Who God is to me from A to Z

Today is my 25th re-birthday! To celebrate, I’m drawing inspiration from biblical festivals like Passover, the Feast of Tabernacles, or Purim, which use symbols to remember what God had done. I don’t remember the day I was born again, but my relationship with God has had many memorable milestones over the years. And since I’m on to my 26th year with Jesus, why not go all out with the biblical theme and celebrate with an acrostic of who God has been to me from A to Z? I mean, the other option was a ribbon dance:

Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name;
remember the wonders he has done.

Avenger of the innocent and abused
Bungee cord holding fast even in my plummet to doom
Creator speaking from chaos whirlwind of the beauty in view amid pain
Dumpster-diving artist shining light through stained and broken glass
Elijah’s whispering minister when he felt depressed, lonely, and used
Father who adopted me into a multicultural global family
Good gift-giver who gives bread not stones
Head of the church, lover of an imperfect bride
Immanuel, non-imaginary confidante when I leave my friends behind
Jireh guiding, providing miracle financial aid, checks and jobs from strangers
King coming again to rule in justice over the nations
Labyrinth Lord with the bird’s eye of my path, your higher ways
Messiah who frees me to just minister
New embodied life in barren wombs, from dry bones, out of empty tombs
One who died alone so I’ll never have to
Pastor-shepherd when I was in want of one for four years
Queller of the storms who did care if we drowned
Rainmaker, welcomer of children and their prayers
Spirit who called me before I was born, lands like a butterfly, baptizes with fire
Tucks me into bed, ignoring my essay of good deeds
Ultimate home for us TCKs and wandering Arameans
Virgil’s and Steve’s God, Rock my fathers depended on
Well of living water bringing blooms in a parched desert
eXodus redeemer from sin, shame, death, and Evil with unthinkable sacrifice
You’re with me even when I settle on the far side of the sea
Ziggurat, the Way and unearned blessing Jacob wrestled to grasp

The name of the Lord is great and worthy of praise
I will sing of his wonderful deeds.
25 years, even a lifetime is not enough
to thank him as he deserves.

If you’d like to know the backstories to any of these, check out the hyperlinks or just ask!

The Teacher

How appropriate that this Pentecost Sunday is Grandma Rasmussen’s 95th birthday! She is a prayerful Pentecostal passionate about equipping the church for mission with her gifts, has taught God’s Word across language barriers, and her love for me and for the Bible has had a profound spiritual influence on my life. Five years ago, I shared nine lessons she’d taught me. This year, I’m sharing a quasi-poem I wrote in honor of The Teacher.

After two weeks of helping her write her story – a special bonding time for us

Her fingertips pull the dough towards her,
Palms press it away,
Hands give it a quick quarter turn.
“Hannah, would you like to try now?”
Pull, press, turn.
Her skin is soft like bread dough,
flour fills in the wrinkles.
“Don’t worry if you don’t get it the first time.
I’ve had 87 years to practice!”

1947: In her home-economics classroom during her second year of teaching

I am one of her many home-economics students.
She taught me to iron, to make beds,
Cinnamon rolls and monkey bread.
When the family needed dough,
She kneaded dough.
This home economics teacher’s got muscles.

She taught me it takes a strong woman to feed a family.

When we visit,
she’ll celebrate with turkey dinner, my dad’s favorite,
keep frozen donuts in the fridge for my aunt,
set out Grandpa’s favorite tea,
and make oatmeal for me.
She says, “Glad you liked it.”

c. 1993: “Helping Grandma dust”

“My special Hannah…
I remember babysitting you when you were just a baby.”
I remember when I was a kid
we flew, her and I, in a six-seater plane
to Kigoma, and the best lake in the world.
When my mom had baby twins,
she spent three months with us in Africa
“Glad I could be of help.”

She taught me a helping hand is a hardworking one.

“3 dozen rolls, we’ll triple the recipe.”
She was a math teacher too.
Taught the grandkids times tables with her able mind,
Taught me all of seventh grade pre-algebra in a month.

She taught me smart money is invested where it counts.

The turkey pan was from their wedding
And who knows how many times she’s reused her Ziplocs.
Up to half their income was going to their church,
their missionary sons,
their grandkids’ college education.

2010: 61st wedding anniversary

She taught us it isn’t giving unless you give something up.
To put my dad through college,
they sold the retirement house Grandpa built.

She taught us love is faithful,
Still giggling at my grandpa
six kids and 61 years later.
“My, isn’t he so handsome?”

She taught us love is full of faith.
She’s a licensed preacher too,
Sang me the books of the Bible song
And taught half of those books to pastors
in four Bible schools across Tanzania.

1995: teaching Bible school with translator in Tanzania

She taught us to pray.
Every morning her hands fold
“Lord, bless the Rasmussens…”
She tears up as she lists each family by name.
She prays for me over the phone,
“We’re so proud of how you’re serving God at Macalester.”
Gives me her favorite devotional and the Daily Bible
so we can read it each day together.

