Ryan & Jordan

with Pioneer Bible Translators

Category: Uncategorized

Here we go!

by ryan

Thanks be to God and our colleagues: visas approved, apartment found. We’re planning on arriving in September!

Emmanuel

by Jordee

A lot of times I’m glad people can’t see my insides, because if they could, I might as well be walking around flailing my arms and stressing people out. A lot of times life feels like too much.

The other day I was driving on the country roads where I grew up, a place where I can’t tell you how many times God has quieted my soul. I turned off the radio because the way the sun had made the sky a deep warm pink made me think God wanted to say something. I tried to listen and I heard, “I’m here.”

Photo Jun 09, 8 47 24 PM

Right now is one of those times when life feels too full. There are too many wonderful and lofty things to think about, things that overwhelm me. My heart is pulled in too many directions, and we’re trying to immigrate to the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But He is here. Maybe if I were better at listening, I would have heard more. But maybe that was all, because it is all I need. He is here, his hands wrapping and cradling the world and my whole life like the thick pink clouds hovering over the earth.

He is here as I write and my thoughts settle; He is here when I get up to an ever-growing to-do list. He is here when I start to grieve leaving my family, when I cry tears of gratitude for the way God is lovingly standing guard over my dad’s life. He is here when I sit with the weight of what this stem cell donor has done for him, for someone he’s never met. He is here when I break because there is just one too many things to do. He is here when I sit and when I rise. He discerns my thoughts, searches out my path. Even the darkness is not dark to Him. The night shines like the day. He hems me in, behind and before. And if we settle in the uttermost parts of the sea, which is the plan, even there He will lead us. He is here.

life to the fullest

by Jordee

This post is dedicated to my mom and dad.

Last Thursday we arrived in my hometown, and I drove to my parents’ house after dinner. I found my mom holding a grandfather’s beard tree in her hand. “Oh, I was just going to plant this. I’ll be done in a minute.” I wandered around the front yard with the dogs until she was done. She pointed out all that was blooming and all that had come back from last spring. Whenever I’ve been away during the start of spring, I’m always a little stunned at how much she’s helped to grow. I walked past the zucchini and onions and asparagus. She came and sat down by the fish pond in the garden room, and I sat down next to her. We fed the five fish and talked about how I worried the two had frozen this winter when really they were busy having babies. Mom pointed to the spot on the pond where tadpoles would hatch soon.

We laughed at the dogs digging at nothing next to us until it was time to go inside. We walked to the door and mom spotted a mama bird in her nest. I marveled at how calm she was when we were standing so close to her, taking care of her new little ones. Later that night as I was leaving, I stopped by the door when I heard them squeaking in the nest.

 rosebush

This time of year is good for us creatures. Just when we thought we couldn’t wait any longer, we see new life and brightness. We sigh in relief as our hearts lighten. Winter had worn us until we were dull empty shells, or it had suddenly chilled us to the bone and broken us. But now, the deadness of winter appears so temporary, and our eyes open wide to living Hope.  This Hope seeps into our broken empty places—dark crevices made by winter and bad news, and the Resurrected One lifts up our heads again. He came that we might have life to the fullest.