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Free Man in Paris: A correspondence with Rick Mumford

A Correspondence with Rick Mumford on the Complexities of Leaving the 99 and Going for the One

When Rick Mumford first talked to Grace Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Lawrence, Kansas, the church didn’t have many teenagers—in fact, it didn’t even have a building. That was in 1995. Grace didn’t have many people or much money, but the church had passion and vision—for God, for ministry, and for the gospel. So Mumford took the job there as director of youth ministries.

Things soon changed and grew—from 20 kids to 150 in four years. Revival was everywhere. The group did fun stuff, like mountain-climbing trips and retreats. Mumford developed a team of 35 volunteers, as well as internship and summer staff programs.

"My senior pastor supported and protected me," Mumford recalls. "My elders were happy about everything I did. I regularly received notes from kids and parents, encouraging me and expressing their appreciation. I got a raise every year. There was no political backbiting, and there were no divisions in the church body. The Word of God was proclaimed faithfully and boldly from the pulpit, and the worship was good. We bought two cars and a lovely house in the best school district. We had two baby boys in Lawrence. We had many dear friends whom we love intimately. We didn’t have a dog, but we didn’t want one."

By any youth worker’s standard, Mumford had the ultimate job.

The dream gig.

So why, after so much success, did he give it all up?

Why did he pack up his stuff and move his family across the Atlantic Ocean to literally start life over in France?

Youthworker corresponded with this expatriate a few weeks after his family touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport in early 2000—when things really started getting interesting.

"Everything from our house in Kansas is still MIA," reports Mumford of current conditions. "The heaters in our new place don’t work at all. My wife gets so overwhelmed sometimes that she has mild panic attacks. The list goes on. There ain’t nothin’ easy about moving your family overseas."

In the forthcoming interview, Mumford revisits the bumpy, joyful road that led him to redefine what youth ministry means, what Christianity means, what success means—and also what led him to relinquish the comforts of America in favor of an uncertain existence ministering to kids in a distant land.

YOUTHWORKER: So...Lawrence, Kansas, to Paris, France. Not exactly a lateral move, huh?

RICK MUMFORD: You could say that!

What led you there?

MUMFORD: When I finally got everything just the way I wanted it—and me snug in my comfort zone—I became very conscious that thousands of teenagers around the world never experience anything close to what my teens in Lawrence enjoy. They don’t have a place like an American youth group where they can be safe and known. They can’t kick back with their friends, listen to a really good band, and worship God. They don’t have adults who love and care for them unconditionally and teach them what life is all about—a relationship with Jesus Christ.

The more I prayed, the more I became convinced that it was a sin for me to stay. I felt God calling me out of my comfort zone into the great unknown. You’ve heard the statistic that 95 percent of the world’s youth workers minister to just five percent of the world’s youths? Well, God wanted me to go to a community of 250,000 English-speakers with virtually no youth programs, no Young Life, no Youth for Christ, no FCA, and no Christian adult mentors.

You knew all along it would be Paris?

MUMFORD: No. Young Life talked about Frankfurt and Brussels for a while. They also mentioned some places in the Far East. I told them I would go wherever they felt the need was greatest, but—since I’m a developer-initiator type—I also said I wanted to be the first guy on the ground in a new city.

Turns out that Paris is one of the most strategic places in the world. Many diplomats from the international community live there—as well as their teenage sons and daughters—and these kids will go back to their homelands and eventually lead.

My wife, Amy, wanted to go to Paris because it’s just downright cool. And, I have to confess, Paris is a beautiful city and there’s lots to do here.

What were your initial reactions when you first felt God calling you from such a successful youth ministry to start from scratch overseas?

MUMFORD: I was pretty excited for the first few months. Change is fun for me. It fits my personality. I looked on the bright side for a while. Then when we decided to do it for sure—and we had to tell our parents, the kids, the elders, the staff, the youth staff...

The less fun part.

MUMFORD: Right! At that point we felt reluctance to pack up and leave. There were countless times I would’ve backed out if given the chance. It was a really hard decision. "Umm...Mom, Dad...we’re taking your only grandkids to the other side of the world. Sorry." Man, it was like driving a dagger into my heart.

I remember sitting at the elder’s meeting, and it was my turn to talk. No one had a clue that I was about to tell them I was leaving. Then, when I’m about to speak, one elder pats me on the back and says, "Rick, we love you so much. If there’s anything any of us can ever do for you—if you need a two-week vacation, whatever you need. Because we love you and your family and really appreciate all that you’re doing with the young people of our community."

I gulped. "How am I going to do this?" I thought. But somehow I did it. You should have seen their faces. They were so disappointed. So let down. They were understanding and sweet, of course, but they were genuinely sad. They really do love me. The parents meeting was much the same.

How about your students?

MUMFORD: That was a whole different challenge. I mean, after doing all I could to encourage, build up, edify, and love these teenagers—now I’m doing something that will hurt them deeply. It was bad. I mean, I was making the kids in my youth group cry—even mourn in some cases.

