Culture shock and what it was like coming home

I've been home now for 6 weeks as of tomorrow, and I leave for Africa again in 5 days. It's been a rollercoaster of emotions, busy as expected, and it's passed so quickly, also as expected.
What I wasn't prepared for, though, was how it felt coming home. Don't get me wrong, I expected for it to be different and weird, but as a quote from the brilliant movie The Giver says, "Knowing what something is is not the same as knowing how something feels." Culture shock comes in various forms, and for me, it wasn't like the people who wrote blogs I'd read before, where they'd get home and just cry over the amount of stuff they had, ripping their clothes out of their closets in despair. For me, it was a thousand little things that added up to make me feel overwhelmed. The doorknobs are different, and a lot lower. The eggs are white. The ceilings are lower. The milk cartons are huge. The light switches are different. We drive on the other side of the road. The season is the opposite.
I could go on, but you get the point. When the everyday, ordinary things are constantly catching you off-guard, it's exhausting. I'll admit, the morning after I came back, I laid in my bed awake, waited for my family to leave for church so I wouldn't have to talk, then continued to lay there after they had left, and just cried. I cried because I was alone for the first time in 10 months (living with 7 other people doesn't allow for much alone time), but I didn't really want to see anyone. I wanted to be back in Africa. I wanted my life here to feel normal again. I despaired that I had to wait 6 weeks to go back.
Here's the best way I can think of to describe coming back after 10 months in a foreign country. In South Africa, they do this thing called load shedding. Load shedding is when the city shuts off the power in various sections of the city for varying lengths of time, because their power grid cannot handle having the whole city "on" at once. You never really know when load shedding is going to hit, or how long it will last. Once, the power was off for a couple of days. At that point, we had forgotten which lights were on in our house at the time that the power went out. So when the power came back on, random lights in various rooms of our house came on. The funny thing about it is, those lights being on once fit exactly where we were and what we were doing. But after being gone from our house and after we had moved on to doing different things in different rooms, those lights being on didn't fit our situation anymore.
Coming back from Africa, it feels like I am such a different person now, that my life here just doesn't fit who I am now. In a way, it's true. But I have realized that I can and should utilize the tools and knowledge I learned there, and apply it to my life here.
I had to realize that I had spent the last year seeing things most people here have never seen before, and learning things no one here has ever thought about before. I have gained an urgency for the Gospel that most people here have never experienced before. And as much as I wanted to just run back to Africa, I couldn't. Partially because I didn't have a plane ticket (heehee), but also because I know that someone has to be the voice that calls people here to awake. If a missionary's job is to equip and empower a nation to reach their own people, then that's what I'm called to do here, in my own country. If God uses me to show just one person how they can be involved in missions wherever they are, it will be worth it.

Responding to the tangible presence of Christ

I sat on a small plastic chair, the kind you might find in a preschool. The other members of my team were seated in other, equally random things: the dusty ground covered by a carpet that was just as filthy as the ground on which it was placed, a not-so-sturdy bench, and a chair whose back rest had fallen off long ago. We were here, at shack number 5871 in Diepsloot extension 1, for the second time in as many days.

 

Let's backtrack to the day before.

 

We were out trying to find houses in a squatter camp that has never learned the meaning of organization. The follow-up card in our hands told us that a man named Joseph lived at shack number 5871 and we needed to talk to him. A short-term team had come and talked to him sometime in July, and now here we were, trying to talk to him again, with nothing but a 4"x4" piece of paper to guide us. We successfully found shack numbers 5869, 5870, 5872, and 5873, but no 5871. We asked around the area to see if anyone knew a guy named Joseph who lived around there but no one seemed to know who we were talking about. We decided it must be the wrong area or house number or something, and were about to walk away when a lady called out to us and pointed to a guy coming down the road towards us. It was indeed the man of the hour. He invited us to come sit in front of his house (it was the one right in between 5870 and 5872 but had no number on it. Who knew?), and we started to get to know him.

 It turns out that when the team came to talk to him, they really had a conversation with his mom; he had just happened to be there and they wrote down his information. As we talked to him, we found out that he had questions about the Gospel that were as basic as "Who is Jesus?" We were able to tell him the story of the Gospel and answer his questions about how his life would change if he decided to follow Jesus. He confessed that he drank a lot and sometimes smoked marijuana and wanted to know if that would have to change. We were able to explain the balance of obedience to God and grace when we make mistakes and encourage him that being transformed into the likeness of Christ is a process that will span the entire course of his life. At the end of the conversation, he considered all we had to say and decided to make the decision to follow Jesus! We gave him the book of John and told him we could come back the next day with a full Bible and talk some more. He asked us when we would be coming the next day. "My friends need to hear this. Tell me when you're coming tomorrow so I can bring him to hear about Jesus." We told him that we'd be back at about 2 the next day and left after praying for him.

