When I first arrived in Southeast Asia, I longed for connection—someone who understood not just my language, but me. God answered that prayer through an unexpected friendship with my coworker Asma, a refugee from Myanmar. What began as shared conversations about culture and life soon deepened into honest discussions about faith, as we began reading the Bible and the Qur’an together, exploring stories of prophets like Adam, Noah, and Moses. Along the way, I’ve been challenged by her perspective, humbled by our differences, and reminded of God’s holiness, mercy, and pursuit of humanity. This journey has become more than a friendship—it is a prayerful hope that, through curiosity and trust, she might one day come to know Jesus more fully.

Each year, when preparations for Easter begin, I find myself feeling a mix of great joy and great sorrow. The Easter season is of course a time of great celebration for Christians, where we rejoice in the completed work of Christ through his resurrection. For me, it is also a time when I remember the loss and sacrifice of some of those brothers in Christ who came before me.

When I went to school in Austin, Texas in the 1990’s, there was a bumper sticker that said “Question Reality”. That always tickled me, and I continue to question reality today.

When my husband Aaron was a fourth year medical student, we got to spend six weeks in a historic hospital called Kijabe. It is north of Nairobi and staying there was our first time in Africa, where we dreamed of living one day.