I was shocked! I could not believe what my peers where saying! That week was one of the most eye-opening for me—and not just because I was at “MK rehab” (as I like to call it).
But, let me a back up a bit. You see, I grew up all my life as a missionary’s kid (MK). I was not too thrilled to be back in the States and away from all that I knew as home, but there I was. My family and I had decided that going to an MK re-entry program would help transition me from Ecuador back to the U.S. culture—and it did. I was expecting to learn a lot about the lingo and customs, the food and habits, the culture and look of Americans and how to fit into it all. What I didn’t expect was the encounter and lessons I learned from other MKs like myself. I was shocked to hear that more than half of these “saintly kids” struggled with suicide and hatred towards missions, towards their parents and even towards God. How could this be? I loved Ecuador, I loved God, I loved the ministry, and I loved my family. Why would we, who could relate to each other’s experiences so well, have such different viewpoints on life, ministry and God?
As it is with most questions, the answers are found with an attentive ear. What did all those kids who hated the ministry to which their parents had given their lives have in common? They had been sacrificed--abandoned. Oh, their parents loved them and would not have classified sending their kids to boarding schools at the tender age of five or being engulfed with ministry as abandonment, but I believe it was. Please, don’t get me wrong, my heart goes out to the parents as well. I imagine that for most, leaving their kids to sitters or schools was the hardest thing they ever sacrificed for God. I would guess their hearts were in the right place as they devoted their lives to teaching and serving others. However, sincerity of heart will not, in most cases, seem justifiable to those sacrificed. Some have discovered, too late, that all along they were sacrificing the wrong things.
Sacrificing the wrong things applies not only to missionaries, but also to pastors, teachers, youth ministers, children’s ministers and all those in ministry with family. It’s easy to condemn corporate fathers for their obsession with work at expense of their families, but it is unthinkable to question those whose “work” involves devoting their lives to service to God. Yet, the results are the same. Many times, we forget God instituted the family before He instituted anything else. That means family came right after man's relationship with God, before work and even before the church. Some, of course, may point to the fact that Christ said, “if anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children…and even his own life—he cannot be my disciple” (Lk. 14:26). However, the parallel passage in Mt. 10:37 makes it clear that, taken in context, this passage is dealing with the issues of putting Christ first.
The question then becomes, what does putting Christ first look like? It looks like we forsake ourselves in pursuit of doing His will—living out the principles He set forth in Scripture. If we look at the OT, we can see how God placed an emphasis on taking care of family. Exemplifying this is His command to the Israelites that a newly wed man was to devote his first year to his wife.
Next, we could turn to Christ on the cross, and in the midst of His agony, taking the laborious breaths to insure the well-being of His mother. Or even more convincing is a look at Paul’s strong words to Timothy, “If anyone does not provide for his relatives and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever” (I Tim. 5:8).
The Bible not only makes it clear that parents have a responsibility to their children, but it also places a strong—maybe even stronger—emphasis on the relationships between husbands and wives. They may also sacrifice each other at times. The high divorce rate among ministers makes this evident. Christians are prone to letting ministry to others get in the way of their responsibility and ministry to family. We must realize the importance of family. Paul, in describing what an elder should be, refers to an elder’s family to define his qualification to lead the church. Failure to lead their family disqualifies them from any other leadership! If they cannot lead those whom they should know best, why should they attempt to lead those they know even less?
Despite the Bible’s emphasis on family, Christians have a tendency to honor those ministers who consume themselves with “ministry” and applaud those who would sacrifice their family for it. Several years ago, I read a book called From Jerusalem to Iran Jaya. It was the history of the spread of the Gospel throughout the world. It retold the lives of missionaries showing the good and bad of these God-fearing men and women. None were perfect. Among the many traits the book there was one that could be praised by some and condemned by others—that of sacrificing their families for their ministries. While these men and women were praised, what has been forgotten is that their ministry was first and foremost to their family. The families of these "heroes of the faith" suffered greatly. For example, William Carey's wife was described by their friends as having gone mad. David Livingston in his own words "orphanized his children.” On top of this, his wife "lapsed into spiritual darkness." And on and on the story goes. Surely, this is not God's desire or design. Surely, His heart breaks for those being hurt—being sacrificed, especially when it’s done in His name.
