Donna Kushner, a missionary in her lifetime, both overseas and to immigrant families stateside, writes of the story of her Afghan friends.
Nargis and Ali were married 20 days before the Taliban retook Kabul. Because Ali had worked for the U.S. military, the couple thought it best to flee.
Imagine we’re sitting down at that great little nook of a coffee shop downtown: matcha latte for me, triple espresso for you (feel free to improvise. You just looked kind of tired).
I’m like, Hey. Great news. Finally decided what I want to do with my life.
You: Sweet. What’s the verdict?
photo credit IMB.org photo library
My husband and I sat with a friend who’d spent years in Japan as a businessman. (He helped me with Go. Serve. Love’s post, Unreached People Group Focus: Japanese.)
We spoke of the culture of conformity of the Japanese. And my friend related a proverb–loosely translated, “The nail that sticks up gets pounded down.”
The cushions on our new couch were still stiff as we sat in the living room of our apartment with our team months after our family landed in Egypt. Cups of herbal tea steamed on the coffee table.
Our friends asked us how we were doing in our transition and I shared about the ups and downs, attempting some humor about a meltdown I had over burned chickpeas.
I met 16-year-old Juan while leading a pastor’s seminar. He sat on the front row with his dad, one of the pastors, and listened intently while I spoke about generational trends and opportunities for the church to engage younger generations.
At the break, I sat down to chat with him, intrigued by his focus and attention. He shared his story of coming to America as a young boy and helping his dad’s work as a pastor of a bilingual church–a role he was grateful for, steadied by strong relationships. His strong faith was clear.
When talking about living out his faith, however, Juan confessed he doesn’t talk about God on social media or at school: “I would be ostracized and lose all credibility if I did.”
A global-worker friend from Nepal sent me a Marco Polo recently. She described a day of local handymen installing appliances in her family’s new apartment–with methods much to her chagrin.
My mind immediately tumbled back to the painter who striped our house different shades of pink and orange on the outside, so it resembled a box of rainbow sherbet.
Near the end of my second short-term missions trip, I–a lowly teenager–was surprised to find that conflict with other global workers was a serious difficulty for those I was staying with.
Now, as the spouse of someone aiding conflict resolution in the field, this surprises me not one iota.
