I am guessing that many of you are more natural evangelists than I am, but perhaps this might be an encouraging idea for those of you who very much desire to be always sharing the good news about Jesus but wish you were more naturally gifted in this way.

One thing that has given me a wide open door to the gospel with nearly every friend who has sat in my kitchen for tea for the past year is a simple project that my daughter and I did to help her memorize John 3:16. I didn’t realize at the time that this little project would end up giving me so many opportunities to share about our God who so loved the world that he gave his only son with those who do not yet believe in him.

I had originally planned to keep the project up for a couple of weeks as we usually do with projects, but after seeing what a great conversation starter it was, I decided that it is here to stay awhile.

I anticipate stumbling upon a new helpful ministry tool for myself when we made this little project, but it got me to thinking about how helpful and it is to have conversation pieces in our homes. These are things that will catch people’s eye as they are welcomed for tea or a meal and will give us an opportunity to share about the love of Christ. Your conversation piece might not be a kid’s art project with a Bible verse on it, but perhaps a more sophisticated piece of art that that can’t help but be noticed. I am sure many of you are more creative than I am and could come up with all sorts of great ideas!  I’d encourage you though, especially if you struggle to find good starting places for spiritual conversations, to make am artistic conversation piece for your home and pray that God will use it to give you more open doors for the gospel.

Do you already have any such conversation pieces in your home? Do you have any creative ideas to share? Do you have any stories about how something in your home has sparked spiritual conversation?

(Post by: Ashley)

From Becka in Ecuador: How do you protect your children from the cultural acceptance of sin?  In particular, my question is in regards to pornography.  In my country, it is very common to find porno calendars hanging on every shop wall.  Any television, at any given time will have women dancing in ways that would still be unacceptable in the US.  It was far easier for me to protect my young boys (and my daughter) from these images while we were will in the US, but here, it is virtually impossible.

(If you would like to pose a “Tuesday Topic” question, please email it to formissionarymoms@gmail.com . Provide your blog address if you would like to be linked to, and specify also if you would like to remain anonymous. Thanks!)

My little girl crawled behind me as I ran into the kitchen to grab a piece of bread to give her for an improvised breakfast. I wanted to keep running—from my own stench. But I supposed I should return to my surprise guests who caught me finishing up an early morning workout.

My 3-year-old son saw the bread and wanted one, too. So, I excused myself again to get one for him, looking longingly at the bathroom—its promise of cleanliness calling out to me.

I returned, and smiled, though the sweat rings were still wet on my t-shirt, and my hair was plastered all greasy and sweaty on my head. I racked my brain for the polite thing to do in this culture. Excuse myself for 10 minutes so I could shower and just hope the kids don’t cry and pound on the bathroom door like they often do? Excuse myself for five minutes to change into the more appropriate long pants and long-sleeved shirt, and run a comb through my hair? Excuse myself for 30 seconds to go scream my embarrassment in a locked room?

But nothing felt right and they didn’t teach me what to do with 7 a.m. visitors in language school. And so I sat in my smelliness, hoping my guests had stuffed noses.

They must not have minded because they stayed for a couple of hours and we had one of the best conversations I’ve had since moving to Indonesia six years ago. Though we differ in our religions, we talked about beliefs and life and struggles and faith.

To be completely honest, even when I get a shower in, I spend my days here messy. Sweaty from the relentless tropical humidity. Covered in spit-up or sticky granola or flour from making bread. Confused at words I don’t yet know. Annoyed at something that goes wrong, then annoyed that I’m annoyed since I really want to face all this with grace.

My kids are sometimes fussy, or rude, or just shy. And I am sometimes fussy, and rude or just shy. And though some cultural stress eases as the years pass, I have managed to counter balance that with extra challenges of having kids, and therefore, multiplying all that mess.

And yet… when I learn to serve out of the messiness and receive the grace I wish I always gave, I live the Gospel Truth in its purest essence. When I open my home up to others, even when dinner is boiling over on the stove, I am demonstrating the importance of relationship over works. When I share my struggles, my own heartbreaks with those whose own souls hurt daily, I show the need we all have for a Heart Healer. When I act from my own sin, then return, humbly seeking forgiveness, I seek what I want to offer others—a second chance…and a third one and a fourth.

And I pray that His aroma overcomes my own stench; His grace shows through my need; and His plan is made perfect despite, and maybe just maybe, through all my messiness.

What does messiness look like in your life? What has it looked like for you to strive to continue to serve from the mess?

Rebecca Hopkins lives in Indonesia with her handsome Mission Aviation Fellowship pilot hubby and two cute kids. She blogs about Living for More in a World of Less at www.borneowife.blogspot.com .

