2020 will not be wasted

What a year 2020 has been. It's been described by some as a 'terrible' year or even the 'worst year' globally. Although historians would no doubt point out that there are some very strong other contenders for the 'worst year', it's certainly true to say that 2020 has been a year like no other in our lifetimes. Even now the effects of coronavirus continue to reverberate around our lives and compound the 'normal' struggles of life. As we get to the end of this year, it's tempting to draw a line under it and try to move on. 

I'm not tempted to pretend that 2020 never happened but  I do feel the draw of deciding to write-off 2020, like a bad investment or broken asset. I could just admit that 2020 was pretty terrible, try not to dwell on it too much and get on with 2021. There is still six weeks to go of 2020 but it's tempting just to try and get on with 2021 right now. I can't change the calendar and make 2021 come any faster, but I can at least get on with planning 2021.

Yet one idea keeps circling around my head.

2020 will not be wasted.

My friend and mentor when I was at university was the first person who repeated this idea to me, over and over again, until the words had sunk into my brain, although it certainly wasn't original to her and she didn't claim that it was. God does not waste experiences, she said, as I processed some difficult things that had happened. And over the last ten years, it's a thought that has stuck with me.

God does not waste experiences. 

"In all things, God works for the good of those who love him" (Romans 8:28). Or, to rephrase, God has worked, and is working, for the good of his children in every part of their lives. There is no part of our lives that is redundant in the long, slow process of God conforming us to the image of his Son. There is no situation that God cannot and does not use. 

If we could see our lives from a bird's eye view, there would be no section that we could trim a little bit off for a more streamlined sanctification. If we could see how God is weaving and pulling together the strands of our days and weeks and months, there would not be one useless thread to pick out.

This goes against our normal thinking. We look at events in our lives and we cannot comprehend how God could pull anything out of value out of them. I've looked at the mismatch between my hopes for 2020 and the reality; from a human perspective, I'm at a loss to figure out how much of this year could be anything but a waste. 

But 2020 will not be wasted because God does not waste experiences. If you have been united to Christ, then there is not one moment of 2020 that you can describe as worthless. The mundane, the disappointing, the hard, the boring, the encouraging, the heartbreaking - God won't squander a second of it. We may not know what good God will bring from 2020 but we can trust our heavenly Father to use it for his glory and to make us more like Christ. 

Of all the adjectives that we could use to describe 2020, it has not been a waste of a year.

How to shock a deacon (and other things you might not be aware of)

We were just starting to raise support ahead of moving abroad and had, with the help and advice of our sending organisation, put together a provisional budget. We felt it was realistic and certainly well within the bounds of what we'd been told to expect by our organisation. The elders and deacons of our sending church had come over that evening to talk through our financial needs. I made everyone a cup of tea and pulled out a box of homemade cookies. My husband handed out copies of the draft budget. As everyone started to digest the contents of the sheet, one of the deacons skipped straight to the bottom of the page. As his eyes alighted on the total figure at the bottom, he almost fell off his chair in shock and surprise. 

It wasn't the most auspicious start to gathering financial support, even if it does make for an amusing story now. Yet by God's grace, we have been and continue to be well supported financially in our work here. But in Western cultures (or, at least, British culture), where we often try as best we can to skirt around the subject of money, financial support for cross-cultural workers never seems like an easy topic to talk about. 

A couple of weeks back we had another worker family come and spend a few days with us. They're good friends in a similar life position to us and we talked openly and honestly about a whole number of things, including issues surrounding financial support for workers.

The details of these conversations aren't pertinent and I don't want to expound on them here but I want to flag them as questions that we pondered and discussed. No issue has a clear right or wrong answer but comes down to how to apply wisdom depending on the person and situation. 

• Different support models: salary; raising support according to a budget; partial self-support
• Saving and investing for retirement, particularly coming from a culture where there is the expectation that individuals fund their own retirement in one way or another.
• Whether and how much to save for our children's futures, so as to be able to contribute in some way towards young adult expenses such as driving lessons, weddings and university education.
• The pressure to make sure that holidays don't look too luxurious, including avoiding or limiting photos on social media.
• Consciousness of how spending decisions 'look' to supporters back home, for example getting paid cleaning help in the home.
• Feeling the need to justify certain decisions, for instance how what might have looked like an extravagant holiday was actually a thrifty option.
• Balancing the cost of different education options (private schools, national schools, home education) for children with other factors.
• The interaction and balance between 'secular' work (where that is required in order to get a work visa to stay in the country), 'ministry' work, the salary for that secular work and additional financial support from ministry partners. 
• Whether and how much to explain to supporters about the particular pressures that come about from living and serving in a cross-cultural context and how that impacts spending decisions.

And there are many more related questions that we didn't cover. These considerations are not all unique to cross-cultural workers but they do take on a particular significance when you rely on financial support from churches and individuals to live and work. Some of them weren't questions that we'd necessarily thought much about (or at all) before we came out on the field. 

Why am I sharing this?

Most of us instinctively shy away from financial topics. They can be uncomfortably gray areas to discuss. But they are very real issues for workers, and for others in Christian ministry. I'd like to suggest that we get a little more comfortable talking about these things but I'm not too sure if that's realistic for most of us. I'd be content to raise awareness of these issues, to say that these are things that cross-cultural workers are thinking about. We feel the responsibility to steward well the resources - not just money, but time, energy, language ability, Bible understanding and knowledge, spiritual gifts - that we've been given by God. We don't take support for granted but are truly grateful for it. We deeply desire to do the right thing when it comes to living on support - the right thing for us, for our families, for the local church that we serve and for God's glory. And we wrestle with what that right decision is. An innocent comment from a supporter about a holiday we've taken can cut deeply. We might be serving abroad but we're still sinners, a bundle of Christ-exalting intentions moderated by pride and the fear of man, and that impacts our choices too.

We are fortunate to have generous friends who urge us to remember our human frailty and to invest in looking after ourselves so we can keep serving. We're grateful for our partner churches' and individuals' support, for our sending organisation and for older, wiser cross-cultural worker friends, who have helped and advised us on some of these areas. We also know others who've struggled with one or more of these areas.

I don't make that cookie recipe much any more, but whenever I do I think of that evening with the elders and deacons. We had a good conversation that evening and I think everyone went away a little better informed of some of the financial considerations and factors involved in being a worker overseas. 

Let's talk and think and learn more about financial considerations for cross-cultural workers. 

Rainy days

It was rainy yesterday. The drizzle all day kind of rain, clouds so low they obscure the top half of the mountain that we can see from our window. The summer months are dry here and though we get a little rain during summer, the rain and snow is mostly concentrated between November and April. I can't remember another all day, rainy day like yesterday in the previous five months. When we've driven out of the city in the last few months, the land has been dry and scorched from the summer heat, with a slash of green across the landscape every now and then, as trees mark out the path of a river.

I used to think of rain as a negative thing. I knew in my head that plants need rain to grow but from my wet British perspective, I thought that a little more sun and a bit less rain wouldn't be a bad thing. It's a thought echoed in popular culture: don't rain on my parade, why does it always rain on me, here comes the rain again...

Now I live in a much drier country, I have a whole new perspective on rain. Nowadays farmers can very easily irrigate crops that aren't next to a river but the watered green fields next to yellow barren ground provide a stark reminder of just how necessary and life-giving rain is. 

Living here has helped me read many Bible verses with a fresh perspective, including the ones about rain. There's too much to say on the theological significance of rain in the Bible for one blog post but rain is a recurring theme in the Bible. So this is a skim along the surface, a few quick thoughts that have been circulating around my head about the Lord who is the master of the water cycle, the one who covers the sky with clouds and commands the rain to fall (Psalm 147:8).

When the Almighty God declares that his thoughts are not our thoughts, that his plans and purposes are more drenched in compassion than we could ever imagine, that his love is as great as the heavens are high above the earth, he uses rain and snow as a picture to illustrate his point. Just as rain and snow fall from the clouds and cannot return to the sky without running through the ground and watering the soil, enabling plants to grow, so God's merciful drawing of his people to him cannot be thwarted (Isaiah 55:6-11).

The Lord is our shepherd who makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside quiet waters (Psalm 23:1-2). I've seen sheep here making do with the scraggly, brown grass. They look scraggly and thin themselves, not much like the fluffy sheep we're used to in the UK. But the Lord doesn't tell us to make do with the unappealing brown grass. He shows his care for us as he refreshes us with the choicest pastures and safest waters.

God "causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." (Matt 5:45) Jesus isn't saying here that sun = good, rain = bad so just as God sends good things to all people, bad things happen to all people too. Far from it! He's underlining our Father in heaven's merciful character by repeating his point in two different ways. Both the sun and the rain are evidence of God's common grace. 

And waiting for rain gives us a picture of our lives right now. James gives us the example of a farmer patiently waiting for the seasonal rains, depending on the rain to water the waiting seeds and cause the crops to grow, as an encouragement to wait patiently for the Lord's return.

What exactly is it that we're meant to see in that patient farmer, looking day after day up at the sky for clouds to gather? James is not saying that a farmer hopes the rains will come but there's always the chance of a drought this year. He's using the year by year, decade by decade, century by century regularity of the seasons to make his point. 

