Our feet reveal a lot about us.  My feet were brown when I came.  They’ve become darker and rougher as I walk among these beautiful people.  The feet of people I see walking outside are deeply coloured and textured.  Early mornings, they make their way into their day; helpers coming in from the morning markets carrying fresh fruit, vegetables, whatever they will prepare for their employers.  They’ve been up for hours, (many since 4:30 AM call to prayer), caring for their families, shopping, then on to work.  There are countless others, labourers of every kind, serving and bartering however they can to help support their families. Many are barefoot.  Their feet are beautiful.

I had to do a double take today.  It is such a beautiful day: the colors so vivid, the sky deep blue.  Is it real?  Do I really live here?  How privileged!!!  Then a recent conversation with Indonesian friends reminded me that others like me have lived in this house before me.  The bamboo chairs I like so much were purchased by a woman who nursed her baby in them.  The bookshelves, cabinets, dishes and cups came from a room filled with the personal belongings of saints who deeply gave of themselves to people here then left for different reasons.  Circumstances change.  We come and go.  How long the time our Lord allows any of us the gift of living, is in His hands.  Lord, deepen our walk with You as we walk among your children.  Form our feet so that they are richly textured like yours must have been as you walked the uneven surfaces, so that all nations will know You alone are God.

Matt 28: 19-20  Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you, and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.  Amen.  

From Linda serving in Southeast Asia with Mustard Seed.

While those are my main objectives, sometimes it is a challenge to really portray those ideas effectively to my students. But every once in a while, it just happens. As a precursor to the project, I had students come up with at least 5 needs they can identify in their community. Many ideas such as pollution, corruption, and abuse surfaced. My students effectively identified issues they were surrounded with. If I had more time in the semester I would love to explore these issues more in depth and help them identify what is the root issue here.

But then one student hit in on the nose. She wrote, “Problem in my community: Schools don’t teach about character.”

BAM. She got it. If we have good character, we take care of Creation. If we have good character, we don’t accept bribes. If we have good character, we look after those we love. Why don’t we have good character? It’s not taught to the kids in the community.

I’m thrilled to be a part of a school that recognizes the utter need of character being taught to our children. To raise up students with good character means to raise up leaders. And to raise up leaders with character is the first step to facing some of these societal issues. We’re well on our way!

From Wilson serving with Mustard Seed in Southeast Asia.

With my limited ability with the language, my first obstacle was figuring out how to communicate complex body systems. The students have excellent English, however, and they were able to pick up on it quickly. However, there has been one cultural barrier that I feared would be a problem with teaching CPR, but I underestimated just how challenging it would be.

In many asian cultures, uniformity is valued over originality. While for the Westerner volunteering to present a project first or raising your hand in class is a sign of leadership and confidence, for this Asian culture it is seen as a sign of pride or arrogance. Westerners value innovation, change, braveness, and individuality. Asians value conformity, contributing to the whole, and uniformity. Aik Kwang Nig assesses this well in his book Why Asians are Less Creative than Westerners. It’s not to say one culture is right, but that each culture has its own way of approaching reality.

Back to my CPR class, I found this to be a pressing issue. I warned the students time and again that now that they have training in CPR, they are responsible to act if ever anyone collapsed in their presence. I drilled this into their heads repeatedly. Practice scenario day came, and my mannequin dramatically passed out in the hallway. “Quick!” I said, “Someone do something! Does anyone know CPR?” It was a critical moment. Would their fear of being perceived as arrogant stand in the way of saving someone’s life? I stood and watched as the four students motioned to each other, “You go.” “No, you go.” After nearly a minute passed I emphasized that the person had now entered into brain damage because he had remained unresponsive. The students pulled out rock, paper, scissors. That’s where I stepped in. I couldn’t bear to watch this cultural aspect get in the way of their ability to save someone’s life. If they were in a market and a real person collapsed, would they do rock paper scissors to determine who would start CPR?

