How I Became a Missionary, Part 4: You’re Nuts

Posted by C. Holland on Feb 02, 2009

I’ve been posting a series on how I became a full-time missionary to Western Europe. Click for “Part 1: My Backstory”, “Part 2: Ashes in My Mouth”, and “Part 3: Learning the Ropes”.

With our “marching orders” from God, we set out to begin the fundraising process and, at the same time, reveal our future plans to friends and family. Because of our denominational history and our family’s lack of encouragement in ministry or missions, we knew that this would not be easy.

I wish I could give a report of hugs, joy and excitement from those who knew us well, but you can probably anticipate that’s not part of this story. We explained God’s call, our heart, the (very) long-term nature of our ministry in Western Europe, and the fact that we were about to sell off or give away most everything that we’d accumulated during our marriage. Yes, everything: car, furniture, basically all you would find in a three-bedroomed house. I do not mention this out of pride but the fact is necessary to understand people’s shock and disapproval.

Friends received the news with polite looks of concern, you know, the pained grimace of a smile with the drawn out, “Well, if that’s what you want.” I know that they were quietly reviewing the other ministries we’d been involved in and (understandably) thinking that this was just another phase for which we were liquidating our life. Some felt we wouldn’t even make it out of the States.

One of our fathers told us that he would store everything for us once we moved—since we wouldn’t last three months anyway. One of our mothers, with tears streaming down her face, told us that she could not support (meaning emotional and financial) this decision but should we decide to return permanently, we were offered a one-way ticket back to the States. She would not visit us in Europe, and years later she still has not. I suppose our parents always thought their children were to live close by, be highly educated in a flashy profession, own a mansion and drive a fancy car. They just couldn’t understand what would motivate us to give up everything to move to another country, have less money, live in much smaller accommodation and drive an economy car. And, yes, all four parents are still active evangelical Christians.

The flip side to such reactions was the emotional and financial support that we received from others, sometimes from the most unexpected person or couple. The majority of my secular co-workers actually respected our motivation and reasons for going. We had been told that the people you expect to support you won’t, but we’d be surprised who does. And we still are.

Fundraising amongst multiple churches was an experience in itself. I often referred to it as our “dog and pony show”, complete with portable information table and various pieces of information. Every church was different, and you had no idea what style or expectation was before you. Some were friendlier than others. Sunday after Sunday, we repeated the same information over and over. Many people expressed an intent to financially support us yet never did. Thank God for those who followed through!

The biggest hurdle we had to overcome was people’s narrow interpretation of missions (mentioned in a previous post here). Because we were going to a European country that is also a popular tourist destination for the States, many at first had a difficult time understanding the spiritual need here. Some encounters took all of my diplomatic know-how. The weirdest exchange was with a woman who strongly felt that God would never send any American out of the States to do ministry anywhere as she felt that the States was “God’s chosen country”.

It took us quite some time to raise enough funds, and fit in a fact-finding trip, but we finally set off permanently for Western Europe with just two pieces of luggage each and a laptop to our name. Just days after we landed, jet-lagged and wide-eyed, the government changed the parameters for missionaries entering the country. Our hearts sank when our immigration officer tersely stated, “we have a problem,” and promptly separated us for further questioning.

Next Post: Part 5, “No Plan B” and Conquering By Continuing