So... WE'RE MOVING TO MONTANA?

The CliffNotes version is this: We've been asked to be one of five staff couples involved in a start-up men's ministry in Montana called Mentoring Timothy. The hopeful, tentative goal is to move in about a year.

It will be a 10-month program in the mountains, with the primary purpose of giving young men a season of life after high school and before college in which they can unplug from the distractions of today, learn skills and live life in a challenging environment, be mentored by older men while observing marriage and family life, experience short-term international missions trips, and most of all, have the time to cease looking at the Bible as a textbook and learn to really develop a close and personal relationship with Jesus. It's life-on-life discipleship, plain and simple.

How and when and why did all of this transpire?  Read on!  :)

The last post I published on this blog was on November 9th.  I was milling over the fact that we hadn't really had a home since being married, and sharing thoughts as we were preparing to move from the RV to the basement of the yurt while finishing construction.  Mostly, I was thinking about how temporary even a "home" really is in light of eternity, and wrapped up with this:

Yes, I am cherishing this unsettled feeling and the reminder that it brings.  I am cherishing the sehnsucht... cherishing the longing. 

And when we have our own "home," it still will not be home.  Our brand new abode, in all spiritual reality, will not be home any more than the moldy house or the RV could be considered "home" right now. 

Always, always, always, I want to remember that.

There's no doubt in my mind that God had those thoughts swirling in my head during the entire building process for a good and specific reason.  How could we have possibly known how timely they would be?

The week we moved from the RV into the basement, we had begun praying seriously that the Lord would show us the next step for our lives. And it was that same week that we got a call from Dave Schroeder.

Dave was the Dean of Men when Joey and I attended NTBI,  and at our request, he and his wife Missy had been our premarital counselors in the months leading up to our wedding.  Shortly after we graduated, the Schroeders had left New Tribes in order to establish a new ministry God had planted firmly in their hearts; we've been aware of it for a few years. Now, Dave was calling to have us answer some preliminary questions and consider entering full-time ministry as staff with them.

Forms, references, a few hours of FaceTime, and many calls later, our little family packed into the car and drove out to Nebraska this past January for an interview with the board of Mentoring Timothy.  We were unanimously accepted.

Checking out Mt. Rushmore on the way back from Nebraska.

So many things happened all at once.  Very shortly after our return from Nebraska, we finished the house enough to be able to move up out of the basement.  After two years of waiting and RV living, it was surreal, hard to believe, and a bit of a fairytale.  It felt like too much luxury in so many ways (though you all know that our secondhand-materials-abode is far from opulent... haha).

We publicized our move into the house, and so many dear people rejoiced with us; all the while, we and family were the only ones who knew our future plans, and our hearts were already bracing to break away from this place.  We moved up with the bittersweet knowledge that we'll soon be moving on.

...I'd thought on many occasions, as I cooked on the campstove in the RV while wrangling a one-year-old and a newborn, that in so many ways it would be a loss to move into a house and get comfortable.  I asked Jesus, over and over again, not to let us lose that feeling of being unsettled, because it was such a great reminder that we're not to settle into this life... this world that's not our home.  Well, He answered those prayers with a YES.

Both of our immediate families are here in Wisconsin, and it's sad to think about taking our grandbabies away from their new grandparents.  Not to mention our church family, and my midwife... I know everyone does it.  It's common, and in a lot of ways, it's not a big deal.  But that doesn't make it easy.

From a young age, Joey and I have both known what it is to move over and over again.  I know what it's like to fix up a place that was dead, make it your own, scratch out a living there, and then leave.  But somehow, there's something different and more difficult about this.  We staked out an area that was just a patch of grass, dug a hole in the ground, and built a round house atop it for our family.  It does hurt to leave the home we've poured literal blood, sweat, tears, and so much more into for the last two years. Joey's fingerprints are on everything... We'd envisioned being able to rent it out and come back to it while visiting home, even if we ended up overseas as missionaries.  

A day or two after moving up, we just sat together by the fireplace one night as it all sank in, and cried.

It is strange to have these conflicting emotions-- to be weepy at the same time that we're genuinely over-the-moon thrilled for something that's so wonderful it seems like a dream come true.

