Purpose Asia

My eyes snapped open. There it was again. Scrape, scrape, scrape. My body was rigid under my tightly clutched blankets, like a tightrope strung between two high-rises. In my imagination I fantasized that I was a calm, cool, collected woman, unruffled by strange noises that go bump in the night. But I knew the source of this noise and I was terrified. It was my nemesis. We’d glimpsed each other earlier in the night – sized each other up – but now our face-off was inevitable. Was my courage sufficient? Finally, I awoke the David in me and decided to face my Goliath. I clicked on the light and padded cautiously on bare feet to the door of my room. The hall was dark and the noises emanating from the kitchen grew louder. The belly of the beast I thought to myself. I crept down the hallway in fearful pursuit of my quarry. Scrape, SCRAPE!   I froze. In the twilight I could see my enemy. I snapped on the light and we gaped at each other in abject horror. This...

A beautiful afternoon in the highlands Children play across the way in the little park. They call out to each other in Tok Pisin and laugh with all the gleeful innocence of childhood. The blue and maroon of their respective school uniforms flash brilliantly under the warm afternoon sun and the white clouds float by unconcerned on the gentle afternoon breeze. It's beautiful. God's hand splashed masterfully across every horizon that meets my eyes. How good He is. I'm amazed over and over again by His goodness. It's been a hard five months back here. They have been filled with struggle, sorrow, grief, pain, failure, frustration and spiritual assault. I would be lying if I said I've always handled it with grace and godliness (as much as I'd love to be able to tell you that). There have been times I have wanted to give up, to go home, to throw in the towel in defeat. I've seen ministry and work go through the roller coaster from mediocre to incredible to aw...

Banana leaf with morning dew The leathery flap of bats wings’ and the incessant chatter of the cicadas fill the night. Moths slap against my back porch light, the house creaks as a cool descends in the valley and the old wood shifts and shrinks into its familiar shape. Five months back in Papua New Guinea. It feels like a blink and forever all at once. Dirt roads and taro plants and banana trees seem normal to me now and my world of blinking lights and racing cars and grocery stores seems a million years away. Home is a strange word for me ever since leaving my family over 2 years ago to come to Papua New Guinea. It feels confining to me now, like a coat that has shrunk and my hands dangle awkwardly from its sleeves, now too short.   Dwelling place. Now there is a term I can understand. A place where you linger and choose to stay, that has a feeling of comfort and familiarity. This is probably much like the definition of “home” but a dwelling place is more broad ...

I happened to glance out the window as I walked into my room and there it was: a radiant sunset splashing across the evening sky with magenta and violet. I couldn’t help myself. I poked my head into the living room and blurted out, “Courtney, the sunset is amazing tonight! I have to go out and see it!” I ran to the back door, flung it open and dashed out onto the deck, out the gate and onto the back stairs. I felt I could almost touch it in all its deep, mysterious beauty. A rich, gorgeous sunset that graced the sky like a handful of jewels. It was so lovely that all I could do was gaze in awe and wonder at God’s handiwork. Then, I felt it, fleeting and deep but unmistakable – joy. Joy. It feels like an elusive concept sometimes. Like the mist that rises from the trees in the morning and disappears when the hot sun beats down and the rough winds blow. I’ve struggled a lot with what joy is supposed to look like in the life of a Christ Follower. Since I was litt...

Crossing the Ba'e River I bounced on my toes as I stepped out of the van. We walked down to the river and stood on the muddy banks as our more experienced friends stepped cautiously into the river and waded across to find the best path for crossing. Soon, they beckoned to us and I plunged into the water up to my thighs, eager to start the day. Today was my first day helping with Holide Baibel Skul (or Holiday Bible School – the Papua New Guinea Equivalent of Vacation Bible School or VBS). I was so excited that the river was soon forgotten behind me and my feet found the slippery trail up the hill to the settlements and villages that lay beyond. The trail wound up and around the hill and wrapped its gnarled arms around the hedges and fences of people’s garden and homes. The trees cleared and my path marched between gardens full of yams, sweet potatoes and squash. Stands of bamboo and banana trees stood like crowds of onlookers scattered around the gardens ...

“ She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.”  Proverbs 31:25 NLT 365 days, 52 weeks, 12 months, 1 year. A year. A container for life, experience, knowledge, joy, pain, hope, fear. A marker where we step over a line and start another cycle of events that mirror those that have happened before in what can either feel like a relentless march or a fiercely delightful dash into the unknown. These last two years my life was changed forever by phone calls, an accident, a shock. Last year my grandparents were in a car accident that would claim their lives within a week of each other. This year, my Mom lost the battle with cancer but won the war of her walk with the Lord and went ahead to be in His presence. In Papua New Guinea a person bears the outward marks of their grief for a period of time in one or more of several ways. Some choose to twist their hair into dreadlocks, or at least one piece of their hair, as...

        Today is Christmas Eve. The cicidas are singing outside and the fan palm tree outside flutters in the breeze that heralds the coming rain. The center is quiet and peaceful, the normal rush and bustle stilled for the Christmas holiday as everyone takes a break and spends time with family. I glance over at our tiny Christmas tree, bravely stretching it’s two feet to hold the silly little ornaments I shipped here in November of 2014.   A tiny nativity sits under the tree reminding me of the reason for the Christmas season.      This is my first Christmas in Papua New Guinea. Most of the month I’ve been saying to my friends how much it doesn’t “feel” like Christmas. The weather is closer to a Pacific Northwest summer and the general pace and routine of life has been going on much as usual. However, as I have been reflecting on Christmas this year I realized it does “feel” like Christmas despite the di...