Context & Calling

July 26, 2026: Saitama, Japan

Today I was alone.

It was the first day in over a week that I had more than a couple hours to simply be. To think. To pray. To call home. And to listen.

At first, I felt the familiar urge to make myself busy. To find something productive. To fill every quiet moment with noise or activity. We often wear busyness like a badge of honor because silence can be uncomfortable. In the quiet, we are left alone with our thoughts, our emotions, and the Lord.

So instead of running from the silence, I embraced it.

I read. I walked through Saitama alone. I watched people going about their ordinary Saturday. I noticed details I might have missed if I had been hurrying from one ministry opportunity to the next. I worshiped.

Sometimes I felt lonely.

Sometimes I felt wonderfully free.

Both were true.

Life is unpredictable, and our emotions rarely fit into neat categories. We want to label a day as good or bad, joyful or difficult. But many of life’s sweetest moments hold both gratitude and grief at the same time.

Being away from home has stretched me more than I expected. I’m not used to living every day in unfamiliar places, surrounded by people from morning until night. I miss my routine. I miss my own space. I miss my husband and children. Even when ministry is meaningful, those realities don’t disappear.

Yet I wonder if today was exactly what my soul needed.

The quiet became a kind of emotional and mental detox. Without constant conversations, schedules, or responsibilities competing for my attention, the Lord gently brought to the surface things I hadn’t realized I was carrying. There was not dramatic revelation, just the peaceful reminded that He is enough. Even in the stillness.

As I sat with Him today, I realized my heart is holding more than one emotion at a time. I am deeply grateful for the privilege of serving alongside believers here in Japan. I am deeply grateful that, in just a few days, I will return home to the husband and children I love so dearly.

And yet, beneath that gratitude, there is still grief.

I still don’t know what the future holds for me. I don’t know exactly where God is leading or what doors He will open next. Some questions remain unanswered. Some longings remain unfulfilled.

Maybe faith isn’t the absence of uncertainty. Maybe faith is choosing gratitude while living with unanswered questions.

Today reminded me that Gos doesn’t ask me to resolve every tension before I come to Him. He simply invites me into His presence. There, gratitude and grief can coexist. Hope and longing can sit side by side. And somehow, His peace is large enough to hold them both.

“Be silent before the Lord and wait expectantly for Him…” (Psalm 37:7a HCSB)

Grace and Peace,

Sandra