Please don’t call me a missionary.
I have been having a difficult time with this word. Even before leaving the States at the beginning of this year, I did not want to call myself a missionary in talking to family, friends and whomever I met along the way. Just as well, since being away from my normal, I encounter people while on airplanes, in coffee shops and such asking where we’re going and what we’re doing and even then I can’t utter the word missionary. Partially because of never knowing who we’ll meet and not fically throwing that word around. But partially because I don’t feel I’ve earned that title.
Today I met a Nepali man.
One of the first Nepali men to be considered by Nepal and the Nepali Christians to be considered a missionary to his own country. Twenty years ago, only white people [outsiders and foreigners] were considered and called missionaries. Just twenty years ago were the Nepali Christians ready to redefine what a missionary is.
Today I met a man worthy of this title; worthy of this calling.
He has brought the gospel to unreached villages; villages and people who have never heard of Jesus. Sons and daughters who don’t know who this man Jesus is; men and women who don’t know who Papa is.
Today I met a man who has been called to reach the unreached.
Today I met a man who has planted several churches in this region of Nepal.
Today I met a man who has planted a bible college for the Nepali people to take the gospel to their villages and unreached villages of Nepal.
As I sat there, even more in myself I felt unworthy. I haven’t been through persecution like this man. I have not grown up in a home that has not known or talked about Jesus, Papa or the Holy Spirit. I have not been through the countless trials and tragedies this man has experienced. I have not lived through two deadly earthquakes as this courageous, unwavering father has. I have not trekked to unreached villages days on end, because of the compassion and heart of our heavenly Papa.
So please, please, do not call me a missionary.
I do not know what that word, or calling even means. I have not been through the heartache, the pain, the persecution or hardships. I have not been through the challenges nor the closed hearts.
Please, do not call me a missionary.
In the western world, we have a platform we place missionaries on. Somehow they are braver than us, more courageous, more humble, more perfect, more outgoing; they always have an answer and they deserve medals.
Partially, I believe these stereotypes to be true. They are brave, humble and are living out the great commission. They deserve medals, but not because of what they are doing.
Yet, they are just like you and I.
They struggle.
They have rough days.
They too must battle the lies Satan tries to trap them in.
They feel inadequate.
Missionaries are normal people.
Can we take them off this pedestal we’ve placed them on?
Will you stop comparing your life with theirs as if you don’t measure up?
Please don’t call me a missionary.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
What you may see on social media may not be so
One reason I have not been posting many photos over these few months, uploading seems next to impossible [and I get very impatient].
But even a bigger reason, I think photos can send wrong messages. A photo the other day posted by one of my teammates [with good intentions] seemed to be saying we were doing so much and making such an impact.
When I saw this photo and one particular response, I thought, “Wait, what messages are being sent and received right now?” I believe some misinterpretation was had and it didn’t settle right in my spirit.
Social media you are a great tool and medium, but there are times I see posts that are up for misinterpretation and miscommunication.
What can I do to prevent that? The last thing I want is for a photo or post of mine [or my squad or team] to sound like, “Look at what I’m doing! Aren’t I so great.” I’m sure [and I hope] the personal intention is pure and good, but sometimes what is seen is up for interpretation. [I find this another area I need to work on -finding flaws in people.]
I nearly posted a photo this evening, but then wondered, “What are your motives for sharing? Don’t you want to share a post about not wanting to be called a missionary and why this came into your mind?”
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Being challenged
I was pondering & journalling earlier– “Papa why does this seem to be such a challenging year? I get a sense this will be a difficult year. [not just a month here and there] One of the most difficult and challenging since that year of discipleship…that was 8 years ago. Why is this so uncomfortable and challenging?”
You signed up for this.
Growth does not come without pain.
You told me you wanted uncomfortable. You said my agenda not yours, Andrea.
Oh yeah.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
A seed cannot grow and sprout without the pain of coming up out of the dirt. It’s painful to break out of that dead shell and sprout new growth. It takes time for the sprout to enlarge. More time even for the sprout to shoot out stems, leaves and buds. Only then will it be able to produce fruit. Even more time, growth, pain, & struggle to get the produce looking edible and ripe.
v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v v
