To live in a place is a beginning. To belong to that place is something more. Mongolians who live their lives in the countryside, whether it be on the steppe, hills or in the desert, intuitively carry with them that sense of belonging. Spoken or unspoken, they know what it to have a connection with the land, to be a part of a place and its people.

              But this connection is no romantic notion or superficial feeling. Rather it’s rock solid, founded on reality. Many have learned to submit themselves to the place and its people, to work with the resources at hand which, in turn, fit them to flourish. Of course, some come with bright ideas and end up committing acts that harm the land, its community and ultimately themselves.

              I remember a time when we had lots of new ideas. Newly arrived in Mongolia, we came armoured with grand, idealised schemes which, fuelled by youthful enthusiasm, naturally turned into action. Graciously, the Mongolians tried to follow what we instigated, but as time moved on their interest and commitment waned. Initially we were frustrated, until the light dawned and we understood: the problem wasn’t with them but with us. What we were trying to implement, no matter how good it seemed, chafed with the Mongolians because it didn’t fit with the people they were.

              But God was gracious and gave us a deepening love for these people which halted our efforts causing us to ask questions. The questions enabled us to pay attention to this place and, more importantly, the details of people’s lives, their culture and circumstances. Understanding grew and with it the realisation that we must abandon our own notions, submit ourselves to God’s call and learn the realities of His ways. As our understanding of Him grew deeper, through His word and by listening and engaging in conversation, so relationships grew.

Our vision began to change and become full of possibilities that fitted this place and its people. But still, this place had more to teach us.

The Mongolian herder’s life has rhythm. Following the seasons, his days are measured and largely unhurried, and yet each year all which is essential to life is accomplished. It took us time to slow down and grasp the subtle lesson that more activity is not necessarily better, it is simply more. Even though society tries to distract us with busyness and presses for speedy results, life does have limits and we need to pay heed to those limits.

God is not in a hurry. Instead, He takes a lifetime and more to work out His purposes. Patiently, and in a detail, specific to each of us, He nurtures His people, working redeem into our eroded lives. He encourages us to acquire disciplines that cultivate habits of forgiveness, reconciliation and love where once mistrust and fear dwelt.

He is fitting us for His purposes, establishing our place of belonging in Him.

© copyright Gillian Newham 2022