Of all the lessons that foreign missions ministry has taught me (and continues to do so), the top of the list has to be that we are shaped by our location and culture more than we realise.  Most anyone who has lived in a foreign country for a decent stretch of time would probably recognise how true this is.

When you meet a fellow Christian from another country, there are some great similarities and kinship that’s experienced through our Family in Christ.  It’s difficult to describe to others, but there is an understanding of what it’s like to press on with life as a Christian in this fallen world.  They know what you’ve seen, and usually understand how fellow Christians experience life.

Then there’s the point that you realise that their Christian experience has differed than yours.  Their “favourite songs” are ones you’ve never heard, or methodology in worship services is, well, just different.  Nothing wrong or sacrilegious, but jarringly different to your exposure.

Who and what you are surrounded by is bound to influence your perception and choices.  Even when I’ve worked with missionaries who are firmly resolved to not lose one bit of their “American” accent, actions or attitude, over time even they begin to start using phrases here that wouldn’t ever be used “back home”.  They don’t notice it, and can become alarmed when informed of this, yet for all their determination to resist, the phrase or action creeps back in.  Bear in mind that these are things that are completely inoffensive both here and to Americans, nor would they be anything wrong in God’s view at all.  They hear it used over and over again, or perhaps people here understand them better when they say that phrase.  It just happens, even if they purposely try to stop.

The anger and fear that I’ve witnessed when a missionary realises that they’ve changed is striking.  It appears to them as if they’ve lost a part of their identity, a part of what defines them, and, to put it bluntly, the change freaks them out.  I know that we personally act and speak differently since being in the field, and not a few of our friends and family have politely (sometimes sternly) reminded us that we’re “still American” or should “act/talk more American”.  All this has done is reinforce in me that first and foremost, my identity is in Christ and my citizenship is in Heaven.

As Christians, Christ and His ways, His laws, His thoughts are to be our starting point.  This knowledge I’ve always believed, but now in the situation of changing cultures this wisdom is moving from my head to my heart.  The more we’re around someone or something, the more we become like them.  We humans can’t help it.  I believe it’s why the potter/clay analogy is used; we are impressionable beings, able to take shape according to the influence of another.

Once Jesus is established as our example, all other identities are up to where He places us.  Those identities may alter according to our circumstances, but it doesn’t negate our place in Christ.  Whether I act more or less “American” doesn’t diminish the fact of where I was born or lived most of my life.  It doesn’t mean any ill will towards my American family or friends, either.  It just means that I live somewhere else now that differently shapes my experience of life.

You’ve probably already guessed that I would invoke Paul’s entreaty to “become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some.” (1 Corinthians 9:22-23).  But it’s the phrase that summarises Chapter 9 in my Bible that says it all: Paul Surrenders His Rights.  If I need to change language, actions or appearance (within God’s law and direction in the Bible) to reach people in another culture for Christ, so be it.  I only need to be concerned with God’s direction in my life, and nothing more.

Related posts:

1. The “Just Be Yourself” Paradox
2. The Search Terms I Get…
3. Doing Ministry at Arm’s Distance

One of the struggles I’ve faced being a missionary is the fact that my evangelical Christian parents don’t approve of my choice.  At all.  While their initial reaction was understandable, I thought and prayed that perhaps their stance would soften over time.  It has not.  In fact, year by year they have increasingly rejected most contact I’ve tried to make.  Conversations have become few and far between, and any mention I make of ministry here is met with stony silence and a quick topic change, so there’s not much to talk about after a few minutes.  I am no longer kept “in the loop” about even serious things, like my father’s recent surgery, until there was a complication afterward.  I’m very close to being disowned.

In no way am I making a sympathy grab here, just trying to explain that some parents take this very, very hard.

Because of this situation, every time I read in the Bible, “Honour your father and mother,” there’s a little pang of thought: Am I?  If you asked them, I believe they would immediately answer a resounding “No!”  However, after a lot of consideration of the situation, I have to respectfully disagree.

