Category: Servant Life

Jim grew up on a farm in Illinois; Judy was the child of missionaries in Argentina. We met at Wheaton College and were both challenged away from middle-class comfort and safety. We got together as a couple while reaching out to the chronically mentally ill and others in Chicago’s Uptown neighborhood. Here we discuss our introduction as young adults past the usual hurdles of fear and discomfort, into the joy of caring for folks at the so-called bottom.

Self-denial and sacrifice for the sake of Jesus and his Kingdom have fallen greatly out of fashion in the affluent West. And while I might consider myself having sacrificed–e.g. moving away from family, living by choice on below average income, in global and historical terms, I am extremely safe and comfortable, even prosperous, with a home and car of my own. And even a second home in Bangkok now that we live in two places.

Given the words of Jesus, and writings like Hebrews 11 or Romans 8:17 (“…if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.”), it is clear that we 21st century anti-discomfort, anti-risk Christians would do well to at least bring up the subject. And indeed that is a key purpose of our mission.

This poem has been attributed to George MacDonald since at least 1909, but I have been unable to find an actual publish date or original source. It’s been given different titles, mostly “Obedience” and “What Christ Said”, so I made up my own. I am not a MacDonald scholar, but I am not aware of other writings by him on this sort of theme. So I do wonder if it was perhaps misattributed and caught on. MacDonald died in 1905. In any case, I’ve always felt it states very well the example of Jesus, and the call given to those willing to make tough choices for the promise of greater reward.

In the early morning of February 10, a man I will call “Bank” broke the front glass door of our main building at The Well, which hosts the Glass of Water church, because he thought we had taken his daughter and wife. We had no idea about where his family might be, but before he destroyed the door, he came to our house around 1 a.m. and yelled a lot of bad words at us about The Well and the church. He was very drunk and shouting enough for the neighbors to hear. Though he mentioned my name, I decided not to go down and talk to him because I knew it would do no good when he was like that. After he broke the glass on the church door, our neighbors who lived on the street called the police, and he was arrested.

Around 6 a.m. that day, I went to the police station to provide a statement about the incident. I told the policemen I wanted to talk to Bank for two reasons. First, I wanted him to know that we did not have any clue where his wife and daughter were. And second, I wanted to give him the option of going to a rehab center. The police told me to come back at 2 p.m. because they needed to wait until Bank was sober.

We know this family because Bank’s wife sold grilled pork on the street near the church a few months ago. Their daughter ran around on the street, and we saw it was unsafe. We let her know her daughter could come inside the church to play safely while her mom worked. We also told her we would care for the girl and give her meals. My wife, Ann, helped the girl take a shower because she hadn’t washed for a few days and wore the same clothes. We also talked to her mother about helping with her education because she had often skipped classes. But before the New Year, the mother took the daughter with her and ran away from this man because he was drunk every day and also used drugs.

I went to the police station that afternoon and met with Bank. I told him we did not hide his daughter and wife, which he said he understood now and apologized. I told him I could see a good part in him and believed he could be a better man and have his family back if he could leave his old life. I told him God loves him and would like to give him a second chance. At that moment, he just cried. I told him that I would look for a rehab center for him to recover his life. He needed to leave his place and this area. He said he would return to be with his dad in the country when he had money. I asked for his phone number and told him when I found the rehab center, I would call him. If he wants to go, I will take him there. If he doesn’t want to go, that is up to him. I prayed for him in front of everyone at the police station.

When I talked to Bank, I didn’t see any aggressive action. He is a small person, broken and lost. The alcohol and drugs change him into another person. Most importantly, I am thankful I could show Bank God’s love and grace, which I am sure no one had ever shown him. People in the neighborhood spoke negatively of him and even cursed him for his background. I do not know whether he will accept the offer to go to the rehab center, and I do not know that he will leave his old life. But I know that on that day, we showed this man God’s grace and love—and offered hope for the future. We let him know that God’s kingdom belongs to him because Jesus also came for him.

This incident reminded me of the “I give you back to God” scene in Les Misérables when the priest forgave Jean Valjean after he stole the silver. Jim and I talked about this scene long ago; I love it so much. I am thankful that God has used us, Nam Nueng Gaew (Glass of Water Church), to be His tool of love for the community.

