The Bridge: Foundations

About a year ago, I was asked to help out at a kids' camp. It was a busy time of year at WCF, but because I knew I still had a lot to learn about children's ministry and this would be a good learning opportunity, I decided I would go.

During the camp, Paul, who was one of the directors of the camp, asked if I would share my testimony one night. And so I did. I wrote about it after coming back from camp because it gave me a lot to think about.

On the final day of camp, Paul asked if I could give a ride home to one of the camp leaders and the other camp director, Gwen. As it turned out Gwen's flatmate at the time was an American lady who served as a chaplain at a university here. That she was from Portland, Oregon and was a chaplain to international students (both of which I was really passionate about), gave us a lot in common. If I hadn't been that worn out from camp, I would have stayed for dinner with them. I didn't realise at the time was that that wasn't going to be my last interaction with Carrie.

A few weeks later, I was out running errands with Marilyn and had shared with her about my interest in working with migrants, refugees and international communities--which was why New Zealand even interested me in the very first place. She excitedly told me that her mum had been volunteering with an organisation that helped migrants with their transitions, and that I should have coffee with her. As much as I wanted to, life got busy and that got put on hold.

A few months later, we had a guest speaker one Sunday who worked with migrant and international communities. Merv Coates had also been the professor for pastoral care at Laidlaw Bible College. He and I had several conversations about his work, and he invited me and members from our church to come along to one of the events their ministry was sponsoring. It was at that event that I ran into Carrie again. Because there was so much going on at the time, we never got to talk much.

This was the third time that this idea about working with migrants and international communities had come up, and I was beginning to wonder if God was up to something with these "accidental" run-ins. But again, life happened, and I never got around to following up on any of those conversations.

Then one random day, Carrie posted on Facebook about an event called Newswatch. It was one of the programmes sponsored by the chaplains at the university where students would watch news clips from the week to help keep them connected with news both locally and around the world, and especially in their home countries. Because the news clips were in English, it was also an opportunity for them, many of whom English was a second language, to brush up on their language skills. I hopped on and asked Carried if it would be ok for me to come along to just hang out. Before I knew it, Newswatch and student group Fridays had become a regular on my calendar, and the students began to count on the desserts that would show up with me.

While all this was happening, Carrie and I still hardly knew anything about each other because we both understood our priorities on Fridays were to hang out with the students. One day in the middle of nowhere just before my trip back to the States, she asked where my funds were coming from. Because Carrie herself has to raise support, she understood some of the hoops to jump through with fundraising. But as I began to explain the complexities of my situation and all the ways we've tried to work with the system, she was appalled that it had become such hard work. She then asked if I would consider having my funds come through the organisation she was working with. And then she said, "I don't know what your contract is like with your church, but if you would like to come work with us, we would love to have you."

At that time, I had already known I wasn't going to serve another term with WCF. As much as I loved my experience and had learnt a lot from my time here, I had also learnt that just because I was able to do something or learn how to do something (like run the children's ministry), it didn't always mean that I was the right person for the job. And I began to recall all the conversations I had prior to arriving in New Zealand about all the other things I was passionate about--working with migrant and international communities, and working outside the church structures to bring people into meaningful relationships with those within the church structures. And I began to trust the prompting that it was time to pursue that. All of these conversations with Carrie, Marilyn and Merv could not have been coincidental. (The Bible does say something about, "three times..." eh?)

And so Carrie and I began to talk a little bit more. All of this time, it bothered me that I didn't know how it would all fit with my (somewhat foolish) loyalty to the Church of God Reformation Movement, or how this new ministry would fit into its structures, or what I would do if it didn't. Several other things got thrown onto the scene that halted my conversations with Carrie for a while. But as things began to fall into place, as they always do, I began to realise that whether it fit into a denominational structure or not, I could no longer run away from pursuing this new ministry.

