Tag: living like a missionary

Seeing Myself in The Poisonwood Bible

I knew that The Poisonwood Bible was a best-selling novel about a missionary family to Africa, so why did it take me 25 years to finally read it? Honestly, I think I was scared of it. I knew that it painted an ugly picture of missionaries, and I feared it would make me question my calling. 

Well, that’s a stupid reason to avoid reading a book, so when I read it this summer, I regretted waiting so long. I was instantly captivated. Barbara Kingsolver weaves a riveting story of the fictional Nathan Price and his family into the horrifying history of Congo in the 1960’s. Like many other reviewers, I loved the first two-thirds of the book and was bored by the last third (which is essentially an extended epilogue) – but the point is, I still loved it. I would argue that it should be required reading for any cross-cultural worker.

Yes, Nathan Price is a terrible missionary. On his first night in the village, when his hosts welcome him with a feast and dancing, the first words out of his mouth are raging criticism for their lack of clothing. It all goes downhill from there. For example, he can’t understand why no one wants to be baptized in the river until someone reveals that the villagers assume he wants to feed them to the crocodiles. 

Nathan speaks very little of the local language, and even his feeble attempts are misinterpreted:

“TATA JESUS IS BÄNGALA!” declares the Reverend every Sunday at the end of his sermon. More and more, mistrusting his interpreters, he tries to speak in Kikongo. He throws back his head and shouts these words to the sky, while his lambs sit scratching themselves in wonder. Bangala means something precious and dear. But the way he pronounces it, it means the poisonwood tree. Praise the Lord, hallelujah, my friends! for Jesus will make you itch like nobody’s business.”

He asks no questions. He makes no attempts to understand. He is never willing to admit he is wrong. He is never willing to acknowledge that the villagers could be right. He thinks he is defending God’s reputation. He refuses to see that his pride and foolishness are actually doing the opposite.

I’ve never met a missionary this bad, though certainly, any honest, self-reflecting missionary winces to realize that they see a little of themselves in Nathan Price.

But is this just about missionaries? 

Isn’t every Christian living in a culture that is, in a sense, foreign? 

Longing for a Better Country

Living as a foreigner taught me how to live as a Christian

Imagine you read this in a newsletter from a cross-cultural missionary: 

We didn’t expect Hindu beliefs to be so strange. We were expecting the people to think more like us, and their differences are making us very uncomfortable, even angry.   

We are especially worried about how Hindu beliefs are influencing us and our children. We don’t want to expose ourselves to these lies. We only let a few safe people, usually other missionaries, into our home. We want our children to have only good Christian influences in their lives.

Would you question whether these missionaries understood what they signed up for? Would you wonder if they are having any impact at all? This is not a true story, but there’s something to notice here: all Christians have been given the same Great Commission, yet sometimes we hold missionaries to a different standard than we hold ourselves. Can the missionary life illustrate God’s intention for all believers?

When a foreign country felt like home 

I was a missionary kid in Africa for half of my childhood, and then my husband and I lived in Tanzania, East Africa, for 16 years. We adapted to driving on the left side of the road. We figured out how to combat millipedes and centipedes. We learned to snorkel; we knew where to buy the best roadside barbequed chicken; we hailed three-wheeled rickshaw taxis in Swahili. We formed tight bonds in the community. Life in Tanzania was not always easy, but we felt we belonged there. Visiting the States felt stressful; Tanzania felt like home. 

Yet, no matter how much I wanted Tanzania to be my home, it never really could be. Tangible reminders of my status as a foreigner followed me everywhere. Every two years, I had to reapply for a residence permit. I was not permitted to own a home. I could not vote. No matter how hard I tried, I would never look the same, sound the same, think the same as the people around me. I was always an outsider.

Scripture often refers to Christians as strangers (Heb 11:13), foreigners (1 Pet 1:17) and exiles (1 Pet 2:11). Making my home in a foreign land gave me this perspective. It granted me a picture of what my life as a Christian should look like in my own home country. 

Now that I’m living back in America, I discovered that living as a foreigner taught me much about living as a Christian.  

Go here to read the rest at the EFCA blog.

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