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I think Africa made me an extrovert. I used to not be this way. I used to be quite content in my own little space. I loved to retreat into privacy and silence. I didn’t mind being social, but I regained my energy from being alone. Then I moved to Africa. Where privacy is just not a thing. Where the center of life and culture is community not individualism. Where the houses are all right up next to one another and neighbors share a common courtyard. Where cooking and conversing between friends, family, neighbors, and visitors is done on the porches until late into the evening. Where visiting people in their homes is the most popular pastime (and form of entertainment). Where you get knocks on the door at anytime of day and welcome friendly visitors on a regular basis. Where everyone knows everyone, greets everyone, and values everyone. On top of that, I lived the past year of my life in one big house with four other nurses. It was rare to be in the house alone. Because of our day ...

I get a text message right after posting number 18: Bury the Seed. You know, the one where I mention that God gave me a moment of clarity and then didn’t say anything else about it. “Tell me! Where are you going?” I also get an email the next day. “We’re dying to know! What exactly was the moment of clarity that you wrote about? Can you tell me?” Even my mom called. “About your blog. I know that the whole point was about the spiritual truths and all, but I would still just like to know how God gave you clarity in that actual moment of decision.” This final post is really the whole story in one comprehensive narrative. The previous twenty posts have been the layers that occurred between the lines and in the spaces between paragraphs. This post is the lyrics put on paper. It sounds nice when it’s read. But the previous posts are the ten pages of sheet music that tell the story of the song with its staccatos and crescendos, repeats and fermatas. It’s only when you rea...

It’s a nervous feeling in my gut, like a rush of adrenaline, like a glimmer of anticipation. I’m on the brink of a big decision; I know it. And as excited as I am to see it, I can already tell it’s going to be more pale than I originally thought. Not less good. No, the decision will be just as good as I was hoping for. But it has paled in the light of the glory of the face of God through Jesus Christ.  In this past year, through struggling and stressing, though figuring and agonizing, through seeking and searching, through listening and hearing, and through fasting and prayer, I have been with God. And that’s better than making a decision.  I’ve learned to spend time with him not for a plan, but for his presence.  Intimacy with him is better than an itinerary from him. So even though I’m on the brink of the decision, the decision is already made. I will love him forever, I will obey him always. I have decided that my purpose is to be his servant, love his peo...

Lord, direct me through my journey So I can experience your plans for my life. Reveal the life-paths that are pleasing to you.  Escort me along the way; take me by the hand and teach me. For you are the God of my increasing salvation; I have wrapped my heart into yours. When people turn to you,  they discover how easy you are to please — so faithful and true! Joyfully you teach them the proper path, Even when they go astray.  Keep showing the humble your path, And lead them into the best decision.  You will show them the right path to take.  Then prosperity and favor will be their portion, And their descendants will inherit all that is good. There is a private place reserved for the lovers of God, Where they sit near him and receive  The revelation-secrets of his promises.  Excerpts from Psalm 25 in the Passion Translation When I first discovered this Psalm in May of 2019, I was right in the middle of my year ...

On one Tuesday, I was tired of thinking and praying about the decision. I was tired of mulling over everything again and again in my head and then carrying that stress in my heart. It felt like I was overthinking things. God revealed to me that it was time to bury the seed.  Planting a seed is a burial. In the darkness, God covers and protects it. In the silence, he speaks life into it. In the stillness, he brings forth something new and alive.  “The Next Right Thing” put it this way:  Plant something and see what grows.  In an act of surrender and with the hope of a gardener, I buried the seed of my decision. It was a small death, a letting go of the need to know.  “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Jesus, John 12:24

She talked passionately and excitedly while we sipped hot chocolate with marshmallows melting on top. She told me all about her undergraduate and graduate experiences as an international student, mixing in both biological and host family dynamics, financial problems, and emotional battles that come with cultural acquisition. As she told her story, some people would call it a mess. A lot of things fell through. Everything took longer than planned. She abandoned one major, had to drop out one semester because of an unusual and unexpected medical problem, and found herself on a financial roller coaster and in the pit of depression.  But to her, it wasn’t a mess; it was a testimony. And you believed her because of the sparkle in her eye and the assurance in her voice. Not only did she believe that every twist, turn, detour, and wreck had been a part of God’s plan to prepare her for missions, she could specifically explain how each of those seasons with its suffering is currently be...

“I have a book I would like to send you,” she explained when she asked me for my address. I love a friend like that, one that knows you on the heart level and will go the extra step to send you a book that you didn’t even know you needed.  A few days later The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman showed up in the mail. I am a studious reader, always tracking what I read by underlining the things that stand out to me. So with pen in hand, I started to read and take notes. With every chapter I put pen to paper more and more until I began to think I should just stop before I underlined an entire chapter.  When I finished the final chapter, I went back through the whole thing and re-read all my underlined sections and notes scribbled in the margins. I thumbed through the pages and began to see all those pen marks as one huge memorial, testifying to everything I had been learning through my year-long process of discernment.  The emphasis of the book is soul minimalis...

An excerpt from a longer essay on The Discipleship of Discernment , a story of my journey through discernment, fasting, and prayer in 2019. Post number 16 can be read here: https://seesomethingmore.blogspot.com/2019/11/discernment-diner.html After months of contemplating decisions about my future and seeking God’s direction, particularly about what I should do next in life, where I should go, and what missions agency I should choose, I felt like a jar of oil, water, sand, and pebbles all shaken up. I had gathered an enormous amount of information about the state of the world, different missions organizations, and available opportunities. I was well-verses in the pros and cons of every scenarios. I was essentially functioning on information overload, and everything that I had been learning throughout my year of fasting and praying felt like a huge collision of particles that was about to explode.  The Lord spoke to me on our regular Tuesday time together. He gave me thi...

In November, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend the Global Missions Health Conference in Louisville, Kentucky. Incredible plenary sessions, passionate worship, inspiring break out sessions, and a large exhibit hall created a perfect place to meet old friends, make new connections, and dream big with a like-minded community who are all pursuing medicine and missions.  My favorite part was seeing a bigger picture of how God is working all over the world, and how blessed I am to even have the choice of where I want to serve him in the world.  One session particularly gripped me. It was a man talking about marketplace workers in creative access countries. As he overviewed the great commission and the remaining task, he identified that the remaining unreached people groups reside in the hardest to access places. These are the final frontiers, and that’s exactly the reason why. These strictly religious Muslim countries are closed to missionaries and hostile to Christia...

Winding its way through the Ozark mountains, Interstate 49 is a beautiful drive through northwest Arkansas. It cuts into mountains, skirts along ridges, crosses high bridges over rivers and valleys, and even goes through a tunnel. It’s a countryside that wears the seasons really well - fresh green in spring, mature and lively in summer, striking colors in autumn, and even beautiful in the barrenness of winter when the rolling mountains turn to shades of dusky blue and the branches on the trees make tangly silhouettes and catch the lightest dusting of snow.  I took the drive early enough on this particular fall morning that the wide open spaces between the mountains were saturated with heavy fog. The interstate seemed to wander aimlessly through thick clouds. I held the steering wheel with both hands, happily not anxiously, and leaned forward in anticipation, glancing upward and all around through my front windshield.  Fog is a rare phenomenon in west Africa. We just don...