MorrisFamilyMissions.Org

Last week, I went on a final run to Piltange, a small village near our home. I jogged over crushed betelnut shells and traced a course around potholes filled with lakes of brown water. Fog rose like a shawl over the shoulders of tall pampas grass lining the road. I wound past the turnoff to Mt. Tapi and followed a path I’ve run a hundred times in the past two years. My trail descended into a valley where a half-intact bridge arches over a small river. As I ran, I talked to the Lord.

“Thank you, God, for this beautiful place. Thank you for two years here. Thank you for the gift of living in this land with these people!” My heart swelled with gratitude as I praised God for every face I ran past. 

A few miles down the road, a red dirt trail breaks off to the right and ascends a small mountain. It is my favorite turnaround spot. I make it a ways up the hill and then stop, exhausted, and walk for a bit as I breathe in the vistas on both sides of the ridge. On one side, the Wara Kane river snakes and frolics through the valley. On the other side, pineapple gardens stretch geometrically along a small creek sheltered by overhanging bananas. It is a beautiful place. It is sacred ground. It is where I have talked to God and prayed hundreds of times over the past two years.

As I walked and prepared to turn around and head back to Kudjip, my heart flowed with emotions and memories like the adjacent Wara Kane. I thought joyfully of the previous week, where Genae and I helped lead worship for an Easter Sunrise service. I pictured my Papua New Guinean brothers and sisters worshiping God with their hands raised, singing together in Tok Pisin. I reflected on the myriad parties, send-offs, and goodbyes our missionary community gifted to our family these past two weeks. They have loved us so well.

I started to run down the hill, careful to avoid slipping on the red clay. As I descended, I recognized the face of a woman coming up the mountain with a bilum on her head. She smiled and said, “Dr. Jake! Wok blo yu em smart tumas. Tenk yu! Mi laik sowim yu wanpela samting.” I stopped running as she slid the large bilum off her head. I expected it to be full of sweet potato or kumu, but instead, a little girl was inside. In Papua New Guinea, it is common for women to carry infants and young children in bilums hanging from their heads. I was still surprised as this child emerged from the bilum. The woman, Maria, shared her story. Maria said that Jessica was her granddaughter. Maria’s daughter became very sick when she was pregnant with Jessica, and nearly died. Excitedly, Maria explained that I had cared for her daughter, saved her life, and induced her to deliver Jessica, even though Jessica was premature. She said I cared for Jessica as a premature baby in the nursery. Now, almost two years later, Jessica and her mother were both healthy, and Maria was a proud grandmother.

“Thank you for being here. Thank you for your work. Thank you for helping our family.” She effusively expressed her gratitude as I tried to make Jessica laugh and cajole her into taking a picture with me. A few minutes later, she happily climbed back into the bilum, nibbling on a sweet potato, and I continued my run back to Kudjip.

“How could we leave this place?” It is a question Genae and I have asked a thousand times as we prepared to depart from a place we treasure. Our hearts are knit to the rivers, to the little children suffering from malnutrition on the pediatric ward, and to our tree-climbing, guava-picking missionary nieces and nephews. We don’t feel ready to go. We often yearn to stay.

As our two-year term with Samaritan’s Purse ended, we wrestled with what to do. To say that it was a difficult decision is an understatement. To say that we reached a point of clarity and peace is an overstatement. We prayed and sought wise counsel. We weighed innumerable factors: family, community, church, the kid’s school, ministry fit, work fit, culture, longevity, and Kingdom-impact. Most days, it felt like untangling a bowl of spaghetti. With clarity as clear as the mud-puddles on the road to Piltange, we decided to move back to the States to seek first God’s Kingdom as domestic missionaries. I signed a contract with my previous job in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. We bought a house a mile from our church in Eau Claire that we only saw through FaceTime and photos my dad sent. Then, with our course committed, began months of doubt and grief about leaving Papua New Guinea. 

