Celebrating the diverse riches of Hispanic Heritage MonthCelebrating Hispanic culture https://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Celebrating-the-diverse-riches-of-Hispanic-Heritage-MonthCelebrating the diverse riches of Hispanic Heritage MonthBy Mauricio Chenlo


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Despite Manifest Destiny, Indigenous cultures have survivedMother Earth's Pandemichttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Despite-Manifest-Destiny-Indigenous-cultures-have-survivedDespite Manifest Destiny, Indigenous cultures have survivedBy Lynda Hollinger-Janzen with Cynthia Friesen Coyle
COVID-19 pandemic grew from centuries-old rootsMother Earth's Pandemichttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/COVID-19-pandemic-grew-from-centuries-old-rootsCOVID-19 pandemic grew from centuries-old rootsBy Lynda Hollinger-Janzen with Cynthia Friesen Coyle
Donor giving continues during pandemic shutdownDonor generosity https://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Donor-giving-continues-during-pandemic-shutdownDonor giving continues during pandemic shutdownBy Karen Horsman
Bruce the bat, God’s messengerQuelling Anxietyhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Bruce-the-bat-Gods-messengerBruce the bat, God’s messengerBy Zachary Headings
Reflections on a life of ministry in VenezuelaLegacy of Venezuelan leader https://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Reflections-on-a-life-of-ministry-in-VenezuelaReflections on a life of ministry in VenezuelaBy Linda Shelly
Teachers in Spain learn advanced lessons in trusting GodBack to schoolhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Teachers-in-Spain-learn-advanced-lessons-in-trusting-GodTeachers in Spain learn advanced lessons in trusting GodBy Brian Fox




Losing control to a camping critterhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Losing-control-to-a-camping-critterLosing control to a camping critterBy Laurie Oswald Robinson <p>​<span style="font-size:1.4rem;background-color:transparent;color:inherit;font-style:inherit;">Rustling and scrunching woke me up at 2 a.m. during a Colorado camping trip. I groggily reached for my flashlight and shone it towards the ruckus. The feeble ray revealed nothing, though I was "fairly certain" it wasn't a bear. Camping near residential Boulder at the foot of the mountains could not possibly yield that wild drama, could it? I wasn't looking for it in any case, as I was taking vacation to escape the adrenaline rushes of my Mennonite Mission Network editor job.</span></p><p>Though I tried to calm myself, I was unnerved. However, the sounds soon ceased. So tired after my long trek from the Kansas prairies, I warily took no noise to be good silence, and I went back to sleep.  </p><p>The next morning, I awoke at 5:30 a.m. to the first hints of sun rousing the geese on the glassy pond at St. Vrain State Park. In contrast to this pastoral image was the ravaged mess of my food supply. I figured a raccoon got a free meal. </p><p>Most notable was the package that held my beloved Ghirardelli dark chocolate squares. Not one dot of the exquisite morsels remained — only the wrappers! A few feet away were gnawed-off chips of a sweet potato. A mouth-sized hole was gnawed into a plastic carrier that held my spices, tableware and fruit. Two banana peels laid limp and forgotten on the grass. </p><p>The scene flooded me with shame. I should have protected my food stuffs in the trunk. I should have forged better boundaries between what was mine to eat and what was mine to share. I should have known that in the wilds, it is the survival of the fittest. </p><p>My first takeaway: If you want your chocolate all to yourself, hide it and horde it. </p><p>My second takeaway emerged when I reflected on a writing team meeting several months earlier. It's when I agreed to write a blog for Give Something Away Day, celebrated in the U.S. on July 15. I did not know then that I would share a pond picnic against my will. I envisioned writing something far loftier. More spiritual. Perhaps how I strive to give something away every day on the job — the healing and hope of Jesus in collaboration with our partners around the world. </p><p>I have chosen to serve where I can give away with prodigal generosity what I have received — God's abundant love, joy and peace. And yet, after the chocolate fiasco, I realize how much my giving is invisibly threaded through with a sense of control. I choose at work or home or church how much I