I am a missionary this year.
Everyday, I am asking God to use me.
Everyday, I am making space to see God work.
Everyday, He is teaching me so much.
I know these statements sound cliche. Stereotypical. The “right answers.”
But, I mean them wholeheartedly!
However, I can also say this wholeheartedly— Everyday, I am imperfect.
In my imperfection, I must make a confession:
Today, I lied in front of a whole congregation.
It all started when speaking with a sweet sixty-year old man named Sorin. He is one of the Hope Church workers assigned to lead my ministry team here. A jolly fellow with a toothy grin, salt and pepper hair, a plump middle, and a twinkle in his eye—he is always up to mischief. Sorin is a brave soul attempting a new language at his age. Part of our ministry time here has been morning English lessons. While he makes many bold attempts, it is a guessing game most of the time as to what message Sorin is trying to communicate.
That being said, one of the first mornings here, I was “conversing” with him asking basic English questions. I asked about his birthday and he said “Seven November”. I replied with “Oh! We are leaving Romania on November 5th so we will just miss it!” He looked puzzled. “We leave on Five November,” I said, gesturing to myself. Looking as if a lightbulb went off in his head, he repeated me “Oh Five November!” “Da!” I replied, Romanian for yes. This was my first mistake.
He hugs me and motions at my friend Jami to take a picture of us. At this point, I have inferred he misinterpreted and believes us to be birthday buddies. But we all laugh and just roll with it.
Over the course of the next few weeks, he will point at me and say “Five November!” to show he remembers, and I just laugh and say “DA!” Jokes are in his nature, so for me to joke along is harmless, right?
Until…
I get to church this morning. Sorin is up for announcements at the closing of the service. I am sitting down fiddling with something in my purse, but everyone is still standing from the closing prayer. I hear him babbling in Romanian with the words “World Race” occasionally thrown in, and then I hear my name.
I look up. He is looking at me. So I stand up, and this time I am the one looking puzzled. A woman who translates comes up to me and says “He says it is your birthday on Thursday and wants you to say how old you will be?”
My face turns a little pinker, “Oh, okay. Twenty-three.” People clap for me and then Sorin gestures at my friend Victoria and says “Sing Happy Birthday”—
SO AN ENTIRE ROMANIAN CONGREGATION SANG ME HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
An interesting looking man I have never seen before walks up and hands me a candy bar. He grabs someone to translate who says “He wants you to know he loves you. And he says happy birthday. He wants you to know he is from the mental hospital. And he gives you chocolate because he loves you.”
“Okay, multsumesk! (Romanian for thank you) I love you too.” I say and hurry away to keep from dying laughing.
And another man comes up, “Hello, when is your birthday?”
“November 5th!” I say. I’m in too far deep now to turn back.
“Oh happy birthday! God bless you!” He says.
Cool.
One of the church’s Americans comes up to me— “Hi, happy birthday!” She senses my embarassment, “Just so you know, birthdays are a really big deal here. My son just had a birthday and they sang to him three different times and presented him gifts in church.”
“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel better!” I say, and under my breath “If only it were my birthday…”
I cannot get out of this church fast enough.
Finally, I make it home and pray that none of them Facebook stalk me and find the truth. I think it is all over.
Some of the squad were going to a park to have a picnic with the Romanians, but I have decided to take some much needed personal time and stay home.
I get a phone call from Bekah, “Hey Leighton, are you coming to the picnic in the park?… Oh okay. Well, you might need to. There is a cake and a whole birthday celebration for you. (And then she dies laughing because we all know the truth)”
So I go, and we eat cake.
This is my imperfect missionary life.
Everyday, things are lost in translation.
Everyday, there is new adventure.
Everyday, God calls us to go to great uncomfortable lengths.
AND
Everyday, there is a reason to celebrate.
