Fresh off the plane and still rubbing the jetlag from our eyes, we awoke to our first day back in the Middle East.

Our landlord had just informed us that he wanted to move his family into our apartment. But a local holiday was about to begin; businesses and government services would be closed for up to a week. We needed to find a new place to live, and quickly.

Out we went into the neighborhood, hauling our children behind us.

At a rental office, we met a man who gave us a handful of keys to empty apartments. We spent the day going through them all. But each one seemed worse than the last. There were broken faucets, peeling paint, missing window panes, and water-damaged ceilings.

“Maybe these broken tiles can be covered by carpet,” my husband suggested in one apartment.

“Will the maintenance fee pay for a new toilet?” I wondered aloud.

We both tried to hide our growing disappointment over the choices in front of us.

Twelve real estate offices and three days later, our time was up. We decided on an apartment, hoped for the best, and filled out some initial paperwork.

“With a few fixes, it’ll be manageable,” we reassured ourselves as we walked away.

About 15 minutes later, our local friend Badr called us.

“My friend found you an apartment,” he said. “He is waiting for you at the real estate office. Go quickly and meet him!”

Badr hung up before I could say, “Don’t bother.” So out we went again, sure that this would be a dead end.

But what we found instead amazed us.

The apartment Badr’s friend took us to was clean and undamaged. It had an extra room we could use for homeschooling. It even had stunning views of the city. A community playground was nearby, and the market was only half a block away. Plus, the cost of rent was slightly cheaper.

In other words, it was perfect.

Badr’s friend beamed with pride as we took it in. His social connections had found us the ideal home, and this filled the man with satisfaction.

Even the apartment manager seemed proud. “I’m ready to help you with anything you need,” he said to us. “It is my honor to help the friends of my friend.”

Here in the Middle East, getting things done means turning to a network of people for help. Everything starts and ends with relationships.

This goes against our deeply-rooted independence. But through God’s grace—and the hospitality and kindness of our local friends—we are learning to embrace this new sort of dependence. More and more, we are trusting and depending on Him and on the people He has put around us.

• Pray for deepening relationships between Frontiers field workers and their Muslim friends and neighbors.
• Ask God to help workers to humbly accept help from members of the local community around them.
• Pray that this leads to vulnerability and compassion in their relationships—and opportunities to share about our hope in Christ.

**This account comes from a long-term worker. Names and places have been changed for security.**

Original article: https://www.frontiersusa.org/blog/challenging-independence