Confessions of a Cultural Misfit

by Rachel Allord

I didn’t wake up that morning thinking I’d commit three blunders in rapid succession — Bam! Bam! Bam! — but blunder I did. Once again, I had failed. Failed to fit into my new London surroundings. I was trying, hard, but even so I stuck out like a duck in a pond full of swans.

My family and I had been living in London for several months before I finally got the chance to sink my teeth into something that felt like actual ministry. Not just learning the labyrinth of London’s transportation network, or navigating the NHS, or demystifying the British school system — all endeavors that demanded time, energy, and prayer — but Real Ministry. That morning, I was to meet with two church women to plan an upcoming outreach event.

We had decided to meet at one of the women’s homes. As I stepped out my door wearing black joggers and clutching my stainless-steel tumbler of freshly brewed coffee, I felt a twinge of hope. Maybe we were going to make it. Maybe the chaos that came with moving our family overseas would begin to settle.

Back in those days Citymapper was my best friend, and as I navigated myself to the correct address, I ran into the other woman, also on her way. We exchanged greetings and the obligatory weather quips. Then she said, “Have you come from the gym?”

“No,” I said. Did I look sweaty? I wondered. Out of breath?

“Ah, so you are planning to go to the gym after our meeting.”

“No,” I said again, my confusion morphing into something like defensiveness.

“Oh,” she said. “I just thought . . .” Her gaze flitted to my legs.

I glanced at my joggers. Had I put on my clean, not too tight, not too baggy pair? Yes. Phew.

She smiled. “I normally wear jeans on a Saturday.”

Was there a deeper message behind these words? A hint as to what a woman my age in this particular neighborhood should be wearing? Or was I being paranoid? I shrugged. Produced a smile. “I guess I like to dress comfortably on Saturdays.”

Moments later, our host opened the door and greeted us. “Oh!” she said, surprised but cheerful, focusing on the tumbler in my hands. “You’ve brought your own coffee I see. I would have made you a cuppa, you know!”

Had I insulted her? Communicated that her coffee wasn’t good enough? Was I acting like an overly self-sufficient, rude American when I was only trying to save her the trouble?

We met in the lounge. They with their cups of tea, me with my barrel of coffee, exercise attire, and mounting shame.

An hour or so later as we were wrapping up and gathering our things, I realized I needed a tissue. We were all standing at this point, the two of them still chatting, so I stepped into the next room, the dining room, and swiped one from a clearly visible box on the table.

Conversation halted. I returned to my spot. They regarded me curiously before picking up their conversation. But it was there, a little look between them. A little too much silence. I didn’t want to interrupt! I wanted to shout. How was I supposed to know that as a first-time guest in a near stranger’s house I should have asked?

Strike three. And oh, how ready I was to be out of there.

Fast forward nearly eight years.

Now, both women are friendly acquaintances, and I realize their remarks and responses were genuine reactions to the moment, not intentional barbs. Were they hoping to cue me in to social etiquette and cultural protocol? Perhaps. But wasn’t that a good thing? Didn’t I want to acclimate? Didn’t I need a little instruction, even if it felt like nitpicking?

We’re only human. Having our slip-ups pointed out to us, no matter how minor, hurts, especially if we’re doing our best to hold our turned upside-down world together. We’re as tender as a sunburn those early months, needing heaps of grace from ourselves and others that we sometimes don’t give or get. And underneath all that self-consciousness and cultural confusion the question that emerges is should we change ourselves to fit in?

Giving up joggers and travel mugs is easy enough. But what about changing how we socialize? Serve? Lead? Parent? We’re called to die to ourselves, to ‘become like all in order to save some,’ but is this at the expense of utterly losing who we are? Becoming someone we’re not?

Every context, ministry, and individual is different — not to mention flawed — so there’s no one-size-fits-all perfect answer.  There is, however, perfect Jesus, and we look to him.

Jesus who “made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness” (Philippians 2:8). Jesus who strapped on sandals and stepped into a body that required food and sleep. Jesus who lowered himself to walk our dusty streets, humbling himself all the way to death so we could one day walk His streets of gold. That’s where we cast our gaze.

Yet in this utter humility, Jesus never forgot who He was: one with the Father. Yes, He gave up glory, but never did He waver in what we might call identity. He joined the sinner’s feast but didn’t share the sin. In complete dependence on the Father, He prayed with humility and authority and honesty.

He was meek and mild and compassionate. He picked up the basin and towel. Turned the other cheek. Turned the tables for the sake of his Father’s honour and submitted Himself a thousand times for the sake of a soul beside Him before dying for the world.

Some missionaries face martyrdom. All face little deaths of various kinds. Our rights, our way of doing things, our expectations are, one by one, snuffed out. And maybe even more surprising is the joy we find in the release.

We are not Jesus. We fall wherever it is God has planted us. We don’t have the same glory to give up. We can’t save, but carry His salvation, holding it out, person to person, country to country, wherever we go.