Update, March 7:

We received the sad and shocking news that Bank died February 29 while he was working at a construction site. I can’t imagine how I would feel now if I had told him to leave us alone and not to come to the church area or if I had not gone to the police station. I would have been very regretful that I had not done anything to show God’s grace, love, and compassion to him. Indeed, people would not be angry with us because he had done wrong and deserved consequences. Even some of my Christian friends thought that way. However, as Christians, we are called to do and act differently, aren’t we? That is why we are trying to imitate Jesus, who has shown us to do the Father’s mission creatively with love and compassion.

One thing God is showing me in this situation is expressed in Psalm 90:12, the prayer of Moses, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” I believe God is stimulating Nam Nueng Gaew church to enter the season of evangelism. The death of Bank reminded me that death is near us. We need God’s wisdom to help us live according to His mission and purpose.

After hearing the news, I began praying for the opportunity to see his wife and daughter to make sure they were well, and their needs were met. I asked a few friends to pray with me, and God answered our prayers quickly. We have been in touch and are taking steps to help ensure the daughter is safe and able to attend school. Her mother has expressed that she would like to attend the church.

Nam Nueng Gaew has been in this community for almost one year, and our strategy is to get to know the community and make ourselves known to them. God has reminded me that He has an excellent plan for this church and is in control. We have a high hope that they will not only see us in their community but also see Jesus, the One who leads us to do such a thing.

Ever so often, I open Google Earth and explore some remote place, perhaps Illinois, Iowa, or Patagonia, imagining living there until the end of my days. It invokes a feeling of longing, not unlike John’s island in The Pilgrim’s Regress. Judy and I would live on homegrown produce, eggs, and goat milk. We would enjoy peaceful sunsets. Nearby, but not too close, would be crusty, gossipy-but-kindhearted neighbors. I consider how long my shy-yet-extroverted ADHD brain would enjoy it, then turn my mind back to the din and dinginess of our beloved Bangkok.

That imagined longevity of contentment grows with age. I am just past sixty-five and one-half years. Many of my peers have retired, and I understand the pull. Caring for something relatively predictable and cooperative, like chickens or spinach, has definite appeal.

But our chosen strategy, or our felt call from God, of building leaders from poor, traumatized, minimally-educated adults put us in it for the long haul. Not only is healing and growth a slow and bumpy process, but there has also been so much to learn. “We can’t quit now,” I said to Judy. “We’re just starting to figure this out.”

But experience is double-edged. We understand better how to help folks, but are also far more realistic, not only about the time and effort many people need but also the limits of what we can accomplish. I imagine a sequel to the Good Samaritan parable:

Ten weeks later, the Samaritan is traveling on the same road and comes upon the very same man lying bruised and bleeding. Just as the Samaritan is gingerly lifting the poor man onto his donkey, the priest and Levite arrive. “Yeah, we’ve helped him a few times,” the priest comments, “And tried to tell him to stop coming here with another bag of silver. He just won’t listen.” 

Of course, this discouraging perspective is a minor annoyance compared to the opposition that must have smashed Paul’s early idealism, at least temporarily. I often review Philippians for perspective tweaks. He mentions “chains” four times in chapter one. How does one sleep attached to those? He’s locked up while bad apples are getting away with misguided forms of evangelism. Then there’s this: “I have no one else like [Timothy]…. For everyone looks out for their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ.” (2:20-21) And that’s right after his earnest plea to do just the opposite: “not looking to your own interests….” (2:4) I’m sure Paul was well past cynicism at that point, but he must have spent some lonely, painful days, prayerfully wondering how everyone could seem so selfish. For all of Paul’s spiritual gianthood, I imagine this reality must have crossed his mind when he wrote, “To die is gain.” 

One could easily read Acts and Paul’s letters and conclude, “For me to live is to work for Christ.” But Paul had once worked for God, and look where it got him. 

To be clear, I’m also past cynicism. But life does dig away at youthful idealism and throws realism in our faces with a mocking, “Yes, that was an impossible dream. At least you tried, but maybe it is better to fade away after all.”     

Perhaps there was some get-me-out-of-here desperation, but I think Paul would have us take more notice of the first clause of that succinct sentence, “For me to live is Christ…” [emphasis added].

One could easily read Acts and Paul’s letters and conclude, “For me to live is to work for Christ.” But Paul had once worked for God, and look where it got him. 