give, and when. That power of choice is so unlike the feeling of vulnerability that flooded me at the critter crime scene. </p><p>As I traveled home eight hours east on I-70, I reflected on how a sense of loss of control has predominated the COVID-19 lockdown for people of all cultures around the world. Protests have arisen over how the pandemic has more deeply affected Black and Brown people. They are demonstrating their inherent dignity of empowerment by protesting systemic racism. Their courage has caused me as a White person to examine the unfettered entitlements in arenas of choice and control that have been mine: where and how I live, give and share. People who aren't born into the dominant culture don't share these automatic privileges.</p><p>Telling a hungry raccoon story seems a bit silly during this very serious summer. And I don't want the metaphor to get muddled, suggesting that the raccoon is a symbol for protestors. For me, that raccoon provided a wakeup call to examine issues of power and control. The incident exposed how much I want control in the sharing of my gifts with others. So, this July 15 — while I know I can't humanly, or even wisely, relinquish all my responsibility for balanced self-care — I want to give away an unhealthy sense of <em>entitlement</em> to control. To unfurl some of my tight-fisted grasp of the White privileges that have been mine without question, even before I took my first breath after birth.</p><p>I confess that I still grieve not having that chocolate bedtime snack by a snapping fire, beneath twinkling stars. I so wish I could say that I gave those sweets away, but I didn't. They were taken. The good news? I lost my sugary treat, but I returned home with something far healthier: a bittersweet sliver of self-understanding. <br></p>
Me, Myselfie, and I: Thoughts on International Selfie Dayhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Me-Myselfie-and-I-Thoughts-on-International-Selfie-DayMe, Myselfie, and I: Thoughts on International Selfie DayBy Josh Garber<p>I am not a "selfie person." By that, I mean I probably have more fingers than selfies I've taken, so the concept of International Selfie Day on June 21 was a bit lost on me.</p><p>I'm part of a generation that sits somewhere between Gen X and Millennial — the whole "analog childhood/digital adulthood" description sums it up pretty well. Most cell phones started getting cameras while I was in college; people discovered they could point the camera at themselves shortly after I graduated.</p><p>As I noticed more and more friends taking pictures of themselves, something deep inside me resisted. Initially, I likened it to the story of <a href="https://www.caravaggio.org/narcissus.jsp">Narcissus</a> my mother read me from Greco-Roman mythology. In the story, a guy was so enamored by his reflection in the water that he neglected to eat or drink and he died. Later, while working at a university in Lithuania, I saw students post selfies on social media with a regularity rivaling class attendance; I scoffed at the practice of framing the photo-taker as the subject rather than what they see.</p><p>Looking back, I don't think either of these perspectives were at the core of my inclination to resist taking selfies. Rather, it's rooted in how I understand faith. Specifically, following Jesus only makes sense to me in the context of relationships.</p><p>If selfies are about placing oneself at the center of the story, nearly a decade of living in intentional communities has taught me that center stage is not the best place to position myself. The early church in Acts 2 — founded with some very close ties to Jesus — illustrates how group members set aside their individual needs so that all could mutually experience the full life and liberation Jesus promises. </p><p>No one eats until everyone eats.</p><p>Even though I'm not a selfie person, I don't mind those who are. For example, my wife Alisha has an A+ selfie game when our 4-year old's shenanigans reach the level of "seeing is believing." It was also very impactful when a friend explained to me that, as a young, Black American, selfies serve as a form of self-empowerment. </p><p>I can't say my mind is totally settled on the matter. I often see what you might call "group selfies" being taken by folks in our faith community here in Barcelona. When we gather, you'll find people taking photos of themselves alongside others. Maybe this is another expression of community. By including the photographer, it's kind of like saying, "You're not showing the full story unless we're <em>all</em> pictured together."</p><p>International Selfie Day has already passed by as a tiny blip on the first half of 2020. I celebrated as I try to do every day — by focusing on my relationships with others.<br></p>