We can miss this too easily from a British context because rain is a reliable part of life all year round. Summer just hopefully means a little less rain! But both here and in Israel, there is a seasonal pattern to rain. The rain generally comes in the cooler months while in summer we can go for weeks without rain.

James explains the analogy when he writes that believers are to "be patient and stand firm, because the Lord's coming is near." (James 5:8) When the farmer has planted his seed and prepared the field, he can do no more. He needs that rain. Without rain, his crops will not grow and he will have no harvest, no food and no money. He cannot make it rain. But he trusts that the rain is coming, as it does every year. In the same way, we wait for the Lord's coming. We confidently live our lives with a firm and solid hope that Christ is coming again.

It's rained again here today, though not as much as yesterday and my children are asking to go out in the rain. As we stomp in puddles, I'll be reminding them that rain is a sign of God's mercy. That God is our caring shepherd. That God is our kind Father and every good thing that every person has comes from him. And that as sure as the seasons turn, Christ is coming again.

Asking locals to be self-supporting - where possible

I really appreciated this article asking whether it is hypocrisy to ask locals to be self-supporting. The author makes some excellent points and is completely right to say, "dependency upon Western dollars is a major problem, undercutting the emergence of healthy churches in many places overseas and stunting local believers in their growth."

He is spot on in identifying that local aspiring leaders can sometimes be found on the look out for Western patrons and that when there is a weak (or non-existent) culture of giving among local believers, it becomes self-perpetuating. 

The author says, "Foreign financial support, if attempted, must be done very carefully and wisely, always with an explicit vision toward self-supporting local churches." Agreed. Self-supporting local churches are the best way forward. He goes on to say, though, that while proven, mature workers are worthy of their wages but that their salary should either be locally-raised or part of a plan where it decreases over time, similar to church plants in the West. If Western money is to be invested, training local leaders to either start a business or find work can be a better use of resources.

Foreign financial support must be done with thought and care and with an aim of moving towards self-support. But I'd add one more important part.

Self-supporting local churches are the best way forward - where this is possible. 

I know that there are some Western churches whose demographics make it nigh on impossible for them to become self-supporting. Stephen Kneale has written about how their church situation in northern England means that they need long term external partners. He lists four reasons why that is the case for them: who they're reaching; transient population; great physical need; and nobody else is there.

If I hope and expect that most churches and church plants in Western countries would become self-supporting at some point but understand that there are situations where that might not be the case, I should accept that similar situations may arise in other countries too. 

Looking at the Bible, there is clearly a principle of teaching and encouraging sacrificial giving. But, as with many Biblical commands, we have freedom to use Spirit-given wisdom to determine how exactly to apply that. 

While acknowledging that self-supporting local churches is the ideal, can we find room for an understanding that some churches in every country will need financial support from long term external partners? The key here has to be that they should be long term and partners. I'm not advocating pulling out the cheque book to give whatever is requested, no questions asked. Neither should money flow in with strict strings attached, where the givers decide how the money they give should be spent. 

It should be a relationship, a true partnership in the Gospel where there is healthy sharing and accountability. 

Let's imagine a situation. (You can decide how rooted in reality it may or may not be!). A local pastor is not locally supported. And looking around at his church, even if everyone was giving sacrificially, that would still not be enough. Every single one of the reasons Stephen Kneale lists in his article linked above would apply to that local fellowship. It's not primarily comprised of refugees and asylum seekers, but there are certainly some. Others do not have well-paying jobs or are students. The church membership is fairly transient too - many of those who come to faith and are baptised end up moving to other cities. This is usually for work but sometimes to gain greater freedom to be involved in church due to local family pressures. There's great physical need too. And there are no other churches in the city, or even remotely near to the city. 

Yes, this pastor could go back to secular work. But after 5.5 days of secular work a week, and with a wife and family, would it be healthy and sustainable to ask him to pastor on top of that? He already has more work as a full-time pastor than he can handle alone, particularly as there are a large number of 'seekers' in both his city and neighbouring cities who come to him and want to investigate Christianity, and not a lot of people in the church practically and theologically able to help in this. He's been doing this role for a number of years too - long enough that he'd have moved out of any gradual step-down support plan by any Western timescales.

This local pastor's church have not got everything sorted perfectly in their fellowship. Like many other churches, there is more to be done in developing a sacrificial giving culture. There is also more to be done in establishing a healthy understanding that Western churches are not just a source of money to be tapped. 

But a critical element of his external support is that it comes with in-country accountability. Twice a year, a small group of men meet with him and his wife. They are a mixture of fellow pastors from other cities and foreign workers who live and work in the country and who know him well. They have an honest conversation about what he's doing and how he's spending his time, how the church is doing, and a holistic look at how he and his family are doing. This type of on-the-ground accountability by people who know and care for him, as well as knowing the church and the culture, is a vital component of healthy, long-term external partnerships. The group act as a bridge between the external supporters and the local pastor. Working together in this way builds trust and provides reassurance that Western money is not being invested unwisely. This partnership model has worked well for a number of years and has provided this pastor with the spiritual, emotional and financial support to continue in ministry through some difficult periods. And there is Gospel fruit evident.

It's not hypocrisy to ask locals to be self-supporting. But if that's really not possible, might healthy long term partnerships be an alternative?

Our best kingdom work

 "Jesus will build his church... but it's also frustrating to be so limited."

That was my message to a friend the other day. Life here continues but it is hemmed in by necessary coronavirus precautions. 

As a family, we have less than a year remaining to live full-time in our city, due to visas. Yet (in part because of those self-same visas) this period also provides my husband and I with greater time, flexibility and freedom to serve the local church here. We thought we might have had to leave sooner; we didn't anticipate getting this extra time here. And we're carrying mental lists of good, useful things we could be doing in these bonus months. Meeting up with people interested in the Gospel. Preparing food for everyone to eat together after a church service. Visiting isolated believers in other cities. Sharing dinner, conversation and life with church family. Getting on with baptism lessons with a brand new believer. 

These lists and plans involve a lot of doing. And as Christians, we are meant to be doing. We're to be doers of the word, devoting ourselves to doing what is good (James 1:22; Titus 3:14). We are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works (Ephesians 2:10).

But right now we can't get on with most of the things on our lists. And the things we can do are often having to be done in a less-than-ideal way. 

I've been praying recently, "Lord, I don't know how but use coronavirus for your glory. Use us here for your glory." When I'm being honest though, I recognise that beneath my prayer there's an undercurrent that says, "Why God? You seem to have shut the door on us remaining here long-term but you've given us these additional months to stay. Aren't we meant to be stewarding them well, working through the Spirit's power for the growth of your church here? Aren't we meant to be doing more than we can right now?". 

I don't think it's wrong to humbly ask God why. However there's a temptation interwoven into my questions and prayers, to believe that my plan, full of things to do, would be better than God's plan. But what if God's plan is also full of things for me to do, but my idea of what I should be focusing on this year is different from God's idea of what I should be doing?

In his book, 'The Disciple-Making Parent', Chap Bettis quotes Paul Miller as saying "It didn't take me long to realize that I did my best parenting by prayer. I began to speak less to the kids and more to God." Bettis goes on to ask "Might you do your best parenting by prayer?"

Prayer as our best parenting doesn't mean that the other aspects of parenting are unimportant. As parents, we still have to love and teach our children. We still have to do the repetitive  tasks of parenting - feeding, clothing, clearing up messes. We nurture them as we listen, encourage, discipline, read, explore and play. We actively point them to Jesus as we teach them, pray with them, bring them to church and weave the gospel into our everyday lives. But prayer as our best parenting recognises that we cannot change our children's hearts. It shows that we cannot parent by our own strength but must go about our parenting consciously relying on God's power. It might not change the core of what we do, but it will most definitely change how we do it.

Might I do my best kingdom work by prayer? Might I have no other choice but to do my best kingdom work this year by prayer? Could it be that this year I will talk less with my brothers and sisters in Christ, more to God and be more effective in ministry?

I dare not make presumptions as to what the Almighty God can and will achieve through coronavirus. I do not know how he will use these strange times for his glory. But I wonder if God is using the limitations of my circumstances to bring me to my knees in prayer.

When what we can do seems so inadequate, the delusion that we can change people falls away. When our ability to 'do' is reduced, we expose the lie that our efforts are sufficient to build Christ's church. When we are constrained and limited, we uncover the truth that was there all along: we are meant to do good works but we're meant to do them with a prayerful dependence on God. 

Prayer as our best kingdom work doesn't mean that our other work here is useless or insignificant. Less time to spend with church family doesn't mean that we won't talk to them at all. We'll still be taking all the opportunities that we reasonably can to help build up the body of Christ here. At the same time, we're acknowledging that maybe this year, God is going to visibly show us that we'll do our best discipling, encouraging, teaching by prayer.

2000 years on, history repeats itself

 Imagine the scene. You're walking down the streets of Ephesus one day in the 1st century AD. You see a group of people gathered in the street. The group is growing larger by the minute. They're muttering and talking to each other, some are shaking their heads and others look surprised. You can't quite work out what all the fuss is about but as you approach you see smoke rising from the centre of the group.

Getting closer, you see what is happening. There are some Followers of the Way, the people who claim a crucified man from a backwater of the Roman empire came back to life and worship him as God, in the middle, standing next to a fire. The fire is being fuelled by - no it can't be - scrolls, of all things. Valuable scrolls! The whispered incredulity of the onlookers is clearly audible.