I don't share all of this to seem pitiful or to convey that we're somehow suffering through this decision.  The purpose of sharing the inner sadness is only to to let you into our hearts a bit and to emphasize THIS: that as hard as it is to leave the house we haven't even finished yet, that feeling pales in comparison to the passion we have for this ministry, the excitement we have for the next step, and the utter sureness we have that this is where God is leading us.  It's only a house.  It's going to burn in the end.  All we're doing is giving up something that we can't keep anyway, that was never ours to hold onto.

There has been such a void in our society and churches of the strong, intentional mentoring of men.  Marriages are falling apart, pornography addiction is commonplace, and families are shattering.  Paul says in Thessalonians 3, speaking of believers, "...When I could bear it no longer, I sent to learn about your faith, for fear that somehow the tempter had tempted you and our labor would be in vain." As much as we have a heart to see the Gospel go where it has never been taken before, we also recognize the need for believers to be rooted, grounded, established, and thriving in Jesus, living out what they believe: discipled.  

Discipleship is something we have both been involved in and felt called to for years now, even when we were considering missions.  Thinking about our personal strengths and passions, it's mind-boggling how God has brought us to this place that in so many ways seems like our dream.  It is certainly something we never could have even imagined.  We pray that God will use this raw environment and the day-to-day of simple life for His glory, to raise up men of courage who love Him, love their churches, love their wives,  love their children, and are not afraid to lead boldly and love sacrificially.

"God said to Abram: Leave your country, your family, and your relatives and go to the land that I will show you."  

We'd both happened to read through or be reminded of Genesis 12 right around the time that all of this was first happening.  How amazing that we serve a God who brings encouragement at just the right time through words that were written centuries ago!

There is no way to know what the future holds.  For that matter, there's no way to know much about even the near future of this ministry and our involvement.  The goal is to move in about a year, and for so many reasons, it would be best to get out there as soon as possible; but we have no way of knowing how long it will take to raise support. We're trusting God to make that happen.  No idea when we'll be able to sell or rent our house.  The unknowns are countless.  Our confidence is not in anything except the firm belief that God is clearly leading us here right now, and we want to be faithful and obedient to His leading.  I don't have time to share all the unbelievable ways God is opening doors to make this ministry happen, beyond reason, and the things that have confirmed it for us personally along the way.  We have no idea what's in store, but we trust Him fully and are utterly thrilled to be on this adventure with Him!!

Designing and building our own home, only to leave it behind so quickly and start from the ground up all over again?  No, it doesn't make sense from a logical perspective.  But God's timing is perfect.  I believe that with all of my heart-- more than I believe that it will be hard to leave, more than I believe that the future is uncertain, and more than I believe that there are physically and spiritually difficult days ahead. His timing is perfect and He is a GOOD Father.  These are things I know beyond knowledge.  We are leaving our achey hearts in His ever-capable hands, knowing that we can trust Him implicitly.

We need so much prayer and would be immensely thankful if you'd partner with us in that way! Pray that we keep our eyes on Him daily, looking to Him for each step rather than taking grasp of this and just trying to run with it ourselves. The whole process will undoubtedly be incredibly humbling as well, so pray also that we respond well to God's sanctifying process in our lives.

We realize that a blog post doesn't answer all the questions, so please feel free to ask! You can call us, text us, email us, Facebook message us, or come on over and hang out. :)

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Thank you for sharing in this journey with us, heart and soul! We deeply love you all.

View from the Lord-willing location of Mentoring Timothy.

My Very Own Christmas Shoes

I moved back to school about a week ago with one pair of “shoes”: flip-flops.


Granted, I own other shoes, but had left them at home over the summer while interning at Wayumi. Figured I could always go home one of these weekends and bring some belongings back to school with me upon returning. My beloved running shoes, which had cost me all of $1.50 at Goodwill, bit the dust around the time the summer ended – the soles having separated entirely from the rest of the shoe after a hike.


Selling bracelets from early morning to late at night for Threads of Hope at the state fair during this past week, there was no chance during the day to head to the store and replace them. Nonetheless, I kept up with my morning jogs for the most part. Nothing says, “You’ve gotten soft since your days of farm life” quite like running barefoot for a few miles on Waukesha asphalt. It went well until a few days into doing so; blisters were imminent if I continued, and I lamented this to myself alone as I walked down the hall to the kitchen on 2nd floor one late evening.