 

Now, back to me sitting in a preschool-sized chair.

 

We were back at Joseph's house, and now we were sharing the Gospel with his friend Gift. He sat, listening intently, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Joseph was quiet, hearing the story of Jesus for the second time in his life. When we finished talking to Gift about Who Jesus was and what He had done for him, we asked him if he wanted to make a commitment to following Jesus like his friend Joseph had the day before. He was silent for a short moment, thoughtful. Then in a quiet voice, he said yes. What happened next is burned into my brain… I will never forget it. As soon as Gift said yes, Joseph's entire countenance lit up with exuberance and his fist shot into the air in celebration - he was the living picture of what God's excitement must look like every time a person comes to know Him.

 

Shortly after we prayed with Gift, Joseph left again to go get more of his friends. As we struck up new conversations with the people he brought to us, he continued to come in and out, bringing more people every time. He kept saying, "Tell them about Jesus! They need to hear about Jesus!" We ended up with 2 more guys (besides Gift and Joseph) and 2 ladies, one of them Joseph's sister. By the end of the 2 hours we spent at Joseph's house, all but one of his friends had gotten saved. I was absolutely blown away by each of their responses to the love of Christ. In the very middle of a squatter camp that knows misery like the back of its hand, God's presence was tangible.

 

Please pray for this group of friends to stand together in the midst of the dark place in which they live. Pray for continued growth in Christ and love for God and His Word.



From left: Gift, Joseph, Logan, James, Brian (Bailey on bottom)



From left: Chelsea, Salamina, myself, and Asamahle (Mindy on bottom)



Recovering mask artist

The first wave of harsh reality hit on the plane, before my feet ever touched African soil. It was a simple question that shouldn't have taken me by surprise, but somehow it managed to reach its fingers into my brain and flip the switch that turns on my never-ending overthinking.

 

"So, are you guys planning on staying 6 months or the whole year?"

 

To explain, we have to go back several months, when I got a call from the director of the internship informing me that the program had been shortened to 6 months, ending in August, with an opportunity to possibly stay till December. In my mind, there wasn't even a question. I just figured I would stay the whole year; no one would even have to find out that the program was shortened. After all that happened with the other internship I had planned on attending, I didn't even want to go through the trouble of explaining the change to all my friends and family. It was need-to-know information.

 

It never even crossed my mind that others would have a different plan.

 

I have never been so wrong in my life. It didn't take long for me to find out that others didn't quite have the same "I'm moving to Africa for a year but don't expect to ever see me again" mindset that I had. After landing in Joburg and arriving at the intern cottages, I found out that one of those people who didn’t intend on staying until December was my roommate. And up went the walls in my heart.

 

I won't say I became a sullen hermit who does nothing but grunt at people and hides away in a corner to sulk. But there's an art to being "vulnerable" while still hiding away the deepest parts of yourself. There's an art to looking happy and satisfied when you're really struggling. And there's an art to keeping your distance without being obvious. Unfortunately, if there's an art to wearing a mask, I have become a skilled artist.

 

God has a way of challenging people to do what is hardest for them, because in most situations, the easy choice is not the choice that grows you. For me, the hardest thing was (and still is) allowing myself to get really close with people. Add a deadline to the amount I time I have with that person and the likelihood of me baring my soul goes down to an all-time low.

 

I wouldn't have guessed at that moment on the plane what crazy emotions and growth would come from the answer to that one question. At the time, I probably just thought something along the lines of "that sucks." I never would have imagined the amount of tears that I would shed, the amount of questioning God it would arouse, or the sadness that would ensue. But as I became aware of those very things, God pushed me out of the boat and onto the waves, so to speak. The very excuses I used as reasons not to be vulnerable - "I don't have much time and it'll hurt more when she leaves if I get close," - became the reasons I should do the very thing I was terrified to do. I went to breakfast with my intern advisor Katie last week, and she asked me how my relationships were within the internship. I realized that morning that I was really holding everyone at arm's length. I kept people far from me to protect myself but ended up isolating and hurting myself instead. And so began the process of taking off the mask for good. I still have a long way to go, but I fully intend never to wear it again. Ever.

 

I am a recovering mask artist. I am learning to love despite risk.

 

Becca leaves in two weeks and my heart breaks, but I can say with confidence that being real and vulnerable and allowing myself to get close to others is so worth it. 

