Just as sleep was about to envelope me in that deep and satisfying way, I heard the familiar rustling from the other room. I inwardly groaned as the warmth of relaxed muscles gave way to readiness for the inevitable midnight nursing session. Willa always stirs before fully waking, and my ears are fine-tuned to the sound of her little PJ clad body rolling around in her vinyl travel crib. It can be loud when everything else is silent. After the stirring comes soft crying (sigh.) or unexpected peace for a few more hours (yay!!).

When I reminisce about my childhood, digging deep in my brain to find the kind of fleshed out memories you find in someone’s memoirs, all I usually get are flash moments; an incident here, an emotion there, a vague idea of the whole. Despite my inability to conjure up a fully formed childhood, one thing that resides over all of those years is a memory of my mother serving. I see her carrying our bags in the mall. I remember her reading to me and my sister on those two nights each week Dad was working late. I remember her planning our family vacations, getting cars serviced, being the receptionist at Dad’s practice, taking us to violin practice, piano practice, tennis lessons, camp, driving five teenage girls to Disney in a van (wow). I could list so many more things that I remember her doing. And never once, not even once, did I hear her complain about how much she was doing. She just did it. My world was secure because Mom was there, and she would see to it. Whatever “it” was, she was in control and didn’t seem to resent it.

I’m not great at that attitude of putting my head down and working happily. I keep score in various levels of my life. The spousal level is the worst (I’m nursing three times a night, what equivalence are you doing?!?!), but it even leaks into my relationship with God. See these things I’ve done? See these ways I’m sacrificing? Could you cut a girl a break with the horrible weather? I mean…. it’s hot! And dry!! And hot!!! Poor sweaty me.

One thing we love about the flat we’re assigned to here in Madang is its close proximity to the National Coworkers Building, or Nat House. Brian has developed relationships with the Papua New Guinean men coming into town to work on New Testament translations or literacy materials or audio recordings. He’s privy to some of their triumphs and many of their frustrations. Ray meanders back there with him, and prays for “the guys in the back” each night. One group in particular has spent quite a lot of time in town working on completing the New Testament in their language. This group is so close to finishing, and when that happens bad things inevitably start befalling programs. Satan doesn’t want truth in the darkness, so he attacks and attacks and attacks. Miscommunication, discouragement, infighting, sickness, and death all plague programs in their final years. This group has had their fair share of all of it, and yet they doggedly pursue the end.

One individual in this group, Hans, joined the team earlier this year. He is helping with the final edits making sure the books are natural and clear. Since he joined the team less than a year ago, four people have died in his immediate family. Four. Each death has occurred while he’s in town working on the New Testament. Last week was the fourth death; his sister. Traveling anywhere in this country is exhausting, and their language area is no different. We all expected him to go home and stay home as they mourned this most recent loss. Instead he went home last Monday, they buried his sister on Tuesday, and he got back onto public transport Tuesday to travel through the night. He wanted to be in the office for the Wednesday work session. He didn’t keep score. He didn’t complain. He didn’t waver. He is feeling the cost of discipleship and living out the very difficult verses we prefer to forget about.

If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters – yes, even their own life – such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:26-27

Many others on the team are experiencing similar trials. As I watch them carry their crosses and follow Christ in a manner well beyond anything I have done, I marvel at what God is doing in their lives. And I’m afraid. Right now I can’t even abide a soundly sleeping husband while I tend to our sweet baby; a natural and godly division of labor. How will I manage a cross of heartache and sickness? How will I fare when God practically demands all of me rather than theoretically proposing I do so? When Satan attacks and attacks and attacks?

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.
Deuteronomy 31:8

Ah, right. That’s how.

We talked to Hans about sharing his story and asked if there was anything specific our friends and family could be praying about for him. He simply asked that you lift up his family. Please pray for comfort, peace, and healing after this very difficult year.

Also pray for the Mborena Kam editing team. Pray that God would sustain them and draw them closer to Himself through the often painstaking editing process.