A letter to a young missionary

A few days ago, I met a young missionary who had just spent two years in Central Asia. We did not know each other personally, but as a youth, she was very much influenced by Joshua 21, a youth missions mobilization movement that I was a part of in the 2000s. 

At some point as we chatted, I commented that different challenges crop up in the life cycle of a missionary. I have been thinking about that observation, and my encounter with the young woman. What would I say to her, and other younger missionaries like her, as someone a few steps ahead in the journey?

The litmus test of true commitment to you and to the cause is righteous and timely action.

The work that we do, if done with love and compassion, moves people. Most people will have an emotional reaction upon meeting us. Some weep, some praise and affirm us, others pledge all kinds of assistance and support. I do not doubt their sincerity, in that moment. But I have also learnt that an emotional response is just that. Feelings come and go. With time, they usually ebb in intensity. You cannot bank on someone's emotional response in a moment of time and assume commitment.

To my young friend, I want to say – don’t listen to words but look for evidence of action. And that action must be righteous and timely. There will be times of crises when help has to arrive, now. Watch who responds, and who doesn’t. A seemingly distant observer who takes risks and springs into action to help will prove to be a truer friend than one who is warm and effusive in good times, but ultimately self-preserving in a crisis.

So never assume commitment; test everything, and hold it all lightly. Appreciate genuine friends, and treat all others politely, without expectations. 

Principles are important.

It sounds lofty and noble to say that we place relationships above everything else. They come first, before work and ministry. 

But in practice, righteous principles are the foundation of all relationships. And again, principles are revealed by one's action, and sometimes, inaction. Observe people in different contexts, especially when the pressure points shift and different influences come into play. Are they consistent, from the mission field to the boardroom, before one person, and in front of many others?

Without principles, in the larger scheme of things, relationships can become cannibalistic and carnal. Once there are competing needs at home, and especially when other vulnerable resources are threatened, long-distance relationships with people who have less power become forgotten or even actively compromised. It is a reality of life. Don't be cynical, but don't be foolish and naive either.

You live in two parallel worlds and the challenge of thriving in both will never get easier

Someone recently asked me how I adjust each time I come back to Singapore. I said that I keep the two worlds separate. I try not to compare how different Singapore is from Timor-Leste anymore. 

Ten years on, and I am have not plumbed the depths of what it really means to live in two separate worlds. The tension is very real.  

Church technocrats expect things to be done a certain way in the name of governance, but missionaries struggle to comply because these systems, when fully implemented on the ground, may not be a blessing to the local people.

The locals wonder why you earn so much more than them, but they will never, ever comprehend the cost of life and ageing in Singapore, and how much you have let go of to live in their midst. You have to make one missionary allowance stretch to insure two very different lives with different risks to manage. You are charged an expat rate overseas, and return home to rocketing inflation.

Distant friends lament that you are not “relational” enough because you do not keep in touch, but “relational” in your daily context means more than texting and chatting. It looks more like fighting for the best interests of the local people and working hard behind the scenes with your true trench buddies who actually provide for and protect your tribe (see point 1).

When at home, you provide support to your family in times of emergency, while continuing to receive sad or worrying news from the field. When back in the field, you juggle other responsibilities, manage a lot of expectations and try to do the best with less, while also receiving bad news from home that you cannot do much about. You fly from one crisis to another. Neither side understands what you deal with on the other side of the border.

You experience two sets of stressors and need two different strategies for coping well. In Dili, I run by the beach, sing (badly) in the car and have deep conversations with my cat. Here, I can’t do any of that. Instead, I stream worship music from the iHop prayer room, and visit the public libraries. In Dili, I can’t do any of that. Two lives, two sets of stressors, two coping strategies.  

 

No, I have not plumbed the depths of what it really means to be a missionary. No one becomes a veteran. We are all beginners.