we see other long seasons where these things are much ‘quieter,’ much more subtle, going on in the background as it were.

Christians should trust the sovereignty of God regarding which kind of season and context they find themselves living in. You may find yourself in a setting where demonic oppression is much more prevalent than anything you ever saw back home. Or, it may be, like my parents, that you’re only ever asked once in your life to pray for someone who has been attacked by demons. God is in charge of the particular subtlety or in-your-face-ness of our spiritual battles. Our role is simply to trust his power and to fight faithfully where he has placed us.

Will we be ready if we are faced with a situation like Janet’s? Will we throw up our hands because the spiritual need in front of us doesn’t fit with our experience or theological framework? Hopefully, we won’t fall into the trap of thinking that we need some kind of special methodology or training in order to help someone who is oppressed by demons. We have the Holy Spirit, the one who is greater than the spirit that is in the world. We have the powerful word of God. We have direct access to the throne room of heaven. When we sing, the demons shudder.

I’ve not yet been asked to pray for someone who’s been attacked by a demon. But if I am, I plan to do what my parents did – pray, open up my Bible, and simply do what Christians do.

If 26 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!

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Pray for Missionaries to Enjoy The Culture

Try as I might, I simply cannot enjoy the taste of cooked peas. I like pea soup. I like snap peas. I like those dehydrated pea pods that are allegedly a healthier option than potato chips. But there’s just something about the taste of cooked green peas that makes my tastebuds twang and my body shudder.

This, in spite of the fact that I am, if anything, too convictional about the importance of being able to enjoy every good edible gift that God has given for our sustenance. When my kids call a certain food disgusting there is a part of my soul that registers that as a major problem and a worrying portent of a less joyful future for them. My wife, thankfully, is always on hand to remind me that disliking certain foods is quite normal and not something that always needs to be addressed as if it’s a great injustice against the Creator and against us, the vice-regent parentals he has appointed for these particular offspring.

Yes, the humble cooked pea reminds me that even when we have tried our best, the freedom to enjoy something is, at the end of the day, a gift from God. In this fallen world, we simply cannot always bring our bodies to enjoy everything that is, in fact, made for our enjoyment. There will always be some things that are fundamentally good that our bodies will register as bad, that we just won’t like. Sometimes we can change this. Often, we can’t.

When it comes to missionaries enjoying the local culture of their people group, these dynamics are also present. Missionaries are only partially responsible for their ability to enjoy the good parts of the local culture. But much of that ability is simply the mysterious gift of God.

It’s a grace and a help when a missionary is able to enjoy the good aspects of the local culture. Missionaries labor in what some studies have shown to be the most stress-inducing roles on the planet. Along with the normal troubles of life and ministry, they must also constantly reject and navigate the dark, twisted parts of a foreign culture – and there’s often much of this in a place that’s been cut off from God’s word and his people from time immemorial. These dark and distressing parts of culture are present in all kinds of unreached contexts and seem to be especially highlighted in isolated, tribal cultures.

Yet every culture retains aspects that still, somehow, beautifully reflect the image of God. These might be the outer layers of the culture, things like food and clothing and customs. They might be the inner layers, things like values and preferences and what is understood to be real. These are the aspects of the culture that point back to a good creation in the beginning and point forward to the strengths of the future Indigenous church. These parts of the culture are worthy of delight, even if they are significantly different from the good parts of the native culture of the missionary. When a missionary is able to delight in them, his life and work will be easier. When he’s not, it’s an extra burden that he must carry.

Now, I’m persuaded that missionaries should earnestly seek to appreciate and even enjoy the good in their focus culture. I believe that the effort to do this is the natural outworking of mature missionary love and humility. If a missionary does not even try to taste and see the goodness of a culture that is, for example, more people-oriented than time-oriented, then something is likely going wrong at the level of the heart.

But I also concede that this mature posture and effort of a given missionary may not produce the desired result. A missionary may try his hardest to enjoy the local music or local cuisine and, after years, still find himself barely able to keep it down. They may labor to know and understand the upsides of impromptu house visits, but still only feel them as incredibly stressful intrusions. When this happens, a missionary has come up against the wall of God’s mysterious sovereignty as it applies to our freedom or lack thereof to enjoy his good gifts.

This is why you need to pray for your missionaries to be able to enjoy the local culture. Because a significant part of their ability to do this is not in their hands at all, but in God’s. I have a good friend who served in a neighboring country in Central Asia. This friend, a godly brother, simply hated tea, yogurt, and olives – all major staples of his region’s diet. He tried his best, but nothing he did could change these preferences. On the other hand, I have known missionaries who were strangely drawn to the cultures of a different part of the world from the time they were children. What accounts for the difference? Certainly, nothing that they did. It was a gift given or not, plain and simple.

