Passionate Contentment

Passion and Contentment. The wise Polly Wilson, with whom I’ve gotten to spend the last couple of years in Life Group studying Scripture together, put those two words in tension with each other last week. She stated that as her contentment in the Lord has grown, she’s seen her passion diminish. And I haven’t been able to shake that idea.

The passion of being a young believer was so all consuming. I remember it, and in reflecting on it, instantly I could picture almost all of our students. The dreams that they’re holding are glorious, and I count it a privilege to get to fan those flames as I pray with them and seek God’s guidance for how to make their passions a reality. They want to be forces for good, to bring justice to a hurting world, to advocate for the marginalized. Isn’t that beautiful? In matters of faith, I regularly find myself asking the Lord that he would move them out of apathy and give them an even deeper passion for Jesus that will mark the rest of their lives. 

But just as equally, I pray for contentment. I desire for their work to be so meaningful it leaves them with a sense of purpose and accomplishment, for who wants to feel that their efforts were a waste of time? I ask that in the end, Jesus would be the only thing that actually satisfies at a deeper level, and that they would cling to him so tightly so that their need of him is normalized, their joy in him automatic, their contentment through him guaranteed. 

So back to Polly’s statement - does growth of the latter shrink the former? If I’m honest, I think contentment over passion describes my life. As I have walked this faith road with my Savior, I’ve become more confident in my identity of being his wanted daughter, more comfortable in my relationship that looks like a never-ending conversation, more content with whatever comes my way. And I don’t think I’m being hyperbolic; I really think it’s true. But the 15-year-old Katrina whose new-found passion had caused her to share Jesus with her classmates and led her to dream of reaching kids around the world with the gospel, she might be surprised at the ease with which I now accept what is over what could be. Is this the road of every adult? Of every believer? Is the phenomenon I’m trying to put my finger on just one of shifting emotions, a change of feelings that is neither good or bad? I’m still not sure, but as I’ve been reflecting on this tension for the past week, I want to begin praying for both: that I would put even deeper roots into Jesus, my ultimate contentment, and that he would fan passionate flames in me for gospel change.

No passion like a nerf battle with 8-10 year-olds!

Witness of Fun

I wasn’t part of the crazy fray, but I stood above it. Literally. I was in the balcony overlooking the chaos happening in the gym below me as small group after small group entered in their costumes. One group wore black-and-white striped shirts and white make-up, and they weren’t saying a word; rather they were running around and miming boxes around people. A freshman boys group was dressed in red hazmat suits, while a junior group was in Rambo gear chasing their two leaders in T-rex costumes. An adorable girl group was dressed in every emotion from the movie Inside out 2, a boy group as Minions, and a third was trying to represent the Louvre heist with their orange work vests, ski masks, and valuable items sticking out of pockets. The whole scene was an absolute hoot.

But what made me laugh almost more was glancing to my right and my left and seeing members from the other groups at the camp for the weekend, one Swiss and one German. Their faces bore equal amounts of amusement and confusion as they’d look at one another and shake their heads. Finally I wandered over to two chaperones and made some comment along the lines of “Crazy, huh?” The moment they recognized that I spoke their language, they pounced with questions. “What is happening? Who are you guys? What kind of kids are these?”

I sought to answer their questions, searching for the words to explain that our school is made up of kids from all over the world because their parents work in places where the name of Jesus is not yet known as it ought to be. Trying to convey that we were here to have fun but also take a moment to assess our own heart postures toward Jesus. Agreeing that what they were witnessing was “not normal” but also a sign of how comfortable our students were with each other and that we were a bit like family. This was underscored by the senior boys group who chose that moment to whip off their boring hoodies and reveal pink tutus underneath before their leader did a swan dive into waiting arms. The German chaperones shook their heads in disbelief. “This would never happen in our school!” they exclaimed. Fun and laughter were being used as a witness to the power of the gospel in that moment.

It gave me a renewed appreciation for the uniqueness of both our students and our small group leaders. The way they took delight in one another lightened my soul and spoke volumes to my heart about all the work leading up to High School Retreat being worth it. And it spoke to these onlookers about the freedom that comes in unity and sometimes chaos. If even one student felt wanted and loved by their small group and their Maker because of this evening, then I would do it all over again. And let’s be honest: I probably will.

Mega Relay 2026

The real reason we put on HS Retreat.

