My Hazardous Faith Story

Today Ed Cyzewski featured me and my story on his blog. You can see it here.

When I was in Bible college, I feared that giving my lifetotally to the Lord meant He would probably send me to Africa….

My husband’s and my degrees are in Bible and theology. Butafter his seminary graduation, he continued working at the law firm where hestarted as a runner. And over the course of twenty-five years, using hisadministrative gifts, he worked his way up the corporate ladder. His last jobdescription says he managed a staff of fourteen, securing multi-million-dollarcontracts for seven locations.

He sometimes wished God would open doors to full-timeChristian work, but he loathed hospital visits and felt energized by tasks. Ashe went to seminary at a time before “executive pastor” positions existed, fewministries sought people with his skill set. So he volunteered as churchtreasurer and served in deacon and elder positions, giving generously ofhimself in every way.

Being the one with the gift of teaching in this marriage, Iwas the one doing so-called Christian work. Part of Gary’s efforts went tosupporting me through seminary and cheering for me as I wrote and spoke. Thosewho questioned why “the wife” was the one doing the “spiritual work” (don’t getme started), he encouraged to view my service as his success in “presenting mespotless” (Eph. 5:27).

I loved having the freedom to say “yes” when venues couldn’tpay me. I could charge little to nothing when necessary, which meant I broughtin less than $20,000 per year.

Eventually the Lord blessed us with one daughter, and oursmall family traveled easily. Gary and I volunteered to serve as missionscoordinators at church, eventually partnering with one church in Mexico ratherthan going to different locations. Over an eight-year period more than half ourmembers made site visits; we had high participation.

And our respect for national-led ministries grew. Welearned, for example, that spring break (our most-convenient time) was theleast convenient for them; Christmas was when they really needed us. We learnedto serve rather than calling the shots.

Our partnership allowed Gary and me a great standard ofliving, and I mean that in the best sense. We had what we needed to pursue ourpassions for Christ. Yet we sensed the Lord urging us to do more for the poorand disenfranchised. So we prayed, “What next?”

The answer came, as such answers often do, in a way thatinitially traumatized us. At the front-end of the US economic crisis, the firmbrought in a new boss. And he chose to outsource Gary’s department. Layoff.“Sorry: can’t afford severance pay.”

Normally we kept a hefty short-term savings account for justsuch an eventuality. But about twenty-four hours before Gary learned he wouldlose his job, we had paid cash for a newer car—a hybrid so we’d send less moneyto Saudi Arabia and lower the repair bills. We scratched our heads at theLord’s timing. We were stranded on omnipotence.

Around that time, I conducted a magazine interview of anAmerican couple training African leaders. This husband and wife weretransitioning to the Middle East, as their African partners had startedhandling the work on their own. But as most of these pastors had onlysixth-grade educations, they still needed specialized administrative help.

So this couple was seeking a stateside liaison to helpconnect the nationals with well-digging organizations, recruit people tosponsor at-risk kids, and fly over several times a year to provide training.Through technology, the job could be done stateside—needed to be donestateside.

The opportunity sounded like a match for Gary’s skills. Onlyone catch—it required raising support both for our monthly living expenses andthe cost of the work itself. But the US economy had crashed, and projectionssaid it would only get worse. Pursuing the opportunity seemed unwise, but wehad no peace about saying no. So we kept asking, seeking, and knocking, tryingto discern the line between wise stewardship and courageous faith.

The sponsoring organization suggested we make a multi-sitevisit to Africa. Only one problem—they were going during tourist season, whichdoubled the price. And we felt our daughter should accompany us. So they gaveus a price tag of $8,000. What? We were still hyperventilating over COBRApayments.

But to our shock, response to our request letter amounted toall but the last $50. So we went. And we fell in love with the nationals. Wehad to say yes.

Unfortunately, on our return we learned that many Americansview living in the states while ministering overseas as “taking the saferoute”; people couldn’t see we’d be serving mature nationals who didn’t needWesterners telling them how to run their ministries. It would take a while toget buy-in, and we didn’t have “a while.” We had to make a decision.

Added to that, our home church lost our pastor and wasbudget-cutting. And sadly, that lack of home-church support kept a large churchfrom partnering with us. So we still couldn’t commit.

But then the seminary where I taught granted my request toraise my hours to thirty per week, making me eligible for health insurancebenefits. And we made the last payment on our house. Suddenly we had enoughincome to cover our family’s monthly needs; we just needed the funds for traveland funding the ministry.

So we took what was, for us, a scary plunge. For us divingin required courage. For us it required living by faith. For us it required achoice to sleep well at night instead of fretting over money. We knew it was theright thing to do.

So we said yes.

Every month God has supplied all our needs. And servingthese indigenous pastors has brought immense joy as we have helped them digwells, start schools, empower women, finance uncles and aunts willing to keeporphaned relatives out of orphanages, provide solar-powered “Jesus Film” kits,set up microbusinesses, train pastors, replace destroyed homes, and plantchurches.

Our national partners do a superb job on the ground; theysimply need the kind of administrative help my husband has been in training fortwenty-five years to give them.

Last week the wife of a pastor in D. R. Congo asked me tofind women willing to assist her friends with microbusiness loans. They arehungry, but they don’t want handouts. So the stretching for us continues. Theirneeds far surpass our abilities.

We continue to be stranded on omnipotence.