Author: trotters41

Youth Ministry is Different in Asia: Reflections on My First Graduation Service

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by Elizabeth

Last week I attended my first graduation service for one of the city’s international schools. And while I’ve been to my fair share of graduations — having literally stumbled into youth ministry at the young age of 19 — this one was different.

I had always been happy for the graduates, never sad. I knew I’d see them at Thanksgiving, and at Christmas, and again during their summer break. I would probably be at their wedding in a few years, and maybe even at their baby shower.

Not so here. Here, graduates say goodbye, and often, it’s forever. So we all say goodbye, knowing it might be forever. And every year there are those who leave, never to return, even though they’re not graduates. Students, teachers, others.

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3 Ways to Care for the Heart of Your Missionary Kid {A Life Overseas}

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Yesterday, we talked broadly about caring for the heart of your TCK. If you missed it, you can find it here. Today, we’re looking at the unique subset of TCKs known as Missionary Kids.

I thought I was done with youth ministry. I thought I’d move to Cambodia, be a “real missionary” (whatever that is) and never attend another youth camp or weekend retreat. I thought I’d never smell “junior high” ever again, or play those stupid messy games created by someone who’s never had clean-up duty. But I’ve never been so happy about being so wrong, because the missionary kids with whom I’ve had the privilege of interfacing over the past few years have encouraged and challenged and taught me so much.

They’ve also broken my heart.

As I’ve seen them say goodbye to home. Again.

As I’ve heard them describe the pain of being misunderstood.

As I’ve watched them hug good friends whom they know they will most likely never see again. Ever.

Read the rest of Jonathan’s post on A Life Overseas.

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3 Ways to Care for the Heart of Your Third Culture Kid {A Life Overseas}

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Jesus loves Third Culture Kids. He knows their needs and he hears their hearts’ cries. He can tell the difference between normal teen angst and deep emotional pain. He feels their searching and longing for home, and he cares. Jesus knows the right thing to say at the right time, all the time. As parents, youth workers, family, and friends, we’re not always so, um, Christ-like.

Yet, in spite of our weaknesses, we have the great honor and privilege of parenting and loving TCKs. So may we, with great tenderness and sensitivity, care for the hearts of the kids we’ve taken with us.

Read the rest of Jonathan’s post on A Life Overseas.

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When Friends Do the Next Right Thing {A Life Overseas}

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Today I’m talking about the very painful topic of goodbyes over at A Life Overseas. This is the intro, and you can finish the post here.

~Elizabeth

What do we do when the people we love do the next right thing? What if that next right thing leads them away from us?

When we say yes to God, we must often say no to the places we already know. And when God leads us overseas, we enter a communal life that is punctuated by goodbyes. Just like an airport, the missionary community endures constant arrivals and departures. But God is the travel agent here, and He hardly ever places anyone on the same itinerary. Perhaps we knew this uncomfortable truth before we said yes; perhaps we didn’t. Either way, though, we must now live with the consequences of our obedience.

And I, for one, sometimes grow weary of it.

                                                                               Read the rest of the post here.

I Couldn’t Pray Out Loud

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by Elizabeth

There is almost nothing that makes me feel a part of the Body like group prayer. But I didn’t grow up in a fellowship that encouraged group prayer, especially not for girls. Prayer was a solo event led by a man, that opened and closed the service, and bookended communion.

Prayers contained the same phrases, over and over again, the same endings, over and over again. It seemed meaningless. And boring: there were the endless chain prayers at summer camp that only males were allowed to participate in.

In short, I never learned how to pray.

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