I have six shirts here in Turkey. They are accompanied by four spoons, a library of three books, and a makeshift sleeping bag bedcover. No, it’s not that we are too poor to buy a few things; it’s just that we are waiting for our ship to come in. On September 20, we were told our things from the States would come “next week.” Well, “next week” keeps coming around, and our belongings don’t. Weeks have piled up, and we still believe “next week” will bring the cargo that will warm our feet, feed our minds, keep the rain off our backs, and remind us of family back home.

Since the first of June, my wife, Mr. Walker, and I have been living out of suitcases. That means those six shirts know me really well by now! The upside is that life is pretty simple with only a handful of belongings. If I lose my keys, I search six pockets, and I find them. Nothing is too far from reach, and I never have to worry about being overdressed. But now I’m kinda scared. Maybe when our stuff arrives “next week,” it will ruin everything. I’ll be tempted to read books other than Turkish language studies. I’ll have things to clean and things to figure out where to keep. Mr. Walker will have lots of things to get his tiny hands on. What a mess.

It may be a stretch to compare long-needed winter gloves and hats to the gospel, but allow me the analogy. You see, Turks have a “six shirt” version of religion and it keeps life simple. In fact, they are scared to get more truth, though they desperately need it. Though their spiritual houses are bare, it is simply easier for them to live that way.

How many Turks are unhappy with their empty houses? How many will accept Jesus’ cargo of peace? No one knows yet, because the good news has yet to be proclaimed with strength to the 70 million of this land.

So, in one of my six shirts, I sit and study Turkish every day so I will be able to deliver this precious gospel shipment to Turks in Turkish. Someday “next week” will come for me and for Turkey, and we’ll rejoice together.

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