So, I’ve signed up for this 11 month trip to go and be a missionary. I’ve dreamed of becoming a missionary since my sophomore year in college. It happened like this: I was at an after-party that my college campus leaders used to hold in their home after our weekly gatherings. I was chatting with one of the girls there, and she asked me, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” and for some reason, instead of my typical “I don’t know,” I heard myself saying, “I want to be a missionary.” And as if I were the other, non-me participant in the conversation, I responded (in my head), “Really?? Where did that come from?” This conversation was taking place probably less than six months after asking God, with unmasked dread, “Does this (newfound faith in Christ) mean I have to go to some village in Africa and go door to door preaching the Gospel?” And now here I was, revealing my heart’s desire not only to my friend, but also to myself. As I reflected on what I had just said, I realized it was actually true.
I have been watching and reading a lot of material about evangelizing in the last few months, and started to feel convicted about the fact that I should be reaching out to the people around me here and now, not just once I leave. Here are three of my encounters.
Hairdresser
After watching some tutorial videos about how to reach out to people and start spiritual conversations, I went to get a haircut from a lady I have used maybe three times now. “Ask her if she celebrates Christmas. Ask her if she has a Christian background.” I feebly ask about her holiday plans, and listen to her reply, but do not push much further.
“What if the other customers and hairdressers are listening?”
“What if she doesn’t like what I have to say and she cuts my hair funny?”
“There is no music on. It’s too quiet. My words will echo everywhere and it will be awkward.”
Patio Guy
At church, I always park in the same spot. Across from the parking lot, there is an apartment complex, and there is often a guy on his patio smoking in the morning. This particular morning we made eye contact. “Has anyone ever invited him to church, in all the time he has lived here, week by week watching people go inside? You should invite him.”
“He’s not looking at me anymore. It would be awkward to call out at him.”
“I’m already running late. If I get into a conversation, I will be more late.”
“I will do it next time, or if he’s here after church.”
He wasn’t there after church.
Shrimp Guy
After failing to invite Patio Guy, I took an invitation to my church’s winter concert, determined to invite someone over the course of the day. At the grocery store, I ordered shrimp for my mom from the guy over the counter. They both laughed at me as I called it “gray shrimp” instead of “raw shrimp.” “Invite him to the winter concert.”
No! He is really attractive, and will probably think I’m asking him out on a date! And he will reject me and that will hurt my pride.
Besides, I can’t even go; I am meeting my friends later. That would be weird, to invite him if I’m not even going.
* * * * * *
Okay, so, supporters, I hope you’re feeling really good about your decision to support me on a journey to go and spread the Gospel to the nations when I can’t even do it in my own hometown…
The truth is, this week really showed me how I am failing all the time, whether I see it or not. But I am grateful to have my eyes opened to my failings, because it gives me the opportunity to see myself more clearly and to change. This week, God just opened my eyes to the opportunities that were actually there, and through my disobedience, revealed to me just how adept I am at making excuses. But these are people I walk by every day without even seeing, without stopping to consider that their eternal salvation is actually more important than my temporary social discomfort.
So I am writing this blog to ask you to pray with me for boldness. I genuinely want to share the good news of what Jesus did for humanity, to all of the people I meet. I repent of disobedience, fear, and being ashamed of the Gospel (or perhaps more specifically, of looking like “that” kind of Christian). Like Peter who denied Christ three times, I want to have a second chance to be bold. Pray with me, please, because one thing is clear. I am not going to start doing it just because I wake up and magically feel like it.
Since I’ve started preparing for this trip, I find myself constantly coming back to that moment when I first stated that I wanted to be a missionary. I know that He called me to do this. When doubt and insecurity creep in, it is something I can look back to. When I start thinking, I am not bold enough to do this, and that I have no right being a missionary, I can look to Him who gently tells me to get over it. Get over my excuses, social protocol, and self-preservation. I go because He sends me. He is the God of second chances, and of grace. And he is bold enough for both of us.
