From as early as I can remember, I was surrounded by missionaries. They would come to my church from faraway places like Papua New Guinea, Czechoslovakia, Panama and Indonesia. They would tell stories of working with various people groups like the Yellow Leaf Tribe and show pictures of sleeping in hammocks. I would sit in awe as I intently listed to tales of taking boats down murky rivers and flying planes by moonlight. Missionaries were superheroes to me. They went where no others would go to fight for a people few even knew existed. I imagined them all living in huts in isolated places with giant spiders plotting attack at every outset. They were the spiritual superstars and one could only look at them in sheer wonderment and never dream of being so perfect and selfless.
I distinctly remember at age 12 receiving the call to become a missionary. I was just so in love with these people and enamored with the stories they told of places not found on a map surrounded by a people without a known language. This was what I wanted to do, no doubt about it. Then I hit my teenage years and started trying to live up to what the world told me was important. Having few possessions and relying on God for every need instead of ensuring a big payroll to cover the latest toys and fashions was far from acceptable in the eyes of the world. I fell into the trap of materialism and bought into the lies that the more I had the happier I would be. After college I finally started my career with the goal of being CEO of a company by age 40. I was going to be somebody. Growing up in a middle income household I was hell bent on living well, even if I had to put myself in debt to do so.
After 5 years of climbing the corporate ladder and accumulating lots of things I discovered I was no happier than I had been back in high school with a jalopy and no more than a few dollars to my name. I had been buying into the lie that I would only be happy if I had plenty of money and the things money can buy. The problem with that is no matter how much you have, you always want more. So, after losing my job, my house and my relationship I finally decided to see what God had in store for me. Turns out, it was being a missionary, for a season at least. The old call rang again, and finally this time, I answered.
Over the past 3 ½ months I realized that the reason I never pursued being a missionary sooner, besides falling into sin, was that I had been sold on yet another lie. I believed missionaries were these superhuman spiritual beings who did not have any fun, any thoughts other than telling people about Jesus, and didn’t own more than the clothes on their backs. I thought that being a missionary meant that I would be miserable for the rest of my life and live in a hut in the middle of nowhere with no connection to my former life. I also thought it meant I would lose my personality and become a robot for Jesus just preaching the gospel with other robots.
I didn’t want to give up my life, my dreams, and my happiness to be a missionary. So, since I already had my preconceived notions, I never stopped to listen to what God had to say about the matter. But, when my life as I knew it fell apart, I was already miserable and figured I might as well be miserable for God. So, I signed up for the World Race. Training camp was about as miserable as I expected a missionary’s life would be, and I assumed the next 11 months would be more of the same.
So, imagine my shock to discover that I’ve not only maintained my personality on the Race, but rather I’ve discovered fully my identity! Some experiences/days/months on the Race are less than comfortable, but I am the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I am surrounded by people who love me, accept me, push me to grow, speak life into me, play games with me and who are always there for me (even when you’d rather they weren’t). I’ve been to water parks on two continents, and enjoyed countless hours of playing cards and telling stories. Feelings of joy, happiness and contentment were so far off the radar of how I thought I would feel on the race that I was racked by bouts of guilt and shame. “I must be doing this missionary thing all wrong!” I told myself. If people back home knew I was having this much fun they will think I’m not being a good missionary and they’ll stop supporting me, I reasoned.
I imagine God just laughs as He stares down at this silly child. “Oh Laura,” He laments, “Why do you keep buying into all the lies?” First I didn’t want to be a missionary because I thought it would be no fun; then I realized it was fun and felt ashamed for it! It’s hard to explain, but living this life is incredibly difficult yet the most rewarding and joyful thing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t have children, but I akin the feelings to that of having and raising children. It is painful, messy, exhausting, life-altering, all consuming, stretching, and at times you wonder if it is all worth it, while at the same time it is beautiful, exhilarating, fun, amazing and at times you sit and wonder how you’re so blessed that this is really your life!
I am currently in Month 4 in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I still need to raise $4500 to remain on the race. If God's leading, please support me. You can give online by clicking the "Support Me" link on the left.
