Change and farewells…again

On Thursday I said another farewell. This one was a bit smaller than many, but still another farewell that stacks on top of the dozens and dozens we’ve said over the years.

Here’s a glimpse into (mostly) just the last three months:

Just three months ago I met a short-term worker in the city to welcome her to Japan and to our social media team. She had a three-month visa, and we didn’t know if she’d stay only three months, or if she’d be able to stay longer. Turns out that three months was all we had her for, despite trying for a visa extension. She’s the first short-termer I’ve had the privilege of working so closely with, and it’s been an enjoyable experience. She’s the same age as our eldest son, which made me feel old, but her age and energy was very suited to this ministry (in which I often feel like a dinosaur). We talked for a couple of hours on Thursday about various things, including emotional stuff that she’s facing as she returns to the Philippines. I feel privileged to have been a small part of her life at this time and pray that God would continue to lead her for the future.

Rachel, the short-term worker who was here
for three months

Earlier last week I said farewell to another social media team member. I’ve worked with this colleague for about three years and it is sad to see her go, but it's also has been a pleasure to work alongside her and see her grow. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see either of these ladies again.

A couple of months ago one of my magazine team members told me that due to family reasons he would be leaving Japan in the middle of 2025. He’s only been with the team a couple of years and originally joined to fill some of the gaps I left to go on home assignment. We’ve worked quite closely on one portion of the magazine process in the last 10 months and I really have appreciated his industry knowledge (he used to work as a journalist). It was a shock to hear he was leaving, but I’m getting better at my poker face when I hear news like this. We’ve been praying for a replacement for him. Just the other day I had a conversation with another team member who’s thankfully willing to take this specialist role on for a while and also heard the same day of someone else who's been on the edge of our team for several years who might be willing to share that role. 

We also got a surprising email earlier in the week about one of the OMF Japan field leaders who’s been considered for an international leadership role, which is a vacancy we’d been praying someone would fill (but not someone from our backyard, please God!). If he gets accepted for this, then that will be another loss for OMF Japan leadership that needs filling. This is noteworthy, because our OMF Japan leadership team of seven people is already undergoing a lot of transition: two members have recently left (one of those is yet to be replaced), a third is about to leave next month, and a fourth is leaving this time next year. Most of these leaders are remaining in Japan, but have moved in different roles. One of the leaders I’ve worked with a lot over the last 15 years, but will hardly see when she returns in a couple of months because she's moving to a different part of Japan.

On New Year’s Eve we had dinner with another (non-OMF) couple we’ve known and appreciated for almost 20 years—they’re retiring to the US. 

Another couple we’ve spent a lot of time with are going on home assignment in the middle of this year and are unsure what their future holds as they both have elderly and needy mothers in the UK.

Another colleague I spoke with on Friday also is unsure about her future in Japan after home assignment next year.

Then on Saturday night we heard that a former colleague who's been struggling with cancer for many years passed away in Singapore. 

How well we know/knew each of these colleagues varies greatly, but when I stop and think about it, the number of farewells just keeps piling up, like a relentless drip, drip, drip of a tap that we can't turn off. I tend to push it down and away and try not to think about it too much, but it can be depressing. Being called to “stay” is not easy.

I was unable to finish this blog post when I started it on Friday, and so have spent some time thinking in the meantime. I discovered this article on Missio Nexus. It talks about the accumulated grief and ambiguous grief, especially in relation to missionaries. It's helpful to note that small griefs can build up if they aren't acknowledged, until they really are overwhelming. And in missionary life, ambiguous grief often gets swept under the carpet. It's expected that our lives will contain much that is now being recognised as loss, and not just "hard but normal". I'm glad to be able to speak up about these things. It's starting to become more of a conversation within missionary circles, but I'd like others to know about it too (hence what I said into a microphone in front of 200+ ladies in October 2023).

One thing that I know is important is recognising loss and naming it, so writing about it here is part of grieving these things. I'm tempted to compare, saying that the losses we experience are nothing like the loss of a child, or parent, or spouse. Yet apparently comparison is also unhelpful. I guess it encourages the impulse to not grieve these things and therefore contributing to accumulated grief, so I won't compare.

I was listening to the Bible on Friday and was up to the portion in Acts where Paul is heading back to Jerusalem where it is foretold that he might be killed. I realised that he said a lot of goodbyes in his ministry too. Acts 20 records a long farewell speech he made to the church’s leaders in Ephesus, including these sentences:

“‘Now I know that none of you among whom I have gone about preaching the kingdom will ever see me again.” (Acts 20:25 NIVUK)

“When Paul had finished speaking, he knelt down with all of them and prayed. They all wept as they embraced him and kissed him. What grieved them most was his statement that they would never see his face again. Then they accompanied him to the ship” (vv. 36-38).

Next verse:

 “After we had torn ourselves away from them, we put out to sea and sailed straight to Kos. The next day we went to Rhodes and from there to Patara” (21:1).

“After saying goodbye to each other, we went aboard the ship, and they returned home.” (21:6)

“Then Paul answered, ‘Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus’” (21:13).

This last verse shows his resolve, despite the pain it must have been causing him.

Ah, once again I find myself longing for heaven where we will have no more tears, no more farewells or uncertain futures. I need to go running back to all those verses about God being my strong tower, my rock, my firm foundation! And be like a tree planted by a stream with my roots deep in him so that my leaves do not wither (Psalm 1). And pray these verses for myself (and others like me who struggle with these constant goodbyes):

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (Ephesians‬ ‭3‬:‭16‬-‭19‬).