I am re-posting this very popular piece. Not because I'm planning to go overseas anytime soon, but because it is now a sample of what you will find when the Moscow book is finally in print. I am hopeful that will be soon.
Also it's a reminder to those who go and those who stay that there are hidden costs and blatant blessings waiting for you.
God is good.
Are you planning to go somewhere this year? Tell me about it! Let me join your prayer team.
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There is a hidden cost of missions work that is overlooked.
Yes, it’s expensive to buy plane tickets, food and daily
supplies, lodging, transportation. Those
are all budget items that are fairly easy to plan for. We take our savings or retirement or
offerings and sparingly apply them to stretch across the months, or years, we
are abroad. Those are expected expenses
and we do our best to be wise.
There is the obvious emotional expense of unfilled heart
time. You know, the deposits made into
our lives by those we love while we do everyday life with them. When you’re abroad, you are not holding your
grandchildren when they scrape their knee.
You’re not kissing away the sad days when a dog is lost or a friend
moves away. You’re not listening to the
saxophone rehearsal, the reading practice, the math drills. They can video you in, but it isn’t the
same. Your arms are empty and your heart
is drained. You are glad they are happy
and healthy and living well without you, but your arms ache for them.
Your peers, friends and family, don’t always quite
understand why you’re gone, and that’s an emotional drain. Some of them resent that you aren’t there to
help with the life chores. Someone else
has to take mom to the doctor and call you with results. You can’t be available to babysit or
rideshare or decorate.
You pray they have found a new mother figure, a new best
friend, a new co-problem solver so they are not facing the problems of life alone.
You call to catch up and realize you have no idea who is
married to whom and when the baby shower will be or what the garden looks like
this year. You realize that moments are
slipping away in your time clock which can’t be re-stocked.
It’s hard to communicate what you are seeing and hearing
every day. The market buzz, the language
difficulties, the smells of every day life.
You talk about baking banana bread and hoping that you have figured out
what the notches on your oven mean. They
smile but can’t understand.
If you’re really blessed you find a community that becomes a
family to you on the field. You commiserate
with them in the morning after the long walk to work. You hold their babies and plan their birthday
parties. You laugh with them about the
awkward language exchanges in a grocery store or metro. You find familiarity in struggles. They may be from completely different parts
of the world. Their language base will
not be yours, their history will be unknown to you. Yet, you find yourself
walking beside them as if you are intrinsically connected.
They are living the same sensations and challenges. They “get it” without explanation.
All of that is difficult, but not the hardest thing. The hardest thing is after you’re home. You return!
Yay! Everyone rejoices! There are greeting hugs and special dinners
and welcomes of all kinds. Then day
turns to week to month to year. You
realize that your heart is in two places.
You wonder how your friends over there are managing life.
Are they still continuing the things you tried to teach them? Did they pray today? Are they reading their Bible? Is anyone confusing them with a different
message of God’s love? Are they
studying? Are they working together to
be better?
The handprints of the expat family members are deep within
your memory. You are glad to be with
your family and friends, again, but you miss the others constantly. You wonder how they are re-settling in their
new life. You pray they have found a new
mother figure, a new best friend, a new co-problem solver so they are not
facing the strangeness alone.
You feel guilty for wanting to be back on the field after having
missed so many moments with everyone. You
try to swoop back into the common paths, pick up where you left off.
But you’re different.
You say weird things like, “pass the smetana” and then realize that no
one at the table knows what that is. You
stand in a grocery aisle ten times the size of the one you had become
comfortable with and feel overwhelmed.
You tear up when someone says the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag while
everyone else repeats with boredom. You
watch the news with new insight and have new opinions that no one cares
about.
You try to share it.
That’s not always wise. “In
Russia we….,” “When I was there …,” You
see the glazed eyes of the listener and then the kids tell you it sounds like
you’re bragging. You realize they were
busy living a different life which filled your spot in their path. Meanwhile, your experiences pushed them out
and they resent it.
There is the real cost.
The shaping and pruning which happened while you were being stretched
into a useful vessel for the work of God has made you different. Your family and friends don’t want a new you –
they liked the old one well enough.
Why would someone pay all of those expenses? Why would someone give up life-moments to go
somewhere far away and face untold challenges?
Why would someone cash out retirement and savings to live like a pauper during
– and after – a missions trip? Is it
worth it?
Each individual has their own answer to those
questions. For me, I see my life as a
gift from God. I know the failures I
have amassed, the foolishness that I walked into full of purpose only to find
my life at risk, my money gone, my need for a grace-full Savior to get me out
of a mess. My every day is a
present. I don’t deserve it. I look at the full, good life of my family. They live surrounded by goodness and hardly
notice. They are healthy, strong,
creative Christians. I know those are
gifts from God and I owe God in return. Not
only my family, but also my abilities. If
I am able to teach and love, it’s only because God has shown me how. Statistically, that’s not how I should have
turned out.
But God… in His goodness has made me who I am.
When He opened the opportunity, I was compelled to go. I could not say no. Not to Moscow, not to Milwaukee, not to wherever
He sends me next.
Is it worth it? It is.
When I look back at all of the details
of my life, when I consider the experiences and the sharing and the praying and
the blessings … in spite of the cost … I would do it again. I am richer for it. I have learned to hold my memories in
boxes. There is an American box full of
fireworks and coffee sipping. There is a
Russian box full of walking and laughter.
There are boxes full of brilliant,
rich friendships.
Life is full of complications wherever you are. You may as well go where God sends you. Live fully.
Don’t be afraid to do what is at the end of your hands to do. Don’t be disappointed when a door closes. Trust the Author and Finisher of your faith
to know what is best.
In the end, you will find a blessed life with full
pages.