I imagine him sitting in chains and remembering the respect he once commanded as an influential, violent activist. But now, to him, that young man at the top of his game had been a dead man (Eph 2:1), and the success and comfort? Filthy garbage (Phil 3:8). Christ was the only life for him, no matter how much the chains chafed and how often he was misunderstood.

That goal of single-mindedness is what I hear God whispering. Our natural self-centeredness easily turns Jesus into a means for the benefits he provides, including success in ministry. We become conditional in our trust. This trap has caught me repeatedly, and God has persistently brought the correcting medicine of discouragement.  

This medicine will lead us away from God or toward him. Taken enough, discouragement can produce another realism–the ultimate one, if you will–that God is faithful. All those verses, hymns, songs, testimonies, and memories are right. He alone is worth desiring.  

So no, I do not think our call is ending, but rather, I see a warm and joyful invite from Jesus to find new rest, strength, and wisdom in him as we keep going. Judy and I are sharing this together these days and immensely enjoying it. We can’t quit now. We’re just starting to figure it out.

Serving Jesus starts with family. Judy Larson’s dad, 98, recently had to move from home care to a nursing home. She reflects on the wonder of life as the end nears.

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That smell of pee is in my nostrils, so strong it almost hurts or at least feels very uncomfortable, and with that comes a worry that it might be me.

I have my own confusion. It is part of the burden of a poet’s mind; these tendencies to make connections others might not. Questions of what is me and what is them are sometimes blurred, our connections slightly irregular and less defined, I want to know you, and in that process, I see myself once again. And so, while I stand by this elderly soul, the pervasive smells of a nursing home will lead me into these very personal concerns regarding my own hygiene. My confident, capable human self wonders about me. It’s not just the smell; actually, my brain feels a need to confirm the day and make sure I know who our president is, so I keep my balance once again.

Coffee helps, and an early morning-cloud-clearing-Kentucky sky. This window opens to the sky, and here is a possible moment to take notes of this month, July, my own little methods to keep things real. I have that feeling of not being enough for myself or for anyone else. Lost. Jesus is, I know that. But I want to be, too, alongside my Jesus and to be certain of something. To be something solid in this topsy place.

I feel this possibly because my dad is lost, his mind somewhere far. He knows too, and it is scary for him. In his mind, I might be, possibly not even me, his dear daughter, but maybe I am someone posing as me, his dear daughter, Judy. He tells me his life is full of “shenanigans,” his bruised pinky toe a mystery, and might be part of the whole conspiracy against him. My daddy.

But there is still something way deep down that trusts my face, that holds my hugs and knows. Something deep inside where he knows he is a child of the King, way down deep down beyond his doubts and wonderings. Down under his failings, there is an anchor that holds. That something that is down underneath what his brain can’t manage right now.

So I hold him the best I can, which is not enough. But still, he has something more and something better in his soul, something that his brain doesn’t matter about. I do have a rather unorthodox belief that faith can be a group deal, that in this community of the saints, we can stand up when someone else might not. That we can be like the elephants and stand on either side of someone drowning in their fear, to be the faith that they might not have right now.

And so I hold him the best I can.

I have a child who once cried out in his despair, his faith lost. My desperate mother’s heart told him I would hold his faith for a little bit. Is that so crazy? But then that’s where these thoughts started. This poet’s way of understanding, this mixing of boundaries that sometimes hurts, this crossing into where we bear one another’s burdens alongside that other tremendous knowing that we must bear our own (Galatians 6).

These past two weeks, I have been with my dad in his nursing home, and these elders have influenced me ever so much. That memory care stage, how does one do that? Even for myself, with my “robust” mind, I must take note and guard my mind as it mixes in with the questions about the day of the week, the month, whether it is day or night, and where we are right now – is this the dining hall? Mr. Quin, who were you before all this “rigamarole,” this bunching of your blankets and garbled speech? Where did you work, and what was your life? Here you are with this lovely, classy wife and you, this strange little man. How does God manage this? I know he does it in the best possible way, and I must trust that. For me, this business of Memory care just makes me one more mystery. But I know for certain that you’ve prepared this table; you’ve set this before us. My dad is sitting here in the presence of his enemies at your table. You are in this deeper down, the soul part of my daddy, and I am here with you both, too, in something sacred and forever, something more solid that makes us real.

