To be honest, I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going. At one point I remember having to look up our city on a map. Also, it would be another several years before we would be ready to go. We had years of seminary training left—among other things. Even in the midst of uncertainty, tentative plans, and hopeful dreams, I was certain of one thing: Regardless of where we were going, I was confident that the Lord was already there.

While I was doing some desktop cleaning the other day I came across a long-lost rough draft that read like a really long note-to-self. It was the beginnings of a 30-part series on “things missionary wives should know before moving overseas.”

Thirty-part series? What was I thinking? As I skimmed the document it dawned on me that the ambitious aspect of this project was actually going to be narrowing it down to only thirty pieces. The barely-begun project was going to be a collection of testimonies of the ways that Jesus cares for wives in cross-cultural ministry.

While this subject is narrow and particular, I’m certain that each of us, whether or not we are involved in this specific ministry, could share stories long into the night glorying in Christ’s faithfulness.

Whether you began a journey with your suitcase flying behind you as I did, or you wanted to pack up and head the other way, we all need encouragement to look to the person and work of Christ for our hope and help.

“Ministry Overseas: Ready! Or Not?”

After I read this book as a university student I bought a passport and began praying for opportunities to serve in ministry overseas. I didn’t have any specific ideas in my mind as to what that might look like. Then, years later, when I overheard my husband’s phone conversation with a pastor on the other side of the world, I had a feeling that this was it.

I grabbed a chair from the dining table, pulled it into the bedroom, climbed up to reach my suitcase, and dragged it down from the top shelf in the closet. Then I opened a drawer and hastily stuffed some clothes into the suitcase. I stepped into the study and in one swift motion I slid all of the books off of my “favorites” shelf. Then I dropped the books into my suitcase and zipped it closed.

Chalk it up to my personality or a caffeine overdose, but I felt like flying as I steered my suitcase to the front door, wheels clattering over the ceramic tile. I had an electric, nervous feeling about the plans I heard my husband discussing on the phone, but I did not stutter when I made my announcement. My heart pounding, I called down the hallway to my husband: “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, hold on one second,” I heard him say to the pastor who was on the other end of the line. Leaning out of the doorway of the study, my husband saw me with my suitcase, and wide-eyed asked, “Where are you going?”

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