"They're crazy! Do they know how much those are worth?"

"That's a fortune going up in flames! Couldn't they have sold them at least?"

"Do they have to make such a public spectacle of themselves?"

Fast forward 2000 years and there's no need to imagine the scene. Another group of onlookers have gathered on a packed beach, only a few miles away from the ruins of Ephesus. It's not fire that's drawn them this time but water. Next to the families sitting on the sand, a small collection of people are watching three people wade out into the sea, one by one. They stop when the water reaches to their waists. Two others are already in the sea waiting for them. And each of the three stands in the sea and declares that they follow that same crucified, resurrected man-God. Such a public display is only possible in a few places in this country - attempting the same thing elsewhere is too risky. 

I'm a visitor accustomed to life in a much more conservative city and am delighted to be able to witness this but also feel uncomfortable and exposed in such a public setting. But as I stand on the hot sand, I can see and hear those wandering past, who stop and stare at this strange sight.

These onlookers, like their predecessors centuries before likely did, watch with surprise and provide their own commentary to others joining them.

"They're Turks getting baptised."

"Muslims becoming Christians."

The actions of the believers seem just as incomprehensible to bystanders as they must have done in early church times. 

And we pray that just like in Acts, the Word of the Lord would spread widely and in power.

Western Christian - the world is watching you

This is a joint post from my husband and I.

We know that these are strange and difficult times right now. We've prayed for wisdom for church leaders globally as they seek the best solution to the principles of rightly wanting to meet together, loving each other, loving neighbours, protecting individual freedoms and obeying governments. We've prayed for grace and unity in churches.

But when Western churches and believers balance all of these up, there is another factor to consider too. You may not be aware but your actions are visible to the rest of the world. Your choices can have consequences for your brothers and sisters in countries around the world where it is much more difficult to be a Christian.

In Turkey, our media is very often filled with stories of disasters, scandals and problems of every kind that are happening across the world, especially in more Western and richer countries. (You can speculate about why that might be the case, but it is). This also combines with a nationalism that is tied up with an Muslim identity. For some people, this manifests as an anti-Christian identity.

So, surprising as it may seem, the actions of churches in countries such as the USA, UK, Canada, Europe and elsewhere can actually be newsworthy here, even more so if it involves civil disobedience or results in a COVID-19 outbreak. 

As Christians we follow the Lord Jesus, first and foremost. It is also clear from the Bible that it matters what outsiders think. We want to honour Christ's name and create opportunities to share the Gospel. Western churches have cultural capital to draw on, the result of decades and centuries as generally being seen as a force for good in society. The situation in many other countries is rather different. 

One American church has started meeting in defiance of local government edicts. The reaction from the congregation was cheers and applause. If the believers here were similarly to come to the conclusion that, having exhausted other options, publicly defying government regulations was the only path of faithfulness that remained, the atmosphere would be better described as 'fear and trembling' rather than celebratory. If for some reason this intention was announced to the state beforehand, the meeting would be characterized by solemn joy, knowing that it would be our last. In addition to the inevitable church closure, believers would be shunned in society and risk dismissal from work. Some of the younger believers would likely be banned from meeting with any other believers. Preconceptions of Christians would be reinforced and it would be harder to share the Gospel.

This is no exaggeration. 350,000 people and the country's top political leaders came to the first Friday prayers following the conversion of the historic Hagia Sophia (originally a church building) back into a mosque a few weeks ago. It's not difficult to imagine how people here might feel about living churches. And there are many countries where believers face much more serious opposition. 

When ideas circulate that Christians are agents of the West and plotting the downfall of Middle Eastern countries, believers in those countries must work hard to show that while they may be Christians, they still love their country and want the best for it. The concept of a Christian as a moral, good person is (mainly thanks to Hollywood and 11th-13th century history) not widespread at all. So Christians here know that our reputation with outsiders matters for the Gospel and seek to do good, so silencing ignorant talk (1 Pet 2:15). 

And the actions of Western churches reflect on Christians and churches here. 

Local believers are taking tiny steps forward in dismantling those deeply ingrained prejudices, but years of work can be undone in moments. Negative stereotypes of Christians can be reinforced so easily by a news report of a Western church.

Christian brothers and sisters in the West, please know that your choices have consequences for how the name of Christ is viewed in other countries. Please be aware of the position of influence — for good or bad — that you enjoy. When you consider your rights and freedoms to meet together, do not forget the rights and freedoms of your brothers and sisters in Christ across the world. They may bear the greater cost of your actions.

Don't just learn from church history - look to the global church too

In all the discussion about how to navigate the consequences and implications of COVID-19 for churches and believers meeting together, historical events have often been alluded to. From the efforts of Christians to care for the sick in Roman times, Martin Luther's refusal to leave Wittenburg when bubonic plague came, to the Great Ejection of the Puritans in 1662, people have drawn analogies with what Christians have done in past centuries.

This is right and good. The Bible is of course our authority but we have a lot to learn from those who have gone before us in how they interpreted and applied Biblical principles to real life. We sometimes talk about being in uncharted waters now, but there are those who have navigated similar waters in the past and we do well to carefully consider their examples and decisions.

But wouldn't it be better if instead of reading their words and about their situations, we could talk to them? Wouldn't you like to hear the voices of those early Church believers who lived through such difficult times and yet still rejoice in Christ? Wouldn't it be good to have a conversation with the brothers and sisters in Christ who have had to weigh up the hard decisions about whether or not to meet in person and the dangers of hymn singing? Wouldn't it be great to be able to talk with the Puritans about when and how civil disobedience is required?

Those believers are in heaven now and we'll have to wait until we get there for the in-person conversations. But the global church is full of people who have either wrestled with analogous issues in the last fifty years or are still experiencing them today. Christians in the West would do well to remember that they can draw on the breadth and depth of experience within the global church - and then actually do so.

Limits on attendance? In many countries, for either legal or practical reasons, believers often need to meet in homes. That's an attendance cap.

Unable to sing? There are countries today where either it is within living memory that Christians were unable to sing aloud or they are currently still unable to do so.

Submission to civil government in a Biblically appropriate way? Take your pick of countries where believers have been working through these issues for many years. 

In our city in Turkey, we've been thinking through the implications of COVID-19 for public worship and the meeting of believers. Our Turkish pastor has been leading that - but he does so from the perspective of someone who may not have lived through a pandemic before but has certainly dealt with some similar issues. Our church may meet in a building now, but it started off as a house church. Our pastor has thought through when and how to submit to civil government for years. For example, the law here prohibits under-18s from attending church without parental permission and we fairly frequently have teenagers who want to come to our meetings. He hasn't personal experience of believers being afraid to come to church for fear of catching a virus - but, after three Christians were martyred in a city not too far away from us 13 years ago, he does have experience of believers being afraid to come to church for fear of being killed or persecuted. 

Practically, if a church already has links with cross-cultural workers in countries where there is likely to be experience to learn from, it may be as simple as asking them to help facilitate some links and information sharing from their local leaders and believers. Books, articles and videos also give insight into how churches across the world have adapted in the face of difficulties, but a bit more digging might be necessary to find helpful analogous situations.

Clearly a course of action should not be automatically approved solely because it originates from an African, Asian or Middle Eastern church. Suffering and difficulty does not always result in practices in line with an orthodox understanding of Scripture. There are issues of right Biblical interpretation and appropriate cultural application too. And these are not clear cut issues - two different people from the same cultural background, never mind different cultures, can take the same Biblical principles and after prayer and deliberation come to different conclusions. There is a good chance you might disagree with the approach that a pastor from a persecuted church (as well as the pastor from the church down the road) has taken.

But if you're going to look to history for examples of how Christians have dealt with similar issues, you might also remember that there is wisdom and value in looking to the current global church as well.

Sharing the Gospel with Muslims

I met up with a friend the other morning. Our children played in the park together and we chatted between rocking pushchairs and doling out snacks. She'd forgotten her mask so borrowed her daughter's Frozen-themed mask.

She has a Masters degree and worked in finance before having children. She speaks four languages and even while speaking in English - her third language - she made me laugh out loud with some of her stories.

My family have just returned from holiday with another British family and as we were chatting about that, my friend asked if my family had had opportunity for worship times together with the other family while away together. We talked a bit about how God reveals himself in nature too.

As we walked back, our conversation veered towards parenting and discipline. We were both agreed on the importance of children learning to obey authority while they were young and the need for consequences when they disobey. I mentioned my belief that learning to obey authority is particularly important because we want them to know that God is the ultimate authority. She wasn't quite convinced because, in her words, "I want my children to first know that God loves them and as they get a bit bigger to introduce the idea of God's authority, I don't want them to be scared of or dislike God."

My friend is a committed Muslim. She covers her hair and prays five times a day.

I don't know how many Muslim friends you have. But if you don't have the opportunity for many interactions with Muslims, here's a few things I'd love for you to know.

