A missionary is not someone special, more gifted, or more
holy than anyone else. In fact, many of us missionaries joke that God needed to
take us to the mission field to teach us the hard lessons we could not learn
at home because of our own stubbornness. Among missionary leaders,
there is a saying that leading missionaries is like “herding cats” because of
our independent streak. Missionaries can exude strength and courage, but as the
years progress, I have noticed certain patterns of struggle that are unique to missionaries
(and I’d venture to say much of this applies to those who are in full-time
ministry, as pastors or church-planters).
The first and biggest area of struggle is the coalescence
of job and Christian life. My sister once said to me: "it must be
difficult to be a professional
Christian.” At first, I was set aback by her comment, but as I mulled over that expression, I
realized that it is at the core of some of our twisted identity issues. On the
upside, when our job is full-time ministry, we feel like we are “all in” for
Christ. Our kingdom focus is clear. All of life visibly serves the same
purpose, namely to be a part of expanding God's kingdom and this broken world.
Family, ministry, and personal life are one and the same and serve the same ultimate
purpose. Our children see us living full of a devotion which affects
all aspects of life. Even our rest and our hobbies are opportunities to be
evangelistic. Our hospitality is missional. To be sure, there is beauty in
having an integrated Christian life. But there are also struggles that come
along with it. Because we are "professional Christians," we believe we are never
off the hook. We are always being watched by the unbelieving world, the unseen
world, our supporters and churches, our children and God himself. How do we
deal with the fact that we are weak, struggling and broken believers? The state
of our hearts does not always match our calling. This can lead to formalism in
our work or using people to fulfill our own mission to make us look good. We
are greatly tempted to find our identity in the work we do for God's kingdom
instead of from the King himself. Our personal struggles often go unseen, even unconfessed
because we are always “on.” Establishing boundaries between ministry and family
life, work and down time is truly challenging. The workaholics might even deceive
themselves into thinking that they are just “on fire for the Lord” or “pouring
themselves out like a drink offering.” After all, the Apostle Paul never took a
vacation! We envy people who are not in full-time ministry because we feel like
they, at least, get a break from you-know-who: God himself and what feels like
his heavy call on our lives. We envy people who have a 9-to-5 job who can clock
out and truly rest at home. We envy those of you who do not have to put
on a show of being a godly, dedicated worker in God's kingdom.
It is also very possible for us to fall in love with our
work or our ministry, while failing to be in love with our Savior. Our love for
him may have run dry a long time ago, but you would never know based on our
newsletters. In a way similar to pastors and their struggle with loving the
study of God’s word more than God himself, missionaries can love their
missionary lifestyle, or their outreach focus more than the Pursuer of their
own souls. We can get so wrapped up in what we are doing for God that we forget
what he has done for us. We envy those of you whose work performance is not
tied to spiritual results: conversions,
growth in numbers or in depth of faith. We long to see the fruit of our labors,
and yet that elusive fruit might never be seen on this side of glory. That’s a
real bummer for those of us who like productivity, results and the sense of a
job well done.
A second struggle is that no one place, no one church is
ever really home. On the upside, we learn about the church at large and universal and come to
love the idea of church with a capital C. We learn how to yearn for heaven, we
learn to see the kingdom of God wherever God is at work, in dark places and
unexpected situations. But we are never in one place long enough to have deep,
established roots and the accountability of a local body over the course of
years. As soon as we get to that place, we are called to move on because our
job of just being the planter is done. Our children never experience church as
a long-term, localized, particular body of people who know, love, and care for
them. On the upside, we form team bonds with other missionary colleagues some
of you would envy. But we envy those of you who have lived in one place, who
have one church and one school, preferably a Christian one, that creates a
stable environment of growth for your children. We realize our children
experience the world in a very different way than yours: unsheltered, exposed. You might
say this is an advantage. But we also see the pitfalls. We are convinced our
children struggle with belonging and identity more than yours. We believe your
children might even have better prerequisites for being converted, invested in
by other believers and be able see Christianity as normal because they have
Christian friends. I was raised a missionary kid. You might not believe me when
I say, “I never had a Christian friend”. It is true. I should be my own proof
in the pudding, but I, as many other missionary parents, struggle to believer
our kids will be o.k., even without a solid Christian education, a great youth
group and church that will reach out to them. We envy your sense of home, with
all that that entails. Your sense of belonging, your nice big house (if you
have one), the apparent stability of your life and the lives of your children.
The third big struggle is longing for peace, the sort
that would be defined as not being under constant attack. Being on the front
lines of the battle makes us alert, forces us to our knees, helps us become
more watchful and guardians in prayer. We come to understand that no ministry success
is possible unless first wrought in the heavenlies. We have experienced amazing answers to prayer. However, we envy those of
you who are not walking around with a target on your back. We might falsely think
that life back home (wherever that is anymore!) would be easier. We experience
enemy fire as severe and unfair: Unusual
diseases and afflictions, demonic activity, strange entanglements in conflicts
that leave us walking around in the sort of fog only God’s Spirit can
dissipate. We suffer attacks in mind and body in a very real way. Our children
seem to struggle more and that gets to us most of all. See this blog post for a
taste of it. We envy your children for having an easy, protected, innocent
life. But we also suffer from a strange sort of martyr complex we need to be
shaken out of. Because we do genuinely experience strange things sometimes, we
get weary, bogged-down and tend to interpret too much into our suffering. We
need your comfort, understanding and reminders that all Christians are in enemy
territory. We are not attacked because we are special, but because the message
is real, powerful and we have a common enemy of our souls.
So, when your missionaries come into town, know that
their struggles are real. They are broken sinners in need of the message they
are bringing to others and they need encouragement. Missionary envy is real.
Remember that they have their own issues of envy with you, just like you might
envy them for their courage, their exotic adventures, their fascinating lives
and apparent successes in ministry. In the end, it is a matter of calling. Each calling
has its own advantages and disadvantages, its blessings and its struggles. Talk
about it, pray together, create an environment in which your missionaries can
put down their weapons, take off their masks, cry gut-wrenching cries or sob
their way through your worship service without being looked at as odd. Promise to pray for the salvation of their kids. Be a
place of healing for them, not a place that requires more mask-wearing, or more performance of them simply because they
are your “investment.” We are in it together. We need each other to keep our
eyes on the finish line and to cross over that line together as the Body of
Christ.