Warm Masculinity: Faith and Father’s Dayhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Warm-Masculinity-Faith-and-Father’s-DayWarm Masculinity: Faith and Father’s DayBy Joe Sawatzky<p>​<span style="font-size:1.4rem;background-color:transparent;color:inherit;font-style:inherit;">"All parenting is expected to take on the quality of mothering."</span></p><p>Mercy Amba Oduyoye, a theologian from Ghana, used these words to describe an ideal for parenting from the wisdom of the Akan, the West African people to which she belongs. Oduyoye defines the "understanding of mothering that is expected of all Akan men and women" as "living for others."<a href="https://mennonites.sharepoint.com/sites/MMN/mrkcom/WritersSpace/father%27s%20day%20reflection_2020.docx#_ftn1">[1]</a></p><p>In today's North American context, "toxic masculinity" associates manhood with a cool detachment that underlies violence against women, children, and other men. We might describe such maleness as living <em>against </em>others. This is also the context in which the United States, with some 90 other nations, marks Father's Day on the third Sunday of June.</p><p>Despite the cold and destructive distance of toxic masculinity, fathers have a huge role to play in raising up adults that will "live for others"—loving God and loving neighbor as oneself. In fact, when the largest-ever study of the transmission of faith across generations was published in 2013, it concluded that <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Families-Faith-Religion-Passed-Generations/dp/0190675152">"the crucial factor in whether a child keeps the faith [of the family] is the presence of a strong fatherly bond."</a> Vern Bengtson, the primary author of the study, described these <a href="https://youtu.be/9sLySizte_s?t=2134">"emotional bonds" as "a warm relationship with the father."</a> In other words, warmth—the realm of the heart or the arena of the emotions—is the conduit of faith, including the moral/ethical values intrinsic to "religion that is true" (James 1:27). Coldness, by the same logic, dams faith's flow—no matter how many words one might speak or how many works one might perform. While faith is more than feeling, feeling is essential to faith.</p><p>Bengtson's research rings true to my own experience. As I remember my grandfathers, I <em>feel</em> their faith, whether in the Pietist hymns or the Gospel songs I heard them sing.</p><p>                <em>O power of love, all else transcending, in Jesus present evermore . . .</em></p><p><em>To our bountiful Father above, we will offer our tribute of praise, for the glorious gift of his love, and the blessings that hallow our days.</em></p><p>Even today, when Anna and I return to my parents' dining room table with our own sons, I feel the warmth in the voice of my father's prayer.</p><p>                <em>We thank you, dear Jesus, for your constant love and care . . .</em></p><p>I also felt that warmth as South African Christians, among whom I lived for eight years, sang their faith in an anthem of racial reconciliation. In the Xhosa language, the song says, </p><p>                <em>Masibulele kuYesu, ngokuba wasifela</em></p><p><em>                </em><em>Wasenzela izibele, ngokusifela kwakhe</em></p><p>Loosely translated, the song exhorts "Black and White together,"</p><p>                <em>Give thanks to Jesus because he died for us</em></p><p><em>                </em><em>He showed compassion for us by his dying.</em></p><p>In the hymn, the root of the word <em>izibele</em>, "compassion," refers to the breasts of a woman, the place of warmth where children are nourished into life. Also in the imagery of parental warmth, John 1:18 refers to Jesus as "God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart," or more literally, "who is in the bosom of the Father" (compare NRSV with RSV). Whether in feminine or masculine tones, both song and Scripture speak of the warm presence that expresses faith, that "makes God known" (John 1:18).</p><p>Through that same warmth, human fathers, and all men who nurture children—like women who "live for others"—birth new generations of faith.<br></p><p><br></p><p><a href="https://mennonites.sharepoint.com/sites/MMN/mrkcom/WritersSpace/father%27s%20day%20reflection_2020.docx#_ftnref1">[1]</a> Mercy Amba Oduyoye, "Feminist Theology in an African Perspective" in <em>Paths of African Theology</em>, ed. Rosino Gibellini (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 174.<br></p>