Muslims are individuals

Like everyone else, Muslims are individuals. Forget any assumptions or stereotypes and get to know the person in front of you. They are not an evangelism project, they are individuals with their own life story, hopes, dreams and fears. They may also have their own understanding and interpretation of Islam. I was surprised that my friend sees Allah as a God of love as that's not typically an emphasis in Islam. Circumstances (also known as corralling small children while walking down a street) prevented me from asking more about that, but I'm intrigued to know more of her thoughts on God's love and I've made a mental note that it's something to follow up on when I get chance.

God-talk isn't sharing the Gospel

Talking about God usually comes up fairly naturally in conversation when you're talking with Muslims. But just talking about God isn't sharing the Gospel. When our conversation has a smattering of God-talk sprinkled through it, it it sometimes difficult to know if you're talking to a Christian or a Muslim. My friend has been at my house before and picked up a toddler book called 'God made me'. She agreed with every word in it. If we haven't mentioned our sin and need of a Saviour, Jesus and his death on the cross and resurrection, and that it is only the free gift of grace that gets us right with God again, then we haven't shared the Gospel. 

Relationships need time

I didn't talk about Jesus that morning. Nor did I share the Gospel. But as God comes up in conversation and my friend sees that my faith is real and active, I'm earning credibility. And because my friend and I see each other fairly regularly, it's an ongoing conversation. I've talked a little about Jesus before. I'm asking her questions and listening to her. I'm praying that I'll have an opportunity to share the Gospel and that her ears and heart would be open to it.

The Gospel is powerful

The good news that we have to share is the best news there is. It is "the power of God that brings salvation" (Rom 1:16). It makes spiritually dead people alive again. And we have the privilege of proclaiming it. That means we do actually have to proclaim it! When you're talking to someone who has been taught their entire life that the Bible has been changed and Jesus didn't actually claim to be God and he didn't really die on the cross, it's tempting to think that nothing will change their mind. But the Gospel comes with the power to transform people and we should be bold and confident in speaking it.

Prayer changes things

We won't accomplish anything without prayer. Prayer changes things. My friend gets up in the early hours to complete her prayers despite already being up in the night to nurse a baby. But as Christians, we are invited into the throne room of the one true and living God to talk to him as our Father and he is always ready to listen to us. We must pray.

And will you pray for my friend and I? I'm almost certainly the only Christian she knows and possibly has ever met. Pray that she will be thirsty for living water and searching for truth. Pray that she'd be dissatisfied with any idea of being able to earn her way to God. Pray that I'd have the opportunity to share the Gospel clearly with her. Pray that the Gospel would powerfully impact her and bring her to Christ. Pray that God's Spirit will be at work.

Brought not called

The concept of 'being called' comes up, either implicitly or explicitly, rather frequently when you're in cross-cultural work. It's a reflection of the hearts of people who want to serve God well but it's also a phrase that can be easily misused or misunderstood.

While there can be a lot of confusion over what 'being called' and the idea of 'calling' means, Kevin DeYoung hit the nail on the head a couple of years ago in this blog post:

We have an upward call in Christ to be with Jesus and to be like Jesus (Phil. 3:14). We have been called to freedom, not bondage (Gal. 5:13). God has saved us and called us to a holy calling (2 Tim. 1:9). He has called us to his own glory and excellence (2 Peter 1:3). Not many of us were called to noble things (in the world’s eyes), but, amazingly, we have been called to Christ (1 Cor. 1:26). And if called, then justified, and if justified, then glorified (Rom. 8:30).

In other words, I do not see in Scripture where we are told to expect or look for a specific call to a specific task in life.

He goes on to say that we do not need to necessarily abandon the language of 'calling' but we do need to be very careful in how we use the terms 'call' or 'calling'. We want to be making sensible decisions and thinking through whether something is a wise and appropriate route to follow rather than looking for a special word from God about a specific job, place or career. DeYoung highlights that ministry books typically talk about the three components of a 'call' - an internal call, an external call and a formal call - and that these can be a useful frame to use in decision-making.

In the circles we're from, and in our agency, we typically talk about the 'call' to overseas Christian service in a similar way. I often hear it as 'desire, opportunity, affirmation'. That is the desire to go (the inward call), the affirmation of a sending church of the gifting and maturity of the one(s) being sent (the external call) and the opportunity of being free to go and with an appropriate place, people and need to go to (the formal call).

DeYoung goes on to issue a warning at the end of his blog post though:

In short, if this is what is meant by “calling”—know yourself, listen to others, find where you are needed—then, by all means, let’s try to discern our callings. But if “calling” involves waiting for promptings, listening for still small voices, and attaching divine authority to our vocational decisions, then we’d be better off dropping the language altogether (except as its used in the Bible) and labor less mysteriously to help each other grow in wisdom.

And this is where the problem comes in for us. I use the term 'called' as a shorthand to mean exactly what DeYoung says - know yourself, listen to others, find out where you are needed. When I say 'God called us to Turkey', I mean 'God gave my husband and I the desire to serve the church in Turkey, and our family and life situation made our going possible; our sending church affirmed our suitability for that role and, with the support of our agency, sent us; we were sent to help in the work of making and growing disciples within the context of a local church; and with the help of local partners, we found a church and city where the local pastor wanted us to come and where there was a clear need.' It's just that most of the time that's a bit of a mouthful and if we're all on the same page with what being 'called' means, it's easier just to say 'called'.

But the nature of overseas Christian service means mixing and working with other believers, both national and foreign, who are from different Christian circles to us. And so when I say 'called' they may have the same understanding as I do or they may be thinking about promptings, still small voices, etc. 

As a result, while I may still use the term 'calling' with certain groups of people, for most of my conversations here I've taken DeYoung's advice and dropped the word 'called'. I found I still needed some kind of term to describe succinctly how we ended up here though. So I use the word 'brought'.

God brought us to Turkey. God brought us to our current city.

Using this language has several advantages. Firstly, it is not the word 'called'. It is the terms 'called', 'call' and 'calling' that seem particularly associated with still small voices. By using a different word, those immediate associations are avoided. And as a more concrete term, it removes the possibility of talking about 'calling' as an abstract or unrealised feeling. Secondly, it opens the way to talk about how God brought us here. It feels more natural and less intrusive to ask someone 'so how did God bring you here?' than it does to ask 'so how exactly were you called?'. 

Most importantly, it puts God, not us, centre stage. There is sometimes a tendency when talking about being 'called' to make it more about us than it should be; we heard the voice, waited for the sign, went through the open door. Others may say, "this is our calling". And when we feel the weight of being 'called', we want to see the fruit of our work, the evidence that we really were called. Returning to our home country can feel like failure and lead to questioning God - "but I thought I was called to this? Was there a mistake? Am I no longer called?".

But this is God's work and it's our privilege to play just a tiny part in it. God brought us here, therefore we can be faithful to the work and leave the results in God's hands. God brought us here and so he will sustain us when we'd be ready to give up and say it's just too hard. God brought us here and he'll keep us here for as long as he wants. God brought us here, so he can also bring us back to our home country if he desires.

God brought us here and we can trust in his goodness and sovereignty.

Socially distanced church: our priority and our problem

We love our church. It's not always the easiest to take three young children to church but I've written before that we believe that Sundays, meeting with the local body of Christ, are good for children. Even for third culture kids who can miss a lot of what is going on in the service, we believe there are benefits and blessings from church in a second language. Being with our local church fellowship on a Sunday to meet and worship God together is the priority of our week.

Our church has now been able to meet in person for the last two Sundays. Being back together in person is special even if not quite the same with masks, social distancing and a temperature check at the door. We've attended the last two weeks as a family, all of us except the baby dutifully masked. But we're now wrestling with the question of whether we take our children back this Sunday. 

The reality is that we don't have enough space in our church building for everyone to come and remain socially distant from each other. The members of one household (e.g. a family) obviously do not sit socially distanced, but with a relatively high percentage of our church family being individuals, we don't have enough space for even a third of the normal congregation to come.

Should we keep our children at home to literally create space for others to come? 

Last Sunday one of our students brought two friends to church. In all likelihood, it was probably their first time ever attending a church service, their first time hearing the Bible read and preached, their first time experiencing a group of Christians worshipping God together. Our current family circumstances means that one of us almost invariably misses the sermon because we're out with the baby and our other two children remain in the service but do not have the Turkish language ability to understand what is said. Is it better for one of us to stay at home with the children so we do not risk having to turn people away who have never heard the Gospel before?

This is a hard issue. We believe wholeheartedly that going to church as a family on a Sunday is the most important thing we do all week. Aside from the very real concern about protecting the reputation of the church in a Muslim society, we believe it is right to willingly obey the central and local government's rules about social distancing. While social distancing is required for our church services, there is not the physical space for everyone who wants to come. We are also foreigners who have come to serve the local Turkish church; each of us must look not only to our own interests but also to the interests of others (Phil 2:4) and that is doubly true when we have come as cross-cultural workers. We must put the interests of the church, and of Turks, above our own interests. But how do we do that while also looking to the interests of our children? Added to which, we have no idea of timescales. There's a reasonable probability that we'll need to be social distancing for the next several months, possibly to the end of 2020 or beyond. I'm typing this and recoiling at even having to countenance the idea of not taking our children to church for most of 2020.