She taught me
It takes a strong woman to feed a family.
A helping hand is a hardworking one.
Smart money is invested where it counts.
It isn’t giving unless you give something up.
Love is full of faith.

She taught me to pray.
So let’s pray.
“Lord, bless this bread and the hands that prepared it.”

c. 2004

You can learn more about my grandparents’ incredible ministry legacy in Faithful Servants: The Legacy of Virgil and Ruth Rasmussen, which includes their autobiographies, sermons, recipes, poems, and tributes from family and ministry partners.

My faltering, step-at-a-time seminary path

When I started my Master of Divinity at Africa International University five years ago, I didn’t necessarily expect to graduate from here or with this degree.

Uncertain when graduation will be held with the COVID crisis, I pulled out an old grad cap and new kente. Why wait to celebrate? PC: Josh Chard

God called me to ministry while in student leadership of my college InterVarsity chapter. Like Gideon, I put out fleece after fleece, only to find the same patient and persistent God he found. Despite my ambivalence, mentors offered to tutor me in Hebrew and church history, enlisted me in pre-seminary and spiritual writing groups, offered me church internships, gave me writing opportunities, and urged me to take an all-expenses-paid visit to Fuller Theological Seminary.

I’d planned to stay in the Twin Cities after graduating, but my gut wouldn’t let me settle. Then God called me through a stranger over Skype to a one-year internship working on the Africa Study Bible, living in my parents’ house back on AIU’s campus. I told my pastor my five-year plan, including going to Fuller after a year, and he laughed at my illusion of control. After all, he’s the one who had shared Isaiah 42:16 with me: “I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.”

After a year, my internship turned into a job offer. Meanwhile, my curiosity about classes at AIU had been piqued, and I was already living on campus. Having spent that year researching whether women could preach and teach for my book, I felt more confident about my call. Formal training seemed like the next obedient step, and having the expected professional degree (MDiv) would fortify my credibility as a woman in ministry. My employer offered me part-time hours and support for part-time studies. Committing to a three-year degree half-time sounded daunting with all the unknowns and possibilities of my twenties ahead, but I figured I could transfer credits if I ended up moving away or getting married (you never know!) before I finished. I selected classes that also fit the shorter MA in Biblical Studies requirements. I switched into that degree at one point, redid my internship requirement, but then switched back in time to log those hours as an independent study.

People often perceive me as a bright, confident, and driven go-getter. So why all the uncertainty and backup plans? Maybe I was still resistant or just growing into this call. Maybe it was unconscious girlhood messaging prioritizing marriage or portraying my ministry role models as supporting their husbands’ callings. Maybe my resolve to follow one step at a time was based on past experiences of God surprising me with a labyrinth twist in my carefully planned path.

The past five years have included plenty of uncertainty and challenges. Administrative changes to credit hours, thesis requirements, and the grading scheme. Navigating how, as a foreign single woman, to get to know my classmates in culturally appropriate ways and fend off a couple creeps. Staying on track despite stress at work, a busy travel schedule, or personal loss. Pushing myself too hard and hitting the wall. Resonating with my Reformed classmates’ love of the Bible, and yet feeling excluded from their circle and churches by their complementarian views. Wrestling with how debates that could be purely intellectual for male classmates had high stakes for me: either risk disobeying “biblical” boundaries or risk defying God’s call. Wondering what my purpose was at seminary when I couldn’t grasp Hebrew conjugations. Constantly cultivating connection given my family’s return to the US and the turnover in my social circle of international, young adult, or student friends. Walking through a dramatic church crisis, from warning signs to the painful aftermath to the church search.

But through his Word and his people, God faithfully gave me courage to keep going and guidance for the next step.

Mentors solidified my callings to preach, teach, and write. My homiletics professor described how he and his wife co-pastored for decades and often told me, “You’re a preacher!” My advisor equipped me with a great book and affirming feedback in an independent study teaching at the Bible school where I grew up in Tanzania. The deans there entrusted me with a full elective course and even sat in on some of the lessons. I learned from the example of two North American missionary kids and single women that people like me can teach theology in Africa and respectfully empower local scholars. Four professors encouraged me to publish papers I had written in their classes or recommended I present at academic conferences.

My parents were a constant sounding board. My employer continued to offer me flexibility and support. My fellow volunteers on the youth ministry team welcomed me, gave me constructive feedback, and helped me identify a teaching gift. The amazing ladies in my Bible study prayed me through each hurdle. The assistant chaplain kept inviting me back to preach. Classmates spurred each other on. Not to mention all the family members, friends, and colleagues who empowered and cheered me on. You know who you are. Thank you.

