Mosaic Mennonites

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All I Have is Running Paint 

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by Emily Ralph Servant

We spent months planning our painting party at the school. We found cute hawk print stencils, matched the burgundy and gold of the school colors, and waited for a stretch of warm weather to coincide with school vacation. 

We cleaned off years of class numbers that overlapped on the pavement where the elementary school kids lined up. We were not only going to repaint the numbers, but we were going one step further; we planned to paint lines of hawk prints (the school mascot) to show the kids where to line up. For months, we had watched the teachers yelling at the kids at the end of long school days, trying to keep them in straight lines in the tight space. If we could bring some peace to dismissal time, we felt like we were doing God’s work. 

The day finally arrived, with temperatures rising into the fifties over New Year’s weekend. It had rained over Christmas break but we had a dry forecast. A bunch of people had offered to help, but when the day came, only two neighbors showed up. Together with my first-grade daughter, the four of us measured, taped, stenciled, and painted. We talked about life, about faith, and about our community.  

A few hours later, we stepped back to admire our work. And, boy, did it look good. 

My church, Refuge, is shaped around empowering people who want to live like Jesus and with Jesus in our neighborhoods. With the encouragement of Mosaic’s missional lead, Noel Santiago, Refuge has been using the church planting grant we received from the conference to support our members in loving our neighborhoods. Refuge paid for the paint and supplies we needed to spruce up the school and I was excited about this connection between my church expression and my community. 

The next day, I got an email from the school/community liaison. She sent me some photos.  Despite the forecast, it had rained overnight. Before the paint dried. And all our beautiful paint had run down the sidewalk. 

I was frustrated. I was embarrassed. Instead of improving the situation, we had made it worse. And with the cold stretch, it would be months before the weather, the school’s schedule, and my free time would line up again. 

Soon afterward, our virtual Refuge gathering was studying the story of Jesus choosing his apostles in Luke 6. The CEB version we read describes how Jesus took his disciples up the mountain, named some of them as apostles, and then brought them back down the mountain, where they stood in front of a large crowd of Jesus’ followers (vs. 12-17). I thought about how I would have felt as one of those newly-named apostles, standing in front of hundreds of people as one who had been chosen to join Jesus in his public ministry. 

Jesus—the one who taught so powerfully, healed all the sick, set people free from oppressive spirits, creatively navigated conflict, stood strong in the face of opposition—had chosen me to join him in his work of making the world right again. 

And all I have is running paint. 

I felt so inadequate. How could I ever live up to this call? 

But as we practiced listening prayer in response to this passage, I realized that the big crowd wasn’t looking at me; they were looking at Jesus. Jesus was the attraction. As long as I was pointing people to Jesus, I was enough. Jesus is already present, healing my neighborhood, and I get to be a part of it. 

Running paint and all. 

Emily Ralph Servant

Emily Ralph Servant is the Leadership Minister for Strategic Priorities for Mosaic Mennonite Conference. Emily has served in pastoral roles at Swamp and Indonesian Light congregations and graduated from Eastern Mennonite Seminary.

Submitting to God and One Another as the Pathways Steering Team

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by Marta Castillo

Every group or process I have been a part of has required submission and humility. Before I became a pastor, I thought that pastors and leaders had control in their church and organization, and they were able to get things to go their way. When I became a pastor, especially a pastor on a team with two other pastors, male, one African American and one Latino, in a congregation that was intercultural, I realized that I only got “my” way about 10% of the time. There was a lot of submission to God and to the members of the congregation where I served. It was freeing, humbling, and occasionally annoying. 

As the Pathways Steering Team, our diverse group from all over the conference has worked together over the last year and a half on strategic planning and preparing a recommendation about affiliation with Mennonite Church USA. There have been countless opportunities for us to learn to submit to God and to each other. The reality is that none of us are in control or can get our own way. All of us are seeking to honor God by being submitting to the leading of the Holy Spirit and to the others in our group and the conference. Reverent submission is honored by God. 

Statue at Eastern Mennonite Seminary (Harrisonburg, VA) titled “Love Essence” by Esther K. Augsburger. Photo by Marta Castillo. 

