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.
