The other night I was talking with one of my national friends, and he was relating his busy last few weeks, most of which was taking a visiting missionary around the country on furlough. When asked how long my friend had been hosting missionaries from this particular mission organisation, I was amazed to hear that it was before I was born (and I’m not young, either.) His lengthy dedication was impressive, not just because of longevity, but because the hospitality also included shuttling the missionary to many places around a country not known for the best public transportation or infrastructure.
“Oh, but I’m not the first one to host here in this country,” he divulged. “I actually inherited the responsibility from another man.” My friend went on to explain that this man had hosted for quite a few years, and it was ageing (and a subsequent illness) that caused the man to pass the responsibility to my friend. “When I visited him for the last time in hospital,” my friend recounted, “he personally asked me to ‘please take good care of my missionaries’. Then he leaned closer to me and whispered, ‘Just don’t spoil them’.”
At this point, my long-term readers will probably be expecting me to start off with a politely-worded form of, “Just who does he think he is? What in the world was that man thinking?! We’re people too, yada yada yada, etc.” But I’m not, because it’s what my friend said next that helped illustrate that standards of all sorts are quite relative, even for us missionaries. » Read the rest of this entry «