People Aren’t Always Beautiful

I said this statement so boldly about a month ago. And again, just the other night. But enter: humble pie, just when you need it. I’ll try my best to walk you through my thoughts the past month or so. Sorry about the crazy mess...

Missionary Envy (noun): The bitter state of feeling like a failure and seeing how wonderful everyone else’s ministry is. Often related to feelings of inadequacy and lack of faith.

I’m really hoping that I’m not the only person in the world who’s had this feeling, especially now that I’ve just blasted this on the Internet. But to be honest, it has been easy to become jealous and discontent with things out here. I was reading about another missionary’s experience where the new language seemed so easy to learn, the people were so beautiful, and missions just seemed so great. And that’s when I became a Bitter Betty. I was so jealous because my experiences haven’t been exactly the same. I mean, what happened to the honeymoon stage???

People often ask what it’s like here, and sometimes it’s difficult for me to fully share about Nagishot, because there are a lot of hard things here. And it’s hard to explain because you’re just plain tired from everything. You’re angry at people who steal from you and the overall lack of justice. (Confession: I chased a kid who stole money from us. Not my proudest moment). Tired of people constantly asking you for things. Hate how wary you become of people and never trusting their motives. Overwhelmed by the stories of murder, suicide, rape, abuse, adultery, theft, arson, abandonment, drunkenness, and lies. And so deeply saddened and burdened by the apathy towards God and the general contentment to live such a depraved and futile life. These are the things that break me. These are the things that make me most frustrated, angry, sad, hurt, and discouraged. These are the things that just recently threw me into a slump of wondering why I’m here and whether or not there’s any hope. The things that cause me to be awake at 1:16 am saying, “God I’m right here, the Didinga are right here…so where are you?” These are the hard things to share because part of me wants to cover the shame, both theirs and my own.  

So this is just one of my many prideful moments where I forget how sinful and wicked and ugly I am too. Jesus didn’t die on the cross because I’m so beautiful and easy to love, yet in the hard moments I fail to remember that I am no less a sinner and am just as much (if not more) in need of a Savior.

My home church is going through the 9Marks book on evangelism and I love this quote from the author:

“When Paul says that we should see people through the eyes of Christ, he means for us to have a gospel view of people. So we see people as beautiful, valuable creatures made in the image of God. Each and every one of us carries God’s mark. That is why Christians believe all people have dignity, worth, and value.

            At the same time, we recognize that every person is fallen, sinful, and separated from God. All people have twisted the image of God into horrible shapes. That is why Christians are not enamored with people either.

            But in a culture of evangelism, most of all we’re mindful of what people can become: new creations in Christ, renewed and restored by the transforming power of God (2 Cor. 5:17). I long to be with Christians who remember that people are image-bearers. I long to be with Christians who remember people’s separation from God. Most of all, I long for a culture that remembers what people can become through the gospel.”

So I must recant my previous statement (whether I’m feeling it or not), and proclaim that people ARE beautiful when you see them in the eyes of Christ.

I promise you I have some other really exciting stories to share about-- great, redeeming moments. The moments that I treasure and can show you a glimpse of Jesus working amongst the Didinga. But those stories are easy to share, and to be fair I thought I needed to post this one first because this is the other side of those good moments.

I’m so thankful for missionary friends and blog posts that are so raw and honest about their experiences. I’ve needed, and clung to, those stories and confessions to feel a sense of normalcy. I wish I could hide my shame and sin, pretending that I’m not drowning in my own self-pity and general lack of humility, love, forgiveness, and faith. But I recently read another blog post that reminded me that the whole story needs to be told. Both good and bad. And so this is my attempt to let you know that whatever the blog post, Facebook update, or Instagram picture, there’s always the good days and the harder days. I’m just praying that no matter the day, I can respond to God in obedience, with thanksgiving and joy.

 

Our friends' home that got burned down. They lost everything they owned, including all the wheat they had just harvested. When we asked what happened, we learned that someone in their family (not sure who) cut the throat of a man, so his wife came and burned their house down.