Here I am, Send me!

Homeschooling Katie and Tim, I've tried to emphasize to them the importance of missions by reading missions biographies, which I think surpass any fictional or secular adventure story they can read...because God is orchestrating the whole thing. I think I've done better at presenting it to Katie, who was interested from the time she was quite young--and to this day I wouldn't be at all surprised if she did go overseas somewhere. She and I originated and ran a missions reading program one summer in the church we attended at the time. It ended up being participated in by most of the children of the church, and it was very gratifying to see the kids gobble up the reading opportunities there.
I also entertained the idea of us as a family being missionaries, though Gary has never been ready so far when I suggested it, even though for a while we were on a missions committee in one church. I liked to think that I was of the missionary variety of Christian...yet if God willed it so, He would have moved Gary's and my hearts at the same time to do the same thing. At this point, I can't really leave the family for any missions trips on my own; Tim needs me to homeschool him, though Gary probably could get by without me otherwise for at least a while some day...I would hope.
As time goes on, I am more dismayed by the thought of just how difficult the various discomforts would be. Maybe it's age making me love comfort more, aware that my pains are more easily jarred as I age. I am also perturbed that I'm not the most gifted at loving every neighbor or at least at keeping on great terms, especially with those who are difficult in various ways--I'm more aware of that in this neighborhood than any previous. That is to my shame, but I haven't yet overcome my ineptitude there.
Then today, I looked up into the skylight and saw three different types of spiders up there...and realized that they were probably nothing compared with some you'd see in more tropical climates. Somewhere else, perhaps there'd be a tarantula, a scorpion and a boa constrictor, or some such thing, and I think how much I prefer our three little spiders.
Those considerations are no doubt only a small portion of what many missionaries face. I was listening to a chapel sermon from my daughter's college the other day. The man spoke in a whisper as a result of serving as a missionary in Central America, where the drug trade and other matters make it a potentially violent place to be. His whisper came about from being shot in the neck when he drove by someone who mistook him for an enemy. Nevertheless, he wasn't giving up on that work. He glorified God in that circumstance as well.
I know that missionaries are also merely human and do the work through God's power and not their own. Our pastor led a group of four people way into Siberia on a short-term missions trip. It was strenuous in every way, and the demands the people made upon them when they got there were continual--yet they all came home pretty much as healthy as when they left, and had accomplished much in that short time! How else are these people in remote places going to be reached with the gospel? How much should a person love comfort, or coddle their own weaknesses, or worry about safety? Our weaknesses show a window for God's strength to shine through, and where God's will for us is, is where we ought to be even if seemingly bad things befall us. Maybe God can still use me for missions someday.
Because I am aware of the validity of missions, I will continue to try to interest Tim in these biographies which we will read together, hoping that he will consider missions work himself. I had almost forgotten my two favorite small children's missions stories that I really need to bring to church to share in the nursery and Sunday school classes: "Granny Han's Breakfast" and "Ian and the Gigantic Leafy Obstacle." They are short, amazing stories that show God's omnipotence and provision, and maybe some other little child will get a little idea of being a missionary someday too.
I hope that even if I am old before I get the chance, that if the opportunity presents itself, I will, in spite of any aches or pains, stretch myself out to my full short height, wave my hand up high, standing on tiptoe, and call out with an eager, toothless and wrinkled smile, "Here I am, send me!"

