Who Will? We Will!

“As for Me and My House We Will” (Joshua 24:15)

“And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord”

I’ve read that Scripture many times. However, this time those two words “we will” just popped out at me.

In reflecting further, the following points come to mind:

  • The inclusiveness of the entire family is obvious in this Scripture; cannot be denied or skipped over.
  • Ministry is a family thing. It is inescapable. It’s my calling. It’s our calling.
  • Ministry is best done in community.
  • So goes the family; so goes the church.
  • So goes the family; so goes the nation.
  • The family is the church in miniature.
  • If Momma ain’t happy, no one is happy.
  • If the children ain’t happy, no one is happy.
  • The leader’s family is the example for others to follow and emulate. You can’t bypass that.
  • It only takes failure to pass truth on to one generation to bring about apostolic extinction in that family rather than apostolic succession.
  • Some see family and ministry as a vertical arrangement: Priorities, in order of, God first, family second, the church last. At least that is an attempt to prioritize and a step in the right direction.
  • However, consider the possibility that it is a spiral, inseparable, circular arrangement with God at the center of all we are, ever hope to be, and all we do, and ever hope to do. From that relationship with God spirals my marriage, my family, my ministry.

In research for this, I went to her my daughter’s blog to check on a posting where she said something about “Daddy.” Google popped up with her latest blog post. It hit me smack in the face and pierced my heart. She was writing on the very subject I am addressing right now. Here goes:

And it was said in Acts 16 – believe and you’ll be saved. You and your house. And after days and days of news piled on news, it turns out that that’s what finally made me cry.

House. He didn’t mean the architecture of brick piled on stone. Not the building you live in but the loves in your life. By “house” he meant “your people.” And for so many years, my people? They’ve been the only home I really have. 
And I can barely see to write this because there is so much sickness in my house. Failing kidneys and tumors and rumors of cancer and hearts ripped right open.

In. My. House.

Speaking of houses, what did He say of His? “My house shall be called a house of prayer.”

So I do what we all should. I endeavor to model my house after His. And I remind myself daily that


The life of the flesh is in the blood.” Life. Not cancer. Life.

That He said in the Psalms flesh and hearts fail but that He is the strength of hearts and a portion forever.

That straps of whip sliced open His back so that right before He secured our tomorrow blood flowed to offer healing in our today.

That no matter what happens in our today our tomorrow is certain.

And I know that He can shrink tumors and balance equilibrium and restore kidneys and I place them all in everlasting arms connected to a back once stripped bloody. Because He is here and He heals. 

And me and my house? We serve the Lord.

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Guest post by Missionary Pam Smoak

Even now, I have Christmas music going in the living room. Julie Andrews, Bing Crosby, Selah, Amy Grant and many others, mostly oldie-goldies, play for hours. There is one song that always, always stops me in mid-motion, no matter the recording artist or music style – I’ll Be Home For Christmas. For so many years, that was the song that touched my heart the most, for I was usually far away south of the equator. But in my heart, I was home.

When I went to Germany in 1978 after Bible school, my mother told me she was so old and sickly that she would probably not be there when I got back. I suspicioned that the old MD who had delivered me had her on too many meds for hypertension and whatever. So I promptly made an appointment with an internist who just as promptly took her off all meds and said she was fine. I trotted off to Germany for a year. When I came back, Mom was there. I was home for Christmas.

Kenya for AIM, Tanzania under full appointment and miles of deputation took me away from Hurst Hill where my mom always stood on the front porch and waved good-bye to us. She never failed to remind me, “I may not be here when you get back.”
I was always home for Christmas when I could and tearfully sang “I’ll be home for Christmas” when I couldn’t.

January 2004 I got the call no missionary wants to get, my mom had died. I wasn’t there. I had not been home for Christmas. Devastated, I flew home for the funeral. I remember weeping and laying my head on my Uncle Leon’s shoulder and saying, “She always told me she might not be here and this time she wasn’t here. She wasn’t here.”

This year, I will be home for Christmas, but she won’t be there in person, “only in my dreams”.

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