I genuinely enjoy many aspects of our Central Asian culture. Some of this is the result of intentional effort, tastes that have been acquired as it were. But some of it I can’t explain. Why should my heart come alive in the Central Asian bazaar when some of my expat friends hate the crowded, loud, and smelly nature of it? Why should I enjoy fizzy fermented yogurt water sprinkled with dill when it makes so many want to gag? I can’t explain these things other than they are gifts that I must learn to steward well. Perhaps someone has been praying for me.

Missionaries’ lives are full of so many things that are hard, that are draining. Small as it might seem, when they are able to find some measure of delight, joy, and even refreshment in aspects of the local culture, this makes a difference in their ability to remain on the field. When they don’t just know that something is technically good, but they are free to also feel its goodness, this is a real grace. And it’s encouraging to the locals as well.

So, pray for missionaries to be able to enjoy the local culture. Pray that they would be able to appreciate and delight in all of the good aspects, even if they’re wildly different from the good aspects of their own culture. Pray for me and my family in this area as we get ready to head back to the more culturally difficult of the two cities we’ve lived in in Central Asia.

And, while you’re at it, pray for me to be able to enjoy cooked peas. If God has created something good, then I want to be free to taste it as such.

If only 27 more friends join us as monthly supporters, we should be 100% funded! 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.

Photos are from Unsplash.com

Family Update, August 2024

Where does the beginning of August 2024 find our family? Well, geographically, we’re in middle Tennessee this week, spending some time away as a family in what we hope is our final month in the US. We arrived last night after a lovely summer drive through the Kentucky and Tennessee countryside. This morning, my kids got to swim in a lake, dig in its sandy beach, and scream when they saw a snake casually swimming through the water. My wife and I, for our part, are soaking up all the greenery we can before we head back to a land where the trees don’t grow quite so tall and quite so thick.

As far as timeline, the goal at this point is still to move back to Central Asia the first week of September. Our housing runs out at the end of this month and the kids’ new MK school starts the second week of Sept. So, between those deadlines and our eagerness to get back, we’re hoping to make it on a plane first thing next month.

Financially, can this happen? We’re not ruling it out yet. By God’s grace, 75% of our total needed funds (including both monthly and one-time setup costs) have been raised. This means only 25% is left, a lump sum that my fundraising spreadsheet today tells me is just over 34K. That’s certainly nothing to scoff at, but neither is it insurmountable. We have complete flexibility at this point to raise these funds through either one-time gifts or monthly giving, so it could be as simple as twenty more friends signing up for $100 a month plus five churches giving one-time gifts of 2K each.

It’s interesting to be this close but also to know that it’s going to take a significant push to get to the goal. It reminds me a little bit of when in high school we climbed the highest mountain in our Melanesian country, a peak just under 15,000 feet tall. We couldn’t see the summit for most of the hike. Then, at last, we rounded a spur of the mountain and could finally see the peak. We were encouraged because the destination was now within sight – but it was also clear that it was going to take another couple of hours of serious hiking to get up there.

We’d love your prayers for our fundraising efforts this next month. And if any of you faithful readers of this quirky missions blog (or your churches or businesses) want to help us meet this goal, we’d love to have your partnership. For those who have already started giving, we’re incredibly grateful.

How are our hearts right now? Feeling some of the uncertainty, but also resting in God’s good sovereignty. Of course, we very much hope to make it back to Central Asia in our preferred timeline. But the Lord knows if our current plans are sound or if what’s truly best is a little more delay and transition. We will seek to trust him no matter what.

I recently heard John Piper share about joy in suffering. He called when this happens for a Christian “an emotional miracle.” We definitely wouldn’t say we’re in a season of intense suffering right now. It’s more the normal everyday difficulties of missionaries in transition – the waiting, working, combating anxiety, planning, undoing your plans, trying not to get ahead of yourself, trying to discern God’s timing and our own responsibility to bring things about. But if asked if we could also use an emotional miracle of joy in the midst of this unique season, we would say yes.

Our kids could look back on this month of uncertainty and remember Mom and Dad as distant, stressed, and busy. Or, they could look back and remember August 2024 as one of the most content and joyful times of their parents’ lives. How wonderful that, in Jesus, it really could be the latter.

Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:11-13)

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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