The lakes of central Europe have become a sort of finish-line for me: specifically Hungary's Lake Balaton and Slovenia's Lake Bled. Subconsciously, these places have become that landmark point on the horizon toward which I can orient my last gasping breaths, my final stumbling strides from the marathon winter in Holland. And when I make it to the lakes of central Europe, I collapse climactically, gulping in deep mouthfuls of air that renew me and revitalize me in the deepest portions of my soul.

Every year around Easter, GCM (my employer) organizes its annual missionary retreat, for all the GCM employees working in Europe. The first four years that I lived in Europe, this retreat was held on the shores of Lake Balaton, in western Hungary. And the last two years, we've been upgraded (in my opinion -- no offense to Hungary) to Lake Bled, Slovenia. For five glorious days in early spring, we gather with other kindred spirits from the scattered corners of the Continent in a sort of spiritual family reunion. Special activities are organized for our children, so they can play together with other missionary kids, under trustworthy supervision, while the parents are magically enabled to interact freely with the other grown-ups. We share meals together with surrogate aunts, uncles, and cousins from Italy, Poland, Germany, Ukraine... We encourage each other with stories from the scattered churches and with personal insights from the Bible. And we deliberately take time to go for walks, swims, and naps. Simply put, it is a highlight of the year for our family.

It can make me feel guilty, in a certain way, to consider these annual retreats as part of my job. True, my employer benevolently requires my attendance. And true, I also come away from the annual retreats with new lessons learned, new skills to apply, and new energy for the day-to-day ministry tasks with which I'm regularly involved. But still, it's tough to express my annual anticipation to the Dutch (volunteer) leaders in our church -- or to the people who provide the regular financial support for our ministry in Amsterdam -- because I'm afraid of being considered a slacker, a lazy person, a scam artist. I guess it's that whole Protestant work ethic, or maybe northern European frugality.

But as I thought about things this year, I realized that it's good to rest. It's healthy to be refreshed and renewed. It's a spiritual discipline, in fact. Did you realize that Adam and Eve's first full day in the newly created Earth was a day of rest, not a day of work? From a human perspective, rest is the starting point for our lives and work and ministry. We're not supposed to just work and work and work to the point of collapse at the "week-end." We're supposed to start by resting, relaxing, enjoying God's creation, as the first thing in our lives. And then there, from that place of rest, we can get the power and presence of God that we need to live out the rest of our days until the cycle starts all over again.

Thus, mindful of this basic spiritual, the annual retreat to the lakes of central Europe is a blessing from God that serves as the starting point for a new year of ministry. After the long, dark, dismal, damp, gray, bleak, depressing (is that enough synonymous adjectives for you?), it truly feels like a finish line to have a special experience marking the end of one season and the beginning of another. It's so fitting, too, that this annual retreat coincides with Easter and the spring season in general. And because it happens in a far-away place, well outside the normal realm of Amsterdam activity, we're able to get a fresh sense of perspective on life and ministry. Somehow, going back to Amsterdam after a week by the lakes of central Europe, the city feels brighter and warmer --- and even more promising with the knowledge that the sunlight and days of warmth will only increase and intensify for the coming months, bringing us into the most beautiful time of year in Amsterdam.

Yes, the lakes of central Europe are a finish-line for me. But they're also the starting line for the next race ahead.