Depsite what many people think, missionaries are not the Navy SEALs of the Church.
We’re really no better than anyone else. But when we arrive to speak to congregations about how the Lord blesses us, we often talk up our successes, tally our converts, and wax eloquent about innovative programs and church-starts. By those standards, I’d have to say the six years I spent on the mission field were a failure.
Wouldn’t it cause a paradigm shift if missionaries stood before our brothers and sisters in Christ and shared how impossible our task seems sometimes? What if we made ourselves vulnerable, sharing our struggles with the language barriers, the crowded public transit system, the subtle cultural mores that become familiar only with time? The revelation would step up the prayer life of believers and—more importantly—convince the average church member that they could do missions, too.
I grew up in church—collected quarters for missions, survived rock-a-thons to raise support, wrote letters to MKs (missionary kids), even helped teach ESL classes. I longed to be one of the elite, the Special Forces. At 14, God called, and years later my husband felt it, too. So, united in our good-willed albeit misguided purpose, we sold everything we owned, packed up our ten-month-old, and moved across the Atlantic. For six years, we served as missionaries in Central Europe.
I imagined stepping off the plane, getting settled, and inviting a crowd of hungry hearts to hear the message of love and truth we’d brought. But no one came to the door. And my new life took so long to live, I barely had time to talk to people, much less build real relationships and share Christ. Mothering and homemaking consumed my time. It felt like the ultimate bait and switch.
Let me be clear. God called me. My own deliriously wrong expectations were the culprits.
Instead of having something to offer my neighbors, I was forced to admit I needed to learn from them. I couldn’t get from Point A to Point B with the complicated bus and tram system. Buying food for my family meant spending hours in the aisles of the store, dictionary in hand. Conversation consisted of where I was from and what I thought of the weather. My mind—which had been doing graduate level work, thank you very much—was suddenly a toddler’s again.
But in that humility, I caught what God intended for me to realize. I was no better than anyone else; all the good in my life was because of Him alone. He was the One who would speak to their hearts; I didn’t have anything worthwhile to contribute—except willingness.
And the earth-shaker: He brought me to the mission field to change me.
What? I wasn’t there for others? Was I such a hard case that He had to transplant me in another culture to get my attention? Probably. Okay. Definitely.
Call it the Great Crucible. Tension, frustration, helplessness, disappointment—all heated up around me. I was shocked by my . . . ahem . . . less than admirable reaction. But as my nasty and often resentful attitude surfaced, I had the opportunity to call it what it was—sin—and let the Refiner skim it. And the next time the furnace cranked up, I did better. With every trial, every burst of flame, I reflected the Silversmith a little more.
I wanted to learn. Eager, I’d step in to the butcher’s shop and say, “I love bigos. What’s your recipe?” Delighted, the butchers would sit with me, write out recipes, joke around. Eventually, they asked why I was in Europe. On the playground, my son toddled with other children, while I chatted with their moms. They noticed differences in my parenting: loving discipline, firm direction, intentional training.
Those were the conversations God meant for me to have. He never intended for me to “set anyone straight”. As my neighbors and I delved into who we were, what we believed, what we hoped, how we loved, the Holy Spirit offered myriad opportunities to share the Truth. And I took them.
I believe that’s what God intends for missions to be. Everywhere.
He wants us to be real. As we follow Him—in every aspect of our lives—His love will be evident, and it will pervade our conversations.
For me, the mission field was a refining fire. As I was broken by hardships, and as I clung to my Savior in desperation, people were watching. Granted, I might have only attracted their attention because I was that strange American. But I’m convinced that God affected their lives as I shared my struggles and questions. They learned who I was and cared about me. They looked as I clung, they watched me experience the grace and strength of God, they saw me triumph. And they wanted the same thing in their lives.
Who says missionaries are a cut above the rest? Don’t believe it for a second. Frankly, God desires (read: commands) that every one of His children be committed to His purpose.
I am still a missionary, but I’m nothing extraordinary. Missionaries are real people, not Special Forces. God requires only willing vessels. He can, and does, work in hearts without our help. But what a blessing to be used if we’re willing to put ourselves out there!
Let’s take missionaries off that pedestal and join them. Wherever we are.
God is good. And people are watching.
As I read this again, Bethany, I’m reminded of what I thought the first time, that it’s impossible to share the gospel with people whereever we are without the power of Christ. That as we reach out to others, He is constantly refining us, too. That we are better instruments as we are transparent and vulnerable about that process. I remember when my friend was a missionary in Central African Republic. I was so jealous that she was called and I was “benched at home.” But as we shared what we were doing, both with small children, our lives didn’t look all that different day to day and it was that that made me realize I was called as a missionary to those around me in RI. It helped that she was so transparent with me about what did and didn’t happen in her days there. God bless your series. Be bold and courageous but don’t write a word that isn’t bathed in prayer.
Thanks, Lori. And you’re right. I’m covering every word as I prepare, write, and revise. I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) publish this otherwise. This outpouring is refreshing and uber-challenging.