After a few days of that, all I wanted to say was, "Okay! Just kidding! I’ll stay if you just stop that blubbering! It’s killing me."

Were there any points of desperation?

MUMFORD: I started asking God for signs—really, really concrete things that would tell me for sure that this decision was dead-on. I had to know that this was definitely from God and no one else—that it was God’s will.

Then on D-Day—the day Amy and I made our decision final—I was driving to work and started praying: "God, I know I’m not really supposed to put out a fleece, but this is a big deal. Please give me an obvious, undeniable sign that you want us to move to Paris."

As I came down a hill, a tractor trailer suddenly pulled in front of me—seemingly out of nowhere. I slammed on my brakes, and all I could see was the back of this truck. And on the back—in five-foot-high letters—was one word: PARIS. I’m not making this up! I pulled into the church parking lot just laughing. "God, okay. That’s a sign."

I guess you can’t have too many doubts after something like that!

MUMFORD: Well, it also helped that the monetary support came in so quickly. I mean, we needed to raise almost $280,000 for three years overseas! "Uh, excuse me? That’s more than a quarter of a million dollars!" This obviously was a tremendous hurdle. The cost of living in Paris is at least twice that of the states, and we are a family of four.

At first I found the proposition of raising this money absolutely ludicrous. But we rested and prayed, knowing that if God really called us, he’d have to provide the means. And obviously he did. I guess money just isn’t a big deal to God.

How were you feeling when you finally said goodbye?

MUMFORD: My last night in Lawrence, the church threw a huge party for us. Hundreds of people came. They hung French flags everywhere and served French pastries. I stood before them all, told them how much I loved them, cried a little, and they prayed for me. Then the adults left, and the kids stayed for a lock-in. At about midnight, I was standing in the back of the room during worship and looking at my kids. I thought about all they’d been through and how much they’d grown...

"Ivy—eyes closed and hands raised. She’s had a tough year, battling cancer. What a godly kid she’s becoming; Brett—a passion and zeal for God has driven him to help make his high school’s Bible study group the best it’s ever been. He’s taught me so much; Kim—her dad died last summer, and she has become so close to our family; Josh—he gave up our Sunday afternoon Bible studies to start something at his parents’ church because he couldn’t stand that those teens weren’t experiencing what his youth group was. He’s crazy about Jesus; Anna—when her parents moved to Florida, she stayed back and has been living with a friend. She’s dealt with a lot of heartache in the last year. What a precious kid. I love her so much..."

That’s when I totally lost it.

I snuck out the back of the room, staggered across the hall, and fell to the floor. I was overcome by sorrow. My whole body hurt. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Like I’d been to 1,000 funerals.

My mind was racing: Why was I leaving again? To go to a country where I don’t know anything or anyone? This can’t be right—I’ve got two little children! This can’t be right—everything is going so well here! This can’t be right—it hurts so bad! This can’t be right—God is using me right here! This can’t be right—my wife has never been overseas! This can’t be right—we’ve never been to France! This can’t be right—we don’t have a place to live when we arrive! Am I sure?

That’s pretty heavy! Did you almost bag the whole thing?

MUMFORD: It was way too late to change my mind. We were leaving, and we knew God had called us. It just hurt badly, and I was wrestling with the pain. Even Mack, my four-year-old, is counting the cost because of his parents’ decision. Do you have any idea how hard it is when your child looks up into your eyes and says, "Daddy, I miss my friends. Can we go back to Lawrence now?"

You know, most evangelicals use the "open-door policy" for figuring out God’s will. In other words, if the door opens, it must be God’s will; but if it’s hard, it must not be God’s will. Where does that come from? If the door feels locked or won’t open easily, that doesn’t mean God isn’t calling you to leave the room! Don’t you suppose Paul thought being stoned and left for dead was a "closed door"? It seems that, for many of us, open door equals staying in my comfort zone.

How has this experience changed you so far?

MUMFORD: You know, all my life I’ve never really had to trust Christ. When I led Bible studies about faith, sometimes I’d close by passing out three-by-five cards and asking the kids to write down one way they could live by faith this week. We’d all sit there for a few minutes, and finally most of us managed to come up with something.

Dude, those days are in the past!

I have to trust God for my income, my house, my heat, my food, my communication, my transportation, my kids, my marriage. I can’t do a thing by myself! Here I feel like a weak little puppy who’s lost his way home. Yet, the other part is this tremendous peace that comes from trusting in Christ alone. It’s a peace I’ve never experienced until now.

What most readily comes to mind as an example of trusting God since you’ve been in Paris?

MUMFORD: One cold and rainy night, I was out with my four-year-old, and we were too exhausted to walk home. So we decided to catch a bus. We hopped on and went to the back, and Mack put his head down on my lap. But soon he began to get "bus sick." No big deal, we were almost home. I pushed the "Arret Demande" button—the stop request. But we zipped right past our destination...and I didn’t know how to ask the driver to stop! We zipped by the next stop, too. By the time the driver pulled over, we were more than two miles down the road from our apartment! Well, I wasn’t about to make my little guy walk through the freezing rain, so I decided to ride the bus to the end of the line where it would, naturally, turn around and come back.