This week I’ve been listening to a radio series on Revive our Hearts called “Daughters of Hope” with guest Michelle Rickett, the author of a book by the same title. I found it so eye opening and encouraging, and was so greatly moved to pray for our sisters in Christ around the world facing persecution that I thought I’d post it here. Each part of the series is only 25 minutes long and there are 4 parts. Likely a number of you friends are working with women in very similar circumstances as those mentioned in these messages.  Here is the description from Revive our Hearts:

Many of your sisters around the world are suffering persecution. They are denied freedom because they are women and because they profess faith in Christ. Hearing their stories will increase your perseverance and inspire your faith.

Let’s be praying for these dear women who are facing so much suffering for their faith!

(Post by: Ashley)

The problem with the pharisees was that they found their righteousness in outward appearances and measurable works. The esteemed themselves with those works and measured themselves by their appearances and the perceptions of onlookers. They did everything extravagantly, noticeably, with such skill and seeming perfection that it earned envy and accolades of the society around.  To be a pharisee was to have reached the pinnacle of righteousness according to that culture. But what Jesus saw was dead, ugly, mis-focused hearts in the center of those extravagant shells, and he rebuked them harshly seeing no true love for God.

I don’t know about you, but I find it very tempting at times to be a pharisee mom. If I really put my mind to it, I can do a lot to make myself look like a really great mom. I can do the right crafts. I can take my kids on awesome outings. I can teach my kids to excel academically and memorize the right answer to Bible trivia. I can slave all day to clean my house before guests come over so that it finds itself in a state of order never before seen by my own family and only to be destroyed within 10 minutes of the guests’ arrival. But first impressions are everything, right? I can do a lot, and sometimes with good motives as of course teaching, and outings, and crafts, and house work etc., are in and of themselves just great.  But I also can find myself tempted and to seek after those accolades and to care more about the external appearances of my motherhood rather than the true state of my heart and the actual impact on my children.

Do any of you struggle with this? It is so much easier and more instantly gratifying to do the things that I can snap photos of and post on a blog than it is to do the things that will eternally impact the hearts of my children. What good is it if I take my kids on some historical outing in St. Petersburg if I am a frustrated and grumpy from the exertion, causing everyone to have a terrible time? I know that what does shine through to them is when I humble myself and agree to read the same beloved Dora the Explorer book (Gasp! Now THAT is NOT quality children’s literature!) for the hundredth time.  Or it is when we just hang out and play ponies or legos instead of making the house look all nice and tidy, or when we talk for a long time about nothing theological or intellectual enough to make a good facebook status, but that still makes my kids feel like I am truly interested in them, etc.  It is also in the times when I admit openly before my kids my own sin and apologize to them, showing them my own weakness, and when I admit to them my own desperate need for God’s transformation in my own life.

I love the internet and all of the amazing and edifying things that we can read on all of the great sites and blogs (Ahem, I blog myself, so hopefully I see the value in it! =) ), but as women, naturally predisposed to comparison, I think we all (speaking to myself here) need to be careful that we don’t go from being encouraged and edified and challenged, to becoming competitive and desirous of looking like the an amazing mom rather than actually being the type of mom that our children and husbands most value and need.

I have found many times that when I do what it takes to look like a “best mom” competitor, I often really am doing it for my own pride, negating it all. When I feel, before God, like I am receiving his approval the most, it is often when I am doing the humble and unnoticeable things that look like nothing special to the world around but yet communicate love, attention, and security to my family.

What does your pharisee mom mode look like? When do you most feel the quiet affirmation from the Lord about your mothering?

(Post by: Ashley)

Today I am about 17 days away from my next visit to my native land.  There is a baseline anxiety that has already become a part of daily my subconscious processes.  Part of it comes from a normal, physiological reaction to transition.  I am gearing up for a 22 hour journey, the duration of which my mind will be filled with details that must be processed and prioritized in order to navigate my way home.  This anxiety is compounded by the fact that I travel the whole way on standby.  It is a privilege I am grateful for, but it does add to my stress level.

The main source of my anxiety comes from the reality of my “normal life” there, though.  Don’t get me wrong – I LOVE going back home.  The biggest reason is that I get to spend a lot of time with my family.  It is hard to be away from them!  We are close (relationally as well as geographically – apart from me, that is), we spend lots of time together, and we are fun… at least we think we are fun!  I also look forward to time with my friends and ministry partners.  It is great to catch up on life, hear the latest, and share what is going on with me.  And then, of course, there is Mexican food, Target, Starbucks, Bahama Bucks, Red Raider Football, The State Fair of Texas, The Dallas Cowboys, The Texas Rangers, movies, non-stop television coverage of news, sports, …..  The list goes on and on.  The root of my anxiety – distraction.  White noise.  The bombardment of things that keep me from focusing.  The fact that these are pleasures and treats that I don’t have access to most of the time makes it even harder to resist.