The thing that strikes me is that missionaries DO talk about these things with their very closest prayer partners and friends. But somehow, the rest of the Church is missing it–even naively propagating the wrong perceptions. One of our supervisors used to say, “It’s easy to sit and write about the glory of missions. But that’s not why we’re here.”
My goal is to step up the prayer life of every reader and to declare God’s grace and goodness in my own life.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
I related to this even though we weren’t missionaries. I think this shows that God desires the same fruit from all of us. We were lead to New England (which might as well be a different country when compared to the South) and we were called out of a life in ministry. I thought I had so much to offer my new neighbors but found that I had no time to do anything because I was knee deep in baby and when I was with people, I learned (though painful, humiliating situations) that I needed to shut up and listen more and really hear and love people and learn from others (the kind of others I once thought had nothing to teach me.) I still talk a lot less than I ever expected to. 🙂 But I’ve gone from loving people in form to loving them in fact and I think that’s what the Lord wanted. I told my husband I thought I’d be the Thanksgiving turkey on God’s table, but instead, I feel like the spare can of soup in His pantry most of the time. But… I’d rather be in His pantry!! I really enjoyed this post. 🙂
Great article! It’s so special how God always talks directly to us. This morning I sat down to have some quiet time with God and once again I prayed for God to teach me humility. It’s a scary prayer, but one I feel I need. As I was praying I was interrupted by a phone call, which led me to the internet to look something up. When I was finished, I checked facebook which led me to your article…on humility! Thank you God for this special moment!
I loved reading about this because I totally agreed with you on everything. Having spent 2 1/2 years overseas, I can totally understand what went on with you as much of the same went on with me. We both said that God would do more for us than we could ever do for Him and that’s exactly what happened. We grew to love a group of people that many people here don’t like or even hate. We felt a part of their family and knew that if we ever needed anything, they would be there for us.
The one thing I struggled with was feeling like people back here had forgotten about us. The promised emails and letters never came like I thought they would and that discouraged me at times, but we knew people were praying for us.
Missionaries are not super Christians and shouldn’t be on a pedestal anymore than any one else. Anyone who is obedient to the Lord’s calling deserves to be on that pedestal. He just wants us to be willing to do whatever He asks of us.
We do need to get together and talk sometime in more depth.
@ Veronica, “I’ve gone from loving people in form to loving them in fact and I think that’s what the Lord wanted.”
I thought, “YES! She gets it!” Isn’t God good to do whatever it takes, wherever we are to instill these important truths? The lengths to which He’ll go astound me, but they shouldn’t. Your words describe His earthly ministry to a tee. Pharisees even loved people in form, but for Christ, it was about listening, understanding, relating, and speaking the Truth into their lives. Yes, He and His message were radical, but people we are drawn to Him because of that! He stood out as He walked among them.
Can’t wait to hear more from you as I continue the saga. Thanks for stopping by.
@ Sheila, LOL. Humility IS a scary prayer, about as risky as praying for patience, because God will stop at nothing to see it done. 🙂 What a painful and beautiful thing to learn. Bless you!
@ Denise. I can only imagine what the settling in and adjustment were like for you and John. At least my alphabet didn’t change. 😉
I struggled, too, when–as we returned–people expected me to be the same person I’d been before leaving. My experiences and treasures seemed to be tedious rambling to so many, and few understood how deeply we longed for our gracious, precious friends. Our family tried to remember wherever we were, that our home is in Christ. Maps, languages, and sympathizers ultimately don’t matter. (And it got easier…)
What you’ve expressed is what we heard time and time again in conversations with missionaries at the AGMs we’ve led. It became part of our training to say, “It will strike you that everyone you meet over there is a normal every day human being like you – only they are probably having a harder time than you because they are living in a completely different culture.” I’m so grateful for real missionaries and all that I’ve learned from them.
I hear it a lot, too, Jeff…and am surprised that so few American believers realize the truth of it. Thrilled that you use this in your trainings, and missing AGMs. 🙂
I wonder sometimes, though, if this is why God moved us back. Praying and moving forward. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
In case you’d like to know … this new direction for your blog has been planned specifically to encourage and feed me in our new direction. If anyone else benefits, that’s lovely, but it’s ALL FOR ME!!!
;-D
Praising God for you and His work in your life.
Please give our greetings, love and HUGS to every member of your household.
@ Sandra, Ha! I am so very glad to know why I’m writing it. It’s not often we get those answers, so I’m as pleased as can be. As I thought of you and prayed for you this morning, I said out loud, “No matter what happens or how things go, within days, this girl is going to be on a plane and flying toward newness.”
I hope you feel pleased with the commissioning and send off you received from HSLDA. If I were at the airport when you were to fly out, I’d wave pom-poms and shout, “Gooooooo Team! Seriously, Go, get out of here, Team!”
Pack with a smile, because God is so very, so delightfully good. He’ll see to every detail.