Crossing the Threshold
Leaving the Known and Stepping Into God's Call
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” Isaiah 43:19
The time came sooner than we could have imagined. After what had felt like an eternity of waiting, wrestling, preparing, and surrendering, the months suddenly collapsed in on themselves. January 1986 arrived almost without warning. Our little family of six was headed to China.
Our baby girl was just over five months old as we packed the final items we thought we would need for life in China. Our oldest son was nearing five, the second was three, and our youngest boy had just turned two. Tom and I felt both eager and sober. We knew enough to know we did not know what lay ahead. Even in our boldest imagining, we could not have anticipated what this next chapter would hold.
Looking back, that final season before departure feels like morning mist dissolving in bright sunlight. The days were full of lists, goodbyes, and quiet reckonings. We were no longer discerning whether to go. That had been settled. Now we were learning to actually take those steps across the threshold.
Letting Go in Layers
Preparation for China did not happen all at once. It came in layers, some practical and others deeply personal. There were passports and packing lists, medical decisions and immunizations, arrangements for finances, and caretakers for the home we would leave behind. Beneath all of that, something more subtle was taking place.
We were being asked to continue to loosen our grip on control.
Our two older sons had struggled with recurring ear infections and health challenges earlier in life, which had led us to back away from automatic vaccinations. Yet international travel required certain immunizations, and once again we faced a decision. We chose to move forward with compliance, trusting God with the unknown consequences. Just before departure, our baby girl developed a runny nose that quietly presaged storms ahead.
Once the door to China had opened, I became hungry to learn everything I could. I read every book and article I could find about China. History, culture, language, politics, missions. I wanted context, something to anchor expectations. We packed as if we might never return. Tom, who had been a Boy Scout, took “be prepared” seriously. Even so, I knew we were not especially brave or heroic. We were an ordinary couple who loved Jesus and believed He had quietly asked us to follow Him. We were choosing obedience, trusting that where He led, He would also keep us.
Where We Were Going
University Language Services had located a position for Tom at a meteorological institute in Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu Province in northwest China. Lanzhou was an industrial city of nearly two million people at the time, a place few Westerners had ever visited. When we arrived, there would be fewer than twenty foreigners in the entire city.
Tom would teach English to staff members and graduate students. The institute would provide housing within the work unit, a bicycle for transportation, and a monthly salary of $139. Benefits included two domestic trips during our service. We were responsible for our international travel, teaching materials, and daily living needs. My role would be to care for our home and children, while also engaging naturally with students and neighbors.
At the time, teaching English in China had only been possible for a few years. We did not yet understand the environmental challenges we would face, including heavy pollution and periodic dust storms. Those realities would soon impact our health in serious ways, particularly that of our youngest child. We had no idea all the challenges that lay ahead, but God was leading the way. This song was playing in my head as we traveled and has been living with me beyond the page. It’s now part of the Dancing on Raindrops Spotify playlist for those who want to linger longer.:
[The songs from this journey are also gathered in the Spotify playlist “Dancing on Raindrops.]
A Journey Begins Before Arrival
Our journey did not begin in Lanzhou. It began in transit.
To break up the long journey and help the children adjust, we routed our travel through Los Angeles and Hawaii, squeezing in a brief Disneyland visit along the way. The idea was optimistic. The reality was exhaustion. By the time we boarded the transpacific flight, we were all worn thin.
In preparation, Tom had purchased toddler harnesses to manage our three boys in crowded airports. Within minutes of trying them in Los Angeles, the boys had tangled themselves, nearly clotheslined passersby, and reduced Tom to frantic untangling. The harnesses were promptly thrown away. We would have to trust God and improvisation instead.
We nearly slept through our connection in Hawaii, dragging luggage, strollers, and limp children through what felt like the longest airport on earth. By the time we reached Hong Kong, we were profoundly jet lagged and disoriented.
University Language Services had scheduled a one week orientation at the YMCA in Hong Kong for teachers entering mainland China. Although Hong Kong felt exotic and mysterious at this point, we would later realize just how modern and familiar it actually was compared to what awaited us. Eventually, sleep came after we finally got settled in our temporary quarters, and with it a bit of clarity.
During that week, we were strengthened through worship, teaching, and fellowship. We visited Revival Church led by Dennis Balcomb, navigating towering high rises and tiny elevators to reach their service. As we stepped into the elevator, we were stunned to see a familiar face from Tom’s earlier business life. Ken, whom Tom had known years before, stood there with his wife.
Neither of them had been believers back then. Now both couples had been radically changed by God and were serving Him in different ways. We could not have known how significant that reunion would become in the months ahead.
Paying Attention
While we were in Hong Kong during our training time, the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster occurred. We watched the news in disbelief as the shuttle broke apart shortly after launch. That night, I had a vivid dream about the incident that stayed with me long after we left Hong Kong.
Only later would I learn details that mirrored elements of that dream. I still do not know fully why God allowed me to see what I did, but it marked the growing awareness that He speaks in many ways. I would need that awareness in the years ahead.
Between What Was and What Would Be
By the time we boarded the final leg of our journey, we were no longer observers or students. We were a family in motion, suspended between what we had known and what we had not yet seen. Our transformation had already begun.
We had released proximity to family. We had entrusted our children, our health, and our future to God. We were not arriving with certainty. We were arriving with faith and obedience.
That space between departure and arrival became sacred ground for me. Obedience did not feel brave. It felt exposed. But slowly confidence gave way to listening, and dependence quietly flourished. The raindrops fell steadily. Not dramatic, not overwhelming, but persistent. Each one softened something in us. Each one prepared us for what lay ahead.
We had crossed the threshold but we had not yet arrived.
Sometimes faith does not feel like leaping forward. Sometimes it feels like learning to stand still in the rain, trusting that God is present in the crossing as surely as He is in the destination. Ahead waited Lanzhou, a city known only from maps and brief descriptions. It was the place that would test our faith, our bodies, our parenting, and our understanding of God’s presence in ways we could not yet imagine.
God had opened the door. The crossing was underway. The landing would come next.
Reflections
Have you ever stood at the edge of something God asked you to do, knowing there was no turning back, yet without clarity about what lay ahead? What did it feel like to release control and step forward anyway?
How do you respond in the in-between spaces, when the old has been left behind and the new has not yet fully arrived? What might it look like to trust God not only with outcomes, but with the waiting itself?
Where might God be inviting you to cross a threshold today?