Through Jesus we know who we are, why we are here, and where we are going. Because of Jesus we pray with boldness and humility. He gently prods us to lay down the thing in our grip. Take up the basin and towel. Die to self, little by little, as we wait for glory.

~~~~~~~~

Rachel Allord serves in London, UK, and writes novels for both youth and adults. The Girl and the Green Hat (sequel to The Girl on the Tube) has just released through 10 Publishing. You can peruse all her books at rachelallord.com.

5 Digital Rules for Missionaries

by Naomi Johnston

In a world of increasing busyness and distraction, even in the missional sense, the digital world pulls us into its steady stream of consciousness, asking for as much as we can give, and then some. We are sorely mistaken if we think that as ministry workers we will avoid this. In fact, I find it more common that as we lose control of much of our surroundings and personal choices, we tend to try to take some control back by allowing ourselves freedoms in our personal time.

I personally struggle with my tendency to finish all my jobs, tidy my house to a reasonable standard (sometimes), and then flop onto my couch, phone in hand, for some “well-deserved me-time.” Far be it from me to discredit the comfort that provides. Rather I would like to challenge the lack of conscious thought around this and how we can implement healthy boundaries to perhaps better enjoy both the distraction itself and the life we lead outside of the screen.

I’ve been reading a lot on this in a general sense, and I liked some of the boundaries given by people who are thinking and working in this space constantly on behalf of the church. John Mark Comer has wrestled through this problem himself and seems to have found himself in a better place, if not on the other side of this possible addiction. Strahan constantly calls the wider church to return to contemplative practices regularly in life, sometimes more clearly calling us to leave our screens behind for a time. And there’s an ample supply of writers calling us to spiritual disciplines that ask us to ‘step away’ from normal life to encounter silence, and sometimes perhaps God’s voice.

So here I’ve collected a few of these and applied them to the missional life. I hope it comes as a call, an encouraging hand held out to help you set up some boundary lines around your life, as I continue to attempt this myself.

 

1. Take digital breaks as self-care.

Personally, struggle street for me is what I have fondly nicknamed ‘witching hour’—the hours before sleep when the child has settled down, the jobs and the eating have been done, and what’s left is to relax and settle in for the night. This is usually when the doomscrolling happens, sometimes eating away literal hours of my evening, to my deep shame.

One of the habits that has allowed me to reclaim some of this time is the action of ‘putting my phone to bed.’ I first learned this phrase through Comer and mistook it to mean that the phone goes to bed when I do. But actually in The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, he writes about the practice of ‘parenting your phone’ which basically means putting your phone to bed before you do and making it sleep in—giving yourself time both in the evening and morning to live without your phone in hand. Insert horrified gasp here. But when this constant action becomes a habit, the spaaaaaace you feel mentally turns it into a self-rewarding habit.

Another digital break I have been regularly applying is the deletion of the doomscroll apps. I do this semi-regularly when I notice my use starting to creep up again. And by creep up again I mean when hours have literally been wasted over a month or so. I’m no saint; I haven’t been able to apply this discipline constantly and liberally, but it does work, and I have just now done it again. The relief is almost as immediate as the regret, but the regret doesn’t last as long.

 

2. Put your family first.

It’s tempting to get into a habit of always having your phone in hand, especially in the family moments. Nothing is more attractive to our newsletter readers and social media followers than a casual picture of the children playing in a foreign playground with tasty cultural differences littered around the scene. And yes, we should do that on occasion.

But what’s more difficult is that once the phone is out, it remains out for longer than we would like. And we get distracted by the notification that just popped up. And someone’s gran just replied to the last picture and all of a sudden you’re sucked back in.

One of the ways around this, I mentioned previously, is to remove the socials from your phone. It will allow you the chance to take the picture, save the memory and then get straight back to the family.

But another way to help is to have ‘Family Focus Hours’ where the screens once again get packed away, and that next hour or hours are spent with your family, paying attention to them and their needs.

Lastly on this note, don’t take everyone with you on holiday. Again, the memories are good to keep, so take the photos and videos, but don’t let the screens and the social media buzz that we get when we share exotic and new locations pull you back into that space while you’re there. Save it for afterwards if you must.

 

3. Consume wholesome content.

Now I know that when the word ‘wholesome’ comes out, we immediately move to thinking that I’m about to warn against unwholesome R16 or R18 movies and content. But I also want to warn against the impact of staying online ingesting miles and miles of newsfeed about what’s going on in the world.

A common note around digital and screen use is that mostly it’s all good, but the amount and the pace of ingestion are not always good. Staying on top of the news and keeping informed, great. Letting it inhabit every waking thought and scroll? Not so great.

The amount of mental and emotional energy I’ve given to the state of the world’s affairs has been a little over the top. I now limit myself to the occasional post by well-regarded journalists that might show up in my email inbox or on my Instagram. But I don’t scroll, and I don’t allow myself to wander down the rabbit hole . . . very often. Of course we will have times we want to follow the scent, but we need to limit when and where.

Our jobs as missionaries and cross-cultural workers rely on our ability to be in hard situations and be able to focus on the good. The news cycle often works in the opposite spirit. Our job is to unify cultures in one way or another; don’t allow yourself to be dragged over to the other side.

 

4. Purpose before play.

Don’t spend your online energy on junk content before you get around to doing your work.

Some of us have the privilege of representing our work to the countries we have been sent from. We have to take what we are experiencing in terms of the work God is doing where we are, and we are privileged to share that with our sending churches and communities.

But sometimes, when it comes time to write and share, our mental capacity for that has been slowly leaking out through the days and weeks in other online interactions, and we have no energy for the supporting communities that have been partnering with us to get us there!

This is yet another reason why ‘parenting your phone’ is a good boundary. Save your screen time for when it matters most. Don’t squander time on entertainment or disengaging. Use it wisely—it’s not a never-ending resource.

 

5. Be where your feet are.

We have given up so much to be where we are. Some of us have given up dreams, homes, family, possessions, relationships, potential relationships, the list could go on.

Why should we now get to where we are and use that time looking back over our shoulder at what was, or looking over someone else’s shoulder at what they have, or the state of the world where they are?

Guys, be where your feet are. Invest in the community you have. Share meals with the people who live next door. Run your child’s daily energy out at the playground and look other parents in the eye.

We have been given such a great gift, and to squander it on digital disengagement is frustratingly normal. Let’s push back on that and continue to strengthen the discipline of being present.

We’re not truly honouring the place we are and learning from the new culture if we’re constantly disengaging and disassociating. Dig your toes in. Plant firmly. Put your phone down.

None of us will do this perfectly. Screens and social media are woven deeply into our work and our lives now. But small boundaries can make a big difference. A few simple habits can slowly return our attention to the people, places, and calling God has placed right in front of us.

~~~~~~~~~~

Naomi Johnston is a photographer, designer, and writer from New Zealand serving in Europe with One Mission Society. Together with her husband and daughter, she is part of a missionary community working across Europe and the Middle East. Through photography and writing, Naomi shares stories from the field and reflects on faith, culture, and life in cross-cultural ministry. She writes regularly at www.thejohnstonjourney.com and can also be found on Facebook and Instagram as @thejohnstonjourney.

Good News for Worn Out Shepherds

In my years as a missionary teacher, I’ve come to resonate deeply with the idea of shepherding. 

Me enthusiastically: Okay, everyone! It’s time to move!

My kids/students/humans in general: *eating slowly like sheep grazing*

Me: Uh, did I mention there’s more grass over here?

Humans: *ear flick, possible raised head and sideways glance*

Me: *picks up rod* We’re moving or else!

Humans: *slow shuffle toward direction I’m pointing*

I take it back. Shepherds of actual sheep are much better at their job than I apparently am. Getting small (and big!) humans to listen and obey is more akin to herding kittens than sheep. 

And so I find myself wondering if I’m cut out for these leadership roles I’ve agreed to—the classroom, the mentorship, the spiritual life program. How in the world do I actually cast vision or offer direction or stir up motivation? How do I move these stubborn sheep anywhere when I barely know where I’m going?

If you in any way consider yourself to be a pastor, leader, or teacher, you’ve probably wrestled with the same questions. Leaders, we’ve been warned, are often frustrated and lonely. No wonder Moses beat that rock and was reprimanded by God. He’d spent years leading a “stiff-necked people.” I’d be pretty upset at their constant complaints, too.

But maybe I’ve misunderstood my job description.

We’re all familiar with the biblical metaphor of leaders as shepherds, but recently God has highlighted a few other verses that remind me of who I really am in this scenario.

Let’s start back in a classic psalm written by David, the shepherd king: “The Lord is my shepherd…” Ah yes, even if I were the king of Israel, I’d still be a sheep in need of God’s instruction and protection just like everyone else. Sometimes in my earnestness to serve others, I forget that. (Read my expanded story-version of Psalm 23 here). 

And how about Jesus? Both Matthew and Mark record him as having compassion on the crowds of people because they were like sheep without a shepherd. In John 10, Jesus directly calls himself the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for His sheep, and both Peter and the writer of Hebrews refer to Him as the Great Shepherd.

The depiction of God guiding our souls like a wise shepherd is comforting, but I still feel as though I need to emulate Him and guide those under my care. I try to protect my children, instruct my students, and care for my coworkers.

Recently, my fear of losing control has been revealed in some anxious dreams where I alone was responsible to fix, protect, and hold everything together. Just a few nights ago, I had another dream where I was moving through an old-school computer lab, jumping from task to task, solving problem after problem as the only competent adult in the room. 

Clearly, when I see myself as the primary shepherd, the burden becomes too heavy. I’m taking on a responsibility that belongs first and foremost to Jesus.

Okay, then. I’m a sheep. 

But what of those leadership roles? Is there a more helpful picture than shepherd for someone like me who can take responsibility a bit too seriously?

In one of those instances when Jesus had compassion on the crowds and wanted to care for them as their shepherd, He did indeed involve the disciples. In Mark 6 they inform Him that the people are hungry. Jesus doesn’t agree to the disciples’ idea to send them away so they can eat. He doesn’t call down manna from heaven or dredge up a bunch of fish for them to cook. Nope. He says, “You give them something to eat.”

Interesting. 

I think, too, of Jesus’ little chat with Peter on the beach after Jesus’ resurrection. After being asked if he loves Jesus, Peter is asked three times to “feed [His] sheep” (John 21:15-17).

I did the good Christian thing and looked up the two different Greek words used there for “feed,” and they do carry a distinct shepherd or herdsman connotation, but I find it noteworthy that Jesus didn’t ask his disciples or Peter to ever protect His sheep. He didn’t even specifically ask them to lead His sheep. That’s His job. 

He did, however, ask them to feed His sheep. This feels more like a shepherd’s apprentice to me. Or maybe just like one sheep beckoning to the others as it moves toward the next fresh patch of grass.