We seek to follow the way of Jesus in Philippians 2 which asks, “Does belonging to Christ help you in any way? Does his love comfort you at all? Do you share anything in common because of the Holy Spirit? Has Christ ever been gentle and loving toward you? If any of these things has happened to you, then agree with one another. Have the same love. Be one in spirit and in the way you think and act. By doing this you will make my joy complete. Don’t do anything to get ahead. Don’t do it because you are proud. Instead, be humble.  Value other more than yourselves. None of you should look out just for your own good. Each of you should also look out for the good of others. As you deal with one another, you should think and act as Jesus did.”  (Philippians 2:1-5, NIRV) 

The posture of submission to God results in humility towards God and one another. For the Pathways Team, it has created fertile ground for unique ideas, unexpected twists and turns, curiosity, and attention to the parts of the body that seem weaker, less represented with opportunities to honor their voice (c.f. I Corinthians 12:12-26). Time and again we are seeing the fruit of submission to another God and the “other,” not in forming the perfect strategic plan, but in honoring God and one another. The way of the Lamb of submission to God leads to honoring God and being honored by God (c.f. Revelation 5:9-12). 

Copyright ©2024 InterVarsity Press

I am currently reading Humility Illuminated by Dennis Edwards (which I highly recommend). In Chapter 3, he writes about how “indispensable humility is for establishing and maintain Christian community…humility is how love blossoms.” (p.12) 

In every meeting, in decision making, in conflict, and transition, we must strive for submission to God, considering others better than ourselves, remaining silent so that others may speak, waiting on God, and believing the intercultural value of mutual transformation open the door to God’s way being revealed and to obedience. We submit to one another to honor each other, and we are changed by the experience. We die to self and end up producing fruit of righteousness.   

The Pathways Steering Team was set up to be representative of the conference. I have heard it said that if we can work together, hear one another, and together present a plan and recommendation to the rest of the conference, then there is hope that the whole of Mosaic can do the same. Walking humbly with God and with each other will be essential for the pathway forward. 

Marta Castillo

Marta Castillo is the Associate Executive Minister for Mosaic Conference. Marta lives in Norristown, PA, with her husband, Julio, and has three sons, Christian, Andres and Daniel and one granddaughter, Isabel.

Journey (to the West)

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by Hendy Matahelemual

Every person from Indonesia is familiar with the 16th century novel from the Ming Dynasty in China, Journey to the West, which features four main characters: Monk Tong, Sun Go Kong, Tie Pat Kai, and Sam Cheng. (Translated into English by Arthur Waley in 1942 as Monkey: A Folk-Tale of China). 

The novel tells the journey of the four characters on a mission to retrieve the holy scriptures in the West, enduring 14 cold summers and facing 81 disturbances from demons and monsters before reaching their destination and bringing the scriptures back to China. 

Many do not know that this story was inspired by the real journey of a Chinese monk named Xuanzang who, from 629-645 AD, went to India and successfully returned to China bringing back 657 texts of holy scriptures. Although he managed to translate only 75 of the 657 texts into Mandarin, what he did translate was very significant. 

From the vantage point of this story, I want to reflect on my journey to the West, in a different context. As one of the staff serving the Indonesian Mosaic churches in southern California, traveling from Philadelphia to Los Angeles is something I often do. Each journey holds different meanings and impressions. 

Southern California, especially Los Angeles, is where most of the Indonesian diaspora in the U.S. reside, perhaps because the weather is like that in Indonesia. 

There are three Indonesian Mosaic congregations in greater Los Angeles: Imanuel International Fellowship (Colton, CA) JKI Anugerah (Pasadena, CA) and International Worship Church in (San Gabriel, CA) and a ministry partner, Ark of Christ (Anaheim, CA) who is considering membership with Mosaic. 

The desert climate of southern California appeals to me. Apart from palm trees, deserts, and mountains, visiting Mosaic communities in California also makes every journey for work feel like visiting one’s own family. 

In addition to building relationships, every visit brings a new understanding of ministry that enriches our collective understanding. There is much to learn together because mutual transformation is one of the goals of living in community. 

As a conference with a long history of Swiss-German cultural background, and a process of assimilation into Western European-American culture, the new presence of Hispanic, African, and Eastern cultures, each with their own etiquette, can pose challenges. 