Today I gave a devotion on “Thinking differently” (I used the 1997 Apple campaign as an Illustration). Sometimes to effectively teach we have to approach things from a different angle. While I desperately want my students to “think differently” from their culture and overcome lack of assertiveness, I too as a teacher have to think differently about how I approach teaching a thing such as this. Perhaps next week I’ll randomly show up in one of their other classes and collapse and see if they respond…

From Wilson serving with Mustard Seed.

The picture shows my husband’s and my room, shortly after getting back to Indonesia from a trip home. We had gotten back into Indonesia after a month in the states and had been told that renovation had started on our room, the very day we landed in Indonesia. All of our possessions were, once again, packed into suitcases and boxes and we were in temporary housing for some time. This happened again a few months later, when our room partially flooded and we had to move out for a month.

Each time, it seemed like we had come across a major obstacle in our path; something that temporarily blocked us from moving forward with our plans. We were, through the grace of God, able to move forward in our plans with various projects we were planning. However, I wonder how much more effective I could be with the mindset that I am committed to moving forward, no matter what obstacles are thrown my way (since the other option would be moving backward).

I am eager to see how my life could be radically used by God with this slogan in mind. We can’t afford to be passive in doing His work; that is tantamount to moving backwards as so many other competing agendas rush forward. I am now asking myself, “Have I moved forward or backward today, has the Kingdom been furthered or hindered by my actions today?”

Reflection shared by Aprille serving in Southeast Asia with Mustard Seed.

My husband and I got married less than two years ago, and in September, we suddenly became dorm ‘parents’ of Indonesian students ages 19-24.

Two of the young women have begun to call me “Mommy”, since they left their mothers to enrol in college and attend the MS program.

The students hope to go back to their homes for Christmas and Easter celebrations, but do not have the funds to do so. Thus, my husband and I have started to realize that these kids have become a little bit like our own kids– we are with them day in and day out, and will even be celebrating holidays with them.

These young men and women are really special, and I feel blessed that they are our first class of the teacher-training dorm program.

Shared by Aprille who is serving with Mustard Seed in Southeast Asia.

Sunday is coming I was 9 years old. It was Good Friday, and part of the day’s required activities included periodical Bible readings from the crucifixion story. I had heard the story dozens of times but it had never truly permeated my soul. I remember tears running down my face as my mom read the narrative of Christ’s gruesome crucifixion. Why did he have to die? Why did they kill him? New life had been brought to this story of old. I felt for the first time as if I were there. The intensity of the moment of Jesus’ death penetrated my heart. Even though I knew the end of the story, I was suddenly able to comprehend the emotion felt on that dreadful day. I sobbed. I grieved. An intense hunger for Sunday stirred within me. Please let it be true. Please, let him come back to life! But I would have to wait. Today is only Friday.

I can imagine how the disciples felt on Saturday. They awoke to life that had been shattered to pieces. Hope for salvation had died. Yesterday they shamelessly left everything to follow a man that was to save their people. Today that man was dead. People had accused them of craziness for their life of complete surrender, and it dawned on them that perhaps people were right. They hid in fear for their lives while grieving the loss of their leader. Life was chaotic and confusing. Questions. Doubts. Darkness. Hopelessness. This was not what they had signed up for. Jesus was supposed to lead them to new life, justice and victory. Now all that remained was loneliness and desolation.

Perhaps you have lived in this darkness. Perhaps you have experienced the pain of loss, the grief of separation, the blur of confusion, the vivid sting of hopelessness. Is today Saturday? Are you wandering in a desert of loneliness and hopelessness? Do you find yourself questioning what you desperately want to believe because circumstances don’t reconcile with the message of hope you have left everything to follow? I wait with anticipation each year for celebratory Easter Sunday. I have great memories of waking early on Easter morning, dressing into my flowery blue and white dress with my favorite lacy socks and tiptoeing down the kitchen to indulge in my Mom’s famous Ukrainian Easter Bread. Oh how I love Easter Sunday. Sunday’s joy is birthed in the wake of Saturday’s grief.