They raised me in a Christian home, dutifully attending church and with the instruction of doing what the Bible says.  I’m certain God placed this call on my life a lot earlier than I once realised and know that my motivations and intentions here are solely a reaction to Jesus’ command, nothing more.  This missionary life isn’t an avoidance of something else, an attempt to pad my resume, or crafted as a spite measure or glory grab.  I know they don’t see it this way, but it’s true nonetheless.  A good friend helped me realise that the number one way we can honour our parents is to unashamedly follow Jesus with all our soul, mind and heart.

While my parents’ long-term reaction may be on the extreme side of things, I was surprised to hear over the years from so many missionaries how many of their parents, sometimes one or the other or both, were so upset at their decision.  It’s not something that is talked about very often, understandably.  But I think it should be addressed because it is a serious issue.  Somehow I stumbled upon this article, which at first laments the younger generation’s apathy about committing to a situation and seeing it through.  Fair enough, but this paragraph towards the end was what caught my attention:

“We may need to redefine for this generation of parents what it means to release their children to the Lord. Where are the parents who pray for God to use their sons and daughters and then lay them on the altar for Him? Where are the parents who teach their children that when God speaks to them, the only answer is, ‘Lord, here am I. Send me?’”

Are parents upset because…their (adult) child (and grandchildren) will live thousands of miles away from them? …they fear their child will not have enough money to live? …there may be extreme danger in the field to which they are called?  I recognise that, for a parent, these are legitimate concerns for their offspring’s welfare.  None of them are easy to reconcile against what secular culture teaches.  But neither is the life of a missionary.  We are oddities, both in and outside of Christian culture.

Where does this leave me?  I defer to God, first and foremost, always.  Prayer for my parents is offered up constantly, but even if I lose complete contact with them, that sacrifice is so little compared to Christ’s sacrifice on the cross.

Related posts:

1. Stuck in a Moment, Both Young and Old
2. The Missionary’s Dilemma, or Let the Dead Bury the Dead
3. Staying Home For Christmas

Recently, a woman in my church sought counsel on a possible marriage.  On the surface, it sounded pretty standard-issue stuff: they’d met on an Internet dating site a couple of months ago and, both being young and impatient, wish to hurry things along and get married quickly.  The woman was concerned as she felt he was pressing things really quickly, including premarital intimacy.  I’m sure you already know what needed to be said considering Biblical standards, and it was.  However, when you bring their respective cultures into the picture, there’s more to the story.

She, being from Eastern Europe, was viewing this as a transaction.  After answering a few questions, it became clear that she had essentially the same attitude of a mail-order bride: I’m trying to escape bad living conditions.  There also seemed to be a bit of loneliness adding to the situation, plus a cultural attitude from her country that women at her age who were married with children were much more revered and respected than a single woman.

He, being from an African nation, was also viewing this as a transaction.  In my mission field, sham marriages to avoid deportation are not illegal, and he made it clear that he needed her help to stay here.  When she described some of his actions and reactions to her, a quick view of his country’s cultural norms on the (mis)treatment of women showed me that she had no idea what she might be getting into.

The cultural norm for my mission field would be that people pair up for love, not convenience nor by arrangement.  They would not usually have dire living conditions to escape.  However, the immediate family would have a lot of say and participation in the match and subsequent relationship.  People here care, to an unhealthy extreme, about what others think.

And my background from the States would encourage me to feel that people should be more independent about considering cultural norms and their relationships, yet discourage a marriage of convenience.

Despite the fact that I have researched and trained for my mission field here in Western Europe, there’s such a mix of varied groups represented here that it’s a virtual minefield to understand how to convey guidance and understand how that might be misinterpreted due to a person’s cultural background.  With a bit more research, I was able to at least understand why their respective life situations would make a sham marriage seem like a way out.

The marriage is off—for now.  She appeared to receive the Biblical counsel I provided, yet I could see the desperation in her eyes.  I pray that God will help us all as our incredibly different cultures collide.