However, our shared commitment of faith in Jesus, life in the community, and efforts for peace make our journey more beautiful. 

I am reminded of the quote, “If you want to walk fast, walk alone, but if you want to walk far, walk together.” And also of the story of two of Jesus’ disciples on their way to Emmaus. As they covered seven miles walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, Jesus approached them and walked with them. 

They did not realize that Jesus was with them until the moment they ate together, and Jesus took the bread, blessed it, then broke it and gave it to them. (Luke 24:13-35) 

This verse reminds me of two things. First, that sometimes we are too focused on our goals that we forget to enjoy the journey and miss the presence of God in every process of our lives. 

Second, how eating together is an important part of building relationships. Even when we eat together, divine revelation can occur. This happened to the two disciples of Jesus. 

Going from one place to another in Los Angeles takes a long time. However, in my journey, I was introduced to a hymn from South Africa, “Hamba nathi” which means “Let’s walk together with Me”. 

At this opportunity, allow me to share the song: 

Come, walk with us, the journey is long. 
Share our burden, and join in the song. 
Come, uplift us, and bring us new life. 
Give us peace when the journey is done. 
The journey, the journey, the journey is long. 

In our spiritual journey, let us walk together with our brothers and sisters in faith and enjoy every process with the Lord. Because He never once leaves us or forsakes us. May the Lord bless us. 

Hendy Matahelemual

Hendy Matahelemual is the Associate Minister for Community Engagement for Mosaic Conference. Hendy Matahelemual was born and grew up in the city of Bandung, Indonesia. Hendy lives in Philadelphia with his wife Marina and their three boys, Judah, Levi and Asher.

Signs of Hope and the Butterfly Effect 

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by Margaret Zook

Amid so much violence, loneliness, and deep despair in our world, even in our church communities, I am asked by many, “How are you finding hope this year?”  

My response, usually, is that I have a large, loving family, the work of Mosaic inspires me, the small signs of spring assure me, and my congregation cares for the community. I follow the encouragement of Lizzie Moyer, the matron of Souderton Mennonite Homes (1927-1952), “Look to Jesus.” My trust in the Lord and the choice and freedom to follow in the path of Jesus, all these give me hope.   

But where is the hope in response to the world’s suffering?  

I see the hope in the depth, width, and impact of the Conference-Related Ministries (CRMs) in their communities.:   

  • On the porch of Ripple Community, Inc. in Allentown (PA) where the door opens to all with a snack, a bathroom, a table and a friendly hello.  
  • At the homes of Peaceful Living (Harleysville, PA) where belonging and acceptance are always present for people of all abilities.  
  • At Bike and Sol (East Greenville, PA) where the dedicated service center makes rebuilt bike magic happen. 
  • At Living Branches (Souderton, PA) where a friend is just a door away.  
  • In the village children of Honduras served by Healthy Niños and in the pastors of India accompanied by Peace Proclamation Ministries.  

This is hope in what Dr. Betty Pries calls “the butterfly effect.” The idea that the distant beating of butterfly wings over time and space may produce a whirlwind elsewhere in the world. Making a difference.   

The CRMs beat their wings over the world to bring hope, healing, education, and belonging to their communities.  

Every small act of showing up well for one another, leading with kindness, and sowing small seeds of hope makes a difference. “Make a difference in someone’s life every day,” encouraged Kathryn Kulp, former Administrator at Hatfield Home (1969-1987, now The Willows, part of CRM Living Branches).  

These small acts of love, one person at a time, may be the butterfly wings’ whirlwind. While these acts won’t stop the wars, violence, or climate crisis, they bring peace to the people that they touch.  

Doing their best in what they’ve been called to do, working with what is available, our CRMs create community, connections, and support. They are butterfly wings of caring, loving, and sharing that whisper hope into the community. They give me hope for our church and our future.  

Will you join me in praying for the leaders of our CRMs (from the Voices Together hymnal, #968)?          

God who calls you to this ministry,  

grant you grace, joy and endurance 

Guide and empower you for service 

Fill you with the gifts you need 

And may the one whose love unites us as the body of Christ  
strengthen us to live and proclaim the gospel together.   

voices together hymnal, #968

This reflection was inspired by one written by Dr. Betty Pries in December 2023.  

