Miles In Missions

Let me neither ignore my pain, pretending all is OK when it isn’t, nor coddle and magnify my pain, so that I dull my capacity to experience all that remains good in life.
For joy that denies sorrow is neither hard won, nor true, nor eternal. It is not really joy at all. And sorrow that refuses to make space for the return of joy and hope, in the end becomes nothing more than a temple of worship of my own woundedness.
So give me strength, oh God, to feel this grief deeply, never to hide my heart from it. And give me also hope enough to remain open to surprising encounters with joy, as one on a woodland path might stumble suddenly on dapplings of golden light.
Let me learn now, oh Lord, to do this as naturally as the inhale and exhale of breath:
To breathe out sorrow, to breathe in joy.
To breathe out lament, to breathe in hope.
To breathe out pain, to breathe in comfort.
To breathe out sorrow, to breathe in joy.

— Douglas McKelvey

---

There is a lingering grief that quietly resides within me. I believe it stems from the life I once knew in Nigeria, a life that felt eternal, a life I fully invested in, selling everything I owned to embrace it, for Him. It was a life where every day was steeped in prayer, drenched in His word alongside fellow believers. Each day was surrendered, wrapped in uncertainty, never comfortable but always full of purpose. A purpose not tied to earthly comforts but rooted in the eternal, where my calling was to help others experience Christ’s love in everything I did. And though I haven’t truly named it until now, I realize I still grieve that life.

I grieve the rhythm of waking up each day with no set plan except to trust fully in Him, to let Him lead. It was a life marked by constant surrender, by walking in faith, even when the path ahead was unclear. I think, deep down, I miss that simplicity of surrender, of not knowing what each day would hold, but trusting wholeheartedly that God had it all in His hands. Even now, I can feel that ache, the longing for that life of ministry and the connection to something greater, something eternal.

Yet, even in this season of grief, God continues to remind me that there is a purpose in this waiting, in this in-between. He continues to walk with me, guiding me to trust that He will use me again when I am ready. It may not look the same as before, but I know He is preparing my heart for something new, something that still reflects the deep love and surrender I experienced before.

I am learning, slowly but surely, to hold space for both grief and joy. To breathe out the sorrow of what was and to breathe in the hope of what is yet to come. Just as the poem says, I want to feel this grief deeply, to not shy away from it. But I also want to remain open to the surprising moments of Joy that God will bring, even when I least expect it.

For now, I will continue to walk in faith, trusting that God’s plan is unfolding in His perfect timing.

---

I woke up this morning with a nudge from God. Something I’ve been searching for—trying to find in studies, groups, and even in my work—became crystal clear: it’s time to go back to the basics.

I started asking myself, what did I do during my time in Nigeria that I’m not doing now? What practices helped me feel so connected to God back then? And why did I stop?

In Nigeria, my mornings were sacred. I used to spend one to one and a half hours with God. I’d light a candle, think, and sip my coffee with my dogs by my side. No rush, no pressure—just time to sit and be. I’d listen to worship songs, sometimes singing, sometimes just letting the words wash over me. I’d journal—pouring out my thoughts, my hopes, and even my worries. I also had a prayer journal, something I’d started after reading “The Circle Maker” by Mark Batterson. I think it’s time to revisit that again….

It wasn’t complicated in Nigeria. But here, I’ve been too busy looking for Him, too busy searching everywhere else, when all I need to do is what I did back then, sit and be.

In Nigeria, we didn’t have all the options like we do here in the States. There weren’t tons of Bible study groups to choose from, and you couldn’t get the next study in print delivered to your door in a few days. There were no constant distractions of more and more resources, pulling me in different directions. I just sat with Him. And that was enough.

So why have I complicated it here? As we get older, do we make things harder than they need to be? Is it because we feel like we’ve “been there, done that, got the t-shirt” and now we’re constantly chasing the next thing to fill us up? Maybe, instead, it’s about repeating what worked before. Going back to those favorite scripture verses, books and studies that once spoke to me and seeing what they have to say in this season of my life.

Maybe it’s not about constantly seeking something new. Maybe what restored my soul 10 years ago can restore it now too. It’ll just look different.

So here I am—committing to go back to the basics. To repeat what once worked. To stop searching and simply be with Him. “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10, NIV). For those of you who know me…..this isn’t easy. HAHA! Pray for me!

I used to journal a lot, both before my time in Nigeria and while I lived there. My words felt raw and vulnerable, yet sharing them in my blogs gave me a sense of release. My journey—moving to Nigeria, living there, and experiencing all the challenges and triumphs—resonated with so many. I would often receive comments from readers saying how my words touched them deeply and helped them through their own struggles. 

But these days? I find myself journaling only when I’m upset or have something I need to vent about. 

For those who remember my Miles in Missions blogs, you might be wondering—what happened to it? 

Is Miles in Missions dead?

Some might say, “Well of course not, look at C.A.R.E. Africa.” Miles in Missions thrived, long before C.A.R.E. was founded. From discipling the Nigerian staff, praying with patients at the hospital, visiting orphanages to spend time with the children, to tutoring kids in my own home—it was alive and vibrant. 

This mission laid the foundation for C.A.R.E. Africa, a ministry I now have the privilege to lead as its Executive Director, helping to keep the story alive. I’m blessed with an incredible team who truly embody being the hands and feet of Christ to the kids, caregivers, and staff each day.

But what about Miles in Missions?

I have no idea what that looks like now, here in the U.S.A. Maybe it’s just working a full-time job and giving whatever is left over to others? 

How can I revive it? How can it breathe life again? I have searched for studies, for Chrisitan business and nonprofit groups, for anything that would inspire me or allow me to get involved, but so far, nothing has come. For the past six years, I’ve felt like a little girl in a children’s story, searching and searching for something she has lost. She looks everywhere—under her bed, in her closet, under rocks outside. “Jesus, are you there?” she asks. But she can’t find Him. 

I know in my heart that this isn’t true. I know He’s always with me. But after living the life I did in Nigeria, His presence feels distant here in the U.S.A.

Jesus, where are you like you were with me in Nigeria when I was driving those dangerous roads, praying for protection from kidnappers, robbers, and endless traffic jams? Where are you like you were with me in Nigeria when I was visiting neglected children and women, praying with them and helping them? Or when gunshots rang outside my doors in Jos, or when I was dealing with malaria every other month, or dealing with corrupt police when trying to run a simple errand? 

Where are you, Jesus, like you were with me in Nigeria when I was overwhelmed by corruption, loneliness, and holidays spent far away from my family?

Is Miles in Missions dead?

Without Him, I am nothing. Without Him, I can do nothing. Without Him, I cannot be His hands and feet. Miles in Missions isn’t dead, it’s just suppressed. And I want to revive it, but I can’t do it without Him. 

Lord, I’m tired of searching. Please meet me where I am. Show me how to lean on You again, like I did in Nigeria. 

Help this square peg stop trying to fit into a round hole and instead help me find the square hole You carved just for me with Your carpenter’s hands.

Lord, revive Miles in Missions for Your glory. Show the world what You can do with a willing heart that says, “Here I am, Lord. Use me.”