When parents in ministry invest in their families, their ministries will glorify God more. A family that has been sacrificed will not promote the work, but time invested in ministering to one’s own family has the possibility of increasing the crop many times over. On the one hand, a Godly, healthy family is a strong testimony to those in the church and the world. This world lacks and longs for examples of such a family in this tattered world. Not only is a healthy family one that sets the stage and gives credibility to the Gospel, but a healthy family will also produce posterity to carry out the work. In other words, time invested in family is time invested in the future. Those MKs that forsook their parents’ faith did not contribute to the spread of the Word, but those that fell in love with the mission, whose parents had passed on their love for the Lord, for the people, and for the call, are now either supporting missions, encouraging others to go or have even accepted the call themselves. Their parents can pass the baton to them.
This is true of my life. My father once said that the real test of his parenting was not if we followed Christ, but if his grandchildren and great grandchildren did. He was called to the field and like most has struggled with balancing ministry to others and his ministry to family, but he worked at it. I loved the mission field even though ministry took so much of my father's time. In the later years of my life in Ecuador, my father made a real effort to be involved in the lives of his children. He involved us in his ministry by taking us calling, to studies, and sharing with us some of what was going on. He made an effort to teach the discipleship groups we were in and tried to set aside a day in which we could have a “date” with him. My mother poured herself into teaching and raising us. She did her best to protect us and guide us as we grew and adjusted. All of my parents’ efforts have paid off. My husband and I are preparing to go to the mission field, and my brother and sister-in-law are honoring God with their lives as well.
So many MKs I have known, who've been sent to boarding schools, sacrificed for their parent's ministries, have left the field embittered towards all that would be called Christian. The same applies to those whose parents minister in local congregations here in the U.S. The ministry is one of the greatest yet toughest calls to answer. It requires so much, but the rewards are innumerable. In the same vein, balancing ministry according to God’s heart is tough, but how much better is it when a Godly man finds that devoting himself to family and then ministry reaps not only a fruitful ministry but also posterity to carry it forth?
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
In Spite of the Butterflies
My heart’s racing…can I really do this? I’ve been thinking about it for weeks… I think I can, but… what if…, so many things could go wrong…, but if it works…
The feeling is all too familiar… the same feeling I have every time I try a new roller-coaster, embark on a new journey, visit a new place. I remember feeling this way when I mustered up the courage to jump off a 30-foot cliff into the crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea in Morocco in 2002. The same feeling I had when I boarded the plane the first time I flew internationally by myself at the age of 17… butterflies in my stomach flittering up to my throat.
I have thought and planned and tried to consider every possibility and scenario. At last the time has come. What do I have to lose? Well, a lot, but there is much to gain…freedom and the satisfaction of having accomplished such a monumental task. So, what did I do today? I gathered up my two children and went to visit our teammates. What?!?!?
You may think that sounds easy, but let me shed a little light on the subject. We don’t have a car, so that meant I got the two boys ready, tried to pack a “light”, but fully equipped diaper bag, put on the baby front pack so I could “carry” Nathanael, but still have my hands free just in case. I then had Michael John wear his “Monkey” (a nice little backpack with a tail for Mommy to hold). I made sure they were both properly attired to suit the Russian taste. Too little or too many layers and I would be sure to get an earful from one of the dear old ladies out and about. After giving MJ a serious talking-to about where we were going, how we would get there and the importance of his cooperation, we headed out.