Margaret Zook

Margaret Zook is the Director of Collaborative Ministries for Mosaic Conference. She and husband, Wib, are members of Salford Mennonite Church and live in Harleysville, PA.

Not Your Typical Mennonite: A Take on Violence 

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by Andrés Castillo

I remember my first Judo Club practice at West Chester University. Its demanding drills would eventually lead to throwing, sweeping, and wrestling other students on blue mats.  

A semester of Kickboxing Club left me similarly realizing I had never known how to properly throw a punch or kick before—let alone at another person. 

Within a couple of years, I was regularly feeling invigorated following my weekly Jiu Jitsu* or Muay Thai† classes. 

In my teens, much to my parents’ dismay, I began listening to rock and metal music. In 2021, I would be invited to my first ever hardcore‡ music show. I witnessed a brutal karate dance floor accompanied by loud, fast music. I even clumsily attempted to participate by throwing myself at friends and flailing my limbs around. 

These days, I attend a couple shows each month to continue perfecting the art of karate dancing known as moshing, and I play in two hardcore bands. 

If you are slightly horrified at this point, I will admit this to you: as someone who identifies as Mennonite, these activities are fun for me, and I now consider them a big part of my personality.  

Andrés Castillo (right) playing guitar with his band at a show in Phoenixville, PA. Photo provided by Andrés Castillo.

I cannot explain why I signed up to try martial arts during college. And although I always had a special connection to music, I never imagined myself physically participating in it with such zeal. I had never been athletic, aggressive, competitive, or a dancer.  

Sometimes I question my newfound joys. Do I like violence? 

Growing up, I knew of my poppop’s prowess in badminton and tennis. I also knew of his and my nana’s involvement in the Vietnam War as peacemakers. As missionaries teaching English, they stared violence calmy and dutifully in the face. 

My grandparents enjoy hearing about my hobbies, but I sometimes wonder how they can connect with a grandson who enjoys “violent” activities. Expressing my interest in such things at church or family functions sometimes raises eyebrows. “Where’s the nonviolence in that?” some ask. 

The Confession of Faith In a Mennonite Perspective tells us that, “Although God created a peaceable world, humanity chose the way of unrighteousness and violence.”  

Have I chosen the way of unrighteousness and violence? 

The confession continues to say, “[Mennonites] witness to all people that violence is not the will of God. We witness against all forms of violence, including war among nations, hostility among races and classes…and capital punishment.”  

Andrés Castillo (left) practicing Brazilian Jiu Jitsu with a friend in Conshohocken, PA. Photo provided by Andrés Castillo.

My insider opinion is that martial arts classes are a place of personal strengthening and friendship where pride is frowned upon; hardcore shows provide a place to let out stress in a controlled-chaos environment. These are consensual activities, and I doubt they will lead me toward a love of true violence and unrighteousness. 

I reflect on a conversation with Juan Marrero of Crossroads Community Center (Philadelphia, PA). Part of Crossroads’ enrichment activities for youth involve boxing. Juan sees boxing as an empowering activity that discourages young people from defaulting to gun violence and has been used to resolve lethal situations in his neighborhood. 

I challenge you to discover what unorthodox pastimes exist in your community and the purposes they serve for those who partake in them. Was your pastor in a punk band? Is Mosaic Executive Minister Steve Kriss a “gym bro”? As we seek to celebrate differences within Mosaic, it is worth discovering what more of them are. 

*Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, a grappling art popularized in the 90s 
†Thai Kickboxing 
‡Hardcore is a music scene/style originating in the 80s, but has often been used as an ambiguous term 

Andrés Castillo

Andrés Castillo is the Intercultural Communication Associate for the Conference. Andrés lives in Philadelphia, PA, and currently attends Methacton Mennonite Church. He loves trying new food, learning languages, playing music, and exploring new places.

To Shoot or to Sing 

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by Josh Meyer

1 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever… 
8 Let [us] give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for humankind, 
9 for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. 