There’s a tremendous amount of freedom in this renewed perspective. The Chief Shepherd leads His sheep, protects His sheep, keeps His sheep. I’m invited to walk with Him, feeding—not forcing. Maybe feeding looks like quiet faithfulness, attentive listening, or persistent prayer. Or maybe it looks like sharing a testimony of how God has guided me through difficult seasons, or simply showing up when a child or friend needs me.

Now that I can do.

Confronting Risk and Managing Fear in the Uncertainty of War

by Anna Hampton

The uncertainty and danger of war, along with the threat of conflict, often trigger deep fear. Armed clashes, devastating strikes, and expanding regional involvement have made fear a daily reality for millions. Seeing weapons in the sky, cities battered by disruptions, and chaos spreading through economies and families stirs strong emotions. Images of smoke, evacuation orders, and increasing volatility activate our natural instinct to protect what we hold dear, reminding us how little we truly control.

Fear, though natural, need not freeze us. History shows that Christ followers in war have found ways to face risks without succumbing to dread. How do we recognize today’s dangers—strategic escalations, humanitarian suffering, financial shocks—while building resilience to handle them? The difference between failure and endurance often depends on how we respond to fear, assess threats, and develop a mindset that allows Christ followers to act wisely during chaos.

Threat Regulation and Neurobiology of Hope

In war, our brains activate alarms. The amygdala floods us with stress and worry, urging us to avoid danger. This survival system works in real emergencies, but when threats feel endless, it can leave us overwhelmed.[1]

While feeling fear is part of being human, it doesn’t have to define us. Hope travels through different brain pathways, especially the prefrontal cortex, which manages planning, motivation, and thinking about the future. Hope encourages us to set goals, find solutions, and believe we can take meaningful steps even during difficult times.

Research shows that people with stronger hope have brain patterns that support action and motivation, including changes in areas linked to turning intentions into concrete steps and focusing on positive possibilities. The prefrontal cortex also helps calm the fear response, making it easier to think and act wisely.[2]

Here’s the encouraging truth: hope is not the opposite of fear — it is its powerful partner. While fear yells, “Danger!” hope quietly says, “You still have a future.” By focusing on small, manageable actions — like daily routines, helping others, or taking one step toward daily responsibilities — we actively train our brains to shift from panic to purpose.[3]

Fear is a natural part of threats, so it’s normal to engage in both fear management and threat analysis. While fear may come easily, hope is something we choose to pursue, especially when chaos and suffering feel overwhelming. Hope requires practice. Often, it’s a moment-by-moment effort to hold onto hope. Choosing to focus our minds on hope in Christ instead of our fear is an act of righteousness. Even amid conflict, Christ followers, with God’s help, can choose courage and take action. Moving forward involves choosing hope—one thought, one prayer, one step at a time.

How to Manage Fear in Uncertainty

A helpful tool for managing fear during war and uncertain times is the NAME acrostic.[4] First, clearly identify and write down your fears, ranking them from least to most intense. Then, ask yourself: if this fear came true, what would be the worst part, and how would it affect you emotionally and physically? Next, reflect on Meaning and Imagination: visualize where God would be in the situation, how He might bring purpose from the pain, and imagine Jesus interceding for you with compassion (Romans 8:34, Hebrews 7:25). Finally, entrust your fears to God through prayer, asking for His help and the courage to take one small, obedient step forward. (Editor’s note: see the Resources section for guided articles, videos, and worksheets of the NAME acrostic tool.)

This process of focused attention does several things at once: it strengthens the hope neuro pathway, weakens the anxiety (fear) neuro pathway, nurtures a secure attachment to God, and builds courage by shifting focus from threat to trust. By practicing this process for 10-12 seconds at a time, neuron by neuron, we can change our brain. In difficult times, naming and trusting fear prevents it from paralyzing us, enabling clearer thinking and hopeful action.

Moral Decision-Making During Uncertainty and the Threat of Death

When war brings deep uncertainty and the shadow of death, ethical choices can feel paralyzing. How do we make wise decisions when information is limited and fear is high? There are two key skills that help with this: first, threat assessment; and second, ethical decision-making that incorporates three decision-making aspects. These skills should not be used solely by the security specialist on the team. All team members will benefit from becoming better equipped in this area.

In Leadership and Ethical Responsibility: The Three Aspects of Every Decision, Thomas Schirrmacher demonstrates that the Bible never pits the three aspects of ethical decisions against each other. Mature Christian ethics consistently integrate them: the normative (God’s clear commandments), the situational (practical wisdom), and the existential (heart and conscience).

The normative aspect grounds us in unchanging biblical values—love for God and neighbor, the sanctity of life, and truth and justice. Even during a crisis, we ask, “What does Scripture require?” The situational aspect calls for wisdom: evaluating the real context, limited options, consequences, and seeking counsel—without needing perfect foresight or abandoning God’s standards. The existential aspect touches the heart—internalizing decisions before God with a clear conscience, genuine trust, and love.

Facing death requires genuine surrender: a willingness to entrust our lives to God, refusing to act solely out of panic or self-preservation. Ignoring any part of ethics results in unbalanced decisions. Combining all three aspects brings clarity, courage, and confidence. In times of uncertainty, this balance allows us to act with integrity, compassion, and hope—trusting the outcome to the One who holds our lives.

Who Is My Enemy? Nationalism, Syncretism, and Christian Hospitality

In wartime, uncertainty often heightens the question: “Who is my enemy?” Governments, media, and national loyalties quickly provide the answer—yet as followers of Christ, we must evaluate every answer against Scripture rather than simply accept the state’s definition.

Normatively, the Bible clearly states: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). The command to love God and neighbor (Matthew 22:37-39) extends beyond national borders. Treating another nation as an enemy simply because our government labels them as such is not biblical ethics; it is syncretism—merging Christianity with nationalism until the flag and the cross become indistinguishable. This distorts the gospel, which proclaims in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female” (Galatians 3:28).

Situationally, wisdom evaluates threats without exaggeration or demonization. Evil exists, and governments bear the sword (Romans 13:4). But wisdom recognizes when fear inflates “the enemy” to justify hatred. History shows Christians have baptized wars as holy, only to later repent for endorsing hate.

Existentially, the heart and conscience must be shaped by the cross. Jesus welcomed the Samaritan, the Roman centurion, and Judas. Hospitality—welcoming strangers, feeding the hungry, sheltering the displaced—is not optional in hostile times (Hebrews 13:2; Matthew 25:35-40). It is obedience. When fear whispers that the “other side” is irredeemable, we respond with Christ’s mindset: our true enemy is not flesh and blood, but the powers of darkness (Ephesians 6:12). Every person remains an image-bearer loved by the same Savior. In the fog of war, this truth frees us from hatred and calls us to courageous hospitality. Fear labels enemies; Christ names neighbors. We choose His voice.

War and Trauma

Trauma reveals knowledge we were not meant to carry, but how we handle war trauma shapes not only our healing but also what we pass on to future generations.[5] The challenge is to see trauma as the opposite of God’s beauty and choose how we process it instead of being overwhelmed by it.

Modern ethics and mental health often reverse the order of the transcendentals (Truth, Goodness, Beauty). Western thought emphasizes truth (facts, rationality) first, then goodness (rules), while downplaying beauty. This reversal disadvantages trauma victims.

Appeals to “the war is over” (truth) or “you should act this way now” (goodness) rarely reach the traumatized. Author Timothy Patitsas considers trauma to be more than just psychological damage—it is a profound anti-theophany, an overwhelming confrontation with ugliness that resembles a false revelation.[6]

It reveals a “truth” that the world is malevolent or indifferent, that God is unloving, and that fellow humans are enemies. This shatters communion (with self, others, and God), unravels character, and embeds a heretical lie deep in the heart that cannot simply be reasoned or moralized away. Victims often remain in a kind of communion with this false knowledge.

Trauma disrupts the integrating, life-giving power of liturgy and genuine beauty. Healing through a “beauty-first” approach requires restoring a focus on beauty, grounded in orthodox spirituality. True Beauty—ultimately Christ and His incarnate, cruciform love—serves as a true reflection of the divine. It reorients the soul by presenting a powerful new view of reality that challenges the ugly “revelation” of trauma. Trauma victims need to fall in love with Beauty before they can be guided back toward righteous moral direction. Beauty unites the fractured self, restores communion, and makes truth and goodness livable again.

