What do you think of when you hear the word “missionary?” Before this journey, my response would have gone something like this:
Someone who is full of Christ and unafraid. Someone who doesn’t mind leaving family, friends, and comfort, so that others may know true joy in Christ. I had a picture in my mind of a person who is constantly smiling and just oozes of Jesus’ and His love. The most obvious description would be that of bravery.
Like I have said before, I really felt like I would come, and with the help of Christ, change the lives of many in Honduras. It has been a constant struggle and difficult realization that I am the one who needs help and strengthening. I am officially two months in and still cannot fully grasp the reality of being here. God is showing me something new every single day. I have been confronted with ideas, fears, insecurities, worry, hope, inspiration, and in a way that I have never experienced before. I was talking with some new friends this past week about how I have never been so insecure about certain things, until I came here. Moving here and distancing myself from everything I have ever known has somehow surfaced hidden emotions. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I have no clue how to handle these emotions. I have tried talking about them, journaling, praying, but most of the time, all I can do is be still. Is that why God has me here? I have always been someone who thinks I know better for my life than anyone else, including God. By the time I was in middle school, I had already planned out my whole life. Funny thing is, nothing about my life is how I had planned it. Who would have thought?
One of the hardest parts of learning how to be still, is the still part and waiting on someone else to take care of everything. My life in Honduras survives on relying on others for every need. When I graduated college and moved to Charlotte, I was so ready; I could finally be my own person – pay my own bills, save my own money, teach in my own classroom, buy my own groceries. I was completely independent and learned to fully rely upon myself. I have never been much of a feminist, but I thrived in knowing that I didn’t need someone else to support me. I became comfortable, too comfortable. When God lead me to Honduras, my independence was forfeited. In every area of my life (finances, transportation, communicating, protection), I have to fully rely on someone else. Knowing that I cannot buy a plane ticket or groceries without someone supporting me financially, that I cannot drive a car, that I cannot communicate with people at the store, that I cannot enjoy a worship service because I don’t understand it, DRIVES ME CRAZY!!
Who will I be at the end of this journey? This thought haunts me. Will I be any different? Am I seeking the wrong things? I still cannot find the proper way of putting all of my thoughts together. I’m here and I’m feeling and thinking all of these things, but what do I do with it all? Why is my family struggling in certain areas and why am I not there to help? Why can’t I be completely honest and show people that I’m struggling? Is it normal to have no clue what to do? Again, God, why am I here? Out of all the people you could have chosen, why did you choose me?
My new definition of missionary:
Someone who experiences a journey of constant uncertainty and discomfort, but in the end, finds __________________________.
Praying that the blank of our lives are filled with the goodness that only comes from our God. He is the true author of our stories.