Psalm 107:1, 8-9, NIV

The word הֹד֣ו (hō-ḏū) in the Hebrew Bible is fascinating. It means “to give thanks,” but it also means “to shoot.” We read in the Psalms: “I will give thanks to the Lord because of his righteousness; I will sing the praises of the name of the Lord Most High” (Ps. 7:17).  But the same word, הֹד֣ו, is also used in Jeremiah 50:14: “Take up your positions around Babylon, all you who draw the bow. Shoot at her! Spare no arrows…”   

To shoot or to sing…   

Both meanings of הֹד֣ו come from the same root word for “hand.” You can use your hands to draw a bow, or you can use your hands to lift in gratitude.   

Built into this one Hebrew word is the tension we all feel in life. Sometimes it’s easy to give thanks: life is going well, circumstances are manageable, we feel God’s blessings. Other times it’s much more difficult: we are tempted instead to “shoot” arrows – arrows of anger, cynicism, sarcasm, bitterness, judgement.      

To shoot or to sing… 

Tradition tells us that the psalm 107 was written by David after being wrongfully accused of conspiracy against King Saul, which would surely result in David’s death. He pleads to God: “…save and deliver me from all who pursue me, or they will tear me apart like a lion and rip me to pieces with no one to rescue me.” (7:1). It was a dark and potentially deadly situation for David. He had every right to spare no arrows.  

Yet, in the final verse he chooses to lift his hands in song. “I will give thanks to the Lord because of his righteousness and will sing praise to the name of the Lord Most High.” In reflecting on this psalm, Charles Spurgeon writes: “What a blessing would it be if we could turn even the most disastrous event into a theme for song, and so turn the tables upon our great enemy.” 

And that’s just it, isn’t it? Giving thanks is actually the more effective “weapon.” It’s easier to reach for an arrow than a song, but it always misses the mark. The bow never satisfies.   

But we turn the tables when we choose to give thanks to Jesus, the One who on the cross took every arrow humanity could shoot, then rose from the dead to begin the restoration of all things – from death to life; from darkness to light; from shooting to singing… 

This week, may you turn the tables by giving thanks.   

May you choose singing over shooting, giving thanks over slinging arrows.   

May you put down your bow and lift up your hands.     

Josh Meyer

Josh Meyer is a Leadership Minister for Mosaic Conference.

When 1 + 1 = 3 (or more) 

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“Eight weeks. Would you be willing to help us out for eight weeks…maybe ten at the most?”  

This was the invitation I received to join the Conference communication staff in January 2020. As the Conference changed and grew, so did the needs of the communication staff, so my eight weeks was extended multiple times until I became a permanent staff member. Now, four years later, I have decided it is time for me to pass the baton along.  

For the four years that I worked for Mosaic, I worked at least one other job, sometimes two. My jobs were always part-time jobs, so on paper, it seemed like the math should add up. Rarely did the number of hours purportedly worked add up to over 40. Surely, I could handle a full-time load. Many weeks, I did, and it was fine. Some weeks felt lighter than full-time, and others more than full-time. I was bi-vocational, working in two areas that I loved: communication and chaplaincy. I was on the communication staff for Mosaic, and I was a chaplain. I felt fortunate. And I was. 

But over time, the toll of doing two part-time jobs that required my energy and thinking outside of the standard hours worked began to feel heavy. It was hard to juggle the schedules; which job do I prioritize when I have both jobs requesting my presence at the exact same time? How do I make sacrifices in one job to be successful in the other? Carrying the energy, knowledge, and responsibility of two jobs began to feel like I wasn’t able to do either one as well as I wanted.  

I know many people, especially those of us in ministry, are bi-vocational. Some people may choose this, as they welcome the opportunity to set boundaries and feel like having another job allows them this possibility. Other people are bi-vocational due to financial needs. For some, being bi-vocational allows them to experience a variety of professional experiences, something I enjoyed in my two roles.  

But, after four years, I realized that juggling two jobs is not sustainable for me in the long run. I want to be able to focus more steadily on one job and do it well. For me, this meant choosing the job that allowed my truest passion, being a chaplain, to shine.  