I now find myself at the end of an MDiv from AIU, much more confident in my calling. The extravagant levels of support I received remind me of the words of Hebrews 10:24-25: “Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us… encourage one another.”

Maybe it’s my turn to pass it on. To anyone out there tentatively considering stepping out into God’s call – whatever that is – pay attention to your delight in serving, your love of God’s Word or God’s people, and what your cheerleaders see in you. If you want to talk it through, give me a holler. “The path is made by walking,” as they say. Often, you’ll be surprised where you end up when you just take that next step.

A Sweet Season of Friendships

Since my support systems crumbled a year ago, God has been rebuilding my community. A friend recently texted me: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland” (Isaiah 43:19). Focusing on gratitude today opened my eyes to God doing a new thing through a sweet season of friendships.

When my support systems fell apart, I worried I was too needy to be good company. I asked for help anyway. One friend let me show up on her couch for tea whenever I needed. Another listened just the way I like. My family picked up my frequent phone calls. I was reminded that real friends want to hold you when you’re weak and support you when you’re a mess. Caring for your needs isn’t a burden. The vulnerable risk of asking friends for help opens us up to the grace of love you don’t deserve.

Over the summer, I had the chance to visit the US and Tanzania. I reconnected with old college friends and mentors, relatives, my dad’s Tanzanian colleagues, and missionary families from childhood. My communities have always been transient, so home is people more than place. There’s something special about people who have watched you grow up, who know your family or your formative years. They ground you in who you are and where you come from.

Last year, I adapted to other people to try to preserve relationships, losing some of who I was in the process. Recently, I’ve been privileged to find people I can simply be myself with. Whether it’s celebrating in silly costumes with relatives, playing “Hannah Jeopardy” designed for my birthday by a college bestie and brother, or clicking with a fellow Third Culture Kid, I’ve felt the freedom of being known and loved as I am.

After a season of receiving lots of support, it’s been empowering to support others and focus beyond myself. As several friends have been grieving dashed hopes in their love lives, I’ve been able to relate and comfort them with some of the comfort I received. Sewing a present for a friend or acting like an honorary bridesmaid has also refreshed my joy in giving.

In the wake of relationships ending, making new friends has been healing. Isn’t it encouraging when people like spending time with you? I’ve returned to places with sad associations and made new memories. A new friend whose personality initially triggered me has prompted me to process past hurts and make peace. I’ve randomly reconnected with acquaintances, hosted game nights, and gathered groups to explore a Nairobi bucket list. God has also blessed me with depth in existing relationships, making plans for sleepovers and road trips. It’s a hopeful season with new friends to meet, new places to see, and new adventures to be had.

I’ve gotten back in touch with some best friends from past seasons of my life lately – doing henna with a childhood friend, sipping “tea of amazingness” with an old housemate, or messaging a high school friend on facebook about her upcoming wedding. Though we haven’t kept in touch consistently, these moments affirm the connection we had. They say: “Our friendship still matters to me.”

For a couple years, I’ve been praying for mentors. God answered that prayer in this season. Connections I made earlier bore fruit as I reached out again or seemed to hit a groove. These godly people given me permission to rest, taught me how to teach theology, or said just what I needed to hear about ministry.

Friends have also given me hope for my future. As a single extrovert working remotely overseas, I need social support to stay sane. Laughing and talking all at the same time with the Kenyan ladies in my Bible Study made me think, “These are my sisters.” Last month my workplace officially hired a dear colleague. Side by side at our desks and at a conference, we have shared a new depth and companionship that makes me think, “I could stay here.”

Friendship is beautiful. Friends tell you you’re worth loving when all you have is weakness. They give you the honor of loving them when they wonder if they’re lovable. They want to spend time with you just as you are – even when years have passed. Friends hold up kind mirrors to who you are and celebrate together at what God has done in your lives. They ground you in where you’ve come from and give you hope for where you’re going.

Which friends can you be grateful for today?

Singleness is a Gift. Really.

For Valentine’s a year ago, my then-boyfriend treated me to a fancy dinner and my favorite flowers.

This Valentine’s, I had the gift of singleness. Does this one come with a receipt?

Since I had no plans this year, I accepted a last-minute dinner invitation as the opener for a panel of married couples advising a dinner for young professionals. God prompted me to share about the gift of singleness. As I did, I became genuinely grateful.

I’m not saying singleness is a gift out of breakup bitterness or pessimism on the state of marriage. In fact, in the last year my social circles have totally changed. Now a third of my friends are married with kids and another third are in serious relationships or married. So I understand the perks. Someone asks how your day was. When you move your best friend comes with. You can host male classmates or couples for dinner without it being awkward or inappropriate.

But I’ve also listened to my friends’ struggles. Their wedding planning stress, their in-law drama, the longings their partner can’t fill. Plus all the sleepless nights once they have babies.