Shortly after my return from the States, several things happened that led to some significant conversations with the Wesleyan Methodist Church of New Zealand. Even though most ministries in New Zealand tend to run ecumenically, I was "raised" to respect denominational traditions, and WMCNZ would have been theologically closest to the Church of God. And it was encouraging to know that there were WMCNZ folks who, upon hearing about my ideas for a new ministry next year, got really excited and wanted to jump in to support however they can. They themselves had relationships and connections that made it easy for them to understand why this new ministry would be significant, which gave me hope to realise that I wasn't crazy for wanting to do this. As good students of missiology will tell you, outsiders may see a perceived need, but until the insiders want to address those needs themselves, they will not buy into any programme that outsiders are pitching.

So where does this lead, and what's next?

Well, I'm not exactly sure yet either. As conversations continued with Richard, superintendent of WMCNZ, I begin to realise there is potential for this to have a much bigger scope and influence than I can even foresee at this point. I would love to see this eventually develop into a community space (not necessarily physically) where students can connect with both local communities and churches, and it becoming an intergenerational relationship-building venue.

But for now, there is work to be done to get the first steps in place. Here's how you can pray with us:

• Pray for the churches that have an interest in being involved with this ministry. Pray that the existing relationships with the students will continue to be strengthened and the desire to pour into their lives will grow.
• Pray for the students that will be reached through these relationships, that they would encounter life-change in their few years in New Zealand. And pray that the relationships built here will continue to support and provide accountability for them as they return to their home-countries. 
• Because of all the complexities surrounding my support raising with several organisations in different parts of the world supporting me, it makes sorting out a visa complicated. Please pray that things will begin to fall into place for the process.
• I will also need to move out of my current living arrangements to make room for a ministry of this nature. Pray for a new living arrangement to open up that will be affordable.

And I hope you stay on board with all that is happening in New Zealand as you have all this while. Check back in, and see how the story is developing. Write, and let me know what you think. And if you're the praying type, pray.

As always,
i carry your heart
(i carry it in my heart)

Arohanui,
me

Coming up: "Why me??"

The Call

It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

There are a few things I remember very vividly about Old Testament classes with Dr Ross.

1) The maps. Oh, the maps. And the highlighters. And where to sit in the classroom so you don't get called upon to tell the class where things are on the maps.
2) The bee-box story. Yes. Anyone who has been in one of Dr Ross's classes would have heard this one.
3) The videos. And the ones he himself fell asleep watching.

And then there was that paper that he had us write at the end of our first year of seminary.

The Call Paper

Second semester of Old Testament was on the prophets. The final paper for that class was kind of a reflection based on the prophet Jeremiah's prophetic call. We were to read portions from the book of Jeremiah and then write about our own call to ministry.

That was a paper I would never forget writing. At the end of the term, we all had to do a very short presentation from our papers. And then he concluded the term saying, "Never forget this paper you've written. The ministry journey will be difficult. But never forget your call so that as things get more and more difficult, you will remember this call, and it will keep you going."

Recently, I've been prompted by a few different occasions to think about this call. MaryAnn had asked if I would do a piece about it. Since I will be writing a full-length piece that's going to print, this is more of a first draft/idea bank than anything else, but also a reflection of the week at camp.

Paul, who directed the camp, had asked us all to spend some time before the campers arrived to reflect on why we follow Jesus today. He made it clear we weren't supposed to be thinking about "when we first got saved" because kids would rather know how it's relevant today.

The theme for the camp was Xpedition Force, and as an introduction within each small group, kids were asked to share about the biggest adventure they had been on. Each night, one of the leaders would share the stories of why we follow Jesus, if they felt comfortable doing so. So really briefly, this was the kid-friendly story that I shared around the campfire one night.

Remember when we went around in our small groups on the first day of camp to share about the biggest adventure we've been on? Well, tonight I'm going to tell you a little bit about the biggest adventure I've been on. 

I was born in Singapore and when I was 18, I moved to the US for uni. I was nervous and afraid because I had no idea what to expect, and I was leaving my family and friends, and everything I knew behind.

The last Sunday I was in Singapore, my pastor got me up to the front of the church so that they could pray for me before I left. The last thing he said to me that day was to read the passage from Luke 5 about Jesus calling his disciples. The story went something like that: 

These two men had been fishing all night and caught no fish. Then along came this Jesus guy who told them, "Hey, take your boats out a little further and throw your nets a little deeper." Of course, they were thinking, "Well, we've done this all night and caught nothing. And we've done this for our whole lives, surely we know what we're supposed to do?" But they did it anyway, even though they still didn't really know who this Jesus was or what he was up to. And of course, what happens when they threw their nets out a little deeper? They caught a whole ton of fish! They were probably thinking, "Hmm, maybe this Jesus guy does know what he's talking about." 

