LITMIR.BIZ

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it would look bad, that my life story wouldn’t mean anything, that it would go against everything we’ve ever said, that it would disappoint people, that we would have wasted people’s money, that it might be hard to find a ministry job. But this life is so terrible. I can’t stand it. I can’t find meaning. I can’t find pleasure. I can’t find comfort. I can’t find ease. I can’t find understanding. I can’t even find food I actually want to eat. And every morning I awaken to more needs from the girls. That is endlessly draining. Can’t clean or cook or do anything b/c Faith needs me to hold her. I’m off to more house work now. Dirty, stinky, unending housework. Bartering is so hard, and you do it in two different currencies, two different languages, and never know if it’s a good price.

      So much to fix. I can’t see the end, it goes on forever. This morning I wanted to die. I told Jonathan I wouldn’t kill myself b/c I don’t like pain, but all I wanted to do was to get on a plane alone and run away. Coming here really did seem like a good idea at the time. Not anymore. Plus Faith is sick with a fever, poor cranky baby.

      [Repeat of Themes 1 and 2: High on overreactivity and low on hope]

      Sunday Afternoon, January 29th

      Been sick for two days. Pain, chills, fever (flu-like) along with abdominal pain and diarrhea. Could barely move last two days. I missed church and hated to miss it. When will my heart take up residence in this place? I worry about never accomplishing anything. Never making a difference. To make a difference I’ll have to learn this language (too hard).

      [Themes 1 and 2 strike again: Overreactivity and hopelessness.]

      Somehow I want to make peace with living here as Jonathan has. Being here makes me love my husband more than ever. He is so sweet to me, taking care of me when I’m sick, being patient with my depressed moods and angry outbursts. Seeing him in this setting reminds me how special he is, much more loving than most men.

      [Theme #5 surfaces: I need my husband.]

      Wednesday, February 1st

      I was so sick. Three days of diarrhea and pain, then went to a local clinic. (I thought I was going to die I was in so much pain.) I needed Cipro. Still not back to normal plus I have a terrible head cold on top of that.

      Finding him is no longer fun and exciting. It’s drudgery, fearfulness, pain, sadness. But I am determined to find him in this dark place. He is the light of the world and those who seek him will find him when they seek him with their whole hearts. I will find him. Yes.

      Thursday, February 2nd

      One thing that’s hard about living here (only one!) is that people like to touch my kids, and they don’t like it. How to stop it politely? I don’t know. In a moment of frustration today I started singing Magnificat. I knew I had to praise, and sure enough, I felt better.

      [Theme 3 (worship) to the rescue again]

      Sunday, February 26th

      Church—great worship. “Your Grace is Enough.” “How Deep the Father’s Love.” A Zoe Group song I listened to while pregnant with Faith and during her labor. I cried during “You are My Strength.” Great a cappella song. Felt so good to sing. Made me homesick for heaven when we’ll all be together again singing praises to our King.

      [There I am, relying on theme 3 again (worship).]

      March 27th

      A few weeks into Cambodia I realized it would be more difficult to pack up and leave for home than to stay.

      And then, inexplicably, I stopped journaling. Apparently I didn’t feel the need to journal my unhappiness anymore. So to anyone considering following God in a “big” way, no matter what that is, please do not give up hope that life will improve, that transition will pass. Do not believe that the rest of your life will be as dreadful as it feels right now. Hold on to hope.

      ~~~~~~~~~~

      We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love. (Rom 5:3–5)

      Romance, Science Fiction, and Missions

      by Elizabeth

      What motivated you to go into missions? What keeps you going?

      Romance

      I don’t know about you, but romance is what drove me into missions. The romance of being a great missionary, of changing an entire people group, of seeing a whole country turn to Christ. This romantic idea was first kindled during my children’s homeschool studies of Saint Patrick—the man in the fifth century AD who took the gospel to Ireland, where practically everyone turned from paganism to Christ.

      This dream of mine was further fueled when I learned about one of our organization’s church-planting teams in South America. Churches have been planted that have grown to membership in the thousands. Those churches have planted other churches. Those churches have even sent out missionaries themselves. When I first heard of this field, I thought Cambodia was going to be just like that. Woo hoo!

      Never mind the fact that those missionaries had been building a reality from their dream for over twenty years by the time I ever heard of them. And never mind the fact that all you experienced missionaries are laughing at me right now—I still believe it’s those kinds of dreams that propel us forward, into missions.

      Science Fiction

      Maybe today my initial missionary dream seems like unattainable science fiction to you: completely unrealistic, and completely out of reach. But Ray Bradbury (notable author of the science fiction novel Fahrenheit 451) believed that science fiction actually drove real science:

“I think it’s part of the nature of man to start with romance and then build to a reality. There’s hardly a scientist or an astronaut I’ve met who wasn’t beholden to some romantic before him who led him to doing something in life.”19

      Ray Bradbury continued discussing the idea of romance versus reality:

“I think it’s so important to be excited about life. In order to get the facts we have to be excited to go out and get them, and there’s only one way to do that—through romance. We need this thing which makes us sit bolt upright when we are nine or ten and say, ‘I want to go out and devour the world, I want to do these things.’”20

      Does the reality of life as a missionary start as a dream, somewhere deep in our pasts? In order to go out and teach Christ’s love, do we have to be excited about it? Do we need something that makes us sit bolt upright when we are nine or ten and want to go into all the world? [Or perhaps, if you are like me, something made you sit bolt upright much later, more like age 29.]

Bradbury also said, “We may reject it later, we may give it up, but we move on to other romances then.”21 He clearly thought scientists needed something to motivate their work, even if they shift their focus. I wonder then, do missionaries need the same? To survive on the field, year after year after year, do we need a dream? But is it the original dream that keeps us going, or do our dreams change?

      Science, like missions, is not all guts and glory. There are the countless experimental trials. There’s the disappointment when your data doesn’t support your hypotheses, or worse, it doesn’t make any sense at all. And there’s the frustration when your equipment breaks down, or not everyone interprets the lab results the way you do. Science is not mostly sudden breakthroughs—and working with the hearts of people isn’t, either.

      My dream has changed, sort of. I’m still beholden to the romantic idea that the entire nation of Cambodia could turn to Jesus.

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