I remember the day in 2002 that I met Nancy Tilley. She was one of four folks who interviewed me to be the Site Coordinator of the new Christian Women’s Job Corps site in Knox County, Tennessee. She had a bright smile and sparkling eyes that reflected the fact that she belonged to Jesus. She asked me questions that revealed a true dedication to bettering the lives of the marginalized populations we had both worked with in our professional lives. This was a woman of great faith, compassion, and intelligence.

After I was hired, Nancy set about the business of writing grants to obtain the start-up funds we would need to open the site and begin serving women. In 9 months, she made it happen, as we opened our doors to our first three participants. That was over 200 participants and 69 graduates ago. In the years in between, Nancy continued to serve on our Board of Directors, writing grants and holding our feet to the fire to make sure we met the goals we set for the site. She also taught us how to put on our yearly gala, an event that our supporters put on their calendars months in advance, that is responsible for about 50% of our yearly income. Several years ago, Nancy had heart valve replacement surgery just a couple of days before the gala. She insisted that Clyde leave the hospital to attend and host their table!

Nancy taught me how to be a leader of integrity. When I saw her last a few months ago, I had gone to the Tilley’s church to speak about A Hand Up For Women, KCCWJC. After I spoke, she hugged me and told me how proud she was of me. She will never know how much that meant. We both served on the Tennessee state advisory board for CWJC/CMJC, and often rode to our meetings in Nashville together. On one trip, Nancy sought out my advice on a family issue. I remember being very humbled that she would ask me for advice. It felt as though I had achieved something I didn’t even realize I was hoping to earn.

Tonight, I will attend a joint funeral service for Nancy and her beloved husband, Clyde. I wasn’t at all surprised that they both went Home within 24 hours of each other. Devotion is the word to describe their lives; devotion to the Lord, to His work and to each other. Because of Nancy’s devotion to Knox County Christian Women’s Job Corps (A Hand Up For Women) I have the opportunity to work out the calling that God placed on my life. I pray she knows that there will be women in heaven because she devoted her life to us. She has fought the good fight and has heard “Well done.”

I recently returned from a trip to Israel. What an experience! It was nothing like I expected, and God spoke to me in ways I could not have anticipated.

We spent several days in Jerusalem, especially in the Old City, and I was absolutely overwhelmed by the size of the Temple. It was even larger than I imagined, and it was beautiful! How profound to see the stones that Jesus saw and walk the pathways Jesus walked.

What I did not anticipate was how difficult it is to reach the Temple. It is located at the top of a hill, and reaching it involves climbing many stairs and inclines. In Jesus’ day, the climb was even longer. A person would begin in the valleys and the pools and climb a long series of uneven stairs, striving and pushing to reach the Temple Mount.

Believing God dwelt in the holy of holies at the very top of the Temple, a person had to exert significant physical effort just to reach the area where God dwelt. But a person had to get there to experience the forgiveness and blessings of God through sacrifices. How difficult it must have been for those who struggled with age, diseases, and disabilities! It would be almost impossible!

As I struggled to climb up to the Temple, I was impressed by how hard it was for people to reach God. How many thousands of people struggled to make this climb? Struggled to reach God?

All that changed in Jesus.

What a picture of grace! When Jesus died for us, truly the veil was torn, and we had access to God. No more climbing. No more pushing. No more striving, sometimes at war with our own bodies. No more heat. No more tripping and falling. No more bad knees and sore backs.

God, through Jesus, could live in my heart.

Praise be to our Lord for giving Himself.

This May, I’ll graduate from seminary. It’s been a long, hard, beautiful, and blessed road—and in many ways, hasn’t been what I expected at all.

I met professors who make incredible contributions to theology. I knew I would learn so much from them—and I have. I delved into four years of intense reading and studying, which have made an impact on my life.

And yet when I look back on these four years, I think I’ll realize that I learned from the professors, books, and my studies, but I also have learned so much from my classmates, my community.

I’ve been so blessed to be a part of a community who loves the Lord and seeks after Him in their education. As I’ve written, researched, and taught, I’ve also lived life with these brothers and sisters. I’ve heard their stories of ministry. I’ve grieved with them over heartache, celebrated the Lord’s goodness with them, argued with them over minute theological details, and found myself as a member of this beautiful spiritual family.

I’ve learned a lot from the professors, and so much from the reading . . . and I’ve also learned from the people. I never realized how formative community can be, and how significant it is that we are not just individuals, left on our own, but come together to make up the beautiful, distinct, and sanctified body of the church, the bride of Christ. God puts us in community, so that as we work together, we can love, serve, and learn from each other.
 

The refrigerator at our house is covered with pictures of families, friends, and loved ones serving on mission.  Some live in the United States; others live overseas.  Some we interact with frequently; others we see on stateside assignment and through Skype.

It’s easy to forget statistics, and you can detach yourself from numbers.  But it’s harder to forget their stories—their gifts, callings, very tangible needs, desires, longings, struggles, and the people they serve each day.  I know some of these missionaries.  I’ve shared meals with them, cried with them, worshipped with them, and prayed with them.

Yet how many thousands of times do I simply pass by my refrigerator?  How many times do I open it up without paying attention to the photographs?  My hope is that, as I look at the pictures on the fridge, I will be reminded to pray for and encourage these missionaries—these people I know and care for so deeply.  That I would remember more than the facts and statistics, but their names, and faces, and stories.  

Find visuals to encourage you to pray for missionaries you may know, and consider “adopting” a missionary you’ve learned about this week through our Week of Prayer.  Cut out their story or photos to represent them, and place them on your fridge.  Each time you pass by, let that image be a reminder to pray for their needs, their struggles, and their service to the Lord.  After all, maybe a picture really is worth a thousand words . . . and a thousand prayers, too. 

Amy Jackson, a seminary student, enjoys reading, writing, and any dish containing avocados.  She calls the Carolinas home, but is learning to love Alabama.