Small Thoughts

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An Open Letter to Single Ladies Serving Abroad

by Jonathan

You are loved. Cherished, even.

Not because you were brave enough to move overseas “alone.”
Not because you ignored the caring relatives who asked, “How in the world will you find a husband over there?”

You are loved. Adored, even.

Not because you’re an independent thinker, a strong person.
Not because you’ve sacrificed.

You are loved. Anticipated, even.

Because of Him.

You are loved by the eternal God, your Harbor.
You are loved by a Dad who wraps you up in his everlasting arms.

You are loved by the One who knows the true depths of loneliness and the rich intimacy of friendships.

Indeed, you are loved.

You are valuable.

And you are needed. Our churches, our teams, and our families need you.

You probably know that already. You probably feel that already. But just in case you don’t, as a brother, father, husband, team leader, pastor, and friend, let me remind you how much we value you and need you.

We don’t need you to be a wonderful Christian woman. We need you to be a wonderful Christian human, unique because of your personhood, not just because of your womanhood. We need you to love people uniquely, heartily, and with passion.

You see the woman caught in adultery differently. We need your eyes. You are more aware of the emotional needs behind the physical needs. We need your awareness. We need your heart.

We need you to lead. Your perspective is valuable, your needs valid, your abilities real. You see problems and solutions differently. We need your intellect.

We need you to support us. Not like a cook supports the troops, but like a soldier supports a comrade. We serve side by side in this thing.

My kids need you. And not as a babysitter.

My sons need you to show them what a strong woman looks like. Teach them that a woman’s value does not come from the fact that she’s got a body, or a husband, or kids.

My daughters need you. They need to see a woman who’s willing to follow God’s call regardless of who joins her. They need to see a woman who pursues God on her own, enjoying her own relationship with him.

You are not half a unit. Some stray ingredient that I guess we’ll mix in with the “real” ingredients of teams and churches and potlucks.

You are not leftovers.

Without single women serving abroad, there would be a gaping hole in the Church and in the history of modern missions. And in my own life.

Growing up, the names (and books) of Amy Carmichael, Gladys Aylward, Corrie ten Boom, and Elisabeth Elliot taught and inspired and coached me. I read their books, listened to their stories, and learned from their faith.

Single women still teach, inspire and coach me. I am grateful for ladies like Amy, Sara, Yvonne, Tanya, Christina, Rhoda, Ann, Jenny, Sue, Sarah, Mary, Sovannara, Emma, and so many more. I listen to them speak, I read what they write, I watch them love people, I observe their journey through Facebook status updates, and I am grateful.

I need them. The Church needs them.

And Jesus loves them. And he loves you too. Not because you’re awesome or beautiful or perfect. Not because you’re really good with Instagram filters. But because you are part of his Bride, his people. Immensely valuable.

Every day, Elisabeth Elliot began her radio program with this reminder, “You are loved with an everlasting love – that’s what the Bible says – and underneath are the everlasting arms.”

May you remember his everlasting love,
May you rest in his everlasting arms,
Today, tomorrow, and everyday.

With deep appreciation and gratitude, your friend,
Jonathan Trotter

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*This article originally appeared on Velvet Ashes.
Used with permission

What toilet paper art is teaching me about life and creativity

by Jonathan

Every evening, my little girls create.

Every evening, my little girls take the cardboard innards of toilet paper rolls and they create beauty. In the bathroom.

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Every evening they create, and every morning I find the dried up pieces piled up on the floor.

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They don’t seem to notice the great impracticalities of their efforts. They don’t seem to care that no one will see their work or admire their skills. They just do it for the joy. They do it because they like it.

And they remind me that it’s possible to make even a bathroom in Cambodia a place of art. It’s possible to see beyond the leaky sink, the bare light bulb, the plastic door, the smelly drains, the cracked tile, the rusty doorknobs, and see beauty.

I want to be like that. I want to create for the joy of it. I want to write and speak from the fire and joy inside, not for the acclimation or accolades from the outside, and regardless of whether or not the space is perfectly designed for creating.

I want to speak laughter and joy into the mundane.

And when the internet gets a bit tense and people get a bit fired up, I want to remind people that “toilet paper art on plastic door” is a thing.

And whether anyone notices, and whether my work ends up in a pile on the bathroom floor tomorrow morning, I will still create.

Will you?

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*In our house in Cambodia, the bathrooms consist of one small room made entirely of tile. The toilet, sink, and shower occupy pretty much the same space, and the door’s made of plastic.

When God Won’t Give Me What I Want {A Life Overseas}

by Jonathan

Is he really a “good, good Father”? We sing it often enough, and truth be told, I really like singing and talking about the good character that our Abba Father indeed has.

But sometimes it sounds like we’re desperately trying to convince ourselves. Because sometimes we doubt. And no wonder.

Because sometimes we ask for things that we don’t get it. We ask for more support and we’re still blank. We ask for healing for ourselves or someone we love, and they stay sick. Or they die.

We brush up against storms and trauma and we see horrific things and we question him. Where are you? Why this? Why him or her?

Keep reading over at A Life Overseas

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A poem and an announcement

by Elizabeth

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I’ve decided to take the month of October off from writing. This might sound strange, coming at a time when many people try to write or blog every day. But I desperately need this break. It’s not that I’m out of ideas or inspiration; I have lots of both tucked away for later. I’m just tired of my internal expectation of trying to keep up in the blogging world, and I want to spend more time with my children and with my husband.

So with this blog post, I’m signing off, and you won’t be seeing me around the blog till the end of October. Not that it matters too much to anyone else; there are so many voices on the internet clamoring to be heard. However, it matters deeply to me to take this blogging break. (I’ll still be in contact through Facebook and email.)

For what it’s worth, here’s a poem — it’s a prayer, really — that I wrote in my journal before deciding to take this break. And I have to say, the decision itself has brought me a lot of peace, freedom, and excitement. I’ll see you on the other side!

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Unhook me
disconnect me
from amorphous
winter lands.

My soul gets lost
cannot get out
suspended in
the air above
the wires below,

My body buried
in a mountain
of forget
and regret.

I cannot cry
I cannot laugh
I only know
I’m overwhelmed

You are:
before, behind,
beneath, beyond
but not within
not now,
not yet.

The joy of love is
elsewhere to be found:
peace and longsuffering too.

Reconnect my life
my soul
my body
to Your people,
to Your earth,
and to You.