Missionaries are for Fairy Tales. Right?
"One day I'll be a missionary in Africa."
As kids, these words passed between the lips of myself and many of my friends frequently.
We were good church girls. It often seemed that the only option good enough for being a real, amazing Christian grown up was to drop everything and move out to Africa.
Mama would read books and books about the lives of people like Mary Slessor, James Taylor, Gladys Alward, and William Carey, to name a few. These stories were wild and inspiring. I loved thinking about the missionaries stepping through primitive villages in their fancy 1900s western clothing, pale skin, and British accents. I fantasized about finding my way into a jungle somewhere and happening upon people who had never left their corner of the world before, who maybe didn't even know that the world had other corners to explore. I would dodge spears and pass by witch doctors and slowly make my way into the community as a friend. I would miraculously not only learn their language, but translate the Bible for them as well!
Man, it'd be a breeze. My future plans formed around these ideas.
Later on, I came to terms with the fact that while a small handful of people do live out crazy adventures for the Gospel- I was NOT the person for that. I would probably never encounter an unreached people group, or venture to a place where my beliefs would be challenged.
That kind of stuff just didn't fit into my life, which was filled with contentedly journaling, visiting coffee shops, singing in my youth group, and making good grades. That was a good place to be as a high schooler, and I liked the idea that maybe it could be a good place for the life ahead of me.
College taught me some new things about that part of myself.
But lets be real- when I say college, I really mean Jesus.
He taught me that sometimes comfort is not the best option.
That the world is wide and full to bursting with people who are astoundingly different than me.
Through learning these new things, the Lord woke something up inside of me.
I went to school as a bright eyed freshman wanting to be a journalist or maybe a high school English teacher.
I'm halfway through my time at Covenant, and the words that swirl around in my head and make their way into my conversations about my future are are most often "seminary," "full-time ministry," "development" and "writing about theology."
In other words- I got out of high school and instead of finding a new career path, the Lord woke up that crazy missionary inside of me. I had no idea she was even still there.
Sometimes He woke her gently- through moving chapel talks and whispered late-night conversations with hallmates. Sometimes she was shaken awake by an ear-splitting alarm that often took the form of Dr. Brian Fikkert lectures about poverty, when I often couldn't control my own tears from falling. Most recently, this happened through an inevitable call to serve in Kenya.
16 year old me would have said, nah. You don't need all that stuff, Claire! Going into ministry is so cliche. And thinking of yourself as a missionary? Come on. You're never going to go to Africa.
I bet God just laughed when he put me at Covenant and lit passions inside of me that I somehow didn't realize line of perfectly with mission work and the pursuit of the Gospel. I somehow had tricked myself into thinking that a passion for discipleship, inner-city work, and studying scripture were worlds away from being like a missionary, or needing to go to seminary.
Jesus let me begin to grow in the direction of this calling without realizing it was the exact opposite of what I believed I was called to do.
I'm leaving 13 days from now to live in Kenya for two months, sharing the Gospel with a largely unreached people group. Effectively, I will be a missionary.
I firmly believe that the world is never as small as we think it is. This doesn't mean that we don't have enough love to reach into its unknown corners. Courage to let Jesus guide us into the hidden places can take us to the coast of Kenya, or maybe just across the hall of your dorm room or office hallway.
Over the last few months of prepping and planning for this trip, I have been acutely aware of Jesus' quiet smile over me, and his hand gently pushing me forward. I have a suspicion this won't be the last time I think I can prove God wrong, only to experience the contrary.
Praise be, for He is gracious in that.
_________________________________________
You're welcomed to join me in praying for the Digo people, the long-term team that is already working in their village, and for me and my team as we enter into this place for a small time.
If you would like to receive updates by e-mail during my time there, let me know and I'll add you to my mailing list!
As kids, these words passed between the lips of myself and many of my friends frequently.
We were good church girls. It often seemed that the only option good enough for being a real, amazing Christian grown up was to drop everything and move out to Africa.
Mama would read books and books about the lives of people like Mary Slessor, James Taylor, Gladys Alward, and William Carey, to name a few. These stories were wild and inspiring. I loved thinking about the missionaries stepping through primitive villages in their fancy 1900s western clothing, pale skin, and British accents. I fantasized about finding my way into a jungle somewhere and happening upon people who had never left their corner of the world before, who maybe didn't even know that the world had other corners to explore. I would dodge spears and pass by witch doctors and slowly make my way into the community as a friend. I would miraculously not only learn their language, but translate the Bible for them as well!
Man, it'd be a breeze. My future plans formed around these ideas.
That kind of stuff just didn't fit into my life, which was filled with contentedly journaling, visiting coffee shops, singing in my youth group, and making good grades. That was a good place to be as a high schooler, and I liked the idea that maybe it could be a good place for the life ahead of me.
College taught me some new things about that part of myself.
But lets be real- when I say college, I really mean Jesus.
He taught me that sometimes comfort is not the best option.
That the world is wide and full to bursting with people who are astoundingly different than me.
Through learning these new things, the Lord woke something up inside of me.
I went to school as a bright eyed freshman wanting to be a journalist or maybe a high school English teacher.
I'm halfway through my time at Covenant, and the words that swirl around in my head and make their way into my conversations about my future are are most often "seminary," "full-time ministry," "development" and "writing about theology."
In other words- I got out of high school and instead of finding a new career path, the Lord woke up that crazy missionary inside of me. I had no idea she was even still there.
Sometimes He woke her gently- through moving chapel talks and whispered late-night conversations with hallmates. Sometimes she was shaken awake by an ear-splitting alarm that often took the form of Dr. Brian Fikkert lectures about poverty, when I often couldn't control my own tears from falling. Most recently, this happened through an inevitable call to serve in Kenya.
16 year old me would have said, nah. You don't need all that stuff, Claire! Going into ministry is so cliche. And thinking of yourself as a missionary? Come on. You're never going to go to Africa.
I bet God just laughed when he put me at Covenant and lit passions inside of me that I somehow didn't realize line of perfectly with mission work and the pursuit of the Gospel. I somehow had tricked myself into thinking that a passion for discipleship, inner-city work, and studying scripture were worlds away from being like a missionary, or needing to go to seminary.
Jesus let me begin to grow in the direction of this calling without realizing it was the exact opposite of what I believed I was called to do.
I'm leaving 13 days from now to live in Kenya for two months, sharing the Gospel with a largely unreached people group. Effectively, I will be a missionary.
Over the last few months of prepping and planning for this trip, I have been acutely aware of Jesus' quiet smile over me, and his hand gently pushing me forward. I have a suspicion this won't be the last time I think I can prove God wrong, only to experience the contrary.
Praise be, for He is gracious in that.
_________________________________________
You're welcomed to join me in praying for the Digo people, the long-term team that is already working in their village, and for me and my team as we enter into this place for a small time.
If you would like to receive updates by e-mail during my time there, let me know and I'll add you to my mailing list!
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