I need to confess, I struggle with being steadfast. I ping-pong ball think and fall into anxiety over big decisions. I live too much in the future and not enough in the present. There is a line in C.S. Lewis’ “The Screwtape Letters” where the demon Wormwood cautions, “The Enemy [God] wants humans to attend chiefly to two things, to eternity itself, and to that point of time which they call the present. For the present is that point at which time touches eternity… Our business is to get them away from the eternal and the present… We want to make them live in the future. Biological necessity makes all their passions point in that direction already, so that thought about the future inflames hope and fear. Also, it is unknown to them, so that in making them think about it, we make them think of unrealities. In a word, the future is, of all things, the least like eternity.”

I am grateful for Genae, who possesses a peaceful orientation towards the present. For several months, though, I have been preoccupied with the future and worrying about whether I led our family in the wrong direction by leaving Papua New Guinea. I have grieved all that is good and beautiful about this place. To be honest, I have been frustrated with God, wondering why he did not make things more clear. I can think of many other major life decisions where God brought us to a place of clarity, conviction, and peace regarding his will. “Why is it so vague now, God?”

A couple of weeks ago, I was struck as I read 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

In a moment, I realized that walking faithfully with God looks more like rejoicing, praying, and giving thanks in any situation rather than receiving supernatural discernment about next steps. Sometimes, God doesn’t tell me what to do; he tells me how to be. That thought has comforted me. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding, in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make straight your paths.” God doesn’t need to tell me ahead of time what path to take. He tells me how to walk and promises to straighten the road.

So, for the last couple of weeks, I have been settling into a posture of rejoicing, praying, and giving thanks. I’ve tried to heed the wise words of Elisabeth Elliot, “Don’t dig up in doubt what you planted in faith.”

Last Saturday, we shut the front door of our house at Kudjip for the last time. We loaded into a hospital bus. Our brothers and sisters lined the road and pelted our vehicle with flowers as we bumped away with tears in our eyes. 

68 hours after leaving Kudjip, our family walked through the familiar front door of my dad’s house in Menomonie, Wisconsin. We wrapped up Papa with hugs. The kids delighted over seeing horses and blue jays, animals unfamiliar to their eyes. We began to ravenously consume blueberries and raspberries. Milo didn’t know how to flush the toilet because there was a handle on the side instead of a button on top. Harvey saw someone in the airport carrying a tube for a poster presentation and asked why he was carrying a large piece of bamboo. Eleanor smashed her forehead on a glass door because she has lived for three birthdays in a place with no glass doors. Our kids keep leaving the front door open because they think it will swing shut once they careen outside.

It has been a time of mixed emotions. This week, I stood in line at the DMV and wished I were caring for someone with HIV. Culture shock is a real thing, and Genae and I are realizing how much we have changed these past two years. America feels simultaneously foreign and familiar. Nevertheless, we are excited to reconnect with friends and family. We eagerly look forward to serving at Haven, the local church we were part of before coming to Papua New Guinea. And I happily anticipate seeing my old coworkers at Mayo.

Those words are our current anchor: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.” We know Papua New Guinea will always be part of our lives. We ache to return. At the minimum, Lord willing, we will head back to our second home for 2-3 months every other year. But, if God straightening our paths looks like returning to Kudjip permanently, we would delight in that story, too. For now, we rejoice, pray, give thanks, and endeavor to live in that place adjacent to eternity – the present.

Prayer Requests:

• Please pray for us as we adjust to life in America and overcome jet lag!
• Next week, we leave for a two-week road trip to Alabama to see Genae’s family. Along the way, we will connect with other friends and supporters. Pray that as we share our story, speak at churches, and give presentations at residency programs, that we will inspire others to serve the Lord with faith and zeal!
• For the past 1-2 years, I (Jake) have been writing a book called, “Better than the American Dream: Life in the Way of Jesus”. Please pray for me as I continue to write. I hope to finish the first draft by the end of 2025. May it lead others to treasure Jesus above all things.

Updates:

• To all those who have supported us, “Thank you!” from the bottom of our hearts. You have touched many lives, including our own.
• MorrisFamilyMissions.Org will continue. Though our location has changed, our desire to seek first God’s Kingdom has not. We will continue to write, make vlogs, and share our lives as we imperfectly seek to follow our perfect Savior. So, if our blogs and vlogs have been encouraging to you, we rejoice and give God the glory. Continue to subscribe, share, comment, and follow!

Please don’t hesitate to reach out by emailing us at MorrisFamilyMissions@gmail.com. We love hearing from you!