A Bleak and Uncomfortable Trip for God's Purposes

Yesterday our pastor and one of our congregation members left along with a neighboring church pastor and one of his congregation members for a remote location I will not disclose at this time for their protection. Suffice it to say that it is not a part of the world that people go to have fun, and from the sound of it, it is far from fun to get there. Two plane flights and a train trip; they left midday Thursday and will arrive late Sunday (our time) from what I could tell. They are a motley crew in some ways: Our pastor had a flu a few weeks back that left him with an asthmatic cough, and I recently heard he also has kidney problems; not only that but the planning of the trip was pretty much his responsibility and as the necessary sequence of events did not fall into place because of matters that were in God's sovereign control, the preparations had to be made a second and then a third time even while he still wasn't feeling so good. I think this delay may have actually been a blessing in restoring him to health after his sickness, but it wasn't an easy or auspicious beginning. The other pastor has an artificial leg; both congregation members have backs that give them trouble, one has a bad hip, and the other has various food allergies including severe allergies to nuts. I think most of these considerations might have given me pause even if God had urged me to go; but He didn't.
Our churches had a prayer night a little while before they left, and the requests must have covered every possible aspect of the trip. One of my prayer requests is that they'd have good water to drink. Our pastor picked out that one prayer request as very unlikely, and the water was described as rusty orange coming from the taps. So I am praying for clean fresh water all the more for them during their stay. I would be delighted to find that in fact God had answered that prayer somehow, and I will be waiting to hear specifically what there might be in that regard.
I am a bit fidgety about the trip, which is weird because I just don't get fidgety. Considering these health problems, a lot could go wrong. So I'm keeping myself busy, but most of all, the best antidote to nerves is to pray. I hate the feeling of being nervous (so I just don't allow it in myself generally and thankfully I'm just absolutely not a worrier), so when I feel it, it is a perfect prayer prompt.
So last night I got on the computer and tried tracking just where they are, what times their time they will arrive places, and found out a little (very little) about their trip--mostly how tough a time they are probably having. First I found a website that helps people coordinate different cities' time zones and the times they all are in simultaneously. That was very helpful! Even with its very clear information I got confused, but after a long time I think I came up with a clear idea of what time they will be experiencing when.
I found their airline website, and it told at least the current status of their flight. It was still suspended in the air, a good thing, and to me all that means is that it is sustained by an unseen hand. Though I've read some about how aerodynamics work, it is still hard for me to fathom just how such a big object as a jet plane can stay steady up in the air that long. Of course, for God to perform that, it's no doubt as simple for Him as my holding a needle in my hand. And not dropping it. (Thankfully God is a God of grace, and that is not my middle name. Ha!)
I then found a train website that sounded like it might be the one they were taking. It had pictures, and the pictures looked good (though of course pictures of such things can and will be deceiving). As I looked longer it became apparent that this was a tourism train for absolutely crazy tourists, and it was prettied up and the website was so polished, and the prices were so unthinkable (in the thousands of dollars) that I knew it was not our group's train.
The next train website I found didn't have pictures. It had the right cities, and didn't have any luxuries expressed, though it assured us that the train was a decent, clean ride. That was a relief. (I had pictured chickens in people's laps, goats eating their lunchbags, and the like.) The fare was $17 per person for a quite long trip, which further convinced me that I had found the right website.
The site had lots more information, all about the city they're visiting, which sounded like it was promoting the city's industry to businessmen. The more I read the bleaker it sounded. I think there is very little of beauty there, though the city is rather large. When I've known people in the past to go on short-term missions trips, they generally go someplace with some redeeming features from a human standpoint, someplace that is fun or touristy in at least some way. They take a day or two out to reward themselves, looking at the sights and experiencing the culture. I don't think this is a planned part of the trip this time. There's nothing to see, from the sound of it. The very ugliness of it may be a form of beauty, perhaps, if you squint and look sideways. It's an uncomfortable place in a lot of ways. This is the third or fourth trip for our pastor, as I recall. He has made friends with a pastor there and looks forward to seeing him and his family again, and hopes to rekindle the friendships he'd made there in years past.
So I pray a lot for this group. I respect all the more fully their willingness to even consider such risks and hardships. I'm going to get a lot done while they're gone. I look forward to their safe and healthy return. And I do want to hear about the water.

The Waorani and God's "Carvings"

Recently Katie and I saw the movie, End of the Spear. It's a very violent movie, but very worthwhile. It relates the story of how in 1956 five Christian men were speared in their effort to bring the gospel to the Waorani people (also known as the Aucas, a derogatory name for them), and how they came to hear and respond to the gospel from the wives of some of these men.
After that movie, I read Tim the children's missionary biography Nate Saint: On a Wing and a Prayer, about Nate Saint, who was one of these men who were speared. I promised Tim that after the book was finished, we could watch a video that we had purchased at a Missions Fest conference about 6 years ago. It was of Steve Saint, the son of Nate Saint, who has since gone to live with the Waorani people at their request, and who spoke at the conference.
Various times through the biography, Tim wanted to stop reading because it is a painful read even though written for children. It was the promise of watching this video that encouraged him to finish the book.
In the video, Steve Saint first read a letter from a woman who believed that missions work was wrong, that the only kindness was to let primitive tribes keep on living the "pure" life they have always lived. Steve had brought along an elderly Waorani man and translated for him his plea for the audience to send more people to other tribes who have not yet heard of God's "carvings," and whose first-hand account of the past violence of his tribe did well to refute the "purity" claimed in the woman's letter.
Steve also related how a group of nonbelievers from U of W went to visit the Waorani and hiked deep into the jungle with a number of them. One woman mentioned to Steve how she'd heard that there was somewhere nearby a very violent tribe who was prone to spearing people; where were they? He told her to ask any member of the tribe where his or her father was. She asked one, who responded that his father had been speared. Another student asked another member of the tribe. His father, too, had been speared. Another student chose another member of the tribe. She said her father, her mother...she named off about 8 members of her family who had all been speared, and pointed to the man among them who had killed them. One woman's entire family had been speared; she alone had been left alive on the condition that she marry the one who speared them; she pointed there to her husband, who was sitting next to Steve.
After all this discussion, one of the students asked with concern whether they were safe here in the jungle with all these people! When this question was translated, the tribespeople laughed. One of the Waorani women spoke passionately to the students for about two hours about their need to follow God's path. She asked if any there would like to follow His path, and one girl raised her hand. She said to her that if the students had visited them before the Waorani had learned to follow God's path, they would not have lived until morning; that since the girl would follow God's path, she knows that even though the girl would fly away in two days, she still will see her again at God's place.
You want adventure, you want meaning in life? Read missions biographies and you'll get it vicariously. Though I have not been a missionary, I have a dream that if I were, I would have adventure added to meaningful living all together--not vicariously, but firsthand. Maybe, someday...
Isaiah 6:8 Then I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?" Then I said, "Here am I. Send me!"