Out of our pews and into the painhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Out-of-our-pews-and-into-the-pain-Out of our pews and into the painBy Ann Jacobs<p>​P<span style="font-size:1.4rem;background-color:transparent;color:inherit;font-style:inherit;">eople of color are feeling deep pain as the result of the death of our brother, George Floyd, killed by a police office in Minneapolis, Minnesota, a couple of weeks ago. He is one of the recent and tragic examples of injustice wielded by systemic racism across the world. We are bent over, rocking back and forth for comfort, and asking God to respond. </span></p><p>As the spouse of a Black husband, mother to four Black sons, and a grandmother to many Black and biracial grandchildren, I have been profoundly impacted personally. "I can't breathe," Mr. Floyd said before he died. I join him and his family in feeling the suffocating effects of fear in our community in South Bend, Indiana. It's where I pray for God's protection every time the males in my family leave the house. I breathe a sigh of gratitude when they walk back in the door. </p><p>In a revision of the verse in 1 Corinthians 12:26, when one suffocates, we all suffocate. Shortly after Mr. Floyd's death, I cried out to God for a response to our collective pain. What I sensed as God's response was that <strong><em>WE </em></strong>are God's response. We are God's ambassadors for reconciliation and love in a world reeling with hate and separation. The Spirit moved within me during my prayer and Ezekiel 22:30 emerged in my heart: "I looked for someone who might rebuild the wall of righteousness that guards the land." </p><p>My personal application of the verse is this: The walls (structures) of our communities are falling down and crumbling through pandemic lock-down and the police brutality that is violating the bodies and souls of Black and Brown people; these same members of society are the most deeply impacted by the sufferings of COVID-19. As God's people, we can no longer live in the faith of yesterday and look from afar. We can no longer look at this mountain of challenge from behind the safety of our cell phones, out-of-office replies, and keeping with our own agendas. </p><p>We must move beyond lamenting racism's evils with only words and hymns. We must rise from our prayer groups and from behind our hymnbooks and follow Jesus into the highways and byways. We must <strong><em>DO </em></strong>church with our feet and hands. That means acting to help dismantle the systems that sanction the murder of George Floyd and so many others. </p><p>I'm calling for actions that cause unhealthy systems to fall, one brick at a time. As Anabaptists, we have historically seen ourselves as the "quiet in the land." Many Mennonites have sought to live godly and quiet lives to witness to faith, rather than messing with worldly powers. While yielding some fruits of the Spirit, this choice has often rendered us voiceless in the public square. If we are God's response to the world, then we need to take our songs and sermons of peace and justice out of our pews and into the pain.  </p><p>Urgent events are disorienting our lives and challenging us to be God's "noisy" response to the world in which COVID-19 and lifeless Black bodies in the streets are twin evils. Corrupt systems are killing and challenging the identity, dignity and power of people of color. Glen Guyton, executive director for Mennonite Church USA, is <a href="http://mennoniteusa.org/menno-snapshots/more-costly-peacemaking/">inviting us to leave our comfort zones and to <strong><em>ACT</em></strong> for change.</a> As God's response, we cannot remain silent or paralyzed.  </p><p><a href="https://www.facebook.com/MennoniteMissionNet/videos/275491586928895/">During a June 3 meditation on Mennonite Mission Network's online Hope Series, I challenged our church to take new directions.</a> We are looking for God, and God is looking for us. God is calling to us to come from under the rubble of the crumbing walls and stand accounted for in the broad daylight. That's where we as individuals, the church, and as a nation, are called to repent of inaction and to revolt in righteousness — to follow Jesus in the paths of peace by paving new roads for justice. </p><p>When God comes looking for someone to rebuild the walls, I pray we will be ready with tools in hand and willing hearts. May we be servants of reconstruction who dismantle the dividing wall of hostility and build a society of dignity for everyone, a renewal of the Spirit that offers life-sustaining breath for all.<br></p>
