Farther Along…
Over the last six months, Caryl and I have traveled about 60,000 miles across four continents, telling the story of our Karen friends. We’ve sat in homes and churches, company boardrooms and recording studios, at a soccer tournament and even a PhD level Maternal-Child health conference. And everywhere, as we shared pictures and videos of our teams, I felt the ache of missing friends who I knew were bone-tired and standing in harm’s way. Friends who were giving to the end of themselves amid torrential rains, sliding mud, shifting battle lines, and the menace of bombers.
I felt the sting of guilt for not being with them, for enjoying hot showers and rich food. More than once I wished I could beam those comforts straight into the jungle, Star Trek style. Yet alongside the ache was joy... joy in reconnecting with old friends and meeting new ones, in discovering people who share the same passion for justice and hope for those on the margins. Many of you gave so generously of your time, your attention, your money.
The miles have worn on me more than they used to; my aging brain and body don't shift time zones as quickly as before. And everywhere we went, I also felt the weight of many of your stories—pain, loneliness, grief, loss. Perhaps some of you understand the plight of our Karen friends even better than us.
At times, I felt like a stick drifting down the Salween River: caught in whirlpools, battered against rocks, thrilled by sudden rapids, and filled with wonder at the beauty along the banks—jungle foliage dressed in infinite shades of green, skinny children laughing as they splashed, colorful Kingfishers flashing as they dove from the trees. All those miles left me both humbled and inspired by the courage, generosity, and love I’ve seen in you who carry Earth Mission with us.
We belong to a Kingdom that doesn’t thrive on power or control, but on freedom, service, and sacrificial love. I caught glimpses of that Kingdom in people everywhere, on every continent. Sometimes, I am not sure how well I walk those ways myself. Some days, I feel like a toddler bobbling and stumbling along. But I do have hope. My hope is that God will take all of it—the good, the bad, the courageous, the weary, the long miles and even my mistakes—and weave it into His story, until one day, farther along, He brings me home. That is my faith.
“It is absolutely clear that God has called you to a free life. Just make sure that you don’t use this freedom as an excuse to do whatever you want to do and destroy your freedom. Rather, use your freedom to serve one another in love; that’s how freedom grows. For everything we know about God’s Word is summed up in a single sentence: Love others as you love yourself. That’s an act of true freedom.”
—Galatians 5:13-15 (The Message)
