Magically a Missionary??

The way a lot of us talk, one might think there must be something magical that occurs on the flight over to the ‘mission field.’ Missionaries are often thought of as some kind of spiritual superstars (right up there next to pastors, apparently something magical happens in seminary too). I admit I’ve been guilty of such thoughts. I have never thought of myself in the same terms as a long term missionary, however I did think somehow serving here would be, I don’t know, easier or immediately fulfilling, or something like that. It wasn’t something I could really verbalize, but more of a subconscious thought that affected my actions and attitudes. Slowly I’ve been realizing how untrue this idea is and I had a particularly jolting insight about it recently.

I spent last week (April 3rd-10th) in Bouaké, on campus with the rest of the team. Officially it was a week for seminars, French class, and debriefing. It was also a week of speaking lots of English, watching movies, eating ‘American’ food, and saying goodbye (to two members of our leadership team, Peter and Katrina Goehring). During one debriefing session, some of my teammates shared the struggles they’d been having (and in some cases, are still having) and while I listened I realized something...

The last two months I have been incredibly focused on me: my relationships with my host family and my church, my search for a fulfilling ministry, the things God was teaching ME. It’s not that I haven’t been praying for others or thinking of them or trying to encourage them. However, I think it would be safe to say I’ve spent more time meditating on comments from Ivorians stating (happily) how fat I’m getting, than praying for my fellow teammates, for the HIV patients that come into the dispensary, or for my host family.

This problem is not new for me. It’s not the first time I’ve had big, romantic dreams of changing the world, but faltered when loving in more ‘commonplace’ measures. I am more likely to talk your ear off about ending human trafficking than offer to help with the dishes or remember to call to see how your weeks going (and if I do remember, there is a sizable chance I’ll mostly talk about myself). It’s not that I lack any feelings of fondness toward my host family or my teammates; I have those in abundance. Yet Jesus has called me to more than feeling fond of others. His Word says that I should consider others better than myself and should love with actions and in truth instead of with words. If I used every ounce of my willpower to try and accomplish these two ideas alone, I would undoubtedly fail. And this is not the only area of my life that I could improve upon.

I might as well have packed all my struggles, my pride, and my weaknesses right along with the deodorant and flip flops.

So, no, I was not immediately transformed when I stepped off the plane five months ago, thank goodness. If I had I wouldn’t be so desperate for His grace, love, and power in my life; I wouldn’t be learning to abide in Him, to trust Him, to obey Him, to love Him and His people. I am certainly not a spiritual superstar of a missionary, then again I am not the person I was when I left the states. This transformation is not immediate, it is humbling, and quite often a bit painful, but it’s absolutely worth it. I don’t need any magic plane ride, I have His Spirit in me. So instead of attempting to will myself to be more compassionate (a considerable temptation for me), I confess my self-centered pride, ask Him to work in and through me, and then walk in faith and obedience.

If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old is gone, the new has come!