October 21, 2012
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The Truth about Being a Missionary
It isn’t “A picture is worth a thousand words,” it is “A picture (that makes me feel guilty) is worth a thousand dollars.” Trust me, I know—I try to find these pictures. Our culture is extremely ADD—we want an instant fix. I have to create a new project, a new campaign every month to get and keep people’s attention. If I don’t—the money does not come in.
What I really need is faithfulness. People who come along side and really believe in what we are doing and say “I understand that working with children takes YEARS before you see results, and even then, you might not see them. But I am going to continue to give.” Think about your own kids: if you had to “sell” the idea of raising them, would anyone give? Would you be a success story?
That’s what I do. I am a seller of dreams. Of ideas, of myself. Being a missionary—or in ministry—you are presenting yourself to people. Your sacred dreams of changing the world. And saying “Please—please trust me—believe in me—and support me financially.” The desire to put on more polish and flash is always there—and it is for a good cause. I am not saying this is all wrong—I am just saying this is how it is.
In Brazil, it took the first year to wrap my head around a new culture and learn a new language. It took another year before I really could begin to help in a ministry, and one more for me to learn how to do that ministry in the culture I was in, instead of my own culture. It was only after the third year that I was able to begin leading/training in this ministry. True ministry takes time. By the end of 2012 I will have been in Brazil for four and a half years, beginning in 2004. This has been a huge chunk of my life, but it is still just the beginning in so many ways.
The truth is, I’ve been working with children in poverty for 15 years and still don’t really understand it. As I sat and watched the kids at the dump, I asked myself: what they do when they poop. Leaves, I guess? Are their certain kinds of leaves to use? What about for babies? What do girls do when they are on their period? Do they really never floss? And so on.
If I am honest, I don’t want to understand more. I am scared that once I really get it, I can never go back. It is already hard to go back and forth between rich and poor, between have and have not. But I have, realizing that everyone has their hurts, their loves, their fears. That everyone has their own reality and sinner/saint potential. And most of all, that I can just let it go because God loves them all and so must I: we are all people.
And I like my comforts. I like my clean house and refrigerator and internet and when I really want something in the store—I like buying it. I like feeling at home when I am with my family and friends, most of whom do not understand poverty at all. I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to always feel the stranger—just a little bit off. It is lonely. I don’t want to walk so far away from “normal” that I can’t return.
It is an incredible responsibility to KNOW.
