You would think that moving to another country was the
hardest decision that I’ve ever made. You’d be wrong.
Deciding where we were going to live was, undoubtedly, the single-most
difficult decision that I’ve ever made. Remember, we’re ministering to the
poorest of poor of Latin America. Most live on $2/day, few have running water,
and some have electricity. Violence, abuse, turmoil of all kinds plagues their
daily life. How then does a missionary make a wise living choice when the
nature of their ministry is such?
I have faced head on every possible angle. I have been yanked
in all directions. I have spent hours in prayer laboring over this decision and
still find no clarity.
1. Proximity
and Security
These were the two main ideals we settled on. We wanted to
live close and safe. As one Guatemalan puts it, “you can find surveillance in a
neighborhood, but security, only with God.” We wanted a neighborhood where
Jenny could go outside with the forthcoming baby and not have to worry about
safety. We also wanted a place where I (Justin) didn’t have to sit in the car
for hours every day. Many Guatemalans spend 3-5 hours in the car every day
driving to and from work. This, too, is a stewardship issue. I want to have as
much time to devote to my family as I can. Sitting in traffic is a waste.
2. Missiological
Principles
At the same time, we battled missiological principles. Would
it be possible for us to live in a way that was appropriate to our ministry
context? Could we possibly identify with the people of the garbage dump in our
manner of living? I strongly doubt that we could, even if we lived among them,
but does that lessen the impact or necessity?
We can always leave. They can’t. Even our home would have
amenities that many of them don’t, such as internet, my computer, cell phones.
I wrestled with how my new paternal duties intersect with my missionary duties.
Surely this decision would have been easier if it was just me and Jenny.
3. My
Paternal Duty
This has, without a doubt, been the most complex aspect to
this decision. It is not just my paternal duty to protect my family, it is also
my paternal duty to clearly articulate and express the gospel. The gospel came
at great risk to God. How can I teach my children of this great, risk-taking
God when we stay behind our security-guarded doors, averting any possible
contact with that wretched outside world? It’s foolish. The gospel shines the
brightest in the darkness, and God has called us into the darkness, to shine
the light of the gospel.
However, if something ever happened to my daughter, or
Jenny, or me, then what happens to our ministry? How can I guard and protect
the longevity, and future of our ministry and still share my life with those
whom I’m serving? However, it’s self-defeating, because the nature of serving
them threatens the longevity of my ministry, right? Where is the line between
protecting my family, and sharing the gospel through my family in a broken
world? If you find it, let me know.
4. What
About Respite?
This is a concept that our Guatemalan friends believe in
dearly. They want to completely inundate themselves and serve the people of the
garbage dump. However, to best do that, they have to be able to have a place of
respite that they go back to every day. Work in the garbage dump is taxing
emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Just today a 14-year-old boy, while
nonchalantly explaining his family dynamics, says, “I had an older brother, but
he was shot 2 years ago” as if that was all too typical.
I’m not accustomed to this world of violence, abuse,
addiction and so forth. If I inundated myself, apart from the grace of God, I’d
probably burn out. Do I need a place of respite? Or is God my source of
respite? I know that I should “rest,” but does that require certain commodities
that others don’t have?
5. The Gospel
Issue
The much deeper issue, though, is my own heart. I am coming
to realize this one HUGE, debilitating, weakness of mine. I have an inordinate
amount of concern for how I am perceived. In all honesty, part of it is a good
quality in a missionary. Missionaries should be relationally and culturally
savvy, perceptive to how people are responding to them.
But, this can take an unhealthy turn fast and you can turn
into…well…me! Every decision, crippled by the weight of supposed onlookers from
all walks of life assessing and assuming things about me based upon my
decisions. Do they think I’m being wise? Do they think I’m stuck up? Do they
think I’m a typical, arrogant American? Am I making sense in Spanish? What if I
can’t fulfill their expectations? Am I dressed appropriately for the ministry
I’m doing? If I get a smaller house am I condescending?
At every corner, I feel the need to defend the decisions
I’ve made, because I am terrified that I will lose respect in someone’s eyes.
This decision was so difficult for me, because, it feels
like it comes with great potential for shame and rejection. What if people
think my house is too nice? What if other missionaries think my house is too
nice?
Why do I feel the need to alter some perception of myself
that I think people have? Why do I care?
And the big, enormous, million-dollar question is “what if
people find out that I’m not what they think I am?” Or, maybe even worse, “what
if people think of me differently than I want them to?”
We don’t like to face such questions. They require grave
amounts of vulnerability.
That’s the blessed news of the gospel. No matter what people
think I am, I am a million times worse. God knows every last nook and cranny of
my heart and loves me still. I don’t have to keep up appearances. I don’t have
to worry about what God thinks. I know what God thinks. He told me, on the
cross. His approval of me is beyond certain, and not because of the house that
I live in or the car I drive.
I wanted to share this, with great honesty, because I
imagine that many of you wrestle with this same thing. You so desperately want
to be liked or loved that you go to great lengths to ensure that every decision
is insulated against any possibility of criticism. And, if you’re like me, your
insulation is never enough.
Every person that I have talked to about this has had the
same advice that is truly a bulls-eye: “Justin, you’ll never please everyone.” Even
as I write this, I fear how people will respond. Will they like it? Will they
think “wow, Justin, you’re so honest and thoughtful.” Will they find some fatal
flaw in my thinking that I didn’t see?
For my own sake, I have to say this: I don’t care what you
think.
The funny thing about this decision is that, before this,
there was some other “single-most difficult decision that I’d ever made.” And,
before that, and before that, and before that. Because, as long as I am carried
along by every possible assumption or judgment that someone has, I will never
actually fulfill what God has called me to. I will merely spend my days
battling in the darkness of my own mind, fighting to prove myself worthy or
respectable, when God has already said “based upon the sacrifice of Christ, you
are worthy and respectable. Stop trying to prove yourself to all these people;
the God of the universe has accepted you as you are.”
Justin-
ReplyDeleteThanks for posting this. You are absolutely right, many of us struggle with perception. I used to think I would grow out of it, but no luck so far. It's a little sad to think of the decisions I've made, things I've said, or outfits I've worn just to have someone say how great it was or to keep up appearances. But I'm never going to fool God, and isnt He the only one that I should be trying to impress? And even better, with Him I don't have to. I know you and Jenny will make a decision that honors your ministry and your family.
Wishing you all the best,
Karli
Justin, praying for you and Jenny as you make these difficult decisions. Many blessings!
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