Trauma recovery is connected to overall soul-healing. Only by recognizing and emulating true Beauty (which leads to Goodness and Truth) can the soul’s deepest scars from ugliness be healed, and the lies of a godless, hostile world be unraveled.

God’s Spirit Over Chaos

The chaos of Genesis 1 still threatens Earth. But God’s Spirit remains, like a mother hovering over her young. Christ is here. Our Father is not caught off guard by your circumstances as you read this. My heart reaches out to you, whatever you’re facing, as your sister in Christ, to encourage you to stay alert, stand firm, and trust that His hand is on your shoulder, and He will faithfully provide all you need in the real and present danger you or your loved ones face. —Anna

Additional Resources

Fear Management for Adults from Anna Hampton:
Fear Management for Adults Article
Fear Management Video
N.A.M.E. Tool for Adults

Fear Management for Teens from Anna Hampton:
Fear Management for Teens Article
Dealing with Fear Video
Fear worksheet (used in video)

Fear Management for Children from Anna Hampton:
Fear Management Children 5-12 Article
Fear Management for Kids 5-12 Facilitator Guide
Facing Fears Worksheet for Children

Risk Tolerance Inventory from Anna Hampton (available in multiple languages)

Articles from Scott Brawner:
The Watchman’s Brief
Thresholds for Departure and Benchmarks for Return
Individual Stay-Go Assessment

Notes
[1] Marek et al., 2013, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3678031/.
[2] Delgado et al., 2008, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3061554/.
[3] Sharot et al., 2012, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3424419/.
[4] Hampton, Anna. Facing Fear. 2023. William Carey Publishing.
[5] Levinson, Leila. Gated Grief. 2011. Cable Publishing.
[6] Patitsas, Timothy. Ethics of Beauty. 2019. St. Nicholas Press.

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Anna Hampton is a global risk consultant and specialist in a theology of risk. She has over thirty years of ministry experience, raised her family in Afghanistan and Turkey, and serves with Barnabas International, providing pastoral support to Christ followers working in dangerous areas. This article is based on her books, Facing Danger: A Guide Through Risk, 2nd ed. (William Carey Publications, 2024) and Facing Fear: The Journey to Mature Courage in Risk and Persecution (William Carey Publications, 2023). She is currently writing Facing Persecution: The Spirituality and Ethics of Loving Your Enemy. Hampton holds a doctorate in religious studies from Trinity Theological Seminary (Newburgh). She can be contacted at TheologyofRisk.com, on Instagram as @Theology.of.Risk, and via email at anna.hampton@barnabas.org.

Did You Forget You Were Brave?

I’m not sure I’ve ever considered myself to be brave. I might have a burst of energy that moves me into a situation that requires some bravery, but I often rely on the encouragement, advice, help, and strength of those around me. I very rarely walk into a contentious or scary situation on my own feeling brave, confident, and sure.

When I think about bravery, I see images of strong soldiers, firemen, or rescue workers. I think about people who daily put their life on the line for someone else or who courageously fight to protect, serve, and provide. They don’t freeze or fawn; they fight.

But as a middle child and peacekeeper, I would rather lay low in conflict than put myself out into the fray of whatever is happening. Acts of bravery are not my go-to when life gets bumpy, and I tend to freeze in moments of challenge.

I’m currently in a season of re-entry, transition, and waiting for the scattered pieces to fall into place after the earth-shattering shift my life has taken in the past few years. I’m slowly finding my footing and rebuilding life. 

If you’ve ever been in a season like this, you know all the internal work involved in starting over. You know the grief, loss, change, and uncertainty that hit at different times. 

But with the internal work come all the practical things that also take energy and capacity in the midst of healing and recovery. Practical things like finding a car, getting a new cell phone, finding winter clothes, or shopping for a house.

I happen to be in the “shopping for a house” stage. A house that I’ll purchase on my own in my home state. A house that I never imagined I’d need, buy, or settle in. A decision that feels heavy, burdensome, and uncertain.

At the moment, it feels like the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Especially buying a house on your own with no one else to bear the weight with you. It’s terrifying in this world with this economy and this climate. How on earth will I do this?

Yet, we need a home. We need a place to settle, to fully breathe, to finally heal. I was expressing this to my youngest daughter, saying, “This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done!”

She looked at me from the passenger seat and said, “Mom. Yes, this is big and scary. But you do big and scary things all the time. You moved your family to Africa. That’s way more scary than this.” She continued, “You had little girls and you moved them across the ocean. That’s big. You can do it, Mom. You can buy a house.”

I thought about her words. “Well, that’s true. I did that, and it was brave, wasn’t it?” 

“Mom, you’ve done a lot of brave things even though you were scared. You can do this too.”

I started thinking of other brave things and realized there were more moments of bravery than I gave myself credit for. Some big, some small, but all requiring a strength I didn’t know I had before moving overseas.

Running a marathon
Facing an MS diagnosis
Changing my diet to improve my health in Africa
Sending my girls in a taxi to school in West Africa
Saying goodbye as the girls went to boarding school
Sitting in language school during terror attacks in Paris
Playing a game while riots and police and grenades all battled outside the window
Eating food in far off places with unknown ingredients
Enduring endless ants, mosquitos, mango worms, and cockroaches
Knowing I was going to sleep with lizards in the room
Driving through military checkpoints
Riding out a pandemic in a country with few ventilators

Pondering this list, I see that it’s just a small sample of events and moments that required bravery. I can look back and know that God was with me. I fully believe that it was His strength in me that gave me the courage to remain, to keep going, and to follow Him each day. It took standing on God’s firm foundation to stop and obey over the past few years.

It reminds me of the nation of Israel when they were taking the Promise Land. Reading through the story, I’ve seen this phrase, this very brave phrase, that says, “If the Lord is with me . . .” 

Caleb says it in Joshua 14:12 when he requests land that is filled with the descendants of giants. He knows that if God is with him, he can do it. And he does. Caleb had full confidence which gave him incredible bravery. Over and over, we see the nation’s leaders walk in God’s power and step into their inheritance.

Gideon says it in Judges 6:13, but for Gideon, it’s stated as a question to the angel of the Lord. Through the angel, God had just called Gideon a mighty hero. Gideon’s response was tentative, asking, “But if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened?”

I relate to both of these scenarios. Sometimes, like Caleb, I know that God is with me and boldly take a step. Sometimes, like Gideon, doubt, fear, exhaustion, and overwhelm turn the phase into a question. “God, if you’re with me, why is this happening?”

God’s answer to Gideon is also His answer to me when questioning and scared: “Go in the strength you have.” Gideon then responds with another question: “How? I’m the weakest and least.” Also me.

As we continue through Gideon’s story, God promises to be with Gideon. If you know this story, you know that Gideon needs a sign from God. A few signs, actually.

Through the rest of Gideon’s story we read about God telling Gideon not to be afraid. We see God rescue, help, comfort, and guide Gideon through challenges that took great courage. We see God deliver His people through a man who didn’t think he was brave enough for the task.

But Gideon didn’t have to be brave enough. God was with him.

Maybe you need a reminder of bravery in your current season, decision, or challenge. Maybe like Caleb, you know God is with you, and that helps you bravely take the giants down. But maybe like me, like Gideon, there are questions and prayers and needed signs to feel the full assurance that God is with you. 

So go forward in the strength, in the bravery that you have. God is with you. And if God is with you, you have all the bravery and courage you need for whatever is in your path.

Mine Is the Power?

by Valerie Limmer

It recently struck me just how sobering the passage about Caiaphas in John 11:47-53 is:

Therefore the chief priests and the Pharisees convened a council, and were saying, “What are we doing? For this man is performing many signs. If we let Him go on like this, all men will believe in Him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.”