Breathe on us, breath of God: a lament for George Floydhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Breathe-on-us,-breath-of-God-a-lament-for-George-FloydBreathe on us, breath of God: a lament for George FloydBy Joe Sawatzky<p>​<em style="font-size:1.4rem;background-color:transparent;color:inherit;">"I can't breathe."</em></p><p>The world watched last week as George Floyd, an African-American man in Minneapolis, Minnesota, cried out in desperation. Handcuffed and immobilized, Floyd pleaded for air as Derek Chauvin, a White police officer, knelt on his neck for more than eight minutes. Crying out for his mother in his final breaths, Floyd, 46, breathed his last. His killing became the latest in a pandemic of violence against people of African descent that precedes the birth of the United States.</p><p><em>"I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh . . . and they shall prophesy</em>.<em>"</em></p><p>On the Day of Pentecost, which churches remembered last Sunday, Peter used these words to explain how the disciples of Jesus were able to speak about "God's deeds of power" in the languages of the nations. On that Day, some mocked and sneered at those who cried out, supposing them to be crazy. So, Peter stood up and began to speak. "These are not drunk," but prophesying by the very breath of God (Acts 2:1-21).</p><p>Then, Peter proceeded to talk about Jesus, a fellow Jew who had been crucified by the Roman imperial authorities, with the consent of the people (Acts 2:22ff.). Unjustly condemned, Jesus suffered the most humiliating of deaths. Beaten and bloodied, he bore the beam of his cross beyond the city, a shameful spectacle for all to see. There, arms nailed and bound with ropes, he was "hung on the tree" (Acts 5:30, 10:39). Arms outstretched, bearing the full weight of his body, he gasped for breath. <em>Crucifixion</em>. <em>Death by asphyxiation</em>.</p><p><em>"I can't breathe."</em></p><p>Aided by the Scriptures, he cried, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." And finally, "Father, into your hands I commit my breath" (Psalm 22:1, 34:5; Mark 15:34; Luke 24:46).</p><p>In Jesus, God joins the company of the condemned, accused, abused, abandoned. "We crucified him . . . but God raised him up" (Acts 2:23-24). God vindicated the life of Jesus. God justified him. God declared him righteous. And God made him the source of the life-giving breath by which all peoples might become one in justice, love, and peace.</p><p>So, we lament, we repent, we hope, and we sing:</p><p><em>Breathe on me, breath of God.</em></p><p><em>Fill me with life anew,</em></p><p><em>that I may love what thou dost love,</em></p><p><em>and do what thou wouldst do.</em></p><p>Amen<em>.</em></p><p><strong>Editor's Note:</strong> Mennonite Church USA has posted two commentaries on its response to the George Floyd murder and protests against systemic racism. One commentary written by staff is "Prayers of Lament; Responding to the Violence of Racism." You can find it <a href="http://mennoniteusa.org/menno-snapshots/lament-violence-of-racism/">here</a>.<br></p><p>The other commentary, "We need to engage in more costly peacemaking," is written by Glen Guyton, executive director of Mennonite Church USA. You can find it <a href="http://mennoniteusa.org/menno-snapshots/more-costly-peacemaking/">here</a>.<br></p>
Yet I will rejoice! concert explores identity through musichttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Yet-I-will-rejoice-concert-explores-identity-through-musicYet I will rejoice! concert explores identity through musicBy Lynda Hollinger-Janzen<p>Kathryn Smith Derksen brought the many passions of her life together in a glorious musical mosaic, <em>Yet I will rejoice!, </em>presented Nov. 1, 2, and 24 in Somerset West, near Cape Town, South Africa.</p><div class="ms-rtestate-read ms-rte-embedcode ms-rte-embedil ms-rtestate-notify"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/k4Zg4mkYNWQ" frameborder="0"></iframe> </div><p>"The purpose of this concert was to provide a context using music and personal storytelling to confront the subjects of identity and heritage, race and struggle, faith and authentic discipleship," Smith Derksen said.