Tag: Lessons and Musings Page 12 of 21

Young people write to us sometimes and ask, How do you know if you are called to missions? 

I always struggle to answer that question eloquently.  Today, I read the perfect answer.  It wasn’t written in the context of missions, and it applies far beyond it.  But from now on, this is how I will answer that question.

Marvin Olasky, editor of WORLD Magazine (our favorite) wrote this in the May 4 edition (they arrive late here) on the topic of whether or not to consider a radical move:

Much depends on motive.  Here are three clarifying questions:

First, where can I be most useful to the cause of Christ?

Second, where will I be most challenged to live and think as becomes a follower of Christ?

Third, what will I love doing?

Then he adds, Once we know ourselves, chapter 3 of Proverbs tells us what to do.  ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart….He will make straight your path.’

Brilliant.  That’s it, right there. 

Know your God.  Know how He made you.  And ask those three questions.

These questions apply to the decision to marry a particular person.  They help in the decision of whether or not to adopt.  They apply to the dilemma of a college to pick or a career to choose.  They apply to how you choose to school your children.  They apply to the neighborhood you decide to live in and the church you choose to attend.

I do realize that sometimes we are not given the luxury of choosing; sometimes our circumstances make the choice for us.  And in those cases, bloom where you are planted.  That’s God’s will too. 

But, as Olasky says so well,

Why not go for the challenge rather than play out the string?

For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future.

Okay, so I realize I am stepping on some people’s sacred ground here.  And if not your sacred ground, then at least the Christian greeting card company’s. 

But I don’t believe that verse. 

Before you start throwing tomatoes at me, let me explain. 

I don’t believe this verse in the interpretation that most Americans give it.  I don’t believe that God has granted that promise to individual Christians for every age in history. 

I do believe that it was a promise made to a group of people who were exiled from their country at a specific time in history. 

I’m going to be frank. 

God has not promised us prosperity.  Sometimes God’s will is that we don’t prosper. 

God has not promised us safety.  Sometimes God allows us to be harmed. 

A month ago, a gang of thieves armed with machetes broke into the home of good friends of ours in the middle of the night.  They wounded the father and stole everything they could carry. 

Last night, it happened to another family who is dear to us.  Except that this time, the thieves had guns.  They shot at the father and missed.  They stole what they could carry.  They even tried to get the wedding ring off of the mom’s finger.  Thankfully, it wouldn’t come off.

Both families live just a couple of miles away from us.

Shivers of terror have gone through our community.  But for those of us who have lived here a long time, this is nothing new.  I could probably list about 20 families over the years who I know personally and who have experienced the same thing.

It has not happened to us.  Yet.  I have no assurance that it won’t.

Of course, we are very careful.  I think I mentioned before that my husband has the mind of a criminal.  So he has good plans in place to keep the bad guys out.  We talk about our plan.  We review our plan.  Tonight at dinner, he was re-reading the manual of our alarm system. 

We have not left Tanzania.  God has called us here.  We have no intention of throwing in the towel.  Neither have our friends who have experienced this trauma. 

But God does not promise our safety.  He does not promise that no harm will come our way, even when we are obeying Him.

I’m sure people thought that Columbine, and Newtown, and the Twin Towers were safe places.  But the truth is, there are no safe places.  No matter how much insurance we have, no matter how much we fire-proof our homes, no matter if we carry a gun or how many air bags we have in our cars, there are no safe places.  Our world is broken, and the American Dream is never going to fix it.

So instead of Jeremiah 29:11, I look to other promises.  Promises that I know apply to me, today. 

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

The Lord is with me, I will not be afraid.  What can man do to me?

In all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.

You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You.

I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future…nor any powers, will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

I went back and revised my previous post three or four times this week.  I just couldn’t get it right; it wasn’t saying what I wanted it to say.  So tonight it struck me.  Duh.

Grace.  It’s been all grace.  That’s what I want to say. 

I know I’ve said it before.  But as I look back over our ten years in Tanzania, that’s really our theme. 

One of the things that scares me about going back to the States is that people often see missionaries on a different plane.  That somehow they are more spiritual or special or maybe halos hover over their heads.  People always apologize when they cuss in our presence.  Ugh.  Please don’t.  Apologize, that is. 

What I was trying to say in that last post is that it’s all been grace.  I’ve seen amazing youth leaders before, the ones who are able to get even the grumpiest student to laugh.  That’s not us.  We came here young and naive.  We learned on the job.  We made a lot of mistakes.  We screwed up some relationships. 

A long time ago, a mentor told me that 90% of ministry is just showing up.  And that’s what we’ve learned.  That God blesses those who show up.  And keep showing up. 

We have seen fruit from our ministry, and we have been tremendously blessed.  But it’s not because God has gifted us more than anyone else.  It’s because we just kept showing up. 

Sometimes we get asked how we know we were “called” to live in Africa.  I always tell them:  It starts by saying “Here am I; send me!”  Then opening your eyes, seeing a need you can fill, and doing it.  Whether it’s across the world or across the street. 

The rest is grace. Because really, we are broken, wretched people who don’t act very missionary-like on a regular basis. 

Telling God, “Whatever You Want” is super scary. Until you’ve done it enough times that it becomes exciting. 

I lay in bed last night, trying to sleep in a sauna.  Praying for breeze to come through the windows, and fretting over the meat in my freezer which was slowly defrosting.  I actually think the chicken kept me awake more than the heat. 

The transformer in our neighborhood had exploded, leaving us without power for about 40 hours.  Our back-up battery system only lasts about 8 hours before needing to be re-charged, and our generator was letting out an awful lot of smoke, so we were left with the sauna.

Thankfully, it was only 40 hours, and not six days like the last time a transformer exploded.  And we did eat the chicken and nobody threw up. 

We’re going back to California in July.  I’m tracking plane ticket prices online.  We’re staying for a year this time, which means that I’m buying one-way tickets.  For the first time in 8 years, we will rent an apartment in the States.  So I’ve been thinking a lot a lot a lot about America these days. 

During those times when I lay in bed sweating, I especially think about America, The Land of Eternal Electricity.  I admit it; I like comfort.  Oh yes, do I like comfort.  I don’t like being overly hot and I definitely don’t like being sweaty.  I like drive-throughs and superstores and I like entertainment.  I like good health care and roads where people follow the rules. 

I’m looking forward to speaking English wherever I go.  I’m excited about Trader Joe’s and clothes dryers and real customer service.  I will be relieved to blend in with the crowd instead of being the sore thumb all the time. 

Why do I choose this life in Tanzania?  Why don’t I just get on that plane in July and never come back? 

Because God has taught me that comfort does not equal contentment.  In fact, it’s often the uncomfortable that teaches me to be content with the comfortable.  Like a mom who never learned to appreciate a good night’s sleep or time to herself until she had a baby.  Like a cancer patient who never learned to appreciate health until she went through hell and back.  Electricity, water, infrastructure of all kinds, medical care, and purposeful work have all gained new meaning by living in Tanzania.

It’s kind of funny, actually, because after 10 years, this has, in many ways, become my comfortable life.  Moving back to Southern California with its social expectations and pressure to look perfect and consumerism…..that’s scary to me now.  I will be lost.

But the more I am lost, the more I will find.  The more I lose, the more I will gain.  The less I am comfortable, the more I will find real contentment. 

If life were stable, I’d never need God’s help.  Since it’s not, I reach out for Him regularly.  I am thankful for the unknowns and that I don’t have control, because it makes me run for God.  (Francis Chan)