3-26-10
I really enjoyed vespers tonight. I knew I would--the speaker was Dick Duerksen, the official storyteller of Maranatha, the organization that builds churches for Adventist congregations who can't pay for them throughout the world (see their website here). My first mission trip was a two-week Maranatha trip to Taraco, Peru, where I helped build a church and a school. (Though I think I was more of a hindrance than a help on that building site. At least, compared to the local church kids who always go on the trips. Plus, the altitude wasn't the best of friends.) Anyway, I got bitten there; then I went to India as part of a month-long evangelistic trip and also helped raise money to have churches built for those new congregations. Those mission trips are part of the reason I was a student missionary last year. I think having a mission-minded local church next to an academy is a definite blessing!
Anyway, Mr. Duerksen told stories about Africa and about India, and even showed a clip from an Indian village. I sat there, completely engaged, because the clip was just like how I remember it--the people, the clothes they wear, the village they were in--of the countless villages and people in India, even though I only went to a very small number of villages.
Afterward, I spoke with Mr. Duerksen and some of the other people who were here tonight--one of which was the coordinator in India during the time I was there with the Cicero Church--and he remembered the fact that we had visited their offices in New Delhi before our flight, and I remembered that they had bought us pizza and that it was very late at night. So, we sort of have met before. He also remembered P.K.'s name (makes sense, with all the Maranatha trips the Cicero church has/will taken/take).
Anyway, they've begun building and have started to open a school about two hours away from where we were in Khammam. While I was watching that clip, I kept thinking, I'm studying to become a teacher. They need teachers. I'm studying to be a teacher.
I've already had the thought/conviction that I will be eventually be going back out to the mission field--but I don't know when, I don't know where, I don't know what, and I don't know for how long, but that hardly is important, especially at the moment. I'm scheduled to graduate (hopefully in Spring of 2013). If I spent the time after graduation and before graduate school in India (or wherever), teaching, I have until 2015 before having to renew my passport, and until 2016 to renew my Indian visa (though I suspect I would need a different visa to work there).
What God would have to do before even that possibility is almost beyond my comprehension--getting everything into order, including (and especially) covering my current school bills and paying back my student loans. (I also do not necessarily want to go physically alone. Just sayin', God.) I cannot just shirk the obligation of paying, and I'm pretty sure God will have to work one of His crazy miracles in order to pull it off. But He's quite capable of it.
But I sincerely believe that, at some point, I will be going back to the mission field. When? Well, that's up to God. Just have to pray, train, and wait, then pray some more. Like a pastor once wisely said, "When God speaks, things happen." Sometimes it just takes a while for it to do so.
More later.
Showing posts with label The Cause. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Cause. Show all posts
Friday, March 26, 2010
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Counting the Cost
11-19-09
Our community--our family--is lessened by one today. One of our current student missionaries was killed yesterday, probably murdered, in Yap, where she was teaching second grade. It doesn't make sense; it's not supposed to make sense. Death does not make sense. Death does not make sense. Is that clear?
When I went on a mission trip to India, we visited the Taj Mahal, which, as most people know, is a tomb built by an emperor for his most beloved wife. He planned everything, made everything line up, be symmetrical. It's really quite artistic. When he died, the daughter who loved him the most put his coffin in the same tomb, next to his wife's. It's the only thing that doesn't line up with everything else. It was asymmetrical, and that's one of the things that struck me there and never left. Death is asymmetrical.
I am also reminded of the day that we spent in our hotel in Khammam instead of going and watching baptisms. Why? Because the United States Embassy was afraid of reprisals over Saddam Hussein's execution. In fact, one of our vehicles (not mine) had been stopped as a mob burned President Bush in effigy in front of them. When I think about it now, I realize that we were probably in danger then, but I don't think I really thought of it then.
I don't know how much I thought about the possibility of me dying in Ebeye. But the possibility existed. Something similar to what happened to Kirsten could have taken place; I could have jumped from something wrong, hit something in the ocean; I could have gotten decompression sickness when surfacing while scuba diving; our taxis could have crashed; our planes could have crashed; our boats could have crashed; I could have gotten sick--any number of things could have happened. But they didn't.
I read a story from one of our current SMs on Majuro. He relayed the story of the SMs serving on Jeh, an outer island. Check it out here. God used a cat to save their lives. Just this Wednesday night at our Bible study we were praising God for the miracles He was working (and still works). Sometimes it's hard to see the miracles, I remember saying. Well, sometimes it's hard. No joke.
Anyway, all I kept thinking was, "Count the cost. Count the cost. Count the cost." We're so fond of saying that, but I don't think we usually truly understand just what that phrase encompasses. We talk about giving up a year to God, but the cost could mean giving up one's physical life. I think we don't talk about it because we don't want to think about it. I mean, who wants to think about dying? Dying's asymmetrical, it doesn't make sense, it scares us all to some degree. Doesn't it?