Next to the kitchen is the free pile. Keep in mind there were really only a few people living at NTBI then, thus no “pile.” But there in that spot was a pair of tennis shoes. I thought, jokingly, “Well that’s funny. What are the odds they would be my size?” To my shock and joy, they were. Size 9.


Maybe it seems like a little thing, but not to me. And you could call it coincidence or good timing or anything else imaginable, but I know my Heavenly Father. It was one of those moments where it’s as if He goes out of His way to say, “Hey.. you know that ‘If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?’ (Matthew 6:30) You didn’t even ask, but I saw, and I care. I love you.”


It reminded me of yet another testament to God’s faithfulness at another time in my life… also involving shoes. Seems to be His loving little inside joke with me! Here’s what happened…


In 2010, at the end of my Discipleship Training School in Egypt, our team was on our way to live and work in a remote area in Ethiopia for a month. We were told what we would need before leaving Egypt, which wasn’t much; but again I owned only flip-flops, which had served me well in the dusty Middle Eastern climate. Now we were leaving for an area of jungles, rivers, tall grass, mud and poisonous snakes… and it was required that we have shoes or boots.


I scoped out my options and decided on this pair of high-top hiking shoes. Black (goes with everything! haha) But alas.. not a simple fix. First, it was tough to find anything in my size (Egyptian women have tiny feet, and they usually don’t wear athletic shoes), but I figured I could always just go with men’s wear if necessary. The real issue was a lack of funds. For just SHOES, you ask? Well, yes, and frankly I felt humiliated; I had paid all my dues and fees entirely, but my visa and a trip to the Ethiopian embassy had gobbled up all but what amounted to about 5 U.S. dollars. Not even the cheapest shoes there (I’m talkin’ twine-and-duct-tape-on-cardboard-type quality) were going for that rate. Not even to the most sweet-talking bartering pro.


We’re supposed to, with thanksgiving, make our requests known to God, yes? We know that He hears, and we know that prayer truly is so powerful! I knew that, in my head. But all I remember of my pitiful prayer in regards to shoes was that it amounted to an offhanded, brief, fleeting sort of complaint in the middle of my prayer time one morning. It honestly didn’t even count as a request.


The night/morning of our flight to Ethiopia arrived. We were spending the night in a semi-enclosed “house” tacked onto a church in the middle of Cairo. Still I owned no shoes. We’d spent several hours in prayer for each other, for the team where we were going, for the Holy Spirit to be going ahead and paving the way, keeping us humble and using us as He saw fit – it was around 2 AM. Our flight was leaving around 4 or 5 AM, as I remember.


Out of the blue, somebody knocked on our rickety door/gate and delivered a package from a very dear Egyptian brother we all knew who I’ll call “Sam.” (haha.) It was New Year’s Eve, and he was passing on some gifts which had been sent to him by his brother (who was in Italy!) for Christmas. (Christmas celebrates Christ’s birth and therefore isn’t recognized as a holiday in the Islamic Middle East…)


Sam specifically marked one gift for each one of us; a notebook, for example, or some candy, or a clothing item.


Imagine how the blood drained from my face when I unwrapped mine to find shoes. Hiking shoes. High-top. European size 40, which for us is a size 9. BLACK. Better quality than the ones I’d checked out before.


Oh yes, I cried. I cried a lot.


Sam had absolutely no way of knowing that I even wanted shoes, much less what kind. He did not know my shoe size. I had not told a single soul that I was in need of footwear.


There is nothing like that moment when it hit me – not in the head, but in the heart – that my Creator is in reality here with me, right now, always, sees every little thing, and knows me more intimately than I know myself.


This came during a low point for me, in a season when I was begging God frequently for faith (I firmly believe it is something God gives; I could not muster what I needed on my own). I was a lot like the man described in Mark 9:24 who cries, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” Or the story in Luke 17 where the apostles say, “Lord, increase our faith!”


So people ask me if God really cares about every facet of the lives of His children. If He really hears. Answer? Absolutely and unequivocally, beyond a shadow of a doubt, YES. God is not Santa Clause, He owes us nothing, and these things don’t happen all the time; still, sometimes He just delights in blessing us in ways we definitely do not deserve… in this case, in order to patiently grow my faith. His answers don’t always look like we want them to. Sometimes His answer is “NO.” But does He hear, does He love us, is He working everything out for our good and His glory?


More than you or I can possibly fathom.


Even right down to the itty bitty “trivial” details. Like our toes.