Abstract art & complete trust

Tuesday night there was an enormous thunderstorm at about 3 in the morning, and the thunder and downpour of rain shook the whole house. Exodus 19:16-19 gives a picture of the glory of the Lord on the mountain and His infinite holiness and how the people trembled at the display of it all. I'm reminded that He is the same God today as He was then. I'm amazed at what Jesus's blood really did. In Exodus 19:10-13, it says how no one could even touch the mountain that the Lord had descended upon or they would have to die, and no one could even touch that person. In Chapter 20 verse 19, the people beg Moses to tell God not to speak to them, for hearing His voice would kill them.  We serve the same God today as they did then, but the cross enables us the hear His voice. How incredible is that? 2 Corinthians 3:12-13, 16 says, "Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold. We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to prevent the Israelites from seeing the end of what was passing away …whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away."

I think we often forget who we serve. Can the clay ask the potter what He's doing? We are often frustrated by what God chooses what to do, such as heal people or do wonders, but we would do well to remember Who God is. We are but clay in His hands. We have no right to ask what He's doing. He is good, and He is worthy of our trust.

I am the clay, and He is the Potter. I don't always understand what He's forming my life to be, but He can make my life into abstract life if He wants to as long as He's the one shaping it.

Despite Risk

To love someone is extremely risky.

 

I'm not even talking about romantic love. Of course it applies in the same way, but I'm talking about the kind of love Jesus referred to when He said, "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." (John 13:34) To love someone like Jesus has loved you is not easy, safe, convenient, or pain-free. Jesus's love took Him to a cross to be tortured and killed, and even then His people have rejected and continue to reject Him. That's risky love. To love someone like Jesus has loved you means being willing to love that person no matter how they treat you, no matter if they completely reject you, no matter if they leave you. To love someone like Jesus has loved you means never requiring any love in return. To love someone like Jesus has loved you means to be willing to forgive that person of every single thing they might do to hurt you. To love someone like Jesus has loved you means never giving up on them, ever.

 

The love that Jesus requires us to have for one another sees the risk and it loves anyway. It acknowledges that you stand to lose everything and to be hurt intimately, and it loves anyway.

 

What does it look like to love like that? Ephesians 4:1-2 says, "As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love." Romans 9:3-4 says, "For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people, those of my own race, the people of Israel." 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 says, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

 

When faced with an opportunity to love someone whom I know may reject me or may not be in my life for very long, I am tempted to hide myself away and choose not to love that person like I should. I want to give them a surface love, hiding away the deepest parts of myself and not really giving them the Christ-like love that bears all despite fear. Ephesians 5:15-16 says, "Be very careful, then, how you live - not as unwise, but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil."  Every opportunity to love is a gift from God. We are Christ's ambassadors on earth (2 Cor. 5:20), and we are responsible for loving people like He does. I believe we will be held accountable for every squandered opportunity (see the parable of the talents in Matthew 25:14-30; see also Revelation 20:12). We are only given a small amount of time on this earth, and some relationships are even shorter than that. Psalm 90:12 says, "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." I think sometimes God makes us painfully aware how little time we have with people so that we will make the most of every opportunity to love them. When we are faced with a reminder of the shortness of our days or the amount of time we have with people, there are two ways that we can respond: by throwing walls up around our hearts to keep them from being hurt, or to open them up completely and love with all we have in the amount of time that we have. I have had to face this concerning my housemates here. Some of us are staying for 6 months (leaving in August), and some are staying for the full year (leaving in December). We aren't 100% certain who's leaving when, and my heart wants to throw up walls to protect myself from intimately loving people who might leave halfway through the year. But God is teaching me to love anyways. To love despite the risk of being hurt, of being rejected, of being left. Because love is always worth it.

How never to be content again

There's a loose sting on the end of my jeans, and I've been meaning to cut it off for at least a week now.

 

This is an insanely simple, yet accurate description of how crazy busy my life is.  I am an extremely disciplined person, and my housemates would laugh at how much of an understatement that is. I make lists of lists of lists, and checking things off of said lists is like crack to me. This to say, it's not because of airheadedness that I haven't cut that little string off of my jeans. Frankly, it's because I don’t have any time. I feel like every second of every day is filled with something. And being in full-time ministry is exhausting in every way: mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. However, I want you to know that being a missionary is, in some ways, just as mundane as any other career path (if being a missionary counts as a career path). I go grocery shopping every Monday. I do my laundry on Wednesdays. Once a week I make dinner for our whole intern "family." Our weekly schedule looks more or less the same every week.

 

There is mundane in every career path.

 

It is easy, even living in South Africa, to lose yourself in the routine of everyday life.  It's easy to wake up on a normal Wednesday, go to Diepsloot extension 12, recite some rehearsed lines about God and the Bible all day, probably hang out and wash clothes with some people along the way, load up at about 4:30, go home, do my laundry, eat dinner, do homework, and go to bed. Every Wednesday. Over and over and over.