Related posts:

1. The “Just Be Yourself” Paradox
2. The Double Life of The Missionary
3. In the Culture of Now

As I recently listened to a sermon on the Parable of the Vineyard Labourers (Matthew 20:1-16) the focus was obviously on the aspect of some being rewarded unequally compared to the efforts of others.  However, it was in the middle of the sermon (and the passage) that I realised a parallel between the workers hired later and the fundraised missionary: working without knowing exactly what you will be paid.

If you notice, Jesus explains that the first set of workers had an agreed wage.  The second, third and fourth set of workers are told they will receive “whatever was right at the end of the day” in verse 4.  The fifth set of workers are told to join the others in the vineyard with no description of an agreed amount.  Essentially, they are working without a contract.  And so are we.

I’ve mentioned before some of the things we’ve learned about living on fundraised support (we’re also tentmakers for two-thirds of it, thanks to the unfavourable exchange rate and the ridiculous cost of living).  The biggest thing I’ve learned is that fundraised living is an extreme exercise of faith and probably one of the biggest reminders of our immediate dependence on God.

Here are a couple of concepts I see in the parable:

We can’t dictate (or even predict) God’s provision
God gives according to how He sees fit.  It may not adhere to earthly standards or our ideas of what is fair.  By the way, just where do we get this concept of “fair” from?  Kids seem to understand it from such an early age.  We cry “unfair” all the time.  If you look at it, He owes us nothing.  We owe Him everything.  Yet He provides abundantly for us.  Seems pretty “unfair” by our definition.

It’s rough when your support drops the next month after a major catastrophe or when a supporter has decided to fund another missionary in another field.  But we’ve found that new or surprise financial gifts have often, but not always, shown around that time to make up the difference.  At no point has it put us in extreme jeopardy.

We must have faith despite appearances
Those hired last possibly expected a lesser wage for less of the day’s work.  By the reaction of the earlier hires, it appeared to them that they would receive more if the late workers received so much.  Though a cultural norm was present (and, indeed, wouldn’t we expect similar treatment today?), provision ignored the rules going both ways.  And the first workers still received what they were promised; their wage was not reduced from the original agreement.

Watching others in ministry get a regular paycheck or receive considerable project funding can be discouraging at the time.  But that’s the result of comparing ourselves to others.  It’s not for me to question these things, and God is well aware of any needs I or my ministry have.  I must keep myself to the task He’s set before me, trusting that His timing is perfect.

A friend once said, “God is never early.  He’s never late, but He’s definitely never early.”

Related posts:

1. How I Became a Missionary, Part 4: You’re Nuts
2. Question Week: Tentmaking v. Fundraising?

Somedays I think that I don’t see missions like a lot of other people do.  Consider the following:

In an email update I received from one of our supporters, the writer mentioned that her current reading was all missionary biographies, so she quoted Hudson Taylor with the implication that I must also be familiar with it.  It was a nice quote.  I had not heard it before, nor have I read missionary biographies.
When meeting a Christian here in the field, she assumed that we grew up, like herself, hearing stories at bedtime of the noble and heroic Christian missionaries in the heart of Africa.  Surely this is what prompted our missionary call?  Surely not.
Through this blog, I was contacted by a man interested in becoming a missionary.  One of his questions was: “Where in the world would you like to share the Gospel where you haven’t been able to yet?”  It’s a good question, but I honestly drew a blank.  I’d never thought of that before.
On our initial fundraising tour, people meeting us afterwards usually opened their greeting with. “You were missionary kids, right?” or “Your parents were missionaries, of course?”  Without divulging personal details, quite the opposite is our reality.  Not only were our parents only somewhat involved in their local church during our respective childhoods, they are now infrequent attenders at best, and all hold deep disappointment at our choice to be full-time foreign missionaries.

My whole life I’ve never fit into the pigeonholes people have tried to place me.  It shouldn’t surprise me that I don’t fit the missionary stereotype, either, and on the surface seem like less of a missionary.

