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.

Mennonite Mission Network, our sending missions agency, recently offered me the opportunity to film a project in 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.

I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm a Christian missionary and I loathe the term "evangelism."

My friend Hal used to say people like me don't like evangelism because we "have seen evangelism done wrong time and time again." Those words have proven to be pivotal for me. If it's possible for evangelism to be "done wrong," what does it mean to be "done right?"

When Alisha and I first began talking about serving abroad several years ago, we never would have thought we'd end up serving in Europe. After all, mission workers are supposed to go to the poor, third-world countries of this world, right?