Hello friends,
The last two months or so I’ve been struggling with trying to picture myself as a missionary. I’m too selfish. I don’t pray enough. I don’t have any good advice to give when needed. I don’t know enough. I don’t love enough. You name it, I don’t have enough of it. I haven’t had to do an eighth of what real missionaries do. Oh, and don’t forget that I just made the last seven statements all about me. Missionary material? I think not. Hashtag the struggle was real.
The thought of not doing the trip never crossed my mind. The thought to defer until I was ready never crossed my mind. I just figured I’ll get it when I get there, which I don’t think was a bad way to deal with these feelings, it just wasn’t the best way. When having these feelings I simply need to ask God to show me and teach me. Like, why didn’t I think of that in the first place? Solomon asked for wisdom and God gave it to him. Like, it’s that easy. I’m such a pea-brain.
Now, I have a story for every one of those statements I just made, a story about how God started to teach me and lead me in every one of those areas. I even started to type the first one and realized that it would make this blog suuuuuuuuuuuuuuper long. I might have lost most of you before the end, so I’ve decided to share the one that touched my heart the most, which might still end up making for a longer blog. Are you ready?
A few weeks ago I met a pastor, he had taken a four day sabbatical to work on some books he’s writing, and he just so happened to take his sabbatical in the small town of Greeneville. He managed to find his way to Catalyst (the coffee shop I work at,) and decided to do some work there on his last two days. Now, the first day he was there I saw him and I totally judged him. I wasn’t working that day, I just happened to be dropping off some beans and wanted a cup of amazing coffee. Anyway, I made mental notes. He wasn’t a local. He has a MacBook. OK, so that’s as far as I got with the mental notes. Basically, wondered who he was, but didn’t care enough to ask. Assumed he was just hanging out for the day. Second day, he’s there again, but this time I’m scheduled to work. This time I get five hours to wonder who this guy is. I still didn’t initiate any conversation with him, but he initiated conversation with me via eaves dropping on a conversation about my trip. What a nosy man. 🙂 We spoke a little about my trip, he introduced me to some of his son’s music, he told me about a series of books he’s writing, and I went back to work.
I don’t remember how we got on the topic of theology, but we did, and we had a nice conversation. I threw a bunch of questions at him, and we shared our opinions on the answers. It was by no means a revelatory conversation, but I just remember walking away thinking this dude was pretty cool. He stayed and worked on his books through my whole shift. Ok, so maybe my coworker and I spent the rest of the shift taking turns talking to him. Poor guy probably didn’t get anything else done that day. It was time to close the shop, he came up to the counter to say goodbye, and the next statement that came out of my mouth kinda threw me off. I told him I would visit his church before I leave the country. Like, I’ve never just gone off to another church, and especially not one that is over an hour away. What in the world was I thinking?! I’m very much a person that doesn’t like change. I don’t like change. I don’t like going places where I know no one. I don’t like going to any church, but mine. I don’t like unfamiliar. Why in the world did I tell this pastor that I just met I would visit his church? Whaaaat?
Fast forward two weeks.
I wanted to pick a week that my pastor wasn’t preaching to go visit this other church. I hate missing my pastor’s sermons. Alas, he’s preaching for the rest of the time I have in America, so I decided to just do it. I was just going to go and get it over with. The drive over was pretty, and gave me one hour and forty-two minutes to think about things. Normally, I would use that time to psych myself out of it. Ya know, turn around, go back to my comfort zone? Nope. I was completely calm the entire time, until I arrive at his church. I pulled into the parking lot, and then I spent the next fifteen minutes deciding whether I should just pull right back out and drive home. I decided to stay. I was watching people walk in, and wanted to wait until no one was in the parking lot to get out of my car, that I parked forever away from the front doors, and walk in. I wanted to be as invisible as possible. Yeah, my invisibility lasted until I opened the front door to walk in.
I found a seat in the back of the room to sit, but when I say in the back I don’t mean up against the back wall. The last row of chairs is in the middle of the room, like, I can’t go unseen. Less than two minutes pass by, one guy shakes my hand and says good morning, and then a nice lady, whose name is Mae, asks me if I want to go sit with her, but she doesn’t mean in the sanctuary, she means out in the open light for people to see me. Uhhh, yeah, sure. Mae then went on to introduce me to everyone that passed by. Normally, this would make me incredibly uncomfortable, but I was totally cool with it. I was glad to meet these people. Not only did I not expect this church to be sooooo welcoming, I didn’t expect to be so comfortable with it. I mean everyone took me in like I was a part of their family.
What happened the rest of the time was just as unexpected as the aforementioned happenings.
While still meeting people, Pastor Wayne (a familiar face) walks over. Mae was ready to introduce me to him, but we already knew each other. Pastor Wayne and I go on to exchange a few words, and the next statement that comes out of his mouth throws me off. He wants to mention my trip and give some money for it. I’m sorry, I just met this guy two weeks ago, it’s my first time at this church, I remember about an eighth of the names of people I’ve been introduced to in my first ten minutes in this building, and he thinks his congregation would be happy to give me money? These people don’t even know me. Pastor Wayne barely knows me. He wants to help with my trip. What is God doing?
Service starts, I’m subtly introduced, my trip is mentioned, and people are excited. They aren’t just excited for me, but excited with how God is working, how God is going to use me. At the end of service they prayed over me. They surrounded me, laid their hands on me, and they just prayed over me. I’ve never been to someone what these people were to me. I’m just blown away by this body. After the service was over, people started to approach me and talk to me about my trip and trips they’ve been on, they were so excited, and I mirrored their excitement. Right at about the time I was walking out with Pastor Wayne and his wife to head to lunch, a man approached me, put a fifty dollar bill in my hand, and walked away. He asked for nothing in return. Not my name. Not my number. Not my email. Not a response. Nothing. He just gave. He gave trusting The Lord and trusting that I was following The Lord. His simple gesture spoke volumes to me. Talk about not letting your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Others, of whom I don’t know, gave, too. They also didn’t ask me to do anything in return to their giving. Why would a people that don‘t know a thing about me, be so willing and so trusting to give so much? And I don’t just mean financially.
Earlier, I mentioned that I struggled with picturing myself as a missionary, but this church treated me not only like I belonged with them, they treated me like I am missionary. Everything I know about myself begs me to ask the question of how I could ever be a missionary. I’ve learned that it isn’t ever about how I picture myself, but what God’s picture of me is. This church knew nothing about me, asked me nothing of my life, and gave as if I were a missionary. God chose me for this. It is by the grace of God that I am where I am. I would not have chosen this path on my own. He chose me and I chose to listen. This amazing body chose not to listen to me, they didn’t even ask, but they chose to listen to and trust God. I do not yet know the amount of which this church is giving, but the fifty dollars that man gave me would have been enough for me to share this story. In fact, had they not given a dime I still would have shared this story because of the love of Christ I felt from them.
Thank you, Zion Family Ministries, for your ministry and love for The Lord.