Perhaps it’s because I don’t come with the fuzzy, feel-good past that everyone seems to think encourages the desire to become a missionary.  It’s not a sordid, law-breaking history, but it’s pretty dysfunctional considering my parents are Christians.  And I made some bad choices on my own along the way.  Maybe it’s because church was a stable source of constancy in my young life, but I wouldn’t say anyone ever personally encouraged me to become a missionary.

Perhaps it’s my tendency to try not to over-think things in the short term future (please don’t read that as not being prepared or lacking strategy; there is a difference).  Because I see my life as mission, whether in a foreign land or not, I expect to share the Gospel wherever God has planted me and whenever that chance may come.  I don’t yet have a burning desire to witness in Uruguay, but in no way does it mean I’m reluctant to do so if God put me there.

And, despite my voracious reading appetite, I’ve never had a specific interest in reading the life stories of other missionaries.  I think nothing wrong of reading such things, it just doesn’t register as something I’d like to read.  As someone raised Southern Baptist, I know that Lottie Moon and Annie Armstrong were missionaries a long time ago, and we took an annual collection in each of their names for missions.  That’s about it.

I’m doing what I’m doing because God wants me here right now, though I could have, as a pastor friend of mine says, “written my ticket” to anywhere within or outside of ministry in the States.  I’m here despite the rejection, not acceptance, of my family and some friends.  Though I don’t have a massive familiarity with historical missions work, I know the country I’m in desperately needs to know born-again Christianity, and God is blessing our consistency with the gradual building of trust amongst the nationals.

So, am I less of a missionary because I don’t fit a profile?  Perhaps, yet I really enjoy where I work and what I do.  I’m so grateful that God can use a broken person like me.

Related posts:

1. Missionary? Not My Kid: When Your Parents Don’t Approve
2. How Effective Are Short-Term Mission Trips?

Early in our fact-finding trips to our mission field, we kept getting the sense that the nationals held a bit of a reservation about working with us.  They were certainly friendly and accommodating, but their comments and facial expressions held a barely discernible air of skepticism.  We knew that their interactions with a large majority of American missionaries had gone very poorly for a number of reasons, so we figured they were understandably hesitant to interact with us.

Fast-forward to about six months into living in the mission field, and the real reason for their hesitancy began to crystalise in my mind.  We had been here long enough to watch several short-term mission teams funnel in and out of the church, plus there were several other long-term missionaries attached to help.  Watching the interactions from the sidelines, I began to see what the nationals saw: most missionaries would only do ministry at arm’s distance.

This is going beyond the unfortunate handful of those with bad attitudes; actually, the majority were polite, respectful, and generally good people who were willing to help and work in many ways.  Yet even in the group of good-natured, well-intentioned people, there still existed a trace element of distance from the nationals.

Many of the missionaries lived near each other, and, in the case of singles, roomed with other missionaries, usually from the same country or stateside church.  Breaks and leisure time were spent using various social media to keep up with a very large amount of friends and family back home; in fact, this more-than-daily updating often overrode events or tasks during ministry time.  Any external interactions or attendance at non-church events were with other missionaries, including dinners or “get togethers” that excluded nationals.  While there is nothing wrong with comradery amongst those with a shared background experience, the lack of deviation from it gave the clear indication that the missionaries were not interested in engaging the nationals in the day-to-day experience of living.

From my sociology studies, I recognise that this is typical behaviour for most immigrants.  Understandably, there is a common bond through nationality; even I’ve experienced a bit of comfort when talking with a fellow American about a situation only we could understand or remarking about how odd a custom in this mission field seems through our eyes.  It also follows that immigrants would want to stay close to other immigrants when they share a language unlike where they now live.  But I had expected missionaries to differ purposely from this behaviour for two reasons: 1) in this field, there is not a language barrier (well, there’s an accent and word definition barrier at times, but for the most part we are all speaking English), and 2) their reason for being here is to effectively spread the Gospel, unlike most immigrants who are here primarily to escape a dangerous situation in their homeland or to make money.