But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all, nor do you take into account that it is expedient for you that one man die for the people, and that the whole nation not perish.” 

Now he did not say this on his own initiative, but being high priest that year, he prophesied that Jesus was going to die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but in order that He might also gather together into one the children of God who are scattered abroad. So from that day on they planned together to kill Him. (NASB)

The Bible makes it clear that Caiaphas utters this prophecy because he is currently the high priest. But is it just a prophecy? Before that, the Pharisees on the council had expressed distress and fear at the possible repercussions of Jesus’ actions on the mindset of the Romans towards the Jewish nation.

At other times, Jesus had said, “Why do you seek to kill me?” (John 7:21), and the Jews had picked up stones to execute Him (John 8:59), so we know murder had been in their hearts previously. 

But in this meeting? All that’s recorded to this point is fear and an acknowledgement that what they’ve been doing up to this point hasn’t been working. It’s Caiaphas who, through his prophecy, takes the lid off of Pandora’s box, who rings a bell that cannot be unrung, for “from that day on they planned together to kill him” (John 11:53).

Caiaphas, as high priest that year, not only prophecies. He instigates. Perhaps he was always going to instigate, but God tweaked his words to also make them prophetic—I don’t know. But this seems to be another Pharaoh moment: God giving an unrighteous man over to his unrighteousness. 

How sobering to realise that there are no guarantees of godliness even when we’re in the midst of prophesying God’s words. How sobering to read Caiaphas’s words—so reminiscent of Pharaoh’s hundreds of years before: “Behold, the people of the sons of Israel are more and mightier than we. Come, let us deal wisely with them, or else they will . . . fight against us and depart from the land” (Exodus 1:9-10).

These men—Pharoah and Caiaphas—were both concerned with maintaining the status quo and retaining their own power. They felt threatened by people they labelled as “other” and acted to subjugate and destroy them.

How vital it is to recognise that power never truly belongs to us! How vital it is to embrace the heart of Jonathan, who recognised God’s plan for his friend, David, and literally disarmed himself, throwing his inherited mantle of authority on his friend (see 1 Sam. 18:1-4).

How important it is for us to embrace John the Baptist’s declaration for ourselves—“He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:2)—and be crucified with Christ, emptying and humbling ourselves that we may be filled with the fullness of the glory of God to proclaim the hope of salvation and adoption as children of God to all who believe in His name.

A life of joy cannot be found in clutching after former treasures. It can only be achieved through gratitude now, and hope at our current and future inheritance in Christ. But we do not inherit at the expense of others—only at the expense of Christ. Dare we say that Christ’s suffering was not enough by causing others to suffer?

Originally published here; reprinted for Holy Week with permission.

~~~~~~~~

Valerie Limmer lives in Okinawa, Japan, where she’s served as a missionary with her husband since 2011, partnering with the local church to focus on outreach and discipleship. Their Japanese pastor calls them “bridge makers”—facilitating relationships with the community.  Valerie is the author of Captive Set Free: How to Find Freedom Through Forgiving, and On the Potter’s Wheel. To learn more about her missionary work or to read more of her articles, visit peterandvalerie.com.

 

What Was Brought into the Light. Now What?

First, thank you.

If you took the survey that informed the Let’s Talk About It: Sexual Harassment, Abuse, and Assault on the Field paper, thank you. Truly. Your willingness to share your experiences, insights, and observations made this work possible. This paper exists because you chose to bring what is often hidden into the light.

And bringing things into the light is sacred work.

Again and again in Scripture, we see that what is hidden is not meant to stay hidden. Light reveals, not to shame—but to heal, to restore, and to make a different way possible. Your voices are part of that work.

We do not take that lightly.

Off the top of your head, how frequent do you think sexual harassment, abuse, and assault are on the field?

One survey question asked participants to describe how often sexual harassment, abuse, or assault occurred in their context on the field. Participants selected from four categories: Rare (once a year or every couple of years), Seldom (a couple of times a year), Common (monthly), and Frequent (almost daily).

To help visualize the responses, imagine one hundred cross-cultural workers standing in front of you, each representing one survey participant.

Survey Results

We unpack these findings and what organizations, team leaders, and people on the field can do with this reality. But from these results, you can see this is topic we need to talk about.

What’s Inside the Paper

With the wide range of experiences and the depth of the reality, we (the authors) wanted to honor the complex reality you may live in.

We started with:
—An overview of the Survey

—Definitions of Terms

—Two Buckets: Within an Organization and Within a Host Culture

—Frequency of Sexual Harassment, Abuse, and Assault on the Field

—How to Prepare and Support People When Sexual Harassment, Abuse, and Assault Is Rare or Seldom

—How to Prepare and Support People When Sexual Harassment, Abuse, Assault Is Common or Frequent

But we also realized that there are “Ten Contributing Factors” to Sexual Harassment, Abuse, and Assault on the field and spent time unpacking each of these with quotes from survey participants.

1. Why People Are Quiet

2. Why This Topic Isn’t Widely Discussed

3. Role of Personal History

4. Power Dynamics

5. Role of the Host Culture

6. Race and Minority/Majority Culture Dynamics

7. Gendered Cultural Experiences

8. Mental Health of Harassers

9. The Ministry Pedestal and Calling

10. Roles of Those Involved

We ended the paper with suggestions for cross-cultural workers, organizations, sending churches, and friends and family members. There’s something for everyone!

Get The Paper

What Readers Are Saying

We’ve begun hearing from readers, those who have taken the time to sit with the data, the stories, and the implications. Here’s some of what they are saying:

I’m so glad you touched this topic through the survey and this report. By that you have given those who sometimes couldn’t share a voice! I pray that this brings change in the way we talk about it and handle these things, starting with myself 😉

What impacted you most?

How common sexual assault by someone in the host culture occurs yet I have never heard people talk about it. That’s crazy

Did any statement, sentence, or section stand out to you? If so, what was it?

The example of a team leader going out of us way to advocate for his younger female teammates, insisting to national partners that they be treated with respect. I had landlords and neighbors in India do that for me (they were not even believers!), but teammates seemed unaware of the necessity of providing that for us.

If someone hasn’t read Let’s Talk About It: Sexual Harassment, Abuse, and Assault on the Field, why should they read it?

It is a great tool for opening a discussion on a topic that has largely been discussed only after there was a complaint filed. It also helps us understand the definitions of harassment, abuse and assault, and helps answer the question people seem to be asking themselves such as “does this count, and as what?”

A New Resource Hub

We’ve also created a few supplemental resources to help you continue engaging and sharing:

✅ Podcast episode: Hear directly from the authors as we unpack key themes and what surprised us most [Listen here]

✅ Graphics: Easy-to-use visuals from the paper for social media, newsletters, or presentations.

✅ Infographics: Clear, shareable summaries of key findings (two specifically for organizations! One geared for you to use in newsletters)

✅ Discussion guide: A tool to help teams and groups process the paper together

Find all these and more when you scroll down this page in the Download Hub.

Our hope is that these resources help you not only understand the content—but engage it in ways that lead to wisdom, care, and change.

Why This Matters

Sexual harassment, abuse, and assault are not isolated issues. They are shaped by culture, power, systems, and silence. And in cross-cultural contexts, these dynamics are often intensified—by distance, dependency, lack of oversight, and deeply embedded cultural norms.

Policies matter. Training matters. But neither are enough on their own.

What many of you helped surface—and what we are continuing to learn—is that this work is also spiritual work. It is about truth-telling. It is about dignity. It is about how we reflect the heart of God in the communities we’re a part of and the systems we uphold.

Where We Go From Here

This paper was never meant to be the final word. It is a starting place.

A way to name what is happening.
A way to listen more carefully.
A way to begin asking better questions.

And now, together, we take the next steps.

If you took the survey, thank you for your courage and your honesty. If you haven’t read the paper yet, you can get it here. If you’ve read the paper, consider who you might invite into this conversation with you. These are not conversations meant to be held alone.

Because the kind of communities we long for—safer, more just, more whole—are not built by accident. They are shaped, over time, by people willing to walk in the light, to tell the truth, and to love one another well.

And that kind of work, too, is sacred.

Short Roots Are Safer

By Lauren Wells

I used to think the discomfort of settling down was just another challenge of growing up as a Third Culture Kid. I was taught that because of the high mobility and transient nature of our upbringing, stability can feel more uncomfortable than constant transition. I saw that play out in the lives of many adult TCKs who, even though they claimed to want stability, couldn’t seem to stay in one place, or one job, for very long.

I saw it in myself, too, as I lived a shallowly rooted life through college and my early 20s.

I deliberately fought against those “TCK tendencies” during the six years we lived in Oregon, where we started our family. I was determined to learn how to grow deeper roots and very slowly inched them down into hardened soil. When we moved to South Carolina, the pain of ripping out those newly formed roots reminded me why I had avoided growing them in the first place.

The relationships we’d built in Oregon were worth the pain, but I knew South Carolina was a temporary layover. So I poured myself into my family and my work, holding a quiet readiness to be transplanted again when the time came.

Two years later, we decided to settle in Georgia. Our mantra was, “We’re here for the long haul.” We bought a home where I imagined raising teenagers. We invested deeply in community, church, and friendships. I made it a point to turn our house into a home from the very first day, hanging pictures before the boxes were even unpacked, as if willing my roots to grow deeper, faster.

We sought out friendships and opportunities to get involved in our new community, and over the years our family’s roots grew longer, fuller, and increasingly intertwined with the roots of the people we came to love deeply.

Four years and a few months later, those boxes are packed again, and my walls are bare. God, and my husband’s job, are leading us back to Oregon. This is not what I anticipated when I chose to let my roots grow deep. Nor what I wanted when I brought my children along for the root-growing ride.

As we prepare to leave, I remember why my younger self warned me against this. Ripping out deep roots hurts. Watching my children’s roots be torn up hurts. Watching dear friends grieve alongside us, when we all thought our kids would grow up together, hurts.

And maybe the hardest part is how familiar this pain feels.

I’ve known it before. At 13, moving to Africa. At 16, moving back to America. At 18, returning to Africa again. At 27, moving to South Carolina. I remember making quiet, protective decisions along the way to avoid feeling this again.

That part of me whispers, “This is why you don’t grow roots. You should’ve listened.” But there’s a louder, steadier truth the Lord keeps bringing me back to, the same one I keep speaking to my girls: “It hurts big because we loved big.”

These years of sinking roots deeper than I ever had before mean this uprooting is more painful than any I’ve known. Shorter roots surely would have been safer. I’m not looking forward to the time it will take for these freshly wounded ones to heal.

But I know this too: In the rich soil of Oregon, they will grow deep again. I’ll fight the battle against shallow, safer roots. Because maybe deep roots were never meant to keep us in place, but to teach us how to love well wherever, and for however long, we’re planted.

