I had to remind myself of something yesterday.
Right in the middle of the mess.
The mess of moving.
The mess of sprucing up the house to sell.
Painting the chimney stained by creosote.
Over and over looking for things we put somewhere.
But where is the somewhere?
Furniture piled into one room so the other room can be carpeted.
r And meals that still have to be made.
Work crew that needs to be fed along with our big family in the middle of the day
as well as food prepared in the beginning of the day and end of the day.
Bread still has to be baked.
And dishes washed.
Unending dishes.
Kitchen work doesn't stop when you are moving.
I found myself going around with my teeth clenched,
a grimace on my face,
feelings of cynicism,
and temptations to bitterness.
This setting off for the mission field is for the birds.
Seriously for the birds.
This mess does not feel like missions at all.
Thank you very much!
(This was not MY idea by the way!)
Or was it?
Ruefully I have to remember last year when I was praying that God would get us back on the mission field.
I might have prayed that once.
And then Jonathan asks me what I would think of going up to South Dakota.
Being maintenance director up there.
Going back into full time missions.
No problem.
Sure!
Except--this does not feel like missions right now.
It feels like a big mess!
If only I could just crawl under a chair like this with my nose in someone's moccasins.
Scrap carpet lying all over the nice new carpet to try to protect it--because
yes, a certain pair of shoes tracked in something yellow the
very next morning all over the scarp carpet pieces and one place on new carpet.
(Which is why I had never fought very hard to get new carpet yet.)
Constant exhaustion.
Things aren't ready in time for the realtor's photographer.
"You are getting more and more cynical," I told myself yesterday.
"And you better watch out about being bitter."
I didn't want to be bitter.
Not on my way to the mission field.
You aren't supposed to be a bitter old missionary wife.
You're supposed to be perfectly put together,
always sweet and kind and loving
and classy and stable.
Not a mess like this.
You're supposed to spend more time with God
instead of less.
We are on our way to church--this future missionary wife with her husband and family.
Missionaries aren't supposed to need grace are they?
They already have all they need, right?
They are just supposed to tell everyone else how to do things, right?
Share the gospel, right?
You are supposed to be really spiritual.
Really, really spiritual.
Because you are this missionary now.
But what if you are a little bit of a mess?
What if you need a little bit of God's grace, too?
What if it really means something to this future missionary wife and mom
to come to Jesus this morning--
"just as I am"?
What if when communion is served, one of the means of grace,
you are needing more than a crumb of grace?
More than a communion cupful of divine help?
What if you come to the table just as needy as the native American you are going to serve?
What if you come to your table--
and the Lord's table--
and discover that your mess and your moving
is all a part of mission?
And that His grace and His love and His acceptance of You just as you are
is part of mission?
So that you can share that grace and love and acceptance with others?
Hmm. Clenched teeth, grimaces, cynicism, temptations to bitterness. “We can’t relate” we said out loud, in full denial, as we read this post. We went through all that and more as we prepared to come to Angola. The rushed moves, the messy house, and three days of panic-packing before the ride to the airport. We have been here two months and have not ceased to be ill. We stay up late and get malaria a lot. What do you do for fun? It has not felt full of grace and joy so far. But we are still standing, because of Who called us here. God grants moments of blessing, relief, comfort, and clarity along the way. He is sufficient. God bless you as you walk a different (but all too similar) missionary road from ours. Thank you for your openness and honesty. We were encouraged by this post. - The Durkee family
ReplyDeleteSo good to hear from you folks! I've wondered where you were at this time. That is no fun to be ill all the time. It was somewhat that way for me the first year I went to Ukraine. I was sick a lot, though not with malaria. There were mosquitos galore keeping me awake those first nights, but they didn't carry malaria there. They just hid behind the long drapes in the home I stayed in, and came out at night! I will tell my family about you and we will pray for you. I am lifting you right now to God's throne of grace.
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