There are lots of things not to love about missionary life.
The heat. The dirt. The rainy season. The insects. (Did you know if you spray a
scorpion with Raid, it will curl up for a moment but won't die?) The spiders, snakes,
rats, lizards, etc. The smell of the market. The health risks. The driving. The
inconvenience in finding things you want. The paperwork. The governmental
restrictions. The threats and dangers. The
separation from "home." For home missionaries, those unlovable things
might fall more into the areas of finances, travel, and apathy.
The mission field is certainly not a picnic, and I don't
think anyone ever said it was. Those inconveniences, fears, and deprivations
can be challenging and discouraging, but they are not the whole picture. In
fact, they aren't even the most important part of the picture.
When I lived in Mexico, many of those things listed above
were an unwelcome part of my life. I learned the fact about scorpions by
personal experience. Three times I blasted that scorpion with Raid, and each
time he promptly got up and walked away. What's worse than seeing a scorpion is
knowing that there is one but not knowing where it went! The good old shoe
finally did the trick.
There were times when those things bothered me, of course,
and times when certain of those challenges were especially difficult. When I
look back over my experience, however, those things are relatively minor. What
I most remember and most value are the people.
When I say people, I mean the native residents. My live was
intertwined with theirs. They were my purpose for being there. They were
accepting and responded to me with love and friendship. We had a bond in
Christ, and together we served Him and grew in Him. Can I share some of the
things I loved?
A mom, three of her teen-aged daughters, and her son with a
constantly beaming smile. This family was the most faithful nucleus of the
small church work that I first ministered in.
A national pastor and his dear wife who served tirelessly,
lived on not much money, and had a genuine heart for God. He was truly burdened
to reach those around him with the gospel.
That pastor's teen-aged son with his joyfulness and
friendliness, who tried to teach me to play the guitar.
Times of visitation, mostly accompanied by the teens of the
church, who showed up faithfully week after week, who went back to the same
contacts over and over, willing to continue reaching out as long as the people would
receive them.
A group of teen-aged girls who began to meet with me
regularly to do extra visitation that was not part of the normal church
routine, and to share with one another progress in spiritual goals.
The youth group of the church, with whom I interacted often.
At one church activity they got involved in a water fight that started mildly -
glasses of water - and ended with garden hoses and buckets. They were patient
with my sometimes insufficient Spanish, teaching me new words, sometimes
teaching me jokes. They "taught" me how to play basketball - street
style. They helped me learn important customs, like smashing the birthday
person's face into his cake. I enjoyed many outings with them and they
consistently welcomed and included me. They even comforted me when homesickness
overwhelmed me and I broke down in tears.
A church friend who invited me often to her home, including
me in the simple fare she prepared for her family, and eventually inviting me
to live with them so I could have love and companionship. (I didn't, but her
offered love was special.) Her baby daughter who consistently stopped fussing
and fell asleep whenever I took her.
Two church ladies in particular who wanted to learn how to
teach the children's classes and met with me for training.
Three sisters who faced a difficult home life. The youngest
in particular bonded with me and looked to me in areas where her embittered
mother failed her. They once invited me to join them on a two-week family trip.
A young wife who talked with me often, invited me to her
home, tried to teach me how to make tortillas, and corresponded with me for a
time after I left Mexico.
I'm sure I could come up with more, but the point is that the
life of a missionary - the part that really matters - is about interaction with
people. It is about fellowship with other believers, about encouraging one
another in the Lord, about helping each other to grow, about serving together.
It is about the love of God that makes those relationships special, the common
bond that we have in Him in spite of our differences. It is about reaching out
together to those who are still lost and to those who still need to grow
significantly.
While my experience may not be replicated in the experience
of all other missionaries, the primary impression that I have about the
indigenous Christians with whom I worked is LOVE. To be able to share a bond
like that with others around the world is special. It is evidence of the work
of the gospel. It is proof that God has transformed those people. It is
therefore encouragement that He can do the same transformation over and over
again in the lives of even more people.
God's work in missions is about people. The weather,
climate, creatures, and other inconveniences may be a nuisance, but they are
not the important thing. Can I encourage you this week that when those
externals start to annoy, that you would remember the most important thing?
That you would focus on and continue to minister to those dear people? Maybe
even take a little time to reflect as I have done and to count up the blessed
relationships and interactions that God has given to you over the years. What
you do today matters for eternity; the eternity of people will be different
because you are taking the time to minister to them. Keep on keeping on.
Love in Christ,
Peggy Holtmember at Open Door Baptist Church in Lebanon, PA
www.pressingontohigherground.blogspot.com
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