We're praying for wisdom, talking to our pastor and thinking through different solutions currently. Do we set up a video relay in another part of the church building? Do we alternate with another family and take it in turns to come to church? What about my husband and I alternating who goes to church each week and whoever goes takes either the 5 year old or the 3 year old (who can sit on a lap and not take up extra space), leaving the others at home to join by Zoom? If as a church we need to start thinking medium term, do we need to start thinking about knocking through walls in the church building to create a bigger meeting room?

This is uncharted territory for us, and for others who will be thinking through similar issues. There are no ideal solutions right now, only making the best of a non-ideal situation. But God is not a distant god waiting to punish us for not availing ourselves of the means of grace that he set out. He is our loving Father who knows our hearts and our desire to be in church together each Sunday. He understands when we tell him that we really want to be meeting with our church family to worship him each Sunday but we just can't figure out a way for all of us to do that legally, safely and while loving our neighbours. He  has given us the Holy Spirit and gives us wisdom to think through the options and decide on what we think is the best way forward.

At the same time as thinking through all of this, I've been working on writing up the testimony of a good Turkish believer friend. She became a Christian as a teenager but due to significant family pressures and the need for parental permission for under-18s to go to church here, she was unable to go to church (with the exception of Christmas and Easter services) for three years. For some of that time she had no easy access to a Bible. She desperately wanted to go to church but couldn't and the Lord kept her throughout all of that time. Her experience reassures me of God's goodness. God has given us the local church as a means of grace for our good and growth as believers and being part of a community of local believers is a crucial part of what it means to be a Christian. But when we've done everything we can and it is just not possible for us to be at church together every week, we can trust in God's goodness and faithfulness to bless, sustain and strengthen us - and our children.

People are complicated

"Look, I've killed the monster!" he cries triumphantly, cape trailing behind him, stick sword in hand. My three year old and five year old's favourite role play game is some version of "goody vs baddy". Monsters vs superheroes. Knights vs dragons. If we watch a film, they want to know who the goody is and who the baddy is. In the darkest moments of a film (and we're talking Disney and Pixar here), they crave the reassurance that the goody will win in the end. We talk about the great story of good vs evil too. They point to the picture illustrating the story of Revelation in their children's Bible, of Jesus conquering the dragon, and they tell us "Jesus wins."

There's a developmental appropriateness to young children's desire to divide the world into goodies and baddies, to categorise them neatly as one or the other. Recent events have shown that adults are not immune either to the temptation to divide people into simple categories of 'goody' and 'baddy'. For instance, there has been a move to recategorise historical figures from 'goody' to 'baddy' with the toppling of statues; in the UK, protestors toppled the statue of slave trader philanthropist Edward Colston and threw it into the harbour. A statue of Winston Churchill has been boarded up ahead of planned protests; he is regarded by many as a great wartime leader. He also believed in racial hierarchies. 

Christians are not immune to these problems either. We fall in love with our spiritual heroes and then belatedly realise they too have feet of clay. Martin Luther and his anti-semitism. Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield and their ownership of slaves. John Wesley's marriage. William Carey's family life. It can get more personal too. Church leaders fall into sin. Christians we looked up to let us down. And with the tangle of thoughts and emotions that we're left with, it's easy to either turn a blind eye to someone's sin, rationalising it away, or to go to the other extreme and dismiss every good action or truthful word they've ever done or spoken.

We might also take groups of people and automatically assign them to be goodies or baddies. Cops. Protesters. Politicians. Civil servants. Journalists. Bankers. Climate change activists. Climate change deniers. Creationists. Evolutionists. Social workers. Home schoolers. Baptists. Anglicans. J K Rowling. The list goes on.

The world would be a simpler place if we could just think of everyone as either a goody or a baddy.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn famously wrote, "If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being." In the same vein (but not quite as literary high-brow), British comedy actor John Cleese recently tweeted a clip of his from 30 years ago in which he says, "the great thing about having enemies is that you can pretend that all the badness in the whole world is in your enemies, and all the goodness in the whole world is in you." 

Both Solzhenitsyn and Cleese are echoing the truth that people are complicated. As image bearers of God, every one of us is able to do good. As people who have rejected God and trampled on his law, every one of us does evil. That is not to say that we are all equal in our degree of goodness or evilness. The line that divides good and evil does not cleave every human heart equally in two. But the history of humanity is a history of complex people. Heroes have flaws. Villains are capable of good deeds. David who killed Goliath was the same David who took another man's wife and had her husband murdered. A towering theologian can hold appalling views (and not just be excused as a 'child of his time').

The line dividing good and evil cuts through my heart too. As I look back at Christians of the past and wonder how they could have got some things so very right and other things so terribly wrong, I wonder what a Christian living in fifty, one hundred, two hundred years time would say if they could look back at my life. If they nodded their heads in agreement with my reformed, Baptist theology, what words and actions of mine would cause them to wince? On what issues would they ask how could someone who held to those Biblical principles end up so far from the mark in that particular way?

As our children get older, we're slowly teaching them that while good and evil are real and clear categories, labeling people as good or evil isn't quite so clear cut as they'd like to believe. We're reminding them that in the ultimate good vs evil story, we're the baddies and the only goody is Jesus. And yet we're also baddies who image God and so we can still reflect God's goodness, albeit in a distorted way. 

And so this is my plea to the adults: resist the caricatures. Recognise that people are complicated. Good and evil swirls together in each of our hearts. It's not that good and evil don't matter. I'm not saying that you should never describe someone as evil. I'm not saying that we should never apply church discipline, call out false teachers or judge that a leader is unfit for church or public office.

But we need to be nuanced in our thinking. It's a whole lot easier to view the world through a lens that views individuals (or groups of individuals) as simply goodies or baddies. But good and evil are too important to simply take the easy option. We must be honest about both the failings of people we admire and the good deeds of those we don't. We need to praise the good and we also need to be unequivocal about the bad. We need to be people of truth and integrity.

Post script: the following articles have been helpful for me in educating myself and sharpening my thinking on this issue, particularly regarding Christian heroes.

"Jonathan Edwards, Slavery, and the Theology of African-Americans", Thabiti Anyabwile

"Luther's Jewish Problem", Bernard Howard

"Some thoughts about statues..." Michael Ots

"When Our Heroes Don't Live Up to Their Theology", Thomas Kidd

"How I Process The Moral Failures of My Historical Heroes", John Piper

Smartphones and a simple change

It doesn't grab your attention. It was pretty cheap. The children like to play with it so it's been dropped on the floor a couple of times already; if you shake it, you can hear an ominous rattle of some loose parts inside.

A basic digital clock has been hands down my best purchase of the last year. 

I've been using a mobile phone as my digital clock and alarm since I was a teenager. I'd fumble for it in the night when I woke to check the time. It was often the last thing I checked at night and the first thing I looked at it in the morning. 

It had some good uses. Sometimes I used the last few minutes before I slept to catch up on my Bible memorisation. Sometimes I started the audio Bible app as soon I woke and let the Word of God flow over me for the first few minutes of my day. But far too often I checked my messages and emails first, followed by the news, followed sometimes by social media or random Internet browsing. 

I've read a lot in these last couple of years about smartphones and how they are changing us and the distraction they can be. I've read how getting rid of a smartphone temporarily or permanently, can be helpful and considered that option, but the reality is that I need my smartphone (or, more precisely, Whatsapp) for life here and for communication with those in my home country. Then I stumbled across this article on wrong reasons to check your phone in the morning and it resonated with me.

So I took the simple option and bought a digital alarm clock. I developed a new habit of leaving my phone in another room at night. My digital clock tells me the time. It wakes me up in a morning if I need it to (although with three children under the age of 5, that feature is rarely needed right now). And it does nothing else. I no longer start my day by looking at my phone and then get sucked into messages, emails, news or social media. 

And the crazy thing is that I've only gained with this change. If I have a few moments to myself before I need to get up in a morning, I get to use them in more spiritually profitable and mentally healthy ways. There have been no negative consequences from delaying checking my messages for an hour or two after I wake and only positive effects from framing my day with the most important things, thinking first of God and then the people he has literally put in front of me.

I'm not saying I've got it all sorted. Sometimes I get up early with the baby and grab my phone as soon as I get into the kitchen. Occasionally I forget to leave my phone in a different room. There are also times where, for ministry or family reasons, I need to be able to be contacted in the middle of the night. In those times, I keep my phone in the bedroom, all notifications muted except for incoming calls, and well out of arm's reach.

Buying a digital alarm clock sounds incredibly simple. It is incredibly simple! In fact it's so simple that it seems a little ridiculous to be writing a blog post about it. But it turns out simple changes can be some of the most effective. 

Ten years on

I'd like to say that I remember the first time the nine of us met together but I can't find the memory. I have plenty of other memories of the nine of us together to choose from though.

We were the new Executive Committee of our university's Christian Union (CU). A bunch of eager 19 and 20 year-olds who had the responsibility of leading the CU for the next year. We were all from different tribes of evangelicalism and attended a variety of churches between us. Between us there was (and continues to be) differing views over several 'secondary' theological issues and so there was plenty of potential for disagreements. But we were all united in the fundamentals of the Gospel and committed to helping our fellow Christian students make Christ known at our university.

That year we organised evangelistic events and talks, encouraged each other and our fellow students to pray, tried to help Christian students to get stuck into local churches, hosted CU meetings and weekends away, supported our small group student leaders and tried to share the Gospel with our own friends. We worked hard together, as well as being involved in our own churches and even managed to fit in some studying for our degrees as well.

