The funny thing about missions is that the very thing you think you’re going for is never the reason God has you there for. We think we’re “going over” to take Jesus with us to those poor souls. Of course we would never communicate that but somehow that idea gets lodged into our strategy. So as we pack our carry on: toothpaste, contact solution, deodorant, laptop and, oh yeah, don’t forget JC. This idea is laughable when we realize Jesus is already at our destination working ahead of us.
Most mission trips I have been on I have been a primary leader. However, this trip to Kenya deviates simply because we were asked to just come and watch–we were along for ride. We were invited last year to check out Kenya as a potential missions partner for our church in the U.S. We agreed to go on the trip for all the practical reasons of obedience, keeping our community missions centered, and stirring up greater affection for multicultural living. However, the closer we got to stepping on the plane a greater fear and anxiety arose. Certainly the fear of leaving our kids, safety of a 20-hour plane ride and leaving our family for an extended period is natural. However, what surfaced for us were two things:
First, I was terrified of returning to America the same as I left. Certainly I was nervous on coming back and my paradigm shifted so dramatically that I was unable to connect with anyone without a 30 minute diatribe on global missions. But ultimately I was scared to death not by what might happen to me, but by what might NOT happen to me. Would my preaching, my desires, my dreams, my vision, my hopes, my identity be seared with the glory of God in the world, or would the callousness draped over my heart win out? I didn’t know.
Secondly, I discovered a great confirmation by the non-catalytic moments of mission work. We were (and continue to) praying for the “miraculous”—limbs growing back, the blind to see, the dead to rise. Unfortunately, none of that happened on our trip–no huge catalytic tipping point moments. However, what we did see in every moment was God’s faithfulness in his world, in his church and with his people. We experienced the church worshipping, orphans discovering the Father’s love, and AIDS victims finding hope in the cross. The joy of Africa bleeds from every fiber of her body. On our return we turned a spiritual page—a new passion for His church has arisen because of the simple truth that we saw communicated at every pass—God is working. The church is growing and evolving not because of great men and women of God, but because God is at work and he loves His Bride. When I feel inadequate or am paralyzed by the organizational impotence, I can rest knowing that God is working. I may not see it, or feel it or like it, but God is at work. And in that truth, I can rest.