Today may be Saturday. Grief and despair. But there is hope, Sunday is coming. “…weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5

How I wish you could be here with us now. I am so excited to celebrate Easter this weekend! For me and the people around me here in Southeast Asia, Easter is not just a holiday, or a temporary remembrance of the death and resurrection of Christ. Easter is more a way of life. By God’s grace and in his providence, we live our days in the indescribable joy of witnessing the resurrection in real time. All around us, God is raising people up, miraculously. He is redeeming families. He is breathing new life into communities. God is giving children a new hope and a new future. He is filling the next generation with dreams and visions. He is raising up men and women who will change the world.

New schools are being created. Amazing teachers are being prepared to bring hope, renewal and transformation to villages throughout these islands. Children and youth are learning to grow up in Christ, to see their world through the eyes of faith, to believe that nothing is impossible. They are being immersed in a biblical mindset, a view of the world that says, “Because God is inside of me, I am more than a conqueror!”

Thank you for being such an important part of what God is doing through Mustard Seed. The role of the donors and prayer warriors is essential. We are partners together in this amazing ministry. Not a day goes by that we don’t thank God for you. Here is a prayer that we can share together on this Easter Sunday.

“Jesus, I will follow you. Take me anywhere. Over mighty peaks and across vast oceans. Through walls and over fences. Up, out, and beyond myself. My fears are swept away. Your courage is my light of day. Your VOICE is heard in me. Say again? I will outrun the storm. I will trample injustice. I will conquer the night. I will carry water and plant a garden in the desert. I am the light of the world.
Because You Are Risen, I am risen.”

For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world – our faith. Who is he who overcomes the world? He who believes that Jesus is the Son of God. I John 5:4-5

With love and appreciation,

Paul Richardson

Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart. Psalm 27:14

I blew it yesterday teaching the English class.  It fell waaaay short!  The kids really got into the game last week but this week….my creative It, We, They game bombed.  On analysis the vocabulary narratives were beyond their present abilities.  They tried, sort of, then talked, argued, and ridiculed each other when they made mistakes.

Welcome to this present journey.  In a couple of weeks I will have been in SE Asia a year.  What a roller coaster ride!  When it works there’s nothing like it, seeing the kids’ laughing as they hold a musical instrument maybe for the first time and hear themselves making a joyful noise unto the Lord!  One aspect of the culture is that the children seem to be innocent longer.  The teenagers at the village after-school class will listen, completely engaged, to something out of a good children’s book if it communicates values they comprehend.  The other side of this cultural sphere is that from early childhood some of them are exposed to and experience spiritual, emotional and physical violence that robs them of their childhood imprinting them with deep sorrow.  Where are their parents?  Mom is may be somewhere else and dad is dead.  Mom may be working in a large city to support her family or perhaps she simply tried to escape.  Dad may or may not be living but he is not present.

I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Psalm 27:13

There are many safe places for the children and their families here.  Our Lord provides all of them, diverse as they are among diverse people.  I have the immense privilege of participating in some.  I see Him loving and healing people here and we, very ordinary guests, in the process.  My visa was approved for another year.

This morning He told me He loves me.  TERIMA KASIH TUHAN!!!

Expat Linda on leave in SE Asia

I peered into the faces of my tired, worn out students. Exhaustion seemed to consume their faces as they faced the reality of final exams coming next week. With tests, papers and projects looming over their heads, the looked like they were ready to cave. Is this blessing?

I joined the huddle of my tired, sweaty, high school girls basketball team. I dug deep within myself to find one more encouraging speech to give after a series of losses at a tournament in our home gym. With tears running down their faces and exhaustion consuming their bodies I looked at them as I struggled to find the words to say. Is this blessing?

I saw it in slow motion. The precious 3 year old girl stumbled backwards, slamming her head on the concrete. An ocean of tears exploded out of her face as she made a mad dash for her mother. Is this blessing?

The harsh sounds of machinery once again reverberated through my classroom as I attempted to teach my students. My fading voice was no competition against the hammering of nails and the buzzing of chainsaws. Is this blessing?

