By Michelle Norman
Over the more than 10 years we’ve lived in Spain, I’ve often reminded myself that the work we do is long and slow. When ministry is long and slow it can also be discouraging. I return again and again to the truth that this is not our work but God’s. We are simply participants in what God is doing.
A young child experiencing the music in the Mosaic.
For the past six years, we’ve been cultivating Mosaic, a safe space for people to explore faith and what it means to live it out in a highly secular context. Mosaic is the definition of long and slow. Our numbers are small, momentum is hard to build, and yet something—perhaps the Spirit of God—keeps moving us forward together.
The past few months have been especially discouraging for me. As I have before, I found myself wondering whether Mosaic is a ministry in which we should continue investing time and energy. This kind of questioning isn’t often shared in ministry. We tend to highlight success and impact. The reality includes doubt, discouragement and discernment. I even asked one of our Mosaic partners if it had run its course. Her response was immediate: “No. This is my community of faith. I need Mosaic.” Since then, there have been both disappointments and small signs of hope, including a new partner who shared how much Mosaic energizes and encourages her.
Wearily, I arrived at our first gathering of 2026. During worship, Elisabet and Clivi, ministry partners we are mentoring, shared a song they wrote about Mosaic. As I listened, tears filled my eyes. I often get discouraged by how small we are, but Mosaic is doing exactly what we prayed it would do: creating a safe space where people can encounter the love and grace of Christ. Their song was a gentle reminder that the Spirit is at work in the simple, even in the midst of discouragement.
Here is an English translation of a few lines of the song they wrote in Spanish:
We come as we are, with nothing to prove,
with open questions and needs.
Life sometimes weighs us down, we don’t know what to do,
and you feel close, inviting us to be.
We follow in your footsteps, learning to listen,
different paths, we want to take care of each other.
You respect our timing, our questions, and our truth,
our imperfect, yet honest, way of loving.
We find you here, in simplicity,
in fragility, in reality.
You walk at our pace,
there you are, without forcing anything.
Teach us your slow way of loving,
walking with others, leaving no one behind.
Teach us your slow way of loving,
to be present, to learn to care.
Teach us your slow way of loving,
to listen to pain, to know how to accompany.
Teach us your slow way of loving,
in simplicity, in fragility, and in reality.
We find you here, in simplicity,
in fragility, in reality.