Nowadays people ask me, “So what do you want to do?”
“Ermm, well, I know I’m supposed to go into full time ministry, but..” and I proceed on to a bunny trail while they wonder what "full time ministry" is, exactly. And then I eventually circle back around and suggest that God could be calling me to be a missionary. But for now I’m doing the next right thing and just trusting Him.
I’ve decided the latter will always be my answer for everything.
[Rewind a few years]
By the time I was a blossoming adolescent, I’d traveled to a number of cities throughout the U.S. I'd flown to Dominican Republic and Haiti. All because I wanted to help people. And also because, to be honest, I liked the adventure. But I liked to think of missionaries as those ones you don’t hear about in the far off/isolated bushlands. They’re in underground churches in Asia. They're persecuted for their faith.
Sophomore year of college, I spent a summer in the bush of Africa. I danced and played with kids at an orphanage in Zambia. I went through the English alphabet with them and taught them bible stories. I held them. I lived and cooked meals with a missionary family. And still, I sat on a plane headed for home summing up my thoughts with, “Missionaries. They’re awesome.”
My last two years of college I spent both summers in NYC. I traveled to Brooklyn and Queens weekly, and taught English to African Muslims and Asian Muslims & Hindus. I would eat dinner on the floor with my bare hands (post gripping all the yummy subway poles) in an African woman’s home. She follows Muhammed, I follow Jesus. Sometime in the middle of last summer I began to process: “you know, me and those missionaries.. we’re a lot alike.”
It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, when I needed a way to get the word out about the World Race, that I made a decision. I designed a business card. I typed in “The World Race” at the top and inserted a catchy quote. Listed my eleven countries, added my blog address at the bottom. The last blank to be filled in was 'title' underneath my name. I sat for a few minutes.. before I entered in the phrase, “Missionary to the Nations.”
Identity crisis solved.
