When I left the field in 2019, overcome by simultaneous grief, guilt, and excitement as I began a new season in life. I worried that I would lose contact with all the women with whom I had built deep friendships. I knew that ending my time on the field was the right decision given the new opportunities and callings that God was bringing into my life, but I was heartbroken. I worried that I was going to miss out on what God was going to continue to do in that community that I loved. 

One of the women that I had the closest friendship with surprised me with a phone call just yesterday, bubbling over with excitement as she said, “Ginny, my son loves Jesus now!” 

I almost dropped the phone. “Are you serious? We have been praying for this for years! This is amazing!” 

She laughed. “Yes! It is because of the pandemic. He saw me studying, praying, talking to my friends about Jesus on Zoom calls during our Women’s Conversation Groups, and he kept asking more questions. Not angry, but curious.” 

Of course it was because of the pandemic. 

My friend had become a Christian within the first year of my time on the field. She had been my language teacher, and during one of my first lessons, she shyly showed me her Bible covered in newspaper that she had stashed in her bag. She got baptized a few months later during Ramadan. Since then, my team and I had been praying for the salvation of her family members as she continued to live out her faith in cautious secrecy for the sake of her safety. 

And now, by sheer miracle of God’s radical mercy, her son was a believer. 

“Now we pray and read the Bible together,” she continued excitedly, “And I get to teach my son about Jesus. Every day, I am so happy. My son is so happy. Praise God!” 

Walking through a season of global chaos and grief often prevents me from looking for God at work. I have been keeping my head down, grateful for the sustaining and strengthening work of the Holy Spirit, but not expecting or hoping for much else. The idea of seeing fruit during this unprecedented season seems preposterous. I would be grateful if we just survived with our lives and the ability to process some of the trauma. 

And yet, God apparently wasn’t satisfied with that. His radical decision to bring my friend’s son to faith reminds me once again that He is always at work, especially when we cannot see it.