If This Life Is a Journey, Where Am I?

When my husband and I first got married, we knew we wanted to go to the field—and that was about all we knew! We were willing and passionate, and we knew that put us into a minority of Christians and that God would honor and use that. We didn’t even do a wedding registry, as we figured we would be on the field within a year.

Instead, it took us seven years. What felt like it was going to be a quick hop to our destination became, instead, a journey—one that brought us essential skills, grew passions within each of us, and gave us a solid foundation for the life and work we have today. God knew we needed those seven years. 

We’re celebrating ten years in Rwanda very soon, which has me in a special sort of reflective mood. This morning I was looking through old photos of us around this time ten years ago. I read an Instagram post announcing our move and the kind of work we would be doing. It’s disorienting to read because my life and work look NOTHING like I thought they would before we moved here. I barely even worked in the same field I thought I would pursue. The journey has been completely unpredictable. Changes of hearts, houses, and ministry assignments abound in the last decade for us. Many failures along with some successes. 

And yet, I can confidently say that we are also different people than we thought we would be—in the best way. The last ten years have led us into maturity, creativity, and community I don’t think we’d have found otherwise. God knew we needed this path. Maybe you can relate.

When I think of the word “pilgrim,” my mind immediately goes to “pilgrimage.” One definition I found says that a pilgrimage is “a devotional practice consisting of a prolonged journey . . . toward a specific destination of significance.” Many religions incorporate pilgrimage as a significant milestone. Jews take birthright pilgrimages to Israel, and Muslims journey to Mecca. These are seen as pivotal times in the life of those who undertake these journeys. 

Christianity is seeing a surge of popularity around pilgrimages. This might be something formalized, like hiking the Camino de Santiago, or perhaps something privately organized, like a guided trip to Assisi to learn about St. Francis or along the coast of Turkey to visit the cities of Revelation. Learning and travel seem to go hand in hand, don’t they? 

As I’ve been reflecting, one thing that has become increasingly clear to me is that following the Lord into a life abroad is much less like a “destination” and really more of a pilgrimage. We have a clear direction of where we are going, most of the time, and we know loosely how to get there. But the journey itself is often where the real fruit is found, where the consistent growth and shaping happens. I really believe God designed it this way. 

Remembering that this life overseas is a journey is a beautiful balm to our weary souls when things aren’t going how we planned. When we don’t see the numbers we want, we remember that this is just a stop along the way, shaping us to be more like Christ. When our team or church plant or business start-up falls apart, we remember this isn’t the end of the story but just one spot along the path of following Christ in this global life. When we have to leave the field for an unexpected reason, when a best friend leaves, when we lose the life of a dear local colleague, we remember that we can’t see what’s around the bend—but God can. 

Thinking of this as a journey also brings grace when the terrain shifts for us in some way. Friends might only accompany us on a section of our journey. Roads that felt smooth for a season may suddenly be riddled with potholes—but they will likely improve again. We might have seasons through treacherous mountain passes and seasons where we linger in wide valleys. One thing remains consistent: the Lord leads us through it all. 

Taking this posture toward our overseas life doesn’t make the difficult times easier, though. Something I’ve learned along the way is that the richest gifts come when I decide to be present to the moment and season I’m inhabiting: not looking backward and not yearning for a new season but taking stock of where I find myself and embracing it for what it is. Simply naming the present moment, especially in prayer, can be a powerful practice: 

Here is disappointment—this isn’t what I expected.

Here is grief after a loss.

Here, also, is hope that things might change.

Here is loneliness.

Here are unexpected opportunities. 

Here is trepidation about new teammates. 

Here are unanswered prayers.

Here are some things I prayed for a long time—now answered. 

Wherever you find yourself on your journey, the Lord is with you, and he goes before AND behind you! May his perfect peace allow you to be present in your current station on your journey. May you find comfort when you grieve, and may you be rooted in his faithfulness as you celebrate. May you know that his love is walking you home.

How would you describe this point in your journey? What do you need to name?