The message of Arm’s Distance Ministry is: I’m here to get a task done, and I’ll be friendly to you during this ministry time, but when it’s over I’d rather not interact with you.  I’ve seen this happen quite a bit in the States as well in both paid and volunteer ministry, so I don’t believe it’s just a foreign missionary issue.  It just becomes that much clearer in the mission field, perhaps because of two distinctly different cultures interacting.

Is it our phraseology?  The term “outreach”, usually used for a special attractional church event, implies that we are reaching out to a place that we ourselves are not actually in.  Is it our training?  I am aware of one mission agency (note: this does not imply that they are all this way) that required a large amount of the “Way of Salvation” witnessing per month.  Were this required in my situation, I’d have to confront strangers to “make the quota”, yet not only does relational (and slow-building) ministry work better here, street witnessing would get me ostracised from my small village.

Perhaps it’s the Western concept of compartmentalisation of our lives that shapes our definition of reaching out to others during “church events” or when ministry is scheduled to happen—but that stops when the prescribed time over.  Maybe the few months or years the missionaries were scheduled to spend in the mission field made developing relationships with nationals seem moot if they planned to return permanently to the States.  Western Europeans can be much slower to “warm up” than most Americans are used to.  Whatever the reason was, it gave the impression to the nationals that the missionaries were primarily concerned with completing ministry tasks and nothing more.

While I had been pondering this concept for a while, it was an article linked from the How God Messed Up My Religion blog that pushed me to write this post.  The article recounts several lessons from a recent short-term mission trip to Africa.  Their team chose to stay at the orphanage they were helping, and a teacher from the orphanage told her, “people come to help, but they don’t really want to be with us and live our life with us.”  While it’s understandable that Westernised Christians would find it hard to live a week in third-world conditions, the sad reality is that the same sentence could easily be said by our Western European nationals today.

The word “missional” gets bandied about a lot these days, and it’s definition seems to be still forming.  As I understand it, the emphasis is on the body of believers acting like me, a foreign missionary, instead of a “Holy Huddle” in the church with the onus on the pastor as the “Hired Gun”.  I think it’s a great idea, but from what I’ve witnessed in the mission field, we’re sometimes not very good about being missional ourselves.  Whether it’s fear, or intimidation, or the fact that so few are encouraged to make missions, or a particular mission field, a lifelong (or at least open-ended) commitment, arm’s distance ministry can only go so far.  The nationals appear to understand this better than we do.

Related posts:

1. When The World Comes To Your Field
2. Pulling Your Hand Out of a Bucket
3. Staying Home For Christmas

Sometimes hard truths about mission realities just have to be stated, and this video does just that under a minute and a half.  Though the speaker is from a Native American tribe, his words could easily be from the mouths of our nationals who have shared similar stories; they have experience both the issues of pictures and charity.  Best quote: “Very few people come for the sake of getting to know us and building relationship. And of those who do come for that, even less ever come back.”

By the way, as informed as I thought I was about missions, I have to admit I hadn’t considered the spiritual needs of the Native Americans until missionaries to their tribes commented on this blog in the past. (HT: Almost An M)

Related posts:

1. In the Culture of Now

The turn of the new year always gives us pause for reflection on the past and contemplation of the future, so the start of 2010 appears to be no different.  As I remember lessons learned over the past few years as a missionary, one theme keeps recurring: we are shaped by the environment in which we find ourselves, no matter how much we may resist.  And I have been very much influenced by my mission field’s culture which is an “in the moment” people group, something I like to call “The Culture of Now”.

Of course, the title is not indicative of a culture of wanting things or change to happen immediately (i.e., “I want it now”) but of a state of being in the moment, relishing the experience and not focussed solely on the future.  In an earlier cross-cultural course I had learned of the differences in such cultures, and I am grateful to have understood the technical differences before entering the mission field.

