Church visits and thin places
Being back in the states this year has opened our eyes to the faithfulness of God’s people in so many ways. We live a weird life. Our paycheck comes from churches and individual Christians. Our bills are paid by the generosity of others. When we first started walking this path of overseas ministry I had a mental image of our family standing in tattered clothing, gathered around a fire drum with a hat in fingerless-gloved hands outstretched asking passersby to “spare a dime”. Our children would be waif-like thin with smudged dirty faces and shoulders drawn inward. Their eyes would reflect a painful vulnerability that comes from abject poverty. This image, straight out of a Charles Dickens novel, lent a sense of shame and timidity towards fund-raising. Then one day God spoke to me in the midst of a prayer soaked in fear and loathing of having to ask others to join with us in support of starting the mission aviation program for Bongolo. God questioned me (not audibly) “Do yo