<br></p><p>This year's concert was the third one Smith Derksen and her husband, Dan, organized as a benefit for the SADRA Conflict Transformation program where they served with Mennonite Mission Network from 2016-2020. <br></p><p>The idea for the concert solidified when Kathryn Smith Derksen participated in a music symposium focusing on diversity at Stellenbosch University. Martin Berger, director of the university's choral conducting program, who led the symposium, said, "[Each person needs] a strong sense of self to engage globally; to know who you are, you have to know where you come from."</p><p>The concert took its name from <a href="https://youtu.be/k4Zg4mkYNWQ" target="_blank">Smith Derksen's piece based on Habakkuk</a>, "Though the fig tree does not bud and … though there are no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord." She wrote <em>Yet I will rejoice! </em>as a response to the world's pain and suffering. </p><p>As young newlyweds, Dan and Kathryn Smith Derksen worked with religious leaders in Uganda to advocate for amnesty for the Lord's Resistance Army and return abducted child soldiers to their home communities. In this heart-breaking context, the Acholi people told the Smith Derksens that the Old Testament felt like their personal story. "They actually sing the Book of Job<em> </em>when processing to weddings," Kathryn Smith Derksen said. "To be able to say, 'God is good' in the face of evil is not something done lightly."</p><p>Music performed in the <em>Yet I will rejoice! </em>concert originated in Africa and Europe and spanned six centuries, including instrumental pieces for the <em>viola da gamba. </em>These instruments, developed in the 15<sup>th</sup>-century, look like cellos and are Smith Derksen's instrument of choice. One young person of color commented on hearing the intimate Dutch music from 300 years ago. He said it helped him picture the colonizers for the first time "as a group of people who had their own music, their families, and their way of life — people who just came here to start a new life."</p><p>Smith Derksen said that this was just one moment of transformation among many during the months of work that shaped the concert.</p><p>Twenty-first century pieces included compositions by Smith Derksen and local Xhosa composer, Vusumzi Tsham. <a href="https://youtu.be/k4Zg4mkYNWQ?t=155" target="_blank">In Smith Derksen's arrangement of the African-American spiritual, <em>Sometimes I feel like a motherless child</em></a>, Timothy Visser, whose family's land was taken by Cecil Rhodes, sang a moving solo. It intertwined with the rap poetry of Chadwin Nel, a SADRA-trained peer mediator. Rhodes, a 19<sup>th</sup>-century English mining magnate, founded and controlled the British South Africa Company that exploited large tracts of land in southern Africa. </p><p>Tsham's song, <em>Siyabonga Madiba,</em> praises Nelson Mandela in isiXhosa, a major African language. "You led the way; you overcame with peace and love. We say, 'Viva Mandela!'" <br></p><p>Smith Derksen acknowledged that some choir members had difficulty singing about Mandela as "the hero of heroes," particularly Afrikaners. Afrikaners are people of Dutch/German descent who colonized South Africa and established the system of <em>apartheid </em>that oppressed many of the choir members' families. In the program, the song that immediately followed the ode to Mandela was <em>Karoonag, </em>an Afrikaans lullaby praising the natural beauty of South Africa. It speaks of how land becomes home and comfort for all its inhabitants, both colonizers and native-born.<br></p><p>For Smith Derksen, the concert's climax was <em>Horizons, </em>a six-part a cappella piece by contemporary South African composer, Peter Louis Van Dijk. This piece tells the story of the Dutch colonizers' arrival from the point of view of the San people.<br></p><p>"It was particularly poignant being sung by White South Africans accepting their ancestors' complicity and passionately joining their voices with the voices of their compatriots of color, in the final words, 'and then they killed us,'" Smith Derksen said. "I wonder when the day will come when Americans sing such truth on our own shores."<br></p><p>The concert ended with <em>Wana Baraka</em>, a Kenyan Swahili blessing arranged by Shawn Kirchner, a friend of the Smith Derksens.<br></p><p>"We sing this blessing from Jesus in one of the major languages of the continent, reminding us that we are all connected, even if the stories are difficult to tell or listen to," Smith Derksen said.  "Our love for Africa and our recognition that we need each other will help us move forward."<br></p>