There are a lot of benefits to being single. I have more time, fewer responsibilities, and only myself to take care of. So I’ve invested in my own growth: gone to counseling, climbed Kili, and run a half marathon. Without a wedding or kids’ school fees to save up for, I’ve given money to causes I care about and paid off my student loans.

Singles really do have freedom. I had no spouse to consult when I up and moved to a new country for the Africa Study Bible job, no kids to take on the plane or leave home as I traveled to conferences across Africa. I got to live with my family during their last years in Kenya. I’ve invested in friendships, taking cheap and crazy trips to visit old pals around Europe.

Ultimate tourist selfie while visiting London friends

Single people can make invaluable contributions to God’s kingdom by devoting themselves to ministry. Imagine how much Jesus would have worried a wife: “Foxes have holes, but I was born in a manger and haven’t had a home since!” Or Paul: “Sorry honey, I know I never write. I used up my papyrus sorting out Corinth again. Don’t worry, it was just the usual 39 lashes.” Ruth built King David’s and Jesus’ genealogy because she chose a poor and bitter mother-in-law over a husband from her homeland. Then of course, there’s the virgin Mary.

I’ve also been privileged to focus on these kingdom callings in this season. If I had a family, I doubt I could juggle writing and launching my book, a Masters degree, coaching African authors, and kick-starting youth ministries at our church plant.

Singleness is also helping my future ministry. If I get married, I want to remember this time so I can reach out and include other singles.

Still, sometimes I worry that I have to choose between following God or marriage. What if by pursuing all these dreams I intimidate potential suitors? I mean, who wouldn’t want a wife who’s a public speaker and author on gender equality? And why does God call me to places I’m least likely to meet someone? Go from a small college with less than 1% straight Christian guys to a seminary full of straight Christian guys who are all married. Work in an office by yourself via Skype and email. Seriously?

But I don’t want to be the servant entrusted with an investment that I buried in the ground. I want to be faithful with the gifts God’s given me – including my singleness. My joy is in following God’s call, so I trust that if marriage is part of his plan, it will be down that same path.

In Matthew 6, Jesus reminds us that we don’t need to worry about tomorrow. God feeds the birds and clothes the flowers in beauty. Our Father cares even more about us and he knows what we need. “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

So, I told the young professionals, singleness is a gift. Don’t waste it away hunting for a husband. Seek the kingdom, and enjoy the adventure.

Destined to edit books for the church in Africa

Our missionary family “prayer card” – about a year after my salvation

Last month, I moved into a new associate acquisitions editor position at Oasis International. Over the weekend, I realized that God has been preparing me for this for twenty years!

I moved to Tanzania as a two-year-old and grew up there as a missionary kid. When I was four – exactly twenty years ago this weekend – I decided to follow Jesus. I don’t remember it, but my dad recently unearthed his old journal and came across the night I became a Christian. Earlier this year I noticed the file on my computer, realized this would be twenty years, and decided to celebrate my “re-birthday.” So I read over what my dad had written:

October 22, 1996        Hannah is 4

Dear Hannah,

I want to write this now for you to read later so you can remember what happened tonight. Tonight at bed time you wanted to read your Swahili book and they you wanted to read a book that your Sunday school teacher at the PEFA church next door gave you awhile back. (We had never read it before.) It was in English even though he only speaks Swahili. It was about heaven and hell and a little African boy named Mutu having salvation explained to him. You and I had talked about heaven and that Jesus died for us and what that means.

My dad writes that he explained the gospel in four-year-old terms and we prayed for my salvation.

Mutu’s story might have come from this Christian bookstore in my hometown in Tanzania

I shared this story with a friend, who noticed, “Books have been part of your story from the beginning.”

“Wow, I never thought about that. This was even before I was reading on my own. But I guess they have!”

And as I thought about it more, I realized that it wasn’t just any book. It was a Christian book written in English, contextualized for Africa, distributed to me through a local pastor. It was exactly the literature that Oasis creates and distributes! Jesus saved this little American-African missionary kid through the same work that I do now!

Editing Christian literature for Africa from my office in Nairobi, Kenya

From there, God weaved the rest of the story together: The second-grade teacher who told me I’d become a writer. The pastoring grandparents who always gave me Christian books for my birthday. The many childhood visits to village churches. My preteen years on a seminary campus where my friends biked to the bookstore for candy, browsed the shelves, and made our faith our own. The last-minute English major in college and the unexpected call to ministry. An Oasis job opening after graduation asking me to move back home to Kenya – literally to my parents’ house. Getting sick of Pulitzer winners and discovering African fiction. Multiple people randomly telling me last summer that I should go into acquisitions editing.

How does God do it? Not only saving me and continuing to affirm our relationship as I grew up, but designing the way I was saved to chart my destiny? I’m so in awe. I felt like I stumbled into this path, but what a comfort that God has known all along where we’re going!

So all I do is echo Ephesians 3:20: “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”