Work Done in the Shadows

“Tell me three success stories from your ministry,” she said.

I don’t remember what stories I shared as I balanced answering the question, helping my kids make hot chocolate from the church’s coffee bar, and printing off their name tags for children’s church and nursery. Of course there are success stories, but as I stood in the church lobby, I felt my mind spinning. What even is success?

Some days, success is not completely losing my temper when the power goes out (again) right in the middle of trying to cook dinner. Sometimes, success is agreeing to speak at an event when public speaking, in a language I’m never 100 percent comfortable in, is the last thing I want to do. It might be helping start a project but then stepping back and allowing local believers to take over so that it doesn’t depend too much on me, the outsider.

Of course, as a supporter, an investor in the work, it is natural to ask about progress. Who doesn’t want to see results? The question isn’t a bad one, but it can feel complicated and not easy to answer in a ten-minute church-lobby conversation.

If I measured my life and work the way that traditional companies do, it is much harder to see the benefit. But I am comforted in that there is slow growth. There are real changes. So many days I don’t know what the day is going to look like—I have plans but have to hold those plans loosely—but at the end of the day, good has been accomplished in its own timing and its own way by just choosing to be a presence available and willing to help where help is needed.

Often the work our family does feels like being a bridge connecting those with genuine needs to those with a heart to help. Being a conduit for change. Sometimes that is sharing a need like a widow in need of a water tank and a church or individual provides the funding to make it happen. My husband has the contacts, cultural know-how, and skills to get the practical projects completed. It is satisfying to see kids in the community utilizing water tanks that we helped set up, saving so much time and energy from collecting water down at the river like they used to. But we didn’t do that project on our own. The community water tanks were purchased thanks to funds from a visitor who came and saw a need and felt led to give.

So much of what we do is just living and being part of the community. Helping, supporting, encouraging, training, and teaching where we can. This approach doesn’t always have big success attached to it. It’s the slow daily work of being present. I find comfort in Isaiah 55:11 which says, “My word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it” (NIV). There will be a return. God’s word is active. My part is to love my neighbor. His part is to bring about fruit in its time.

I’ll be honest, there are days I long for a more normal life where there are set work hours and vacation days. How do you budget when your income fluctuates so much from month to month? How do you clock out when your home and ministry are so intertwined? Cross-cultural work is some of the hardest work but also some of the best work.

It is challenging, even brutal at times, but it’s the eternal aspect that keeps me going. The return is seeing people change, heal, and find hope. Sometimes the biggest return is seeing my kids become best friends with the children of the widows that we work with, celebrating birthdays and graduations together.

On our last trip to the US, the board members of our missions organization invited us over to one of their homes for a cookout. I had come mentally prepared with the success stories and updates. Instead, we ate burgers, and one of the board members—a retired pastor—played with water guns in the backyard with our kids. We laughed and caught up, but they didn’t even ask about the work. I guess they know God is at work in our family’s life and ministry. They read the newsletters and have known us for years. What a comfort not feeling the need to justify if our work is successful in order to continue doing it. We are here until God calls us elsewhere, making a difference where we can.

Sometimes results are easy to see. Other times growth is quiet and slow. But I know that our efforts are not wasted. If nothing else, God is changing me daily and drawing me closer to himself. So when questions come, I anchor my identity not on my successes but in the knowledge that he sees and knows all. Work done in the shadows is not wasted.

Do you find it hard when people want to measure the often hard-to-measure work that you do? How do you keep your identity anchored in Christ when success feels slow or hidden?