Celebrating the diverse riches of Hispanic Heritage Monthhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Celebrating-the-diverse-riches-of-Hispanic-Heritage-MonthCelebrating the diverse riches of Hispanic Heritage MonthBy Mauricio Chenlo GP0|#2ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a;L0|#02ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a|United States;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#89f1dfe2-8e50-4b9f-b81a-f3f6dcbc35fc;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
Despite Manifest Destiny, Indigenous cultures have survivedhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Despite-Manifest-Destiny-Indigenous-cultures-have-survivedDespite Manifest Destiny, Indigenous cultures have survivedBy Lynda Hollinger-Janzen with Cynthia Friesen CoyleGP0|#2ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a;L0|#02ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a|United States;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#89f1dfe2-8e50-4b9f-b81a-f3f6dcbc35fc;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
COVID-19 pandemic grew from centuries-old rootshttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/COVID-19-pandemic-grew-from-centuries-old-rootsCOVID-19 pandemic grew from centuries-old rootsBy Lynda Hollinger-Janzen with Cynthia Friesen Coyle
Donor giving continues during pandemic shutdownhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Donor-giving-continues-during-pandemic-shutdownDonor giving continues during pandemic shutdownBy Karen Horsman GP0|#2ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a;L0|#02ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a|United States;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#89f1dfe2-8e50-4b9f-b81a-f3f6dcbc35fc;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
Bruce the bat, God’s messengerhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Bruce-the-bat-Gods-messengerBruce the bat, God’s messengerBy Zachary HeadingsGP0|#2ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a;L0|#02ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a|United States;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#89f1dfe2-8e50-4b9f-b81a-f3f6dcbc35fc;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
Reflections on a life of ministry in Venezuelahttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Reflections-on-a-life-of-ministry-in-VenezuelaReflections on a life of ministry in VenezuelaBy Linda Shelly GP0|#6d0f4789-e80b-4477-99a2-107263c6047e;L0|#06d0f4789-e80b-4477-99a2-107263c6047e|Venezuela;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#e2a61412-b024-41d7-adeb-1c4e0b790c03;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
Teachers in Spain learn advanced lessons in trusting Godhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Teachers-in-Spain-learn-advanced-lessons-in-trusting-GodTeachers in Spain learn advanced lessons in trusting GodBy Brian FoxGP0|#89822f84-696e-4f7a-bc14-837545952bea;L0|#089822f84-696e-4f7a-bc14-837545952bea|Spain;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#e1c6021e-2f25-46dc-91a1-be34789acdf9;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
John Lewis made me feel like an honored guesthttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Honored-guestJohn Lewis made me feel like an honored guestBy Wil LaVeist GP0|#2ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a;L0|#02ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a|United States;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#89f1dfe2-8e50-4b9f-b81a-f3f6dcbc35fc;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
Learning that another world is possiblehttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Learning-that-another-world-is-possibleLearning that another world is possibleBy Diana Cruz GP0|#53f671dc-6b11-4308-ab01-f8c0f7df8786;L0|#053f671dc-6b11-4308-ab01-f8c0f7df8786|Benin;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#4d0e08ea-d1a0-4141-9eba-431183992152;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf
Losing control to a camping critterhttps://www.mennonitemission.net/blog/Losing-control-to-a-camping-critterLosing control to a camping critterBy Laurie Oswald Robinson GP0|#2ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a;L0|#02ab17779-1e85-4ea3-bd7e-1348a1fb087a|United States;GTSet|#f1c3ac69-6cd4-4109-8ba8-137477ba8a7d;GPP|#89f1dfe2-8e50-4b9f-b81a-f3f6dcbc35fc;GPP|#62ebb633-b401-4243-a537-1a85230e4ebf