“…Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3)

It’s not that being poor in spirit just brings blessing. No, being poor in spirit is the blessing.

Teachers eager to learn and soak up anything taught to them.

Students exhausted because of the incredible education they are being given.

Basketball players learning the meaning of perseverance and character (they turned out winning the tournament, by the way).

A little girl with the loving arms of a mother eager to embrace her.

The sounds of construction reverberating through my classroom as a reminder that a new teacher training center is being built on our campus.

Is this blessing? Yes. This is blessing.

Not too many years ago, a little boy growing up in one of these villages fell miserably ill, deteriorating to the point that the spiritual leader of the village predicted his certain death.  Within days, the boy was pronounced dead.  Mysteriously, in that moment, he witnessed his physical body growing more and more distant as his spirit rose away from the earth.  A pair of hands opened to receive him, and with wonder and longing, the boy requested to return to his body if only he could learn to whom the hands belonged.  His wish was granted.  With no small shock, his mother nursed him back to full health, forcing the spiritual leader to concede his suspicions that an evil spirit had taken over the boy’s body as a guise.

Eventually the boy, who was very bright, set out from the village on foot in a quest for learning.  In a more civilized town, far from all he had known as a child, he discovered a small school building where, hanging on the wall, was a painting that gripped the very core of his being.  For, in that painting, was the picture of a man holding out the very hands the boy had seen when his spirit left his body.    With overwhelming delight, the boy soaked up the story of the Gospel and became a child of the Living God.

The next several chapters in the boy’s life contain the stories of his maturing into a man.  His first glimpses of modernity frightened him; he remembers paying someone to help him cross a busy street because he was terrified of cars.  Amazingly, in the densely Islamic city where he arrived, God provided a believing family to house him and provide funds for his education.  In Bible school, he met his wife and committed with her to bring the Good News of the kingdom of God to the mountain villages where they grew up.

The door that opened for them was a move to the city that acts as a hub for all paths leading to the mountains.  Eight years ago, they brought five children down from the man’s home village to live with them and go to school.  Little did they know that this would evolve into a flourishing ministry that would impact the lives of dozens of children.   The home has provided love and care for orphans, children whose parents are too poor to care for them, and children rejected in the aftermath of divorce.   Because the leaders can relate at a personal level, safety and ease stand guard against insecurity and fear.  The leaders can honestly look a child in the face and say, “I understand.”    Boys and girls receive daily provision for their physical needs as well as regular spiritual discipleship.  The students learn, over time, that they can make their own personal, informed decision to follow Christ.  The children who come often press on to finish high school, which means many years of growth and maturity in Christ before returning to their villages or moving out on their own.

The trend for village children to come to the city for school is only increasing.  At a rapidly accelerating pace, village leaders are choosing young representatives to go out and taste the unknowns of the modern world.  Illiterate and curious, they are sending out the young to learn to read and interpret the times.  They are asking, how will the village survive?  The answer in their minds is not religion, or money, or resistance to change; what they long for is education.

Sharp, Muslim business people are realizing the vast money-making potential in opening boarding houses where boys and girls from the mountains can live.  Villagers combine resources to afford the cost of room and board, so highly valuing the opportunity for one of their young people to learn.  The typical pattern is that the student converts to Islam by the time they finish school.  It is no understatement to label what is happening as a fast and furious race with eternal implications.  Children come for school, embrace a “modern” faith, and carry it back to the village, where the tribal leaders examine the new beliefs and evaluate whether or not to incorporate them into their existing spiritual systems.

Why not open similar boarding houses where more and more students can hear the Gospel and become part of the Kingdom of God?  The demand exists.  The wise leader who explained this trend to me, the young village boy whose life was spared, is ready to step up to the task.  In fact, he is already discipling others to join him in leadership roles.  He has his eye on a piece of land adjacent to the current property of the home.  Last year, his life hung in the balance as heart trouble sent him to the hospital several times.  What does God have in mind?

“. . . a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb.”  Rev. 7:9

“Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to sent out workers into His harvest field.”  Luke 10:2