Looking Back: Myths

Here are some myths about serving overseas.  Some are things I've been told, others I believed myself at one time or another.

The Myths

"It gets easier."
Sure, some aspects of life in a new culture may get easier over time.  But new struggles and difficulties will pop up.  In the beginning, everything can feel unfamiliar and downright lonely.  As you develop relationships, some of that lost-ness may fade, but then you have new challenges: more opportunities to be involved in a community - but still only twenty-four hours in a day.  You also start uncovering deeper "whys" behind the things people do and have to wade through the muddy waters of how those things line up with Scripture...knowing that your interpretation is heavily influenced by your own home culture...which in turn forces you to evaluate beliefs, ideas, or practices you may have held tightly for a long time.  It's a draining process spiritually, mentally, and emotionally.

"I could never do what you're doing."
Guess what: I can't either.  "But you're doing it," you protest.  Sometimes "doing it" consists of simply putting one foot in front of the other - taking another step, another step, another step.  I kind of like to picture a little baby first learning how to walk; they're unable to take those tiny steps unless they're holding onto something.  In my case, I have a Heavenly Father holding onto me, and that's the only way I can keep taking another step, and another, and another...

"You know you're called to be a missionary if it isn't work, but 'fun'."
(I read this in an article recently.  The woman clearly had no idea what she was talking about.  According to her bio, she hadn't ever ministered overseas before, so...yeah.)  Big. fat. lie.  It is work; there's no two ways about it.  That doesn't mean that it can't also be enjoyable or rewarding or "worth it", but trust me, it is work.  Hard work.

"It takes someone special."
Actually, there's nothing special about me or anyone else titled "missionary."  Missionaries (or anybody in ministry of any kind, anywhere) can be just as unloving, selfish, distracted, or petty as the next guy.  It's possible to be surrounded by people living and dying without a chance to hear about Jesus and yet spend more time thinking about McDonald's hamburgers or Target sales or geckos.  Why?  Because we're ordinary earth-bound human beings, just like you.

"It'll be a life-changing experience!"
I suppose there is some truth to this one, but if by "life-changing", you mean that once a person steps off a plane to minister in another country, he or she automatically becomes more spiritual, more mature, more focused, or has a bigger vision for God's kingdom...no.  You're still yourself.  Growth never comes in an instant.  It doesn't come from flying over an ocean any more than it does from getting a diploma, putting a wedding band on your finger, or having a baby.  Growth is a process.  Usually a slow and painful one.

"You're living a dream/adventure!"
No, I'm living reality. :)  It doesn't feel like a dream or adventure; it feels like life, just in a new context with some different challenges and new blessings.  It's no Swiss Family Robinson story or anything like that.

"How fulfilling!"
For this one, I'm speaking only from my personal experience.  I've found it to be more emptying than fulfilling (and I don't think that's completely bad).  As I think of it, a fulfilling experience would be one where I feel good about myself and what I'm doing and/or have a rock-solid sense that I am doing what I was always meant to do.  Neither of those has been true for me.  I think it's rather difficult to feel good about yourself when you're the village idiot, or to feel good about what you're doing when what you're doing is...well...inconveniencing or misunderstanding or offending everyone around you.  Rather than being a fulfilling experience, it has been a stretching, I-don't-have-what-it-takes, I-can't-do-this-on-my-own kind of deal.  Honestly, I hate that feeling.  It's crazy uncomfortable.  But it does give me an opportunity that I might not see so readily otherwise: I can unclench my hands, breathe deep, and let my Hero do what I can't.