Over the last few years I’ve been transitioning. Now I know that the word “transitioning” has been stolen by our culture and carries with it certain ideas but don’t worry, I was born a man and I’m staying that way. No, this transition has been from a dead man to an alive man. God’s been working on me.
Initially missions attracted me primarily because I loved the idea of traveling to foreign, exotic lands and seeing first-hand miraculous signs and wonders being performed. I liked the idea of being a hero in a story, frankly. I wanted my life to be different and exciting, kind of like an Indiana Jones but in a missions context. I wanted to be a weather beaten man with thick scruff on my chin and a furrowed brow hunched over eyes flickering with haunting memories of hard won spiritual battles. I’d always be muttering things like, “You have no idea what these eyes have seen.” I’d be the dark brooding man with few words and a grim spirit who always rained on the optimistic ideas of greenhorns around me. “Life is pain,” I’d say, just after someone blew out the candles on the birthday cake, “You spoiled kids have no idea how to survive.” I’d have young missionaries coming up to me asking for advice. I’d be like “Quit while you’re ahead. You can’t handle it kid.” Or, like the Hub, the old codger in the movie Secondhand Lions, does to a young hoodlum, I’d grab a young missionary by scrunching up his shirt with my fist, lifting him in the air, and yelling in his face, “I’ve seen the headwaters of the Nile, and tribes of natives no white man had ever seen before. I’ve won and lost a dozen fortunes, killed many men! (I’d likely trade “killed” for “saved”) and loved only one woman with a passion a flea like you could never begin to understand. That’s who I am. Now go home, boy!” If he didn’t run home to his mama whimpering, then maybe he had what it took to be a missionary.
This is how I liked to imagine myself someday, if I’m being honest.
God’s been showing me I’ve been a proud fool. The fool part I always suspected but the proud part stung my pride a little. This missionary stuff isn’t a solitary journey of heroism. Instead, I need to adopt the attitude of the college professor who said, “If God could speak through Balaam’s [insert Biblical term for donkey], he can probably speak through me.”
As we’ve been working through our MMS apprenticeship, I’ve been learning more than just how to fix airplanes. I’ve been hearing many stories of missionaries, some who were successful, some who weren’t, and some who didn’t know either way. Some came home early, some stayed a long time. A common experience was suffering. This is the life of a soldier entrenched in a stagnant, eternal war – not the humanitarian awareness trip of the spouse of a jet setting billionaire. And, as the reality of what missions may look like and what it may cost my family sets in, I’m becoming increasingly aware of something: I can’t do this. I’m absolutely going to fail if I do it on my own.
When we were accepted by Samaritan Aviation, a sense of excitement hit me but also a sense of “Oh my goodness, this is actually happening.” Janice was like, “Of course, what did you expect?” I don’t know, I guess I figured they would eventually read this blog and be like, “We can’t use this clown!” We will be flying out to San Diego to do some cross-cultural and team-building type of activities with two other new missionary families that are moving to Papua New Guinea this year with Samaritan Aviation (SA), the Condons and the Vissers. Before the training we were given a list of books to read. I rolled my eyes just a little. Great! More books! Now, I’m being honest here so don’t get all hostile, but sometimes these spiritual self help books essentially tell you to “just love God more.” I already know I’m supposed to do that so telling me to do it again isn’t helping. But with the fervor that comes with being-the-new-kid-on-the-block-and-not-letting-your-team-down syndrome, I bought the books on the list and began reading them. Quickly my eye rolling stopped and I, once again, realized I was a proud fool. These are great books and they have quite possibly changed my life. They certainly inspired this post.
Two of the books I love most, and highly recommend, are The Mind of a Missionary by David Joannes and The Spiritual Danger of Doing Good by Peter Greer. Granted, maybe I’m in a position where, since we’re moving to Papua New Guinea in eight months, I was invested in the information they were giving me. Kind of like when you’re skydiving and the instructor strapped uncomfortably close to you is giving you a pre-jump rundown. He tells you to pull this cord when he tells you to do it, not before and not after. When he tells you to do it. You’re wide eyed and nervous but you listen well to his instructions because your life hangs on his experience. He’s done it before and lived to tell about it! So when the wind is rushing past your ears at 120 mph and bugs are exploding on your face and streaking up your forehead, you ignore all that while straining and waiting to hear his still small voice so you don’t go SPLAT!
If we jumped alone, we’d go SPLAT! The war we’re jumping into is so much bigger than our family and the forces aligned against are so much stronger, more experienced, and smarter than we are. If we do this alone, we’re doomed for failure. The stories in the books I mentioned earlier made that clear. While I’ve been reading them I’ve had epiphany after epiphany showing me that God is my father and I’m the screaming kid in the candy aisle not getting the empty, sugary blessings I want as soon as I want them. “You don’t love me!” I scream as everyone else in the store blushes and pretends that everything is fine and it’s normal to lay on the floor, kick your legs, and spray tears and snot all over the floor.