As a result, I say goodbye to my role on the communication team of Mosaic Conference. I do so sadly, as I have thoroughly enjoyed my time as a staff member. But I’m not going away, as I still am an active member of a Mosaic congregation. I just won’t have the regular staff interaction now, and I will miss that. The Mosaic staff are amazing. They work very hard to support a growing, changing, diverse group of people and theological beliefs and they do it with joy, integrity, commitment, and even some laughter.  

Many of the Mosaic staff are bi-vocational. Many of them are juggling multiple roles in their life too, like you. So, as you work with them, give them grace and understanding, knowing that 1 + 1 does not always equal 2.  

Sue Conrad Howes

Sue Conrad Howes is a chaplain at St.Luke’s Penn Foundation and is an ordained pastor in MC USA. She and her husband live in Quakertown, PA and are members at West Swamp Mennonite Church.

“God With Us” In the Liminal Spaces 

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by Jennifer Svetlik

Catholic priest and writer Richard Rohr talks about the importance of “dwelling together in the liminal space between life and death.” This past Christmas my family and I lived in this liminal space.  

In December, as I traveled to rural central Texas to be with my dad, brothers, and extended family, one of my youngest uncles, who had struggled with heart disease for 15 years, was in the hospital. After the first of two expected heart procedures, he initially improved. Until he didn’t. 

Within days, he was no longer able to live without the medical interventions that were fully supporting his heart. He elected to have the supports removed and knowingly face death. 

The grace with which he faced his fate was moving. As he visited with small groups of family members throughout the day, he regaled us with stories, gave us advice on how to enjoy life, and had his first root beer float in many years. 

Amid the tears, I experienced several surprise glimpses of God’s presence. While filling my water bottle next to a woman cleaning the bathrooms, she encouraged me, in Spanish, to “drink the good water, with ice,” from the machine around the corner. As we started talking about my large extended family that was gathered to say goodbye to my uncle, she showed me where I could get free coffees and sodas, and offered me encouragement from Ephesians 2:6, “For he raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus” (NLT). Her care and hospitality were a balm. 

Soon after his supports were removed, my uncle went on hospice care. However, he did not die in “minutes to hours” as predicted. So, family members began to keep vigil with him.  

My family returned to my dad’s home in the country and awoke the next morning to another glimpse of God’s presence in the liminal space we found ourselves in. One of my uncle’s heifers – one of dozens of cattle that graze on the prairie land my dad lives on – was pregnant. We thought she had an infection that might take her life and her baby’s. Instead, she successfully gave birth to twins! 

The surprise twin calves being bottle fed on my father’s ranch land near Shiner, TX. Photo provided by Jennifer Svetlik.

The twins were very weak and unable to nurse. They began to bottle feed. Their lives, and my uncle’s, were hanging in the balance. The line between life and death was noticeably thin. 

Two days later, both calves died. Their mother kept watch over them, even after their bodies were moved to the back pasture, as vultures and coyotes moved in to feast.  

As my relatives kept vigil with my uncle at the hospital, the whole herd of cattle moved to the back field and stayed close to the bodies of the calves, until there was nothing left but bones. 

The whole herd of cattle keeps watch as vultures feast on the calves’ bodies. Photo provided by Jennifer Svetlik.

The day after the calves died, so did their would-be caretaker, my uncle. 

Amid the liminal space between life and death, Father Rohr says, is where transformation takes place. “There alone is our old world left behind, though we’re not yet sure of the new existence,” he says. 

“When we embrace liminality, we choose hope over sleepwalking, denial, or despair,” Rohr says. “The world around us becomes again an enchanted universe, something we intuitively understood when we were young and somehow lost touch with as we grew older.” 

The night my uncle died, my family built a bonfire in the yard and allowed the kids to roast marshmallows as we wondered why some live and some die, and how life and death are all wrapped up in the same sacred space. 

Jennifer Svetlik

Jennifer is Communication Associate/Editor for Mosaic. She was born near Houston, TX and spent a decade living in an intentional community in Washington DC, before moving to Lansdale, PA with her spouse, Sheldon Good. She is a graduate of the University of Texas and Washington Theological Seminary. She serves as Children’s Faith Formation Director at Salford Mennonite (Harleysville, PA). Jenn has two elementary-school-aged children and loves biking, camping, gardening, and vermicomposting with her family.