It was actually the change of decade that prompted me to take note of my personal attitude shift.  Reflecting on where I was (physically, spiritually, and emotionally) as 1999 slipped into 2000, I started to realise that I had been a much more agitated individual.  Always focussing on the next task, job, location, or goal, I wasn’t actually interacting in the moment.  Time with people, though often a pleasant thing, was seen as an obstacle to progress; because it was a necessity to interact with others, I felt at the time that it must be kept to a minimum.  While I would be present at an activity or function, mentally I was worlds away, going over tasks in my head or thinking constantly about what sequence of events needed to happen once I got out of the situation.

As I thought about how I enter a conversation now, I realised that my conversations of the past often centred on what accomplishments I planned for the near future, always networking and looking for that “next thing” that I could hitch my wagon to a star.  Essentially, The Present Situation was something to constantly aspire to get out of, and on to the next moment.  From my experience and recollection, it is a tiring way to live because it means there is no defined end in sight.

We had been well informed about our mission field’s cultural attitude, so we didn’t experience a huge shock when we arrived.  Things take longer, people move slower, and it’s just the way that it is here.  Our friend’s statement, “You’ll have loads of things to do, but if you get only one thing accomplished in a day, that’s considered amazing”, rang true and still does to this day.  But moving this information from knowledge to personal practice took much, much longer than we had anticipated.

Part of the reason it’s been so difficult is the fact that we still interact with our original culture, from funding supporters and churches to family members.  Firm plans and grand expectation of results are required from the American culture, sometimes even 5-10 years from now.  I’ll never forget a woman coming up to me after our fundraising presentation, where we had mentioned a minimum five-year commitment to this field.  “What will you do at the end of five years?”  she queried.  Taken aback, I mumbled something about we’d see what God laid on our hearts at that time.  “Would you return to America?” she pressed.  “Five years is so far away,” I said, “but if God wanted us to return at that time, we would.”

Her eyes lit up.  “Where will you live then?”  At this point I wasn’t sure where she was going with this or what I was supposed to say.  I mean, I’m putting all my energy into going on mission in a foreign country for a very extended (and open-ended) period of time; does anyone really know with certainty exactly what they will be doing in five years’ time?  “Um, I’m sure God will let us know where at that time,” I hastily replied, looking for anyone else to talk to.  She kept on with, “What will you do for work?  These are important things you have to plan for now!”  Yeah, I’ll just secure a job somewhere that they’re willing to wait five years (or longer) for me to return, though I’m not sure where that would be.  And, while I’m busy doing that, I’ll lock in a lease on some house that I won’t live in for at least five years, too.

I never got to say what I was thinking, which was, “Lady, would you just let me deal with the experience I’m in now before having to make firm decisions about the future?  I’m sure I’ll be a different person by then, and God doesn’t always share His plans for us that far into the future.”  Meanwhile, I’m not even five years into the mission, and I’m already dramatically different in my views and practise.

I fear that this monumental difference from the States’ forward-thinking/progress-focussed/instant gratification mindset is part of what makes it so difficult for American missionaries to stay long-term, but as I’ve changed I notice some unexpected benefits:

The only problems I see are two: 1) this way of life, if left unchecked, can lead to serious laziness; and 2) our Stateside supporters may struggle with a perception that we’re not doing enough or getting satisfactory results, though we’ve done our best to communicate the cultural (and spiritual) differences in ministry here.  Meanwhile, even in our “slowed-down” state, the nationals think we are a whirl of activity, going too fast and accomplishing things by leaps and bounds.

I fall back into my old habits every once in a while, and the discomfort I feel through it snaps me out of that future-thinking angst pretty quickly.  Entering the new decade gives me hope that I can better appreciate the present and enjoy the now.

Related posts:

1. You Said What?! The Importance of Context in Culture
2. Pulling Your Hand Out of a Bucket
3. The “Just Be Yourself” Paradox

This is my last original post of 2009, so I just wanted to say thank you to all readers of this blog and wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year wherever God has placed you.

Someone finally asked the right question this year: “Are you staying home for Christmas?”

Over the past few Christmases, many of our nationals have inquired if we were returning home for the holidays.  We always responded that we were staying home for the holidays, not to be cute or trite but to honestly convey how we feel about where God has placed us.