Don’t get me wrong!  I battle distractions living in Russia, too.  Here’s an example…

I wake up this morning after  collapsing exhausted in my bed last night.   I was anxious to spend some quality time in stillness and quiet – time with my First Love.  But… I had a pounding headache.  To be able to focus, I decided to take some pain killers.  That meant I needed to eat something.  Coffee couldn’t hurt either.  I stumble to the kitchen.  While the coffee is brewing, I might as well put the clean dishes away.  By the time the last glass is in its proper place, the coffee is ready.  Coffee and cereal in hand, I go back to my room/living room and decide to catch up on the news while I eat, drink, and wait for the medicine to take effect on my head.  I barely notice the fading headache as I take my dirty dishes to the sink.  Wanting to keep the kitchen clean, I turn on the hot water, wash the dishes and think, “The floor sure is dirty.  While the hot water is on, I might as well mop the floor.”  Mopping the kitchen led to mopping the rest of the house.  In “cleaning mode”, I also start some laundry.  How many hours have gone by and I have yet to stop and enjoy that stillness that I longed for as I awoke?  Frustrating, but remediable.  I finally stopped everything and sat down in silence.  Enjoying the peace and the reminders that without Him I can do nothing, He doesn’t want my good works or activity, He wants my heart…..  The stress evaporates in gratitude.

So this was how my battle with distraction looked here.  As I already mentioned, in the States, it is much harder to put aside those rare pleasures and stop the inundation of noise and activity.  If my life is sprinkled with distraction in Russia, it is immersed in distraction in America.

If I am bombarded with distraction, convenience and entertainment in America, you could say that I am bombarded with darkness and reality of suffering in Russia.  In Russia, my daily routine involves walking miles to and from work, the store, friends houses, all the while experiencing the “scent of homelessness” and the harsh reality of survival.  Both have the potential to draw my heart and focus away from things that are most important.  However, I find that the potential distractions in Russia can also serve to drive me back to my purpose and meaning in life – my inability to make a difference without the power of God, my desperate need for Him – and the desperate need of those around me.  In the US, the distractions – even the news – seems to lull me into forgetting the pain and suffering of a world so desperately in need of hope and life.  I rarely think of the Cora people in Ethiopia whose lives are sustained by a landfill of putrescence.  I forget about the dilemma faced by a mother in Pakistan – deciding whether to give her children dangerously dirty water to drink or to let their life-endangering, energy-draining thirst continue to go unquenched for yet another day…  It seems like the few voices that remind me of these realities during my short stay in America are hard to hear.  The signal to that transmission is weak.  And, if the issues were really that serious, Fox News would break in with a special report, right?!?!

No, reality is hard to come by in America.  Reality is hard to deal with in Russia.  I need grace wherever I am.  I need constant reminders that there is more to life than what I see, smell, taste and hear.  That perspective only comes with stillness and abiding.

So, what is your numbing “drug of choice” when it comes to reality?  How do you fight distraction and focus on what is most important? 

(Post by: Cheryl)

Chrysti in England asked this question in the comments of the last post, and I thought it was a great one for this week’s Tuesday Topic: How do you handle going back to the US after adapting to living in your host culture? I have found it to be challenging for the first couple weeks or so because people tend to think I’m being different on purpose!

(If you would like to pose a “Tuesday Topic” question, please email it to formissionarymoms@gmail.com . Provide your blog address if you would like to be linked to, and specify also if you would like to remain anonymous. Thanks!)

In my hometown of Seattle at Pike Place Market

Upon arrival, I quickly learned that a person from one culture being dropped into another doesn’t spontaneously undergo some sort of culture osmosis with the concentration of cultures eventually flowing in or out to make a of perfect cultural balance. I must have somewhat expected the American-ness to just flow right out of me when it was not culturally valued or fitting, and the Russian-ness to just flow right in where needed. I didn’t fully anticipate going through painful transplant surgery when I needed to learn how to be more Russian. Having to adjust to the Russian concept of time and commitment, for example, felt like just such a transplant. I am still not sure that the transplant has taken because I continue to fight off feelings of anger and frustration when I am left waiting alone at a cafe or when someone calls at the last minute to tell me that they aren’t coming over when I’ve worked hard to clean the house and prepare a dessert for tea.

And besides the little petty things like our concept of time, or sense of fashion (though I have to admit that Russian fashion is growing on me), there are more significant values at my very core that I simply cannot will myself to forsake. I believe now that some of these things are essential to who God has created me to be over the course of my upbringing and are worth preserving.

After a time of struggling through my desire to fit in but feeling wrong about tossing aside my own culture, and with the help of some good discussion with friends who never even considered the idea of wanting to “become Russian” (and not at all because they don’t love Russia), I came to understand more that I don’t have to trade one culture for the other in order to love Russia and Russians, or even to gain a good cultural understanding.

