The Challenge

The past month for our family has been, well, ... less than ideal. I feel like this has sort of been the theme of my last few blog posts and newsletters: trials, struggles, disappointments. At the same time, life hasn't really been that horrible. In fact, I see ways that God is working, ways that we have grown; and after all, we are still here, we are all (mostly) healthy, we have a roof (which belongs to a pretty sweet house) over our heads, and we haven't missed a meal (or even really had a bad one).

I recently read a fellow missionary's blog post about the challenge of presenting an accurate picture of missionary life in a third-world country, and it resonated with me. I've been struggling to know what to write about here on my blog this month. As I mentioned above, it's been an unexpected, strange, and difficult month for our family, and ministry-wise we've accomplished very little. Thus, I have no stories of conversion to report, no stories of discipleship, no stories of progress in the missionary task.

As I write about mission life, there's always a tension between honesty about the ugliness and rejoicing in the blessings. I want you to know that at times it's hard, because following Jesus leads to hard things (Luke 9:23)—hard things that are worth the pain (Luke 9:24). Hard things are part of the Christian life, part of obedience. They are not strange and should be expected (1 Peter 4:12). So I can tell you that we experience loneliness, discouragement, and sometimes fear. We see poverty and piles of trash, broken and unfinished and vandalized buildings, spousal abuse and unfaithfulness and abandonment, people dying from things like malaria and cholera, refugees fighting to survive and make a new life for themselves, corruption and dysfunction in power structures. This is the reality, and so much suffering (both what we experience personally and what we see around us) can feel crushing.

God receives glory when we walk through pain and suffering with faithfulness and perseverance (1 Peter 4:16). But—as my friend Catherine so eloquently wrote in her blog post—God also receives glory when we experience peace and blessing (Gen. 39:2-3, Luke 1:57-58)! In so many ways, we have a great life here in Pemba: a lovely home, good friends, serene beaches, a missions organization that takes excellent care of us, meaningful and rewarding work. Those things are true and real and as much a part of our experience as the hard things. Do we shy away from sharing them because of some stereotypical idea of what a missionary life should be? Are we worried that it will seem like we're bragging or like our lives are too exciting/easy/enjoyable?

This is the challenge: to write about the doom and gloom or about the joy and bliss? I have to believe that there's a way to do both, to present a more accurate picture of life on the mission field. Or really, isn't that life wherever you are? I love the way that Catherine explains it:

"I'm more convinced than ever that our God will get his glory. And he's going to do that whether we're living in the American suburbs or the Malawian bush or a Southeast Asian megacity. God won't be boxed in, nor does he need our extravagant sacrifice or missionary martyr stories. No, he wants our hearts. He delights in our faithfulness. And wherever we are and whatever we're doing in this great big world, he will keep on at it proving himself steady and just and kind and good every day that passes."

As I consider my approach to writing, the way that I normally try to convey the experience of my life, I'd like to think of it as a balance between realism and hope. I write about my encounters with disappointment, struggle, and pain, but I try to communicate my hope that there's a purpose for it all in God's grand and perfect plan, and I look for ways that He is faithful and working in the midst of it. I also share and celebrate the joys and the victories God brings, for the purpose of His praise and glory.

Isn't this the way the psalmists wrote? They were unflinchingly honest about their fears and frustrations and suffering. But at the same time they were unfailingly hopeful in the Lord. They faced and met the challenge of presenting an accurate picture of a life of faith, including the lows and the highs. Psalm 77, which Harvey recently read to me, is a perfect example:

I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me.
In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted.
When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints.
You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
I consider the days of old, the years long ago. I said, "Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart."
Then my spirit made a diligent search:
"Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable?
Has his steadfast love forever ceased?
Are his promises at an end for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has he in his anger shut up his compassion?"
Then I said, "I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High."
I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
Yes, I will remember your wonders of old.
I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds.
Your way, O God, is holy.
What God is great like our God?
You are the God who works wonders;
You have made known your might among the peoples.
You with your arm redeemed your people,
The children of Jacob and Joseph.

As we approach our final four weeks in Mozambique before our time of Stateside assignment, I don't know what they will look like. The struggles could continue, or things could get better as we begin to pack and prepare and say goodbyes. Whatever happens, and wherever we are in a month, I will face the challenge once again of knowing how to frame it in writing for you, my faithful friends and family and readers. I don't know what I'll write, but I know that it will be real and it will be hopeful and it will be for the glory of God.