Chaplains Team + Speakers

(Pic Credit: BFA Communications Department)

A Song for my Soul

The hard hasn’t really let up. A fellow worker lies in a coma in a French hospital, a city I love is still hurting, and family hearts are discouraged. But last Thursday a moment of intense beauty made my heart soar. Plans went awry at Chrysalis due to absent leaders, and in a the necessary switch that followed, the team decided to sing worship songs instead. Armed for battle (see previous post) and with newly made-up song actions, the Middle Schoolers absolutely came alive! It was a declaration of hope to my soul, and I’ve probably watched the videos I took a million times already. Here’s a snippet:

The Lord, in his kindness, allowed that Chrysalis to minister to me perhaps more than to the kids. From the game time to the singing to the message a Senior gave about letting our Maker define our identity to the debrief afterwards, it all reminded me of what really matters, of what the true story is that I'm living out. It isn't funerals or corruption or suffering or even death. It's the story of Jesus beyond the grace. It's trading my sorrows for a story with a good ending.

Jesus in the Both And

So January just happened. I’m hunched over with my hands on my knees because it felt like one sprint after the other, a whiplash of glory and grit, a seesaw of delight and despair. We cheered in ecstasy at the one-point victory over a team ranked above us, and then moaned a week later when 20% of our student body were sick in bed. The impending need of a triple bypass surgery for one I love dearly reached me in the middle of Spiritual Emphasis week when hearts were being changed. There came the news that several babies will draw their first breaths in 2026, even as three souls drew their last this month, one only 6 years old.

I want to simultaneously shout for joy from the top of Freiburg's Schlossbergturm and have a good cry in a therapist’s office, run a marathon and curl up in a corner and sleep for a week. It’s not a surprise to me that life is full of these juxtapositions - brokenness and wholeness, life and death, spiritual oppression and kingdom beauty - it’s just that both have been so intense this month. This ampersand life we are called to is no joke. Making it to February has only been possible through the new-every-morning, matchless-grace-giving kind of strength that comes from a God who cares for his children deeply.

But isn’t that every month? It’s just that sometimes I see my need and his provision more clearly than others. Sometimes my racing heart and sore emotions make me look over at the bench, pleading with Coach Jesus, “Do you see that I’m tired? A little help here, please!” My utter dependency doesn’t grow in that case; I just see it for what it is: reality that has always been.

As I hiked above Freiburg today, I was struck anew by Jesus’ tears with Mary and Martha outside Lazarus’ tomb. He knew they were going to be reunited imminently, and he still wept. I know one day I will meet the two Owens who left earth this January again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t weep in the now. Tears and laughter. Hope and despondency. Jesus and more Jesus. I wouldn’t want any other life.

Jan 31: hiking above Freiburg

Discipling TCK's

Earlier this month, at the WorldVenture regional conference for Europe, a couple of colleagues and I gave a workshop on the following topic: Discipling Third Culture Kids. I said “yes” really quickly (probably too quickly), but I enjoyed the preparation phase of reading books and just processing so many things with the others. In working with TCK’s, whether as a teacher in the classroom or a chaplain engaging them with spiritual questions, the goal has always been one of discipleship. I want my own life to more closely mirror that of Jesus Christ, and I desire that as well for the lives of my TCK students. So after some back-and-forth, our team settled on 5 Principles we wanted to unpack.

1. See and Shepherd the Whole Story.

It feels like TCK’s live an “ampersand” life, a term adopted from Lauren Wells. They get to experience unique joys, such as being bilingual, navigating historical cities, celebrating multiple holidays, and belonging to multicultural communities. & the hard can be deeply formative, such as losing friends and homes at a young age, feeling misunderstood in both their passport and host cultures, living amid visible poverty or political instability, and even carrying an unspoken pressure to be flexible or strong or resilient. The majority of TCK’s, once they’ve reached adulthood, overwhelmingly say they wouldn’t trade their childhood away for anything (something like 96%), but in a discipleship relationship, it’s still important for the adult to invite a younger TCK to share both the joy & the hard.

2. Model Emotional Honesty and Grace.

If Principle 1 is about seeing the whole story, Principle 2 is about responding to it. Many TCK’s possess a highly developed ability to adapt; such an external skill of conformity often masks an internal world of questions, doubts, and unnamed emotions. Some keep it hidden due to the pressure to remain steady and mature; others have later admitted they pulled back the cover to reveal some kind of emotion and felt misunderstood. If the goal of discipleship is to walk with someone in a Godward direction, then we need to model what it looks like to take our emotions to our Maker. To not just name them, but to feel them and allow Jesus to enter into the ampersand life. He gets it, but are we as adults in their lives giving them permission to express things honestly and be met with grace?