I have to ask God every day to make me excited about ministry. I have to ask Him to keep my heart open and learning and sensitive to the Holy Spirit. I have to ask Him to keep me from becoming hard, each day just trying to make it to the time when we load up and go home.

 

Here's the point I'm trying to make:

Your life is NO different than mine.

 

Sure, you probably don’t live in a foreign country. Ministry probably isn’t considered your main occupation. You probably don't find yourself eating mopani worms, ostrich, or zebra, or washing someone's clothes by hand in a squatter camp on a normal day. But the contents of your day do not determine what you can do with that day. I can say with confidence that you have every opportunity to share the Gospel and/or God's love in your day that I do in mine.  You're a stay at home mom? Cool. Did you know that you are the main source for the message of the Gospel to your kids? Did you know that the way you raise them can set them on a path that will glorify God or turn away from Him? Did you know that your kids were born with a sin nature, and that your influence will likely be the one that leads them to Christ?? That sounds pretty missionary-ish to me. You work in an office? Awesome. Did you know you could be the only representation of Jesus some of your co-workers experience on a daily basis? Did you know that you have the ability to show them the love of Jesus?? Did you know that your influence can reverse all the bad experiences they may or may not have had with the church? Did you know that if you are intentional, you can be the vessel God uses to change someone's life and turn their hearts toward Him? That sounds pretty missionary-ish to me.

 

Please, please, please, if you get NOTHING ELSE out of this blog post, please understand that the great commission is not an option, and it's not meant for a special elite group of people called missionaries. It's meant for you, specifically. There are people who, every day that they live, are marching towards the gates of hell unless someone throws themselves in their way and gives everything they are to stop them. And yes, though the majority of people who haven't heard the Gospel are outside of the United States (or even South Africa for that matter), God has placed you where you are, and until He calls you elsewhere, you have the responsibility to lead people to Christ where you are.  I wish I could reach through my keyboard across continents to your heart right now and make you feel the absolute desperation in my heart.

 

Know this: God's love is fiercely jealous, and He is pursuing every soul that isn’t following Him. He wants desperately to give you His heart for the lost. Sometimes this whole thing is overwhelming. Sometimes it feels like there are so many unreached and unbelievers that we could never reach everyone. Sometimes it feels like there isn't even enough love and passion for the lost to go around. But just do this, and see if God does not give you a burden for the lost: ask Him. That's it. Ask Him to give you a heart for the lost.

But receive this warning: if you ask, He will give it to you, and you will NEVER be content to just sit around and wait for people to die and go to hell anymore. The passion He gives you won't allow it.

What no one wants to hear about being a missionary

Believe it or not, missionaries have bad days too. In reading different missionary biographies in the past, I've gathered that, as a whole, the church doesn't want to hear about the bad days. They don't want to hear about weeks without a single salvation and days when you feel discouraged as heck. They don't want to hear about when the language barrier is too intense to keep up a conversation or when people you've visited for weeks won't come to their door to talk to you.
I'm here to tell you the truth:
Missionaries have bad days, too.
I want to be able to tell you that everything has been perfect since I've been here. I want to be able to say that every ministry day has been filled with amazing conversations and conversions and healings. I want to be able to tell you that I haven't struggled with my self-worth, that I've been completely confident in sharing the Gospel, and that there hasn't been a moment when I wanted to just go back home where I'm comfortable. But that's not the truth. Yesterday I had a bad day. It was a field work day filled with shack-to-shack ministry, and I felt like nothing significant happened at all. We talked to one lady we have visited before, but her English is so limited, we could hardly hold a conversation. Then we went to another family we met two weeks ago, but our conversation about the Gospel was pretty much non-existent. The last place we went, we ended up waiting for one of our friends to get back home to talk to them about a Gospel of John we gave him, and ended up waiting there with his family for over two hours. Sometimes conversations just don't go anywhere.
Even only being here for a month and a half, I feel the pressure that most missionaries feel: to make everything look good. It's not so much an appearance thing as it is a validity thing. You ask for an enormous sum of money to go make a difference in a foreign country, and you feel the pressure to show your supporters that you are. But the truth is, it's not our place to determine if we're making a difference or not. The majority of the time, God works in ways we can't even see. The most impactful encounter I have this year may be one to which I never give a second thought.
God has been teaching me to value the hard moments. Every encounter, every hard day, every time I wish I could just be home, God is using to refine me and teach me new things. He's growing my endurance so I will obey Him even when it looks like nothing is coming of it. He's teaching me to be vulnerable and just come out and say it: I have bad days, even on the mission field in South Africa.
The point of all this is just to say that God uses everything. He works through things we may never place significance on. So trust God. He knows what He's doing, even if it looks like nothing is happening. He's working everything out for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purposes. We just need to rely on Him for every breath, every day, every conversation, praying and asking God to work through us, even in ways we can't see.