~~~~~~~~~

Lauren is a wife, mama to two girls, founder and CEO of TCK Training, and author of Raising Up a Generation of Healthy Third Culture Kids, The Grief Tower, What Made That Feel So Hard?, and several others. An Adult Third Culture Kid (ATCK) who spent her teenage years living in Tanzania, East Africa, she draws on both her lived experience and her background in Child Development and Prevention Science to support TCKs and those who care for them. Through TCK Training, her work integrates research-informed frameworks with practical, accessible resources that equip families, educators, and organizations to cultivate resilient TCKs.

When the Map Stops Making Sense (a reflection on the grief of re-entry)

by Brittany Bruns

I had felt something building for months. As tears, no longer able to be contained, spilled down my face in the bean aisle at Kroger, it was painfully obvious that it was time to process my sadness.

When the Lord changed our family’s story in May 2023, we felt we needed to share our news with only joy and excitement. I mean, leaving for Germany was joyful and exciting, so why would returning “home” be different? Surely, the land of Amazon Prime, SEC Football, and bottomless bowls of salsa and chips would be enough.

So, with our false thinking, we hid our sorrow from our supporters and put on a brave face as we told them our “exciting news” — never to address the holes in our lives left by our grief.

“Grief is when the bottom falls out of your world, and the solid footing you had yesterday is gone. Mourning is the second part of the experience, the process where grief is expressed,” writes H. Norman Wright in his book Experiencing Grief. The Lord told us we would experience a metaphorical funeral when packing our things to close down our lives and leave our communities in Germany, but I assumed that after the funeral, joy would immediately return. Instead, I was left with the intense feeling of sorrow.

I have learned that grief is not just contained to the loss of someone, but also experienced in the loss of dreams, a possibility, an identity, or hope not yet realized. For us, it wasn’t just the loss of our beloved people that was so painful; it was all the other losses that occurred. The closure of our ministry in Germany affected how we lived our lives, ate, worked, and worshiped. We felt the empty seats at our dinner table, and in the seat next to us at church, and less noise in our house, but we also missed public transit, Christmas traditions, and singing worship in German.

One of our teens, seemingly randomly, said, “I miss all the people that used to be over all the time,” as he walked through the kitchen on an average afternoon. Another teen, usually more silent in their thoughts, said out loud, “I miss bike lanes.” Nevertheless, I continued to hide my personal sorrow in the closet because, after all, we were back with “all” our family, and in our “home,” and we were supposed to be grateful.

Some of you might be thinking, “Then why did you leave Germany?”

Because faith is involved in this process. Faith is many things. It is not knowing the answer to the why and being willing to wait for an answer. Or not liking the answer to the why and being willing to go, in faithful obedience, regardless.

So, in Kroger, with just me and the kidney beans, the Lord asked, “Will you go into these deep waters of sorrow with me, or will you remain on the seashore in shifting sand?” I was convinced my sorrow was just too deep to be redeemed and too frightening to be touched. Hesitantly, I agreed to face the lie whispered in darkness, “My pain is bigger than, or can be elevated above, the cross of Jesus.”

Deep in my subconscious, I knew walking the path where heartache can be redeemed, healed, and transformed would only allow for richer relationships and deeper and more meaningful ministry. My facing and healing of sorrow was vital work, because the alternative to seeking and knowing Christ’s joy is only more separation from myself, from God, and others.

So, with the understanding that this kind of journey into these parts of our heart is never easy, I have been intentional in my transition from my role at the Attorney General’s Office back into full-time ministry. The day after my “Kroger Incident,” I sat criss-cross apple sauce on my bed and said, “Ok, Lord, help me be sad. I’m ready to cry.”

But after four hours of sitting with no tears, I finally gave up and scrolled Instagram until a woman I follow online said something that stopped me mid-scroll: “We don’t care that we’re lost. Being lost just means we’ve outgrown our map.”

I felt that deep in my bones. As the waves of ambiguous grief crashed down into my soul, I felt like I would drown in an ocean of mourning. When I came up for air, washed up on an unknown shore, I realized I was lost on my map. The one I drew years ago of how ministry, motherhood, and faith would unfold was not the land beneath me.

There were amazing landmarks and mountains our family had climbed these past two years, but they weren’t the “normal” ones American culture hands out as proof that life is on track. Instead, we had summited mountains named Hard-won Healing and Life After Overseas. And the lakes, oh, the glorious lakes I had expected to be named Limitless Future were instead called Still Standing when we weren’t sure we would. The Valley of Unlearning and Relearning Belonging, a long, tender stretch, became where we learned to form a new community in the absence of the old.

I was so disoriented I couldn’t even find the “You are here” dot. Desperate for recognizable landmarks, I begged the Lord to restore my map of cultural norms and societal expectations. A map I constructed as a safe place for myself and family, designed to bring comfort, blend in, be found worthy of friendships, donor support, and belonging. And in my mourning with Jesus, He showed me the map I long to return to is a false Eden. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t real.

The Lord drew me to Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I lack for nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, and he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

And God’s been breathing into my soul, “Stay in this valley. Rest.”