He has something much bigger in mind for me and giving me all the candy I want will not get the job done. He knows that. It’s time I learn it myself.
He has something much bigger in mind for me and giving me all the candy I want will not get the job done. He knows that. It’s time I learn it myself.
The books I’ve been reading have shown what it may cost us to follow God to the ends of the earth and I found myself shrinking back thinking, “I can’t afford to pay that.” Until God showed me that I was focusing solely on the cost, not the reward.
When God conspires to teach you something, it seems like a bunch of people from different spheres of your life who don’t know each other have somehow conspired to coordinate their input into your life. At the same time I’m reading the books required by Samaritan, we’ve been going through a curriculum called “True Spirituality” by Chip Ingram in our Sunday school class. Now, the only other Chip I know is a flatulent horse but don’t worry, I’ve found the two aren’t that comparable. Chip Ingram has better insight into spiritual things. Chip, the author, told the following story to illustrate how our perspective should shift as we surrender everything to follow God. I will attempt to retell it without ruining it.
John was a history buff who also loved auctions. He found himself at an old house that was expected to sell for around $90,000. It was old, dilapidated, and wasn’t considered anything special. Being a history buff, John thought the house may have been from the Civil War era. As he walked through the house before the auction started, he saw some old muskets in the corner that confirmed his suspicions. He wandered into the basement and found an old desk. It too looked like it was from the same era and as John poked through it he found one of the drawers had a false back. In the secret compartment he found a bag of coins that he knew were Confederate gold coins and were likely worth millions. So he sold his Volkswagen Jetta, his motorcycle, all his stereo equipment, his tools, his snowboard, and everything else he owned so he could scrape up $90,000. He bought the house and a short time later sold the coins for $10 million. Now, as Chip points out, we must be terrible people without an ounce of compassion because none of us feel bad for John. After all, he sold everything he had! Everything he owned – gone! – and we don’t even feel sorry for him. Why not? Because we know what he received in return. What he lost was insignificant to what he gained. As I was getting overwhelmed with the potential cost of missionary service, I found God challenging me to look beyond this world and see the reward in the next.
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.
Romans 8:18
The natural world is always pulling our focus back to the pain we feel in the here and now. We need the Holy Spirit and we need other people to help us focus on eternity. The more of an eternal mindset we have, the easier we find it to surrender everything we have to gain what Christ is calling us to do. But we can’t possibly do it alone. Like William Cary said so long ago, “I am willing to be lowered into the darkness, to venture down into that mine to dig, but remember, you must hold the ropes!”
I’m inviting everyone out there to help us do this, in whatever way God allows you to do it. Prayer, finances, encouragement, networking connections, etc.
Hudson Taylor said “There are three stages in the work of God: Impossible; difficult; done.”
I was sitting at a red light in Goshen, Indiana three years ago while we were raising support to start serving at MMS Aviation. I was overwhelmed at the path before us and telling God repeatedly, just to make sure He heard me, “I can’t do this, Lord.” He replied, “Exactly. You need my help.” The message is clear: God dreams bigger than we can achieve without him. It was impossible. Then it was difficult. Now we’re looking at the end of our time here and I can’t believe it’s almost done. I want to thank so many of you who have been supporting us both prayerfully and financially through our time at MMS Aviation. You’ve made it possible to get the qualifications we needed to be useful at Samaritan Aviation. Yes, serving in Ohio isn’t as glamorous as serving in Papua New Guinea but it was a necessary step. You guys got us here. There’s that quote, “God doesn’t call the qualified but qualifies those he calls.” You were part of that process. Thank you!
Once again we are looking at something that seems impossible to us. We have, from my perspective, a mountain of money that we need to raise. We have a new language to learn. We will not have our usual relationships to rely on during the most difficult times of our lives. Our children will be exposed to malaria and parasites. But I know, from prior experience, that this isn’t impossible. It will be difficult. Then it will be done. Then the process will happen again. And then again. And we’ll look back one day and say, “How on earth did that all work out?”
I’m putting an awfully lot of stock in the fact that God can use even dumb beasts of burden to accomplish something miraculous. I consider myself smarter than a donkey so I remain hopeful. Pray for us that, first and foremost, our relationship with God will grow because out of that flows the ability to do what He’s calling us to do.
I mentioned to Janice that I was going to write an honest blog post and she was immediately worried. “Are you going to let me read it first?” She asked.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because when you get all honest, you get really honest and I need to make sure you’re not saying something you shouldn’t. Sometimes people don’t need to know all those things.” She said.
I’m not sure Balaam’s donkey knew what he was saying, I think he just opened his mouth. Hopefully what comes out of mine means something to someone.
From a little hamlet in Ohio,
Josh
P.S. If you feel led to financially support our work we’ll be doing at Samaritan Aviation, we’d be grateful. Click here for a secure giving site.
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