We left Barcelona in 2022 with a clear call to Belfast — and expected to arrive within months. Instead, we entered a long season of waiting, wondering, and learning to grow in the desert. This is the story of what happened, what we’ve learned, and how you can walk with us as we prepare for what’s next.

In retrospect, we can pinpoint the spring of 2021 as the time our laughter disappeared — when our four-year ministry in Barcelona began to fall apart. As concerns regarding COVID-19 began to ease, expectations in the local church community changed. Gradually, things arrived at a point where our family needed to step away.

It's hard to laugh when it feels like the world is crumbling around you.

From a very, very young age when folks asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I would naively respond, “An artist!”

In some ways, my journey seems to be running opposite of Vincent van Gogh. Vocationally, I’ve moved from artist to missionary (or I certainly had way more time to paint before becoming a full-time international church worker). However, in other ways, it’s very similar. I’ve learned to see how the brilliance of God cannot be contained inside a dark building.

When we arrived in the Czech Republic 10 years ago, we encountered young people who were feeling a deep spiritual longing but lacked the vocabulary or the guidance of healthy faith communities to find spiritual nourishment. And isn’t the definition of poverty not being able to get something you need to live fully?

Ergo, Spiritual Poverty.

The institutional church is at a “Calibrate your Phone’s Compass” moment. To be fair, this is a reoccurring phenomenon in the Judeo-Christian story. There are many stories in the scriptures of faithful individuals and communities choosing to calibrate their compasses. In fact, the Christian church was birthed out of just such a moment.

On July 11, 2010, we left for the Czech Republic on what we dubbed to be a “Worthwhile Adventure.” To celebrate the anniversary of this life-changing trip, we thought it would be good to share personal reflections looking back as gnarled, haggard international church workers 10 years later.

Ministry is tough on its best days, and quarantine is possibly the least conducive context from which to start a new program from scratch. “You’d have to be crazy to push forward,” some would say.

“Hold my tapas,” we responded.

Mennonite Mission Network, our sending missions agency, recently offered me the opportunity to film a projectin Benin. Of course, I accepted. It was a great reminder that joy and physical poverty are not directly connected.

It’s easy for wealthy folks like us to ask how we can help poor folks. It’s harder for us to embrace the reality that we can learn something from our brothers and sisters in Benin.

For as long as I can remember, my life has been shaded by clinical depression that comes in its seasonal form every autumn like an unstoppable glacier. It happens in waves, with low points sometimes lasting anywhere from a few days to several months. It’s something I’ve become much more attuned to these past seven years serving in international missions.

This is a nod to every other person currently bracing for the oncoming months.