I have located my little red “You are here” dot. It is in the deep green pasture with Jesus next to the quiet water that babbles His refreshing words of joy and redemption from heartache. And I’m learning to stay and give space for mourning, my own and others’. Because sometimes the most sacred ministry we can offer is simply to sit beside someone and not rush them to resurrection.

~~~~~~~~~

Brittany Bruns is a writer, speaker, and cross-cultural practitioner who spent seven years living in Germany. Now stateside, she teaches followers of Jesus how to “be awkward” by helping them move beyond comfort to build authentic relationships with people who don’t think, live, or believe as they do. Along with her husband, Nate, she co-leads their ministry, The Bruns Tribe, and Engaging the Disengaged workshops. For more stories, subscribe to her Dare to Be Awkward Letter, which offers a practical and heartfelt roadmap for sharing faith through relationships rather than arguments on her website at www.BrunsTribe.com. Or find her on Insta @brittany_bruns and facebook.com/Brittany.j.bruns.

Coming Home: The Hidden Struggles of Reintegration

by Ken and Brenda Groat

As the airplane lifted off, the tears began to roll down. We were leaving a place that had become our home. We were leaving behind friends who had become more like family, familiar places, and a culture and a people we finally adapted to and fell in love with. And in our case, we were leaving behind our daughter, our only child, who was finishing up her post-graduate studies.

We lived and served in Israel for almost ten years. We did not have a sending church, but we followed God’s leading and sold everything we owned and moved overseas to serve in full-time ministry. Settling in to the new surroundings, the new culture and new relationships was a challenge. We quickly learned the public transportation system, enough language to order a coffee or a meal, and our new roles at the ministry we were volunteering with. I’m not sure I can count the number of times we purchased cottage cheese instead of the cream cheese we were supposed to get for a recipe, or vice versa.

Living abroad without being completely fluent in the language was a challenge, but we blended in and found our way. After living abroad for years, we grew close to other volunteers, and of course to many people in our adopted homeland. 

Returning to the U.S. was never something we thought about, but as our parents aged, we came to the conclusion that we needed to be close to them in case they needed help. Giving notice to the ministry we served with was difficult. Packing up what we could afford to send back to the U.S. on a pallet was even more difficult. I’m not sure if giving a one year notice and having that amount of time was good for us or not, but we thought it was the right thing to do for the organization.

As our departure date approached, we began to experience the lasts; the last time we would go to our favorite restaurant, the last time we would see these particular friends, the last time we visited this special place, the last time we closed the door to our apartment, then finally the last time we hugged our daughter and said goodbye until she finished her university studies.

We were almost silent for the hour-long ride to the airport, then waiting for our flight at the airport seemed to take forever. As we took our seats on the plane, a sense of dread set in. But we knew this dread. The few times we left our adopted homeland for trips back home, we experienced this same dread. This time, however, was different; this time we knew we weren’t coming back.

Being back in the U.S. was strange. Of course our family and friends were happy to see us, and we were happy to see them, but it felt, I don’t know, different. No one could possibly understand what we had experienced, so conversations were shallow. We gave everything we knew, everything that was comfortable for us to serve abroad, and almost no one wanted to hear about what we were so incredibly excited to share. 

When we returned, we had to start over completely. We didn’t have jobs waiting for us. Apart from family, we had no place lined up to stay. We had no vehicle, no car insurance, no health insurance, no furniture, no cell phone plan that worked in the U.S., no church to support us spiritually. Fatigue quickly set it.  

People were not the same as we remembered, and the culture was different. In our case, the stores were overwhelming. It was difficult to walk into large American stores with so many choices for nearly anything we could want. We returned to an America that was very different then when we left it. Family dynamics were not what we expected. We were outsiders and no longer had a community of people that we could rely on.  

Few people understood what we were going through, except those who had returned before us, and they were also struggling to adjust to their new situations. Depression was easy to fall into. We had given everything to follow God and now we felt like we were being kicked to the curb, punished or forgotten.

We struggled for a long time, but eventually things became easier. It still doesn’t quite feel like home, but we are adjusting to the new normal. We have come to realize that we will always miss our adopted homeland, and we may never feel completely at home in the country we grew up in.

Reintegration takes time and intention. Something that helped us was to speak about our experiences with others. You can read articles on A Life Overseas, make the effort to find others with shared experiences, and talk with people who supported you while you were abroad. As someone who has given of yourself for perhaps years to improve the lives of others, it’s not easy to openly talk about what you’re going through and make the conversation about yourself, but it’s necessary and it’s worth it.

As we worked through our reintegration and talked with others around the country who had similar experiences, we realized there is a need for a landing place where you can work through your thoughts and emotions with people who have lived through it. From our first-hand experience, Return Again was born. It was created to be the landing place that we desperately needed but couldn’t find. 

Based in Central Florida, Return Again aims to provide temporary housing, access to vehicles, and—perhaps most importantly—a compassionate community for ministry workers during their transition back to the United States. Although we’re still seeking the right location to build and are awaiting full funding, we can still provide many services and resources to help returnees. 

Whether you’re on deputation, furlough, or returning permanently, Return Again offers practical resources and emotional support during one of the most challenging seasons of your life. Because coming home shouldn’t mean coming home alone. You gave everything to follow your calling. Now it’s time for someone to be there for you. Learn more at www.returnagain.org.

~~~~~~~~~

Ken Groat serves as the Deputy National Director for Bridges for Peace USA. He co-founded Return Again Ministries with his wife of 33 years, Brenda. Together with their daughter, they served in Israel for nearly a decade.

Supporting Yourself and Your Adult Kids When They Live Overseas

by Ann Bowman

My worst mornings begin with an explosion of text messages. My phone wakes me with morning news alerts while friends and family ask, “Are your kids safe?” My only answer is, “I don’t know.” Then I have a choice to make: give in to hysteria or learn the facts and start praying.

As a mother to two daughters, one son-in-law, and five grandchildren living and serving on the other side of the world, I have been shaken to the core many times by the news. Learning to lean into God during these moments of overwhelming fear was a long process. But I came to realize that my prayers were much more useful to my loved ones than my panic. My confident, reassuring words to them were what they needed, not my offers of plane tickets home.

Missionaries live their lives to shine the light of Christ in dark places. During wars and pandemics when these places on the globe get their darkest, there is greater opportunity to share the light of the gospel, and God has our kids there for that very reason.

One daughter and her husband serve medically in a developing country, and their choice to stay through covid spoke louder than any gospel message. Nationals knew they could have returned to a more comfortable and safe America, but they didn’t. That decision got the attention of the people they were trying to reach. The patients more readily listened to their stories of God and the prayers that were offered along with the diagnosis and treatment. With so many falling sick, my son-in-law was allowed to work in the local hospital treating the sickest covid patients, widening his reach to share the love of Christ.

The daughter who serves in the Middle East had befriended several young women from Southeast Asia. She had often shared stories of faith with them, but they had little interest in spiritual things. After the attack on October 7 occurred, the young women sought out my daughter and asked her to pray for them. My daughter was where she needed to be, exhibiting a calm confidence in her God and sharing it with friends she had made.

And although my daughter and her husband working in global medicine had chosen a “safe” democratic country to serve, a coup erupted overnight. It shocked the world. They woke up to no internet and then an announcement that martial law was in place. The violence that occurred when citizens marched against the coup was in the far distant major cities. The main thing that changed where my daughter’s family lived in the rural mountains was an absence of medical providers. Most doctors quit in protest of the government takeover. However, the patients were still there—with great needs.

Once again, my daughter and her husband chose to stay. They were sought out from miles around for their medical care, but these sick ones also heard the gospel. Many mentioned that they had never received such compassionate care from medical providers before—they could see the difference in doctors who were Christ followers. The great darkness and despair that washed over the country allowed them to proclaim the good news even more clearly.

I didn’t come to this confidence in God regarding my loved ones being in war-torn countries easily. My mother’s heart, which always wants to protect her loved ones, wrestled with what I knew in my head about the Great Commission. I had to take every thought captive as I chose not to constantly sit in front of the news.

