Written by Rebecca Stuhlmiller, guest blogger

In spring 2013 my husband and I sat in a two-bedroom apartment in Durham, North Carolina, and stared at the walls. The plans for which we’d left family and friends and moved 2,500 miles had fallen through, and we had no plan B.

Now, mind you, we weren’t youngsters on a willy-nilly adventure, but empty-nesters who had sold their Washington wheat farm to go into missions.

Honestly, I thought we’d waltz onto the field. (Stop snickering, you who know better.) We were in our fifties and had decent ministry resumes. We were self-funded by the sale of our farm business, equipment, outbuildings, and some land. We’d even sold the house where Jeff was brought up—where we’d raised our blended family of nine—to answer a call for him to help missionaries manage their finances.

At first things went smoothly. The organization emailed, we emailed back. They sent forms, we filled them out. They asked for an interview, we flew out to meet them. Then, communication slowed. Weeks went by. Months. We thought if we moved closer to the sending office it would help. But after eighteen months in the application process, we called it quits, and stared at the walls.

There was no going back to what was, and we had no idea what was to come.

I imagine it a similar experience for the Apostle Paul, who had set out on a mission (to kill Christians!), but was stopped on the road to Damascus, struck blind, and stared at the walls of his eyelids for three days (see Acts 9). 

There was no going back to what was, and he had no idea what was to come.

I’d like to say I handled my season of “blindness” with grace, fasting, and prayer, like the Bible says Paul did. I did not. I was angry, confused, and depressed. I complained and I sulked. Mostly, I was afraid. Me, the wanna-be missionary.

My response back then, though, is helping me navigate this season of COVID, when I’m staring at the walls in my home, knowing there is no going back to exactly what was but having no idea what is to come. Instead of ranting, now I can pray: Dear Jesus… and end with Amen: so be it.

So be it, in our missions experience: We applied with another organization and were on the field in nine months.

So be it, in Saul’s conversion experience: The Lord said, “This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel” (Acts 9:15, NLT).

So be it, in this COVID experience: “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18, NIV).

  • Rebecca Stuhlmiller teaches spiritual and practical strategies to help people grow deeper in their love-relationship with Jesus and wider in loving service to others—impact their family and friends, church, community, and world for Him. An experienced speaker and 2020 Oregon Christian Writers Cascade Award winner, she enjoys sharing spiritual truths, humor, travel, family photos, and home management tips on Facebook, her Redesign Your Home Life Facebook group, and on Instagram @rebeccastuhlmiller. She and her husband Jeff live in Federal Way, Washington (her 35th move!).