And that was how my adventure began. In the same way that Jesus was with his disciples and looked out for them and their fish, every time I move somewhere around the world, whether it was to America, Germany, or now New Zealand, I remember that Jesus said to throw my nets out a little deeper because it's going to be the greatest adventure ever.

Of course, the Luke 5 story is also weaved into the very beginnings of the existence of this blog, which started as a place to chronicle the adventures in Germany. Little did I realise that the week at camp was about to be the roughest week I've experienced in my short career in children's ministry.

As we were leaving the campfire that night, I remembered thinking about how Kylee had once shared about how she usually feels really vulnerable after preaching because it was like she had just completely bared her soul. Any response to the sermon could be taken very personally because of that vulnerability.

That was how I felt that night.
"Was that story cool enough for the kids?"
"Do they now think I'm a complete nut-case?"
"Maybe moving around the world as an adventure isn't that interesting of a story for kids..."

The grass couldn't have been more fascinating that night even though it was pitch dark as I kept my head low to avoid anyone or anything that would make me feel less than human. Then along came this figure whom I recognised as one of the older boy campers who enjoyed appearing tough with the rest of his mates.

"That was a really cool story."
"Yeah? Which part?"
"The one about Jesus asking them to take the nets out further..."
(Awkward silence proceeds because Jael is shaken out of vulnerability bubble and gets flabbergasted really easily under normal circumstances anyway. And then panic ensues because Jael doesn't want to lose the interest of the young chap.)
"Yeah? Well, it is found in the Bible..."
(face-palm. What are you doing Jael? Get it together. You've gotta be cooler than that.")
"Really? Where?"
"It's in Luke 5. You can go read it if you have time."
"Oh cool! I'll do that."

It's never about me, is it?

That same night, I had my first homesick camper. I tried convincing her the story I had just told about moving away from home at 18 years old was the same thing as being away from home for the first time at camp.

Smooth. Real smooth.

The next day, the homesick camper would not stop bickering with the BFF who was in the same small group. Halfway through one of the craft activities, one of them left in tears because they had gotten into another fight.

"She said..."
"But she said..."
"No but..."
Sigh.

That night, as the campers filed out to their cabins after supper, Jacolize, the camp mum, found me. I had a minor breakdown as she prayed over the situation, wondering again why in the world I was working with kids when I had no experience and didn't even know what it's like to be or to feel as a kid would. My childhood was mechanical, and any emotion I have the ability to express today came from the intense hormonal re-structuring from the 4 years in an all-girls school in my teenage years. When I eventually returned to the cabin, Paul and Gwen had sat the girls down to talk to them about respect.

As if I didn't feel low enough, now all these other adults needed to come out to help me with my kids.

I don't know how or why, but I had packed my pink Kaleo shirt along to camp and as I put it on the next day, everything about Dr Ross and the bee-box and the Jeremiah paper came back.

Kaleo means "I call" in Greek.

I thought about my friend Emily, and how proud she would have been that I had brought that shirt to camp. It was the momentary high of the morning until the next bicker between the BFFs. It was a good thing the camp schedule was so full on that I didn't have time for an argument with God or the whole, "You know I didn't want to do the ministry thing, or the seminary thing, or the work in a church thing, or the children's ministry thing and yet I've submitted to it all so why the flip do you not make it any easier??" conversation would have made its pointless loop all over again.

I knew exactly why.


It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

It was The Call.
I got curious, and so I answered.
And off we went.
I've always had the opportunity to stop any time I wanted.
But really, the highs are so much more fun that the lows can eventually become negligible.

As I began to put more of these thoughts together, the song that became the theme as I transitioned out of Anderson last year came back.

It started off as a feeling

It's the same song that has kept me through all the weaving in and out of stories in the past year. Stories that I've interacted with along the road, even the ones I've only spent a day or a week with.

The Call is what I make of it.

I'll come back when they call me,
No need to say goodbye