Instead I meditated on scripture such as:

“Every word of God proves true; he is a shield to those who take refuge in him.” (Proverbs 30:5 ESV)

“Do not call conspiracy all that this people calls conspiracy, and do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. But the LORD of hosts, him you shall honor as holy. Let him be your fear, and let him be your dread.” (Isaiah 8:12-13 ESV)

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.” (Isaiah 26:3-4 ESV)

I asked God to show me how to pray effectively. I knew which friends were prayer warriors, and I gave them specific requests. One such request was regarding the problem of delivering babies during the night when there was martial law. The penalty for being on the road during curfew was steep.

After one close call, I cried out to God to fix this—not knowing what exactly to pray. Within days a building within their compound was converted into a birthing center. God was protecting my family members in the midst of conflict. During this season three hundred babies were born under their care, the gospel shared, and the little newborns prayed over.

Studies show that one of the greatest deterrents for missionaries on the field is a lack of emotional support and approval from their parents. It is a great discouragement to them. During times of crisis, parental support is needed so much more.

When I am tempted to beg my missionary children to come home, I’ve learned to be a listening ear, a sounding board, or whatever is needed in the moment. My trust in God’s ability to direct my children’s decisions and paths is paramount. He may use the immigration board where they live or the quiet voice in their hearts as they seek God’s direction. Sometimes it means I have to trust the decision of my missionary family members even when it’s not what I want as their mom.

Being the parent of missionaries is not an easy role but instead a refining process. It takes daily surrender and recommitment. But the privilege of being on the front row to witness the advancement of the kingdom of light in dark places is a treasure without comparison.

~~~~~~~

Ann Bowman is an author and speaker for women’s events. With two of her four children serving globally, Ann draws from that experience to mentor young women serving in missions through Thrive Ministry. She also earned her certification as a TCK debriefer through TCK Training. Her book, I Never Signed Up for This: One Mother’s Journey to Surrender Her Children to Their Calling, appeared on the Catalyst Services for Best Missions Books of 2025 list. Ann and her husband reside in Texas and spend as much time with their family on video chat as they can.

An Open Letter to Relatives of Workers in Conflict Zones

Dear parent or sibling of a loved one living in a conflict zone,

I see you. Oh how I see you. I see you grabbing your phone before you are even out of bed to see what happened overnight in the Middle East and find reassurances that your family there is okay. I see you wondering why they haven’t gotten on an airplane and come back “home” to safety. I see you texting them, asking them several times a week (several times a day maybe?) “How are you? How are the kids? What do you need?” 

I know the many what ifs in your head. I know the plans you’ve made to get the house ready, “just in case.” 

You are weary after the last three years of wars in the Middle East, especially. You said goodbye years ago and have kept saying goodbye every time your loved ones come on home assignment or you visit them. You miss your kids and grandkids, and this added component of instability (again!) feels like maybe a bit too much.

You are struggling to understand why your dear ones are making the decisions they are, decisions that may be putting them at risk. The government is even calling Westerners to leave the region — why are they not heeding that call? 

A Little Reassurance 

First I want to reassure you by saying that most organizations that send workers overseas are really well trained in how to handle security issues for their workers in country. Not only do they have really accurate intel on security, but many have trained their workers in how to assess risks and how to stay safe when they are overseas.

Most teams usually have contingency plans in place, with different levels of care depending on the nature of the threat. When war in a region breaks out, the safest thing isn’t always to run away and leave your home. There are many other things to consider, and usually workers on the ground are doing very heavy lifting of considering all those things with their spouses, children, teammates, leaders, and organizations. 

In the United States’ case (and I am guessing this is true of other countries as well) the State Department has a “no double standard” policy that if their embassies and official U.S. personnel in a foreign country are in danger, and they are pulling them out of the country, they need to share with non-official U.S. citizens the potential threat. But when an embassy is attacked and personnel is evacuated, it doesn’t necessarily mean that every single Westerner needs to leave that region. 

We may feel urgency when we hear that the State Department has issued a call for everyone to leave a conflict zone, but it doesn’t mean that if someone chooses to stay they are in immediate danger or that they are doing something foolish. The government is covering their bases, but each unit/family gets to decide what is best for their family and specific situation. For a team, there may be units that need to leave, and we bless that. And on that same team, there are others who will choose to stay, and we bless that too. Each unit needs to prayerfully seek the wisdom of the Lord for their specific lives.

Remember too, that your relatives are not tourists stuck in a foreign land. They likely speak the local language, know how to navigate their cities, and know which areas to avoid when there is unrest. They have access to food and water, have a local community linking arms with them, and have rhythms of safety in place. Simply said, they have made their home in that land. Sometimes the actual lived experience of people on the ground is very different from the one that is reported on the news, and it is much less disruptive for families to stay put, for their kids to continue to go to school and keep a sense of normalcy. 

So I hope these things help you feel more at ease — that your relatives are likely trained and are being led by others who value their safety and have contingency plans in place. And that staying in the region might be far better in the longer term for your relatives than uprooting their families and lives for an indeterminate period of time. 

Two Tips Backed by Brain Science 

At the same time, I don’t want to minimize the impact of this situation on you. You are experiencing real distress and concern for your relatives, and when our nervous systems are activated, we often feel the need to reach out and to do something. And that makes so much sense. 

Something to understand, though, is that our nervous systems don’t exist in a vacuum. They are wired to communicate with each other. God has given us mirror neurons that respond to what we observe in others.

When you share a lot of anxiety and deep fear about your loved ones and their decisions, their nervous systems pick up on that. And instead of you being able to be a safe space for them in their vulnerability, they feel the stress and burden of caring for you and your emotional response to the situation. It is also hard for them when they sense that their judgment and their ability to make wise calls is being questioned. 

I know you want to love well, and I know you want to be a safe space for your loved ones. So in light of how God created our nervous systems and how they communicate with each other, I want to share a couple of tips on how to interact:

1.) Communicate confidence in God’s guidance and in your relatives’ discernment and capacity to follow the Spirit as they follow Christ. They don’t need to hear what you think they need to do. They don’t need to hear deep fear. Please remember they are walking a tightrope and that their stress levels are already high. They feel the extreme responsibility of caring for their children and those in their care. In that space, they need a listening ear, they need validation that what they are experiencing is hard, and they also need reminders that they are not alone and that however God leads them, God will be faithful. Your confidence in God is one of the best gifts you can give to them in this season. 

2.) If you realize that your nervous system is activated, name it and move the energy in your body, preferably before having interaction with your loved ones. Take care of yourself first and of your emotional capacity, so that you have the capacity to be there for them. Do breathing exercises, go on a walk, call a safe friend that will be tender with you.

A Comforting Presence 

Lastly, dear relative, I know you know this — we have a Shepherd who is with us and who serves us a feast even in the presence of our enemies (Psalm 23). He knows you and sees you as you care for and carry heaviness over people you dearly love. He is with you in this valley. 

The song “Surrounded” by Josh Garrels has been such a huge blessing to me. Remembering our generous host, Jesus, who has given us Himself to be our feast through His body and blood is how we fight our battles. We take the bread and drink the wine, we believe He has overcome, we praise Him, and we wait for Him to deliver us and our loved ones. 

Surely goodness and mercy are pursuing you specifically as someone who loves people in a conflict zone. You matter, and your love for your kids, grandkids, siblings, or parents is a beautiful, good thing. The Lord honors that love. Your love goes around all those precious people and even better, our Triune God’s love goes around all of you, all at the same time. In the presence of such a God, our tender hearts rest. 

And if you are not a relative but you know of relatives of people overseas, reach out to them. Ask them how they are holding up. Show them that you see them. Ask for specific, tangible ways you can help. Sometimes reaching out to these relatives is the best way you can serve workers overseas. Reaching out to them directly may be overwhelming. But letting their families know they are not forgotten is a gift they will not soon forget. 

May you sense tangibly how held you are,
Lilly