What a simple and freeing thought that was, as I often felt quite out of place and just plain different, especially in that first year or so! In my circle of missionary friends, we often toss around the phrase “not wrong, just different” in order to keep ourselves from criticizing the culture in which we live (a very important view to have in a lot of circumstance, in my opinion), but I see how this phrase absolutely relates to me as an American living in another culture as well. Just because I am not made up of the same cultural core material, my difference is not necessarily wrong!

With this freedom, I feel more able to seek simply to love Russia, to learn about Russian culture, to seek to understand the Russian mindset and be able to filter things through a new understanding, but I can let myself off of the hook a bit and enjoy and celebrate my American-ness, even in the moments where I feel a bit more different than I’d like.

Much to my own surprise, as I’ve allowed myself to enjoy the process of learning about my host culture rather than pressuring myself “become Russian,”  God has allowed cultural adaptation to start feeling a lot more like natural osmosis and much less like transplant surgery. Some parts of my American culture that don’t serve me well here  can gradually be put aside, even if just for a time,  and after awhile, aspects of Russian culture have become more normal and often preferable for life here.  I don’t expect to become 100% Russian, but my love for and understanding of Russia and Russians is ever growing, and seeing this continue is my new goal and desire.

My common attire during the cold Russian winters

How have you viewed your own cultural difference in light of your host culture? Have you felt a desire to become more like your host culture? Has this been a difficult process? Have you resisted adopting aspects of your host culture or struggled to keep a “not wrong, just different” attitude?  How about experiences with becoming overly critical of your own home culture after learning to love your new one?

(Post by: Ashley)

My quaint little imaginary home was bright and inviting with a little kitchen that opened up to our living room, perfect for frequent hospitality. The sun shone in the windows (really this was not as fanciful as it sounds since we were to move to southern Russia that is indeed quite sunny and bright), and I would sit there on the couch with my new Russian friends sipping tea out of little blue and white china tea cups, sharing deeply about our lives and talking about the gospel. I am not particularly prone to daydreaming, but for some reason this image remains vivid in my mind.

What a shock it was to enter our new apartment for the first time, dead exhausted in every way, and to walk into our dark, dingy flat late on that first night. I had always considered myself relatively adaptable, as does anyone planning to leave family and culture for the international mission field, but as my eyes beheld these first images of my new home, the tears defied my will to hold them back. The furniture and decor was all very dark, the ceilings were low, electrical sockets practically hung out of the wall, and the dirt was abundant. The windows of my tiny kitchen were on the dark side of the building  crossed with iron bars, and the dishes were chipped and mis-matching and not enough in number to create a set even for our little family of three, let alone containing a beautiful set of ornate blue and white tea cups.

And not only did the reality of my home contrast so sharply with the new Russian home of my daydream, but the reality of my new ministry was also just as strikingly different. I could hardly say, “Hello, my name is Ashley,” let alone have a heart-to-heart in Russian. And my supposed “natural language ability” proved to be quite circumstantial. This ability existed in a past life where I studied language for over 20 hours a week, without kids…. learning Chinese. Studying Russian a few hours a week with a baby did not pan out quite the same. Rarely did anyone come to sit on my couch for tea, let alone to hear the gospel, and I wondered how on earth I would ever be a thriving and fruitful missionary .

I remember the feelings of sadness, disappointment, frustration, and even hopelessness as I began this life that seemed far less beautiful or fruitful than I had daydreamed. I wondered and prayed if God would ever fill my living room with friends for tea and opportunities for the gospel, but honestly it seemed quite a long ways off. I was thrilled to love and serve my husband to enable him to have a fruitful ministry, but was there ever going to be an opportunity for me to really feel like I too was a part?

The memory of this daydream and the feelings that came so strongly after I first arrived in Russia are what made a gift that I received last night in my kitchen over tea with friends so incredibly special. My dearest Russian friend, not yet a believer but with whom God has blessed me with true friendship, many heart-to-heart talks over tea, and conversations about the gospel, brought me a set of lovely blue and white china tea cups. She had no idea about the little daydream of my past, so to receive these little cups, just like I had imagined, from such a truly dear friend, is such a vivid and perfect picture to me of the Lord’s amazing grace in my life here in Russia. He has provided friends, he has provided a ministry that even I with all of my limitations can do, and He has even provided the blue and white china tea cups to remind me of His grace. God didn’t have to do it that way to remind me of His plan and power and perfection, but how incredibly grateful I am for this special display of His love.

Do you remember your imaginary life on the field before you set foot in your new country? Does that image differ from the reality of the life that you stepped into? How has God shown you grace in this life that is perhaps not what you had expected, but all the same His perfect will?

(Post by: Ashley)