3. Normalize Transition, Grief, and Lament.

TCK’s tend to experience 4-8 major moves before the age of 18, compared to 0-2 of most monocultural peers. Transition is part of the regular rhythm of the TCK life, generally not an interruption or even a mistake. While some are minor and some are life-shattering, each one will be accompanied by a measure of grief. And grief isn’t weakness, rather it is love expressing itself in the pain of loss. Over and over in Scripture we see the model (to connect to Principle 2) of lament, and it’s a gift we can give our TCK’s to teach them to bring their grief to God who sees and cares. Transition is at the core of the gospel story after all.

4. Prioritize Presence over Performance.

It’s not unique to the TCK heart to want to be in someone’s presence rather than to be their project. We all get that. However, given the reality of Principle 3 and the life of transition and loss that many TCK’s will live, one temptation they face is to give in to the “Tyranny of Shoulds,” a phrase adopted from Michele Phoenix. These are those unrealistic expectations many face simply because their parents serve and represent God in a way or culture that makes them stick out. When kids give in to these pressures to be extra mature or spiritual or “holy,” they tend to draw away from God rather than toward him. In discipling TCK’s, the heart of Principle 4 is to worry less about the behavior they’re exhibiting and meet them instead with the steadfast, unconditional love of their Father, who simply wants to be with them.

5. Anchor Identity in Christ amid Shifting Belonging.

It’s hard to talk about TCK’s and not touch on the notion of belonging because to belong someone gives a person not just roots, but identity. And identity is a key part of discipleship. Being known, loved, and wanted without the need to perform is a core desire I dare to say every human carries. Thus, an adult who has a voice in the life of a TCK has the opportunity to reinforce the truth of Ephesians 2 over and over again: your belonging is not tied to a country or culture, but to a person - to Jesus Christ. And through him, you get to belong to his family as well, the most beautiful multicultural group there ever was.

So there you have it, a cliff notes version of our workshop. We forgot to have anyone take a picture of us giving it. So instead, here I am just hours after giving it, ready to ring in 2026 with some other WorldVenture friends:

Happy New Year!

2025

 In January Darla came and made our week by impacting Middle Schoolers. In February I delighted in my small group girls. In March I hiked around. In April, we celebrated Ellen's 40 years. In May I saw elephants up close as we launched Tanzania. In June I wept with good-byes. In July the Alps called me higher for a couple of days. In August my PSI team doubled in size. In September all the Custer siblings gathered at my kitchen table for cookies. In October I sat by the fire. In November I fell in love with all my new kids. And in December Elli and I completed reading through the Bible in a year by celebrating our Savior's birth together. Am I rich or what!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why do we Sing?

A few weeks ago on a Saturday, I received some hard news. Naturally I was still processing it as I walked into church Sunday morning, wondering how in the world I was going to be able to sing. I contemplated escaping by checking to see if the nursery needed any last-minute help, but in the end, I took my seat and made sure I had the tissues ready. And something strange happened. As we sang song after song, I had this feeling of being almost two separate people: one who was preaching the truth of the song I was singing and the other a person who was receiving the truth of the song being sung to her. I was struck by the thought that I was engaged in a struggle of belief. Was God still sovereign and good and worthy of worship in the midst of sadness and grief?

An image floated into my mind of literary character Leeli Wingfeather (Monster in the Hollows, Book 3 of The Wingfeather Saga) standing on top of a building, playing her musical instrument, and successfully fighting the enemy that way. She makes music until her lips are bleeding, and then she keeps on playing. In this story, the music she creates is an actual weapon that vanquishes the evil trying to get her.

A quick AI search notes 185 distinct songs recorded in Scripture, most of them in the Psalms of course. Last week in MS Chapel, I shared the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel, whose arch takes her from sorrow of soul to mountains of delight. We had to stop shy of her battle hymn in chapter 2, which contains lyrics such as “My mouth boasts over my enemies, for I delight in your deliverance” and “The foundations of the earth the LORD’s; upon them he has set the world.”

Why do we sing? According to the Hadestown album - which has been on repeat in my apartment this month - the answer is “to fix what’s wrong, to take what’s broken and make it whole.” We sing to “bring the world back into tune,” in line with the Creator’s intentions. We are, in fact, in a constant, daily struggle of belief. We hearken back to Aslan’s song when he created Narnia, to the original melody unleashed in the world and that we know is still there, even though it’s been twisted and altered to suit our sinful fancies. Worship through song restores the tune; it is a weapon we’ve been given to fight the enemy, a gift for the children as they face the sadness and grief of the world but hope for the final day of victory to come. When we finally become His bride.

At Hadestown!

Middle Schoolers in the battle