We hadn't chosen each other as friends but had been thrown together by virtue of us all being asked to, and then agreeing, to take on different roles on the 'Exec'. But we spent a lot of time with each other and we grew close that year. We prayed together a lot. We laughed until we cried and sometimes we actually cried. In fact, after we'd finished our official duties and were no longer constrained to spend time together, we voluntarily went away for a few days as a group. I'd been a Christian since I was a fairly young child, but I grew so much that year and a lot of it was due to those people.

One conversation we had made a strong impression on me. I don't remember the specifics but I do remember the atmosphere becoming serious and the sober looks passed between us. Somehow it had come up in conversation that many people who were professing, active Christians at university slid away from the faith after graduation and during their 20s. Someone might have quoted some statistics about the percentage who fall away - I have no idea how substantiated they were. But we were mature enough to realise that having been CU leaders, dedicated in our Christian service, was no guarantee of continuing on in the faith. I remember the feeling of looking at each other, hoping that we'd prove the genuineness of our faith by keeping going.

Since then life has moved on and we've lost contact as a group. Some of us have kept in touch with others and, predictably, we've mostly seen each other at weddings. So it was a joy last week to have a ten year virtual reunion via a video call. Eight of us were able to make it, and there was news of the ninth person too. For one evening, we picked up where we'd left off in our friendships as we talked and laughed together. And I could have cried to hear that we are all continuing to follow Jesus.

As we all shared our different stories of what we've been doing in the last decade and how God has been at work in our lives, God's faithfulness shone through so clearly. There were happy updates of marriage, children, church life, work and house moves. The disappointments and griefs were given space too. They were all a monument to God's goodness.

This is not to boast in our own staying power though. For one thing, we're all only 30-ish years old! God willing, we have a lot of the race yet to run. Yet much more importantly, it is the Lord who keeps us. I firmly believe that no genuine Christian can fall away from the faith; the God who has called us will bring us safely home.

It's been a strange and difficult last couple of months. But in the midst of everything going on, I'm so glad that we were able to take a couple of hours to celebrate God's goodness to us. We raised our virtual Ebenezer and proclaimed that the Lord has helped us this far. And we prayed that God would keep us over the next ten years - and beyond - and finish the good work that he has started in each of us.

Guest post on gospelcentredparenting.com

Friends over at www.gospelcentredparenting.com had the great idea of a blog post series looking at different Christian families' daily lives in lockdown and how the Gospel is our hope in this.

It was a privilege to be asked to participate and you can read my contribution here.

Collecting grass in lockdown days

Yesterday morning found me collecting grass from our nearest park after my morning run. Our children, like all under 20 and over 65 year olds who live in the 30 biggest cities in Turkey, are banned from going outside at the moment as part of the coronavirus lockdown measures here. Like most people here, we live in an apartment. Collecting grass to make a play farm and give them a small connection with nature is the best I can do right now for my children who haven't been outside in nearly three weeks.

We're grateful for the way that the Turkish government has been working to halt the spread of COVID-19. In addition to children and the elderly being banned from going outside, everyone is being advised to stay at home as much as possible and those who are able to should work at home. Social distancing is encouraged and masks must be worn in markets, crowded public places etc. Places for leisure and entertainment, along with restaurants and cafes, are shut. Charity meetings are forbidden - most churches here are registered as charities, so church meetings are not taking place currently. The last two weekends many cities in Turkey (including our city) have been under curfew - no one is allowed to go outside of their homes at all for 48 hours. And with a national holiday tomorrow, we start a four day curfew at midnight tonight.

Being a cross-cultural worker and living in a different country is like living your life with a low level but constant background noise. Uncertainty about visas, conducting your life in a second language, raising Third Culture Kids, communicating with supporters, keeping on top of all the additional 'life admin' tasks that come with living abroad and the ways those tasks interact with and depend on each other. They all add up to make this hum that sits on the top of the normal goings-on of your life. Mostly you just live with it. A lot of the time I don't even notice it now. However COVID-19 has added a whole new layer of noise. What is usually a manageable level of background noise to live with has suddenly increased in volume.

We are meant to be returning to the UK for a summer home assignment in seven weeks. As international flights to and from Turkey are currently grounded and both countries are in lockdown, our summer 'plans' have been turned completely upside down.

So life seems hard right now. Hard when one of our children comes to us with a hopeful look in their eyes and tells us that they really like going outside. Hard not to be able to meet with our church family. Hard not to be able to see friends. Hard to think that it will be even longer before we get to see family and to introduce our baby (who is already nearly one year old) to many of them. Hard to think of all the things we'd hoped to do back in the UK this summer. Hard to live in the midst of ongoing uncertainty regarding visas anyway and especially when the uncertainty is compounded by coronavirus.

And yet.

We  know we have so much to be thankful for. We're at home, safe and healthy. My husband was already working several days a week from home with his computer programming business and that has continued as normal. We don't have to worry about a loss of income. We have enough food. We might be stuck in an apartment - but it's a relatively large apartment, with a balcony. We live in a stable country with good healthcare and the government here is taking the fight against coronavirus seriously. We might not be able to return to the UK this summer, but we will return at some point. Our unearned privilege of being born in a particular place assures us and our children of the right to enter a country that many people are desperate to get to.

I've been trying to work out how to reconcile the two concepts of "this situation is hard" and "we have so much to be grateful for". Can they even be reconciled? Is it even appropriate to describe our situation as hard when so many are in harder situations? When everybody is living through this strange time, does my situation have to be extraordinary to justify being acknowledged as hard? Did our choice to move to Turkey come with the duty to unflinchingly accept all the consequences of that decision - even when the consequences were unimaginable a few months ago? Does that same logic apply to doctors, nurses, hospital cleaners, supermarket workers who probably weren't imagining a global pandemic when they signed up?

As I've pondered these questions, I've come to the realisation that the key, for me at least, is self-pity.  Self-pity is never God-glorifying behaviour and yet it is so easy to slide into. My internal monologue starts to recount the difficulties and disappointments in my life right now. All these things we have to live with. All the things we can't do. When I'm focusing in on the hard things in my life through the skewed lens of self-pity, my perspective gets warped. I end up only being able to see those hard things. I miss the good things. I lose the ability to have compassion for other people's hard things. And I know from experience that the slide into self-pity rarely ends there. It twists into discontentment, envy, bitterness, resentment, anger.

I have another option though. I can look my troubles straight in the eye and say, "Yes, these things are hard. I also have many good things in my life. Other people are experiencing hard things too. Some of them are experiencing hard things because they are doing vital work. I can be thankful for their sacrifice. For others, circumstances combined with their personal situation determines their hard things. I can be compassionate towards them without being judgmental."

That could be the end. Gratitude, not self-pity. Simple, if not easy.

And yet.

From where do I get the strength to squash self-pity? When I've given out all of my emotional energy, where does the power to choose gratitude and contentment come from?

My husband is preaching this Sunday on why we don't need to fear the future, from those glorious verses at the end of Romans 8. So perhaps it was natural that the other evening, when the house was quiet and we were able to drink our mugs of tea in peace, that our conversation swung around to uncertainty and difficulties in the light of God's sovereignty plus goodness. And we reminded ourselves once again of why we can be thankful in the midst of difficult circumstances.

I can face disappointments and difficulties without an ounce of self-pity because God has promised that he's going to use the hard things for his glory. If God did not spare even his own Son for me, I do not need to doubt his goodness. I can go about my days armed with a grateful heart because God has said that nothing can separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.

And when my child asks again about going outside, I can sweep him up for a hug and tell him the truth. "I know it's hard, sweetheart. I know you want to go outside. I wish I could take you outside. But you have to stay inside right now to keep you safe and to keep others safe. And you know what? God is still God. He loves us. God says that he will use the virus to make us more like Jesus. He planned this virus because somehow, in a way I don't understand, it will help people to see how amazing and special he is. And that is a good thing. It's the most important thing."

Lockdown silver linings

Last week I wrote about Ferdi and the unexpected blessing that our church's online meetings have been to him.

Today I want to share about another person who has benefitted from the online meetings of a church.

Me.

As both a mother of little ones and as a cross-cultural worker, I'm limited in being able to attend church prayer meetings. But the move to video chat prayer meetings has been an unanticipated silver lining of lockdown. This week my husband and I were able to join our Turkish church's virtual prayer meeting, and our UK sending church's prayer meeting.

Our Turkish church's weekly prayer meeting is early evening because young people (including those in their 20s who are unmarried and so still live at home with parents) are typically required to be home in evenings or by dark. That time slot coincides with the hour that I really need to be at home to nurse and get to bed a tired and clingy baby. When he was smaller, I could take him to the prayer meeting and I'd rock him in the carrier or someone would happily hold him. That's not a feasible option now he's out of the tiny baby phase, so we'd accepted that for this season my husband would be the one going to the prayer meeting.

And even when I can start going to the prayer meeting again, L and I will be alternating going. Like many other parents of small children around the would whose churches have evening prayer meetings where it's not practical or loving to bring the children, one of us will stay home with the children while the other goes out to the prayer meeting. Then we'll switch the next week.

But then our prayer meeting became a virtual prayer meeting. So Wednesday night we rearranged our evening routines, and we both got to join the prayer meeting. What a blessing!