Update: Ronald Olson, a Purple Heart veteran of WWII and a career missionary to Argentina, passed on to Jesus October 9, 2023.

A key priority we have written about extensively is community transformation as the best way to fight sex trafficking. We have scratched the surface of that a bit in our large, dense neighborhood, with the overall dream always being to grow neighborhood churches. 

We have known Addy and Ann for many years, including their dream for education and discipleship for needy children and families. In late 2021 we made a commitment to help them towards that vision, which now is focused on growing a church that can reach folks at the bottom. They then hope to begin a small Christian school connected with the church. 

We are currently providing financial support as seed money, and Addy was blessed with a full scholarship for an M.A. at Wheaton Graduate School. He is in a hybrid program, studying online while coming to the U.S. for short intensive classes. His first U.S. visit was last October, and 3 more trips are scheduled for this year.  

Here is Addy’s story:

My father was alcoholic and my mother addicted to gambling. My dad drank almost every day, especially on payday, and my mom often frequented gambling houses. They fought a lot so I hung out with friends as much as possible to avoid being home.

At age 12 I learned that I would not be able to attend high school because my parents had not paid my fees at primary school. Mom had spent Dad’s earnings on gambling debts. Not long after that my parents broke up, and I had to move in with my grandparents in a distant area of Bangkok. 

My older cousins also lived with them. They were drug dealers who began using me to deliver drugs, and with my pay I would play at the video game shop and hang out with friends. I thought my life would go nowhere, but one day a friend I played soccer with invited me to a Christmas party at his church.

I always remember my first step entering that church. I had a warm feeling, sensing love that I had never known. I wasn’t yet open to Christianity, thinking it was a foreign religion, but my church friends kept inviting me to play soccer. They and other church members treated me in a way that was amazing and wonderful. That made me want to know God more, so I started reading the Bible, and began to see who God is, and how Jesus died for everyone. I decided to become Christian on January 6, 2002. 

My friend told me to ask God anything I wanted and He would answer. The first thing I prayed for was to be able to go back to study. A few months later I had a chance encounter with my aunt (which I know for sure was God’s plan), who had learned that I was not studying. She asked if I wanted to go back to school, and I said yes. The following day she went and talked to the headmaster of my old school, and he gave her my diploma. I was so joyful that I cried and had no words. 

Tired of my living situation, I asked my pastor to let me stay at the church for two weeks. He said yes, and I ended up staying there five years. The church supported and trained me in the way of God, and funded my high school costs. I can honestly say that without their God- inspired help I would still be a lost person. That is why my life is for Christ.        

During my sophomore year in University while studying for an English degree I was doing a report about the problems of Thai teenagers. I wanted a pastor’s perspective on this issue, so a friend at church introduced me to Jim Larson at The Well. When I first heard about what The Well was doing with women at risk I thought, “Is it possible that there could be such a ministry in Thailand?” Jim talked about doing ministry where “love comes first” as Jesus loves us. So I started rereading the Gospels, and saw how Jesus was always with the poor, the broken, the abandoned, the widow, and the orphans.

Later during my senior year, I did a report titled “Educational Inequality Between the Students in Bangkok and the Rural Areas”, and I came to interview women at The Well, and was able to work there as an intern. After I graduated The Well team invited me to join as full-time staff.

I worked with The Well in Bangkok for 4 years, and meanwhile completed a master’s degree in educational administration. My wife, Ann, and I also had the opportunity to work for 18 months in a rural community in northeastern Thailand where we learned a lot about its  people and culture, and gained experience developing young people through education and the love of Jesus. 

God then opened an unbelievable door for me to teach at Triam Udom Suksa school, the top public school in Thailand. I taught there for four years while also completing my teacher certification requirements. But I wanted to work in a Christian educational ministry, and God led me to work at a Christian university to gain experience in higher education as well. 

I believe God has built my life step by step, He has given me such broad experience as preparation to lead an educational ministry that helps poor, broken, and underprivileged kids to touch the love of Jesus in all areas of life, spirit, body, emotion, and social development, and build their lives in His kingdom.

The education center that I envision will be a ministry of a local church, as I believe that the Church is the center for building God’s kingdom. Ann is gifted organizationally as well as working with small kids. She shares this vision, and by God’s grace and power we will work towards it together,