I remember every Sunday growing up, our church would always pick a missionary to pray for. On the back of each bulletin there was a short Bio, usually a thank you note from the missionary, and prayer requests for safety, provision, and that the Lord use them to reach the community, village, or town they were staying in. I grew up jealous of the adventures they were going on…whether it was to Brazil, or Kenya, or even the Michigan State University campus, the fact that they were doing something powerful really moved me. On some Sunday mornings they would bring up a missionary about to take off on a new adventure, he/she would explain a little bit what they were going to be doing and say their thank-you’s to the congregation for their support and love through their fundraising efforts, and we would pray over them. I looked up at the pastors laying hands on the missionary in prayer and dream of faraway places and unseen faces…
As the years progressed, life happened. Every Sunday I would still go to church, still read the back of the bulletin, still skim the prayer requests, and watch as new missionaries and returning missionaries were prayed over in the service. My attitude changed. The jealousy was still very much there, but it wasn’t a jealousy about travelling…every time I saw someone walk up on that stage I listened to how eloquently they spoke…How their passion never dwindled like mine did. I made choices in life, choices that were not wise choices. Up until recently my heart had been hardened by people I have hurt, people who have hurt me, and loss I have experienced in the past year. They must have their lives all figured out…there is no way they have done what I have…there is no way that they have been hurt like I have…there is no way that God could use me with everything I have done. I looked up at the pastors laying hands on the missionary in prayer and dreamt of having their life…having their faith…
That brings me to right here, right now. Sitting in this chair, typing this blog, chugging a monster. My brokenness and shame exposed to the few in my life whom God has provided to help me to work through choices, hurts, and loss I have experienced. The past few weeks…it has occurred to me…for 11 months…I will be overseas helping the least of these. Cuhhh-rap. What does that make me? I looked up the definition of Missionary in the dictionary, and this is what I came up with: According to Merriam-Webster
Definition of MISSIONARY
: a person undertaking a mission and especially a religious mission
A person undertaking a mission and especially a religious mission. Let’s just think about this for a moment…yes, I have the Race…the Race is a mission to go out and make disciples in countries in need. Wait wait wait…isn’t the US in need too? Aren’t there hungry people here too? Unemployment is at an all time high…aren’t there people who are living in poverty here too? So what is this mission exactly?
Make disciples? In all nations?
So if I am reading this right…and processing this right…where I sit…where YOU sit, as you and I are right now…we are missionaries? It’s true. We completely look over this fact…for us to be Christ Followers is to spread the Good News of Jesus Christ Himself to as many people as we can through our actions and words spoken. Honestly, when I came to this realization, I didn’t feel good about it. God, You called me a what!?
One of my beautiful, wonderful, and loving squad sisters sent me this passage yesterday that hit me in the heart:
Luke 7:36-50
Jesus Anointed by a Sinful Woman
Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.”
“Tell me, teacher,” he said.
“Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”
Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”
“You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.
Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”
Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”
Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
My eyes still well up in tears reading that passage. I am forgiven. My story is redeemed. My story is beautiful because of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. God gave me a way out. My mind is blown. There is no better way to explain it. For the past few weeks I have been getting ready for “my new career as a missionary” next year, fundraising and preparing my heart…not realizing that it is already on my resume…it has been since that day when I was a kid an accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior. Every time I sat in my church full of jealousy and to be honest, a little anger, I never realized that they have stories too. They have brokenness too. Just like I do. They are my co workers in Christ. They have a beautifully redeemed story, just like I do.
I am one of them.
And so are you.
So what now? What will you do differently? In your own backyard, how will you be Christ to someone? I recently realized there is a woman who drives the same route home from work as I do. This has been a rainy gloomy fall in good 'ol Michigan, and the lines are hard to see at night as it is, add wet pavement and you pretty much have to wing it half of the time. I was on my way home one night and the car in front of me slammed on their brakes and slowed to around 30mph…in a 55. The road rage was building a bit…I had just worked an 11 hour day. I wanted to be home. I swerved over to see what was happening and a Gold Ford Taurus was taking it's sweet time in front of us. The black truck in front of me gunned it to pass her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. But, because of oncoming traffic, I didn't have the same luck. Not gonna lie, I was tailgating her, might have mumbled a few questionable words under my breath, but then I noticed something. Every time a car would pass us with their headlights on, she would hit the brakes and swerve away…I don't know if it is because I have personal experience with a family member who can't drive at night because of her eyesight, but it dawned on me that this person could not see the road in the rain. Obviously he or she was nervous. Instantly I felt convicted. Despite the 5 cars behind me I slowed down to where I wasn't tailgating this person anymore.. People passed us, but I stayed behind the gold Taurus. I wanted to be sure she made it safely to wherever she was going. So, in a 55, where I normally go 62…I snailed along right behind her at a whopping 34mph. As we parted ways the driver waved and smiled at me. God, You called me a missionary.