We went to a couple of other cities that night! Snaking up and down old Parisian alleys. One by one, people got off the bus—everyone knowing exactly what was going on, and everyone knowing exactly how to ask for help if they needed it. But I was sweating. I had no money. No map. No French-English dictionary. No phone. I didn’t even have a phone number in my wallet! We were the last ones on the bus for a long time.

Finally the bus pulled into a station. The driver said something to me in French. I walked to the front of the bus, having no clue how to respond. I looked back at Mack, and he started to cry.

"Bon soir," I said.

"Bon soir," the driver replied.

"I don’t suppose you speak any English?" I asked.

She looked at me like I was the dumbest man on earth. Mack cried louder. At this point, I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to be home eating dinner. I wanted to be safe, in control, and warm. I wanted this bus driver to stop looking at me like that. Another bus driver hopped on the bus. They started chatting away—about us, I think.

I went back to comfort Mack while listening to these people speak French with ease. "Let’s pray," I said to Mack. So we prayed that God would help us get home safely, and that Mack’s tummy would feel better. Then I thought this would be the perfect moment to begin teaching Mack all those youth group songs—you know, "Puff the Magic Maggot" and "Taco Taco Burrito La Bamba." In no time Mack and I were having a ball. After about half an hour, the driver started the bus, and we began to work our way through the twisting alleys to the only place in Europe I was familiar with.

Once again I pushed the button when we got close to our apartment, and this time the driver stopped. I’m guessing that the problem all along was that our stop wasn’t a regular one for the driver, because she yelled at me before she opened the door to let us off. All the people on the once-again full bus smiled at me as if to ask, "You’re a foreigner, aren’t you?" The driver finished her tirade with a "Comprenez-vous?" As we exited the bus, I hollered back, "Not a lick!"

I can just see the gray hairs growing after a few incidents like that.

MUMFORD: Well, I feel like part of what God’s doing these days is giving me more of an ability to trust him—like I’m getting an extra dose of trust-juice or something. All I can tell you is that when you really live by faith, you experience this peace. It’s sweet.

And I don’t want to give the impression that everything is a trial. I mean, how cool is it that I’m living in a little town just west of Paris? How great is it that I have the chance to learn another language? How different will I be as the result of living in a foreign culture? Eating different foods? Being an overseas missionary? Experiencing God’s grace by living a life based on faith alone? This is an adventure, and it’s challenging, and it’s fun. Don’t feel sorry for me. My life rocks, okay?

It’s likely that many of your fellow youth workers here in the states have felt the same proddings from the Holy Spirit that you experienced before making your decision to move. Perhaps many are considering ministry to overseas youths as an option. What would you like to say to them—and all American youth workers?

MUMFORD: A few youth workers in the U.S. have said to us, "Thank you for doing this. It’s so awesome...because people like me can’t do it."

Uhh...what do you mean, can’t do it?

It’s the same answers all the time:
"We have kids in school."
"We have good jobs."
"It would be hard."
"The details are overwhelming."
"We can’t do it because of circumstances."

"We just can’t do it. God may be calling us to go, but we just can’t do it."

But Jesus paints a much different picture of what it means to follow him—and speaks very directly about it. (Which is why I believe that very few American Christians really take Jesus seriously.)

"Come follow me," Jesus said to his fishermen disciples, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him.

Why do you suppose the Bible mentions that they left their nets?

Because they had value—the nets were the very instruments these men used to make their living. And they just left them. Walked away from them.

How often do American Christians drop their nets—their jobs, homes, cars, culture, comforts?

How often do we reply, "I can’t. I need my nets."

Jesus also said, "Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

Could God possibly be calling American youth workers to do something that’s hard on their families?

"Oh no way!" we reply. "All Christians in ministry know that their first ministry is to their families!"

But how can that be? Because when we put our family in front of God’s call, we’re not worthy of Jesus; when Jesus calls us to drop our nets and go overseas to share the gospel with the other 95 percent of the world’s teenagers who have all of five percent of the world’s youth workers at their disposal, how many youth workers respond with, "I can’t. Thanks anyway. I’ve got kids in school."

Are we willing to deny ourselves success in ministry? Are we willing to become nobodies for the sake of the call? Are we willing to experience culture shock and hardship, simply because Jesus commanded us to go?

I can’t help but believe many of us are missing out on a life that truly is life. And the reason we don’t grab hold of it? Because we’re putting our hope in wealth, comfort, and making sure all our needs are met. Paul had words for Timothy about this very thing: "Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life."

I know not every youth worker is called to do what we’re doing. Many are called to much greater challenges than we’ll ever face here in Paris. But I know many are called to something like this—and they just dismiss the call with a simple, "I can’t."

But God wants to richly provide everything for our enjoyment! Genuine peace, real faith, an adventure-filled walk with him. They are all ours to have—but only if we’re willing to drop our nets.

If you’re interested in learning more about overseas opportunities with Young Life, check out the Paris Project Web site (http://hey.to/younglife), which is filled with contact information, pictures, prayer requests, and more.