I am not a missionary

I have decided I am not a real missionary. A real missionary goes to a jungle in an unreached part of the world, learns the language by speaking to the locals, has limited contact with friends and family back home, serves 24/7 without thinking of oneself.

I don't do that. I enjoy a glass of wine, go dancing, watch sports, wander through the city, go home to visit often, travel around nationally and in the surrounding countries, pay for language classes and rest often, thinking of myself in order to be able to give out.

I think I was partly disappointed. This explains why (on 14/07/14), out of nowhere, my emotions went everywhere, and I couldn’t contain the overwhelming sense of loss and a seemingly bleak and boring future! A sense of loss of what I left behind. I came to Beirut because God told me to and I partly wanted to. So, I willingly ‘stepped out in faith’, overcoming many fears and unknowns. I know in the Bible it says, ‘faith is being assured of what we do not see, through hope’…and many people written about in the Bible ‘did not see what they hoped for in their lifetime’. It came later, after they could see it. Such as God’s promise that Abraham’s descendants would be as numerous as the stars; or like Moses leading his people to the promised land that he never entered. I thought I was different. I thought I would see it. I thought things would be clear after a year of living in Beirut. I was willing to be patient- for a time. And I had fun in the waiting. However, I look at time, and I get anxious. I look at my age and what I hoped to accomplish and the possibility of how much more time could be left over, not wanting to waste a single moment! I know more now: more Arabic, more people, more about the culture; but nothing about my life seems to make sense anymore. Why am I really here and what is the purpose? Shouldn’t it be more clear now, the direction I am supposed to be going? If God does not reveal the way, how can I know what steps to take?

So, as I tearfully grieved that I do not know, I knew God was listening not to my words, but to my tears; for my tears were directly linked to my heart. I just don’t know, my heart cried. But I want to trust and for this heaviness to go away. As I lay there, my heart grew at rest, like dust settling back onto the earth after agitating it. Although I did not have an answer, I knew God had heard me, and that was enough. Time will tell, and God is in control of time. In fact, he is not limited to time. 

For some reason, God wanted me to be reminded over and over of Luke 11: the culture and context behind it, the meaning and message. Basically, to ask God. It takes boldness to ask. And Jesus wants this. He wants us to be confident in what we want because what we want will nourish us. And he will it give it because he knows how to give good gifts. However, the tricky thing is, it may not be in the package we expect. So, instead of asking for things, it’s wise to ask for qualities and ideas so God can work out the details through us.  The man knew in Luke 11 that he wanted bread for his guests. It was not wrong to want bread, but the neighbour made it seem like it was. I want to go home and see my family for a visit. I felt God say, ‘there’s nothing wrong with that’. He agreed with my need in this particular situation and gave me favour with it. Thank you, my father, giver of good gifts!

God told me this morning (15/07/14) he is ‘changing my perspectives’, and I remember the dream I had a little over a year ago when He first told me that. Now I see why. In fact, now I see parts of the bigger picture that even just yesterday I could not see. God answered my prayers when I asked him to show me the purpose of all of this. He showed me that my time spent with my students (especially the Egyptian girls) was not an error. He is using that to show me how to encourage and disciple and support in this culture with ‘safe’ people that I could make mistakes with. I sense God leading me to disciple a Syrian mother of 4 who is a new Christian and stays at home a lot. If I do not do it formally, I will visit her and bring an excuse to read the Bible and pray with her. I wonder who else I can do this with! I find is more appealing than evangelizing. Working with Muslims is hard work, because it takes a lot of patience. So, my perspectives of wanting to see fruit right away, know my purpose, and of what a missionary looks like is all being challenged at the moment. I have decided I don’t like that title. I am simply a worker for Christ. In fact, I don’t want a title.