Ignoring the simple facts doesn't mean those facts don't exist. Death is possible even for missionaries, though we wish it weren't so. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, "When Jesus calls a person, He bids him come and die." Christ says, "Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel's will save it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Mark 8:34b-37, bolding mine). Jim Elliot said, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." So I think you can see where my thoughts are trending toward. Missionaries are out in the field because God called them to that field; missionaries are there because they answered the call. God never promises that everything will be hunky-dory. In fact, He promises that there will be trials and tribulations. He says, "Count the cost." He says, "Think about it. Decide whether you truly want to follow Me. I will give you all that you need, I will keep what you give Me until My coming, I will be your Everything--but make sure it's what you want. I want you, but I want you to want Me. Count the cost."
It might mean a year or years of your life--or your life. I don't know which He calls us to, and perhaps that category is shifting. I don't think we can truly understand WHY on this side of heaven--but that is exactly why we do not have to mourn as the world mourns. We have hope. The Southern website is full of messages of hope and love, messages of "We'll see you soon," "Can't wait to see you," and the like. We will see Kirsten again, even if it's difficult to live without her now.
Killed in action. Attacked by the Enemy. Where else can we go but to our General and ask for marching orders? Let us not fall back, let us not retreat, let us not grow weary or wary of doing good. Let us march forth. Let us go to all the world, let us proclaim the Gospel to the ends of the earth so that Jesus will come back and call the sleepers forth. Let many more missionaries be risen up in Kirsten's place--not as replacements, for she can never be replaced--but because, as Tertullis (or whatever his name was) said, "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church."
Let us count the cost, and deem it still worth paying.
More later.
Our community--our family--is lessened by one today. One of our current student missionaries was killed yesterday, probably murdered, in Yap, where she was teaching second grade. It doesn't make sense; it's not supposed to make sense. Death does not make sense. Death does not make sense. Is that clear?
When I went on a mission trip to India, we visited the Taj Mahal, which, as most people know, is a tomb built by an emperor for his most beloved wife. He planned everything, made everything line up, be symmetrical. It's really quite artistic. When he died, the daughter who loved him the most put his coffin in the same tomb, next to his wife's. It's the only thing that doesn't line up with everything else. It was asymmetrical, and that's one of the things that struck me there and never left. Death is asymmetrical.
I am also reminded of the day that we spent in our hotel in Khammam instead of going and watching baptisms. Why? Because the United States Embassy was afraid of reprisals over Saddam Hussein's execution. In fact, one of our vehicles (not mine) had been stopped as a mob burned President Bush in effigy in front of them. When I think about it now, I realize that we were probably in danger then, but I don't think I really thought of it then.
I don't know how much I thought about the possibility of me dying in Ebeye. But the possibility existed. Something similar to what happened to Kirsten could have taken place; I could have jumped from something wrong, hit something in the ocean; I could have gotten decompression sickness when surfacing while scuba diving; our taxis could have crashed; our planes could have crashed; our boats could have crashed; I could have gotten sick--any number of things could have happened. But they didn't.
I read a story from one of our current SMs on Majuro. He relayed the story of the SMs serving on Jeh, an outer island. Check it out here. God used a cat to save their lives. Just this Wednesday night at our Bible study we were praising God for the miracles He was working (and still works). Sometimes it's hard to see the miracles, I remember saying. Well, sometimes it's hard. No joke.
Anyway, all I kept thinking was, "Count the cost. Count the cost. Count the cost." We're so fond of saying that, but I don't think we usually truly understand just what that phrase encompasses. We talk about giving up a year to God, but the cost could mean giving up one's physical life. I think we don't talk about it because we don't want to think about it. I mean, who wants to think about dying? Dying's asymmetrical, it doesn't make sense, it scares us all to some degree. Doesn't it?
Ignoring the simple facts doesn't mean those facts don't exist. Death is possible even for missionaries, though we wish it weren't so. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, "When Jesus calls a person, He bids him come and die." Christ says, "Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel's will save it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Mark 8:34b-37, bolding mine). Jim Elliot said, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." So I think you can see where my thoughts are trending toward. Missionaries are out in the field because God called them to that field; missionaries are there because they answered the call. God never promises that everything will be hunky-dory. In fact, He promises that there will be trials and tribulations. He says, "Count the cost." He says, "Think about it. Decide whether you truly want to follow Me. I will give you all that you need, I will keep what you give Me until My coming, I will be your Everything--but make sure it's what you want. I want you, but I want you to want Me. Count the cost."
It might mean a year or years of your life--or your life. I don't know which He calls us to, and perhaps that category is shifting. I don't think we can truly understand WHY on this side of heaven--but that is exactly why we do not have to mourn as the world mourns. We have hope. The Southern website is full of messages of hope and love, messages of "We'll see you soon," "Can't wait to see you," and the like. We will see Kirsten again, even if it's difficult to live without her now.
Killed in action. Attacked by the Enemy. Where else can we go but to our General and ask for marching orders? Let us not fall back, let us not retreat, let us not grow weary or wary of doing good. Let us march forth. Let us go to all the world, let us proclaim the Gospel to the ends of the earth so that Jesus will come back and call the sleepers forth. Let many more missionaries be risen up in Kirsten's place--not as replacements, for she can never be replaced--but because, as Tertullis (or whatever his name was) said, "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church."
Let us count the cost, and deem it still worth paying.
More later.
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