Many national Christians in our field automatically expect us to return to the States for the holidays—because that’s what missionaries from the States have done. Sometimes being called a “missionary” carries a lot of assumptions, one of which in our field is the missionary treating this as an assignment or resume padding, someplace to exit out of or get away from time to time because you’re not from this mission field and have no interest in continuing ministry here.  Even Christian friends in the States assumed we were going to return next year because (this is an actual statement) “don’t all missionaries run out of money by this point and need to come back for fundraising?”

A caveat before I go further: please understand I am not berating any missionary for visiting family at the holidays, needing to return to fundraise, leaving the field or originally having a short-term assignment.  I do believe God can direct you back to your homeland for a time due to those reasons and am in no way passing judgment about that direction.  I just don’t like being pigeonholed because of assumptions of any kind and would prefer people a) ask about these things without a backhanded comment and b) accept that, though I am a missionary, I may not reflect the usual personality with which they are familiar.

The reality in our situation is that we feel very at home in our field.  I know the word “missional” gets bandied about a lot these days, but much of our attitude stems from the fact that Christianity is something that we live and breathe, not just perform or promote, then act differently.  Because we take Philippians 3:20 very seriously, I may have been born in the States, but we really are citizens of heaven first.  I recently heard a sermon that included the statement, “Home is not a place but a person,” meaning Jesus Christ.  With His will being paramount, He’s given us a desire to stay in the field at this holiday season.

It seems that people can’t accept when you’re different.  A very old concept, I know, yet more pointed for some reason in missionary and Christian circles.  When asked (usually by Christians, oddly enough) what I would be doing if I weren’t a missionary, many don’t understand when I explain that I would be sharing Christ and volunteering in ministry even if God had me working a secular job, no matter on what part of this world He placed me.  It’s difficult to see myself as a missionary because it’s not an on/off switch for me; perhaps the only way I reflect the current concept of missionary is that I continually raise and depend on charitable support to be here, and I regularly communicate about my ministry to supporters.  Take those two facts away, and I’m just a missional Christian, living in a foreign country, right?

I take it as a blessing that God has given us such a comfort in our field that we feel most at home here, despite not having an obvious reason why.  We have no previous exposure to the lifestyle, no heritage to trace, no technical reason to feel connected, yet the simple fact is that we do connect.  An unknown author once stated, “Home is that place when you can recognise yourself in the people passing in the street.”  I wouldn’t have understood this before going on mission, but it explains how I feel now.

Related posts:

1. Question Week: Sent By a Mission Agency or By Your Home Church?
2. 5,000 Miles Away, Thanksgiving Just Isn’t The Same
3. Was, Not Am: What’s Wrong With Lifelong Missions?

I get a lot of emails from people considering missions work.  If you have already determined your field and are in the process of going, Kevin over at the Life.Outpoured blog has a great series about how to prepare and learn about your mission field’s culture in “Scoping Your Mission”.  Each of the posts are a wealth of information, especially if you are not being sent or prepped by a mission agency (like myself).  Navigating the differences between cultures (even within same-minded Christian cultures in different countries) is probably the most important thing I’ve learned as a missionary.  As someone who “scoped” our field in a similar way, I can strongly recommend these suggestions. Take a look at each:

“Getting To Know Them”

“The Importance of Food”

“Read Their News” (I still do this in the field, even several years into our mission)

Additionally, I think these suggestions are equally important for anyone in ministry (especially church planters) who may be beginning work in another part of their home country.  It may not technically be a “foreign country”, but states (and areas within states) can be considerably different in certain cultural habits, focus or issues.  As a native Californian, I learned this when befriending a co-worker of similar age who was originally from Louisiana; our life experiences and expectations could not have been more different, and most of this was inherent to the local cultures in which we grew up.  Even Californians can be on different extremes depending on their city or county.

Related posts:

1. In the Culture of Now
2. How Effective Are Short-Term Mission Trips?
3. The “Just Be Yourself” Paradox