Later on, once the children were in bed and asleep, we logged in to a different video chat application for our UK home church's prayer meeting. As workers who have been sent overseas, we're fairly used to making a brief appearance in the prayer meetings of our supporting churches. Usually they are all gathered together in a church hall or someone's living room, we appear on the screen and give an update and there's a few minutes of conversation and somebody prays for us. It's a great benefit of technology. But they are all there in person together, and we're the odd ones out appearing on a screen. We are guests in those prayer meetings.

Yet this week we were equals. All of us were sitting in our homes sharing prayer requests and praying over the Internet. Not only did both L and I get to join, but we got to pray with a group of people we know and love in English. Just as Bible translators talk of the way that God's Word resonates in a person's 'heart language', praying in your native tongue brings with it a freedom and a naturalness that doesn't come so easily in your second language.

Real life prayer meetings are better than video chat prayer meetings. But video chat prayer meetings are better than missing out on prayer meetings.

Ferdi

We've been lamenting that Coronavirus means that our church, as in many parts of the world, cannot meet in-person currently. And like many other churches, we've been meeting virtually for our weekly prayer meeting and Sunday service. I've read some really good articles on what it is for the local church to meet together and how we long to be able to do that again (here's one). Meeting via Skype or Zoom, or livestreaming services, is just not the same. 

I'd like to tell you about Ferdi.*

Ferdi is a young man who lives in a city 80 miles away from our city but we count him as part of our church family. He started reading the Bible and researching Christianity on the Internet. His city has a population of nearly half a million people but there's no Turkish church there. Eventually he ended up in contact with the pastor of our church. When our pastor visited Ferdi's city, he met up with Ferdi. Ferdi has decided to follow Christ and a couple of months ago was baptised. 

But 80 miles is a long way and we are his nearest church. His circumstances mean that he isn't usually able to get to us for a Sunday service. In fact, his first church service with us was the one he was baptised at. When people from our church can, they go to visit cities like the one that Ferdi lives in so they can encourage any believers there. But our city has a population of 1.5 million and we're the only Turkish church in our city so we can't even keep up with the needs here. 

Last Sunday, as we all logged on to our devices and joined the call, nearly all of us were deeply saddened that the current situation means we were unable to be together in one place. Touch matters (between members of the same sex) in Turkish greetings - the women kiss, once on each cheek, while the men usually shake hands. But we waved hello instead. Some of our musicians led us in sung worship but singing in our separate living rooms clearly wasn't the same as lifting our voices in praise together. Our pastor prayed and preached to us but we felt the lack of being together. It was a meagre substitute. 

Yet while we were feeling the lack of church, Ferdi's experience was much closer to church than anything he usually has. Just as the rest of us joined our Sunday church Skype call from our homes, he joined in from his home. Security and technology constraints preclude us from livestreaming our normal Sunday services but last Sunday, he was able to be as much a part of the group as anybody else. Just like everyone else, he was able to sing along at home, to say amin to the prayer, and listen to our pastor preach, to talk briefly with everyone afterwards.

We can't wait until we can meet together again as the embodied local church. We know what we're missing out on. But we also remember that while we're meeting virtually in order to obey our leaders and love and protect our neighbour, trying to make the best of the situation in this sad and uncertain time, in terms of meeting as a church, this is a better-than-normal experience for Ferdi.

So as you look forward to meeting in-person with your church family again, will you pray for your brothers and sisters in Christ that have no local churches to attend? Will you pray that more churches will be planted and established in this country? That there would be enough local believers - even a handful - in a city of half a million people that a church could be formed and that people like Ferdi would be able to meet each week with the people of God? That there would be mature believers able to live in such cities and lead the churches?

*Name changed for security reasons.

Lockdown, small children and realising that I can't do it (but I know someone who can)

As countries one by one start encouraging their citizens to stay home or enforcing lockdowns, my social media feeds have filled up with ideas of activities to do with children stuck at home, advice on homeschooling, lists of resources for families, and messages of support to parents: You’ve got this! You can do it! Think of it as an opportunity to dig deep and invest in family relationships! Take the opportunity to get out the board games and get baking with the kids! Yes it’s all a bit scary and unknown but we’ll get through it!

Although the schools here in Turkey are closed, we home educate our eldest child anyway and the other two are too little for school, so we have been spared the sudden adjustment of having the children at home all of the time. And yet it hasn’t been until we’ve been cocooning ourselves away at home that I’ve realised how important the time is that we spend with friends and church family during the week. That time adds so much value and structure to our days and weeks in so many different ways. With the reality setting in that social distancing and self isolation is going to be our new normal for the coming weeks (at the very least), I’m grateful for the free resources and tips floating around on the Internet.

But I also realised that I cannot dare risk being taken in by the social media mantras that proclaim that I can do it, that I can wrest good out of this situation, that I can totally get through this strange period of time without losing my sanity.

Because the truth is, I can’t.

I’m weak. I lose my temper too easily. I struggle to summon up the right words to deal with yet another argument over the toys and who has taken whose piece of Lego. I don’t have the reserves of grace and patience to power through these weeks, one baking session and Playdough activity at a time. I don’t have the energy and goodwill I need when I’ve got two small children bouncing off the walls at the end of the day and a baby who likes being within touching distance of me at all times and dinner still to make and I haven’t spoken to an adult in real life other than my husband for days.

But when I realise that I am not enough, when I come to the end of myself, when my grand ideas of creating a clean, tidy, peaceful house while at the same time educating my children, looking after the baby, feeding everyone, keeping up with my Turkish, staying in contact with friends and family virtually, trying to keep up with the Coronavirus news but not be consumed by it, and loving my husband are all in shards at my feet, then Jesus can get to work.

His grace is sufficient for me. His grace will be sufficient for every day of quarantine. His grace will be sufficient when I think I just can’t do another day of this.

I have to give up on thinking I can do it all myself though. I have to put down my Pinterest list of ‘fun things to do with my children that are also subtly educating them’ and forget relying on crowdsourced tips and tricks for the ability to get through the day. I have to humbly admit that I am not enough.

And I can trust that Jesus’ strength is more than enough and just like my nine month old sees that I’m within a one metre radius of him and lunges out of the arms of the person carrying him and towards me, with the complete faith and expectation that I will be there for him, I can completely and utterly throw myself onto Jesus and rely on his power. For his power is made perfect in weakness.

Weakness

Our Turkish pastor and his wife have faithfully been sharing the Gospel with their family members for 19 years and only in the last 18 months have begun to see the fruit from their perseverance. Last month our pastor's brother Mehmet* and sister-in-law Reyhan* were baptised, praise God!

Reyhan shared in her testimony the impact of a sermon L preached last summer from John chapter 18, on Jesus protecting his disciples when he is arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane. It was as if the countless times she'd heard the Gospel before had been pushing her towards a cliff edge, and that sermon was the final gentle nudge she needed to go over the edge and into the arms of Christ. 

L and Reyhan were talking a couple of weeks back and Reyhan was telling L that she wished that others could here that sermon as L preached it. He replied and told her that she could relate it to others and it would sound much better.

Because the truth is, our Turkish is respectable for foreigners who have been here for four years but it's not what we'd like it to be. We can talk about all kinds of issues, but the faster and more off-the-cuff we speak, the more grammatical mistakes start creeping (and sometimes flooding) in. When we're talking to supporters, our least favourite question is 'would you say that you are fluent in Turkish?' because 'fluent' means all kinds of things to different people. Yet it is undoubtedly true that to be fluent in daily conversation is very different from fluency in giving a 25 minute sermon where language ability does not distract from the sermon content, where the right words, phrases and illustrations are used to teach in a way that is clear and helpful, where the Word of God is expounded with clarity and authority. Unsurprisingly L has to work much harder on his Turkish sermons than he had to do on his English sermons. He gets a friend to double check the grammar. He practises it several times before hand to make sure that he can avoid any semblance of reading it but properly preach it. And even then, he will inevitably stumble over a few words. The flow of words is never as smooth as he would like it to be. It is not going to be the most eloquent sermon ever delivered.

But Reyhan's response to L was humbling. She told him that the sermon he'd preached had impacted her not despite, but because of the foreign preacher's imperfect Turkish. Even in our native language, we struggle with the words to convey what it was for faithful Son of God to willingly lay down his life for us, his faithless friends. Jesus' actions as he is arrested are mindblowing. He steps out in the dark to meet an armed group of Roman soldiers, religious leaders who are ferocious in their desire to see him executed, all guided by one of his closest companions who has betrayed him. He identifies himself so that his disciples might go free, knowing that just a few hours later they would all abandon him. And his sacrificial death on the cross was for us who trust in Christ today too - we who know that we would have done the same as Peter, who know that we have not always been faithful in our witness for Jesus.

But as L struggled to get across to his listeners the courage, the steadfastness, the rawness of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, the Spirit of God took his foreign-accented words and slight stumblingnesss and used them to deeply effect a sinner who needed to come to Christ. The Spirit of God didn't use them even though they were imperfect. No, the Holy Spirit took L's sermon and used it so that the stumbling of speech magnified what was said about our Saviour who was, and is, faithful even when his followers stumble and fall.

