Small Beginnings and Strong Faith

I recently had the privilege of attending a leadership seminar hosted at our mission’s retirement center. It was a special opportunity to reconnect with two key figures from my early days in the field: the personnel director who first sent us out and our regional director at the time. Both couples, now retired, continue to serve faithfully, leading prayer gatherings in the community.

And there was no shortage of prayer here.

Each day, I witnessed groups meeting in homes and around dining tables, lifting up prayers for unreached people groups and for laborers to be sent into the harvest. As my former director pointed out, this is where the real work of missions begins. I was deeply moved by the atmosphere of spiritual devotion that permeated every moment.

One afternoon, as I sat down for lunch, a gentleman named Chuck strolled over to my table. Introducing himself with a grin as "Chuck the Duck," he wasted no time in sharing bits of his life story. Over the course of the week, I encountered Chuck a few more times, and each conversation left me feeling both encouraged and challenged.

His pearls of wisdom, born out of years of faithfulness, left a lasting impact on me. Here's a glimpse of what Chuck shared and how it's reshaped my thinking.

"This is the Congo"

Chuck served as a missionary in the Congo with his wife and children during the Congo Crisis in the 1960s, as the country struggled for independence from Belgium. In the midst of rising hostilities, foreigners—including missionaries—became targets. One fateful day, soldiers arrived at Chuck’s door. They had already arrested other missionaries, and the truck was nearly full. There was room for only one more person: Chuck. His wife and children were left behind, as the soldiers planned to return the next day for the rest of the family.

By God’s grace, that promise was never fulfilled. Chuck, with a knowing smile, explained the situation as "This is the Congo"—a phrase used to describe when things don't go as expected. Though his family was spared that day, Chuck was imprisoned for over 100 days, witnessing the heartbreaking loss of friends who had made the ultimate sacrifice for their service to the Lord.

"This is the Congo" became a quiet acknowledgment that, in life and missions, things often don't follow a set plan. For those of us who have served abroad, the phrase brings to mind similar expressions like "This is Africa"—a reminder that we are in a different place, governed by different rhythms and ways of life. Whether waiting on residence permits, navigating bureaucracy, or trying to pay a bill, the saying grounds us in the reality of life in a foreign culture.

What struck me most about Chuck wasn’t just his words, but his steadfastness of faith. As he shared his story, I was reminded of the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Philippians:

"Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:11-13).

Even in his later years, with a frailer body and unsteady gait, Chuck radiated a strength that wasn’t physical—it was the strength that comes from the Lord.

Lord, grant us the same grace to rest in Your power, no matter what circumstances we face.

"Don't despise small beginnings"

As Chuck asked about our ministries, I sensed he picked up on an undercurrent of "smallness" in what we shared. Perhaps we felt the weight of our efforts seeming insignificant.

Chuck, too, had known what it was to start small. When he and his wife first arrived in the Congo, they found themselves in a foreign land, where even the sounds and landscapes were unfamiliar. In obedience, they set out to begin a school, despite there being only a handful of children able to attend—some because of reluctance of locals, others because their help was needed at home. But Chuck smiled as he told us that, today, the school they founded now serves hundreds of students.

"Don't despise small beginnings," he encouraged.

I, too, remember small beginnings. Our team arrived in a village of thousands, which hosted just one Christian family. We were inexperienced, without language skills or cultural understanding. Green doesn’t even begin to describe us, yet we felt called and ready to serve. In those early days, language learning was the steepest hill to climb. It seemed trivial at the time—practicing numbers, naming colors with neighbors—but these humble efforts laid the foundation for relationships, and those relationships would become the first spaces where the gospel was shared.

The seeds we scatter may feel small, whether in discipling our children, teaching a Sunday school class, prayers for our colleagues, or simply loving our neighbors. The number of relationships may seem few, but their importance is immeasurable. Nor should we overlook the significance of faithfully bringing goodness and truth into our daily lives, wherever God has placed us. Our workplaces, our activities, our routines—these are our ministries. We live for Christ in these spaces so that others may see Him reflected in us.

We don’t always see the full outcome of our faithful proclamation. That part belongs securely in the hands of the Lord. Our role is simply to be faithful.

These small seeds of faith, sown in obedience, are offerings to the Lord. As Paul reminds us, "we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ" (2 Cor. 2:15). Chuck’s words echo the exhortation from Hebrews: "Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us" (Heb. 12:1).

The small things in life reveal the true state of our hearts and our confidence in God’s purpose for us. May we never underestimate their significance. Like the lost sheep or the one lost coin, the smallest moments and opportunities are valuable in God’s eyes.

Lord, help us to treasure each one, knowing the results are in Your hands.

"Wear the shirt you're given."

One day, I noticed Chuck wearing a Christmas shirt—in the middle of July. When someone made a lighthearted comment about it, Chuck grinned and replied, "You gotta wear the shirt you're given."

His response struck me in a way that seemed uniquely fitting for a missionary. It reminded me of the many gifts missionaries receive over the years, sometimes things we can’t imagine using or wearing. My sister and I, for example, have completely different tastes in clothing. Fashion has never been my forte, and if I ever gave her a shirt, I’m sure it would sit in her closet unworn.

But Chuck’s comment wasn’t just about the literal shirt. It was an expression of contentment, of accepting what’s given—whether it's practical, needed, or even expected. He came from a time when supporters, perhaps out of the best intentions, would send used tea bags, thinking surely the missionary could still get one more use out of them. It seems almost laughable, but there’s a deeper lesson here.

Missionaries often feel pressed financially, and I know the reality of that firsthand. One of the biggest arguments my husband and I had overseas took place in the cereal aisle of the ShopRite, the city store where we went for supplies. A single box of cereal there cost more than we typically spent in a whole week in the village. (I’ll let you guess who felt they needed the cereal). It was a stark reminder of how much less we had to work with.

Yet, in the midst of that financial reality, we learned the invaluable lesson of contentment. Like Chuck, we found that contentment is not just about accepting what we have, but about being deeply grateful for the gifts we receive—no matter how small or unexpected they may be. Every supporter who signed on to partner with us, every care package, every prayer lifted on our behalf was treasured.

The Apostle Paul understood this well when he wrote to the Philippians:

"I am well supplied, having received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God" (Phil. 4:18).

Paul didn’t rejoice because he was in desperate need; he rejoiced because the gifts he received were a tangible expression of God's provision. They weren’t just material blessings—they were reminders of the faithful people behind them, the overflow of God’s blessings passed from one hand to another.

Chuck’s simple phrase, "wear the shirt you're given," sums up that attitude perfectly. It’s about being thankful for what God places in our hands, whether it’s the perfect fit or not, knowing that everything we receive is a reflection of His care and the generosity of His people.

Lord, may we always be grateful for the shirts we are given, trusting that God will provide all that we truly need.

Chuck’s life and words left a deep imprint on me. His example reminds me that in every season, faithfulness, gratitude, and trust in God's provision fuel our devotion and endurance for the kingdom. May we all run our race with perseverance, knowing that no act of obedience, no matter how small, is ever wasted in the hands of our Lord.