So we marvel at our God's embracing of our weaknesses, our lack of eloquence, our unpersuasive words. We praise God that he uses the foolish and weak things of this world so that we cannot boast but give all glory to God. And we thank God that in this large country with just a tiny number of believers, he is at work in people's lives.

*Names changed to protect identities

Hudson Taylor and I - principles, not prescriptions

When I was a teenager, I thought Hudson Taylor was the epitome of what a foreign overseas worker should be like. I still think he is an amazing example in so many ways - his faith in the Lord to provide, his prayer life, his love for the lost. In fact, when we were discussing baby names for our boys before they were born, I even threw out 'Hudson' as a suggestion. My husband, whilst retaining the utmost respect for Hudson Taylor, swiftly vetoed the idea.

One of the things that has always stood out to me about Hudson Taylor was his willingness to become as Chinese as he could in order to win Chinese people to Christ. In contrast to others at the time, Hudson Taylor and his organisation were known for adopting Chinese dress, living in local Chinese housing rather than the foreigner enclaves, eating Chinese food, adopting Chinese customs and working to achieve a high level of language ability (source).

In a letter written in 1867, Hudson Taylor wrote the following:

We wish to see Christian [Chinese] – true Christians, but withal true Chinese in every sense of the word. We wish to see churches and Christian Chinese presided over by pastors and officers of their own countrymen, worshiping the true God in the land of their fathers, in the costume of their fathers, in their own tongue wherein they were born, and in edifices of a thoroughly Chinese style of architecture.

If we really desire to see the Chinese such as we have described, let us as far as possible set before them a correct example: let us in everything unsinful become Chinese, that by all things we may save some. Let us adopt their costume, acquire their language, study to imitate their habits, and approximate to their diet as far as health and constitution will allow. Let us live in their houses, making no unnecessary alterations in external appearance, and only so far modifying internal arrangements as attention to health and efficiency for work absolutely require. (source)

I fully agree with the first paragraph of the section quoted above. That logic should hold true for whatever country we are working to bring the Gospel to. Christianity does not wipe away cultural distinctions or impose culture and language. Every believer is called to holiness, to become more and more Christ-like - that is universal. And at the same time, God created diversity in humanity and the global church should reflect that.

But what about the second paragraph? Does that logic always hold - that to see the growth of the Gospel in a certain country or culture, the foreigners should as far as possible, in everything unsinful, become as much like the people from that country as they can? I've heard that line of thinking from different sources before - to reach a culture, you should conform to that culture as closely as you can, whilst not sinning or damaging your own heath etc. And a few years ago, I would have absolutely concurred with that idea. It made sense to me - if you want to win people to Christ, you should become as much like them as you can, whilst avoiding all sin. Sometimes I think its the invisible (or maybe not so invisible) standard that we hold Christian workers who have been sent overseas to, where the more that a worker becomes like the people of their host country, the more dedicated they are held to be.

After all, this was what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 9:

To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.

As a foreigner living in Turkey, this is not an abstract question for me. But it's not just a question for people like me. As Paul continues on a chapter later:

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God— even as I try to please everyone in every way. For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved. Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ.

This is an issue that concerns all believers - how can we use our freedom to seek the good of many?

As Christians, we have been set free. We are not under the law - we have the freedom to, for example, accept the meat that a neighbour offers to us after the Feast of the Sacrifice. But we are under Christ's law. And what is Christ's law? Galatians 5:13-14 sums it up:

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Here's the principle behind it all. And it's simple. We should love one another. When Hudson Taylor had his hair cut into the Chinese style and put on Chinese clothes, which would have looked and felt so strange from his English clothes, he was loving the Chinese people. At that time, Europeans were all lumped into one category together - the soldiers, the traders, the administrators, the religious workers and collectively known as the 'red headed devils'. Hudson Taylor consciously resisted being put into the category of European colonialists by becoming as Chinese as he could. He was imitating Paul and Christ by, in as far as he was able to, not being a stumbling block to the Chinese in terms of how he appeared and spoke. And his actions opened up opportunities for the Gospel - Chinese neighbours noticed and asked for an explanation.

I too am called to love my neighbours. But living in 21st century Turkey, that looks a little different for me than for Hudson Taylor - and that is exactly as it should be. How I love my neighbour here should look different to how my friends living in Muslim communities in the UK live. And both of those should look different to how a Christian living in a white, working class area should live. And each of those will look different to how a Christian worker living in rural Papua New Guinea lives. But the point is the same for all of us - loving our neighbour means stepping out of our comfort zone and living in a way as to remove all stumbling blocks to the Gospel.

The big difference for me as opposed to Hudson Taylor is that we live in a global world nowadays. Turks understand the concept of different cultures . They have exposure to different countries and cultures as they watch television, access the Internet and use social media. That doesn't mean there are no cultural misunderstandings (there are plenty!) or that the Turks we know here necessarily have a good understanding of what life is like in the West. But 21st century Turkey is connected to and aware of the world in a very different way to 19th century inland China. And compared to China one hundred and fifty years ago, there is more room here for diversity in how daily life is practised and greater freedom of expression.

The key question is what does it look like for me to love my neighbour here?

Practically, I love my Turkish neighbours by adhering to Turkish customs and traditions where I can. We don't wear our shoes in the house, we have slippers ready at the door for our guests and serve Turkish tea to our visitors. We add the abi (big brother) or abla (big sister) title when we're talking to or about people older than ourselves and use amca (uncle) or teyze (aunt) if they're significantly older than us - and we expect the same from our children. We make sure to say kolay gelsin (may it come easy) when we see someone working and geçmiş olsun (may it pass quickly) when someone tells us they, or their relative or friend, are ill or having a hard time.

When I cook for Turkish people, I love them by cooking food that they will like, first and foremost. Our slightly older Turkish friends usually prefer Turkish style food to anything else, so that's what I make them. When we have the youth group over, I often love them by making pizza. When it's just our family at home, I love my children and my husband (who are also my neighbours) by cooking Turkish food some days and non-Turkish food other days. They love Turkish food, they just love non-Turkish food as well and I would be doing a poor job of bringing up my Third Culture Kids if they looked at all British food as 'foreign'. Our Turkish neighbours know that we are not Turkish and do not expect us to eat Turkish food all of the time. In fact, they would probably think it strange if we never ate non-Turkish food. Where we live and at the time we live in, it is no barrier to the Gospel for us to eat non-Turkish food. And if we were to eat Turkish food all of the time, I don't think that would be much help in commending the Gospel.

I also love my neighbours here by dressing in an appropriate way, so as to endear the Gospel to them. We live in a conservative city. Many of the women here dress in a conservative way - making sure their clothes cover all of them except their hands, feet and faces and often wearing a headscarf. Other Turkish women here may dress in a slightly less conservative style, for example leggings or knee length (or even shorter) skirts. There's a pretty wide spectrum of clothing that Turkish women wear. I have freedom in Christ when it comes to my clothes - and yet I have deliberated curtailed my freedom for the sake of the Gospel. Because in the issue of clothing, it is not enough just to make sure that my clothes fall into the range of clothing that Turks wear - as a Western woman, Turks apply different rules to me. For the sake of the Gospel, I dare not dress like some of my Turkish friends do!

For example, the skirts I wear here are never, ever as short as knee length. It is a very commonly held assumption here that all Westerners are Christians. Turks see Western women in Hollywood films and assume that these actresses are Christians and that this is how Christians dress and act. This is considered proof that Christians are immoral and fulfills every negative stereotype held concerning Christians. I am one of the few Western women living in our city of over 1 million people - it is extremely rare that I see another Westerner while out and about in my local area. People are looking at me to see if Western women really are as immoral as they seem on the television screens. So when we're in our city, I don't take advantage of the full spectrum of clothing choices that can all be truthfully considered to be 'Turkish'. Instead I dress more conservatively than some Turks do with the aim of preventing this being a stumbling block to the Gospel.

There's obviously a lot more that can be said on this and the examples above are just a few practical instances. I can see lots of ways in my life where I have become in tune with Turkish culture and loving my neighbour here comes naturally. I can see other areas where we've broken with Turkish cultural expectations because we believe it's a wisdom issue. I've talked and laughed and lamented with Turkish friends over the positives and negatives of both Turkish and British culture.

These are nuanced issues. I've been wrestling with questions over this since I came to Turkey and will undoubtedly continue to do so. I'm aware of the temptation to use this line of reasoning as a convenient way to hold onto some of my British-isms. I'm not claiming I've always got the balance right in what to adopt and what not to. That will always be a work in progress. And there are not always simple answers. For Hudson Taylor, disassociating himself from other Europeans by adopting Chinese dress and customs was clearly the right thing to do for the sake of the Gospel. He honoured God by loving his Chinese neighbours in this way.

I long to see more strong, faithful churches in this country, filled with Turkish disciples of Christ, who shine like stars in the universe as they hold out the word of life. Yet I am convinced that it does not mean I must become as Turkish as I possibly can. It means that I should use my freedom in Christ to serve humbly by loving my neighbour - my Turkish non-believing neighbours, my Turkish brothers and sisters in Christ, my husband, my children - in whatever form and shape is necessary for the sake of the Gospel. And I think Hudson Taylor would approve of that. May I love and serve the Turkish people as much as Hudson Taylor loved the Chinese people.