I held on tightly to MJ as we walked the 5 minutes to the tram stop. He walked the whole way without fussing. Then we sat and waited for a tram to come. It wasn’t long before we saw one, and I made sure to give MJ the heads-up about how we would have to enter it. The doors only open for a short time, and there is a very high first step followed by two slightly shorter steps, and we would have to try and find a seat or hope someone sees us quickly and gives up their seat for us to sit and get set in the 45 seconds that the tram spends at most stops.
Ready, set, go! “Step up, MJ!” I half drag him aboard. “Yes,” a seat by the door. “Oh, and one across…I think I can handle this…” Now, I just have to hold on to MJ with one hand while searching for my pass and situating our bag so it’s not in anyone’s way… “Breath, we’re on…” So far so good, no one seems upset by my youngest being in a pack and my eldest being in a harness…if anything, I think I see some sympathetic looks.
Three stops later, “MJ, we are going to get off now. I need you to hold Mommy’s hand as we get down.” Again, he cooperates as he half climbs, half stumbles down the stairs. “Ok, one down, one to go!” We walk around the corner to our other stop and wait…and wait. “Oh, I see one… Dear God, please let it be a number 6 or 10… Sorry, MJ, that’s a bus but it’s not the number we need…” MJ is getting restless… “Finally, there’s a 6... oh great, it’s packed. Here we go… hold Mommy’s hand.” Stumble, stumble, drag, squeeze. Good, someone got up near the door, but I really need 2 seats. Oh, another person’s getting up…” Well, that didn’t work out. I tried to say in Russian that I had to sit together with MJ, but several people started to say things as one of them tries to show me that they will hold on to him, while I take a seat in another row. At this MJ screams, so I quickly sat down (more like leaned on the seat as most of me was in the aisle!) and get MJ calmed down so we can ride the bulk of trip in this terribly hot, packed trolley-bus.
Well, the good thing is, both kids are not underdressed and some of the adults standing around us seem to be amused and are amusing MJ. That helps! I look down to check on Nathanael who has snuggled in and somehow managed to fall asleep amidst the chaos. What a picture of tranquility. I kiss his cheek as I search for MJ’s sippy cup--one of my tactics for keeping my 2-year-old occupied in situations that I know he dislikes… (Smile). He’s still so American in his desire to have his own space!
Twenty minutes later, it’s time to get off. We manage to get down a little more smoothly this time…we just might get the hang of this! Now for the last leg, another 5-minute walk to their house. At this point, MJ wants to be held, but with the constant reminder that up ahead he will get to see his friends, he perseveres. (He doesn’t really have much of choice, since his mommy already has her hands full!!)
(Sigh of relief) We are here and can play, rest, and fellowship for a couple of hours before we try that again. We had a very pleasant visit, and two hours later I gathered up the courage to trek out again. This time our friend carried MJ to the bus stop which was perfect considering it was late and he was getting tired. We got perfect seats on this half-filled bus after only a few minutes of waiting. It was nice.
“What?!” The driver rattles something off in Russian… next stop, he says it again and this time I catch it, the bus isn’t following its usual route. Okay, well, I have about 10 minutes to figure out how to get these two boys home once the bus stops. It’s a good thing MJ was carried because now he has to walk an extra block and a half to find another tram stop. Bless his heart, he’s done wonderfully and with the promise of another sippy cup and crackers, we make it to the stop, sit and end up waiting for a while.
The boys are peaceful, but it’s getting late and the wind has picked up. I keep glancing, straining to see if a tram is coming all the while trying to keep MJ entertained. “Yea, there it is. Ok, MJ, we are going to get on the tram so we can go home and see Daddy.” We get on, not so smoothly this time, but the tram is packed. As it begins to move, someone notices us and gets up so we can squeeze in to a little seat--big momma, big brother and little baby, plus bag! But we are in, several stops later it’s time to try and squeeze off, but again, not so smoothly. “Moshna, moshna”, I try and say, and finally they glance my way and see the kiddos. A guy backs off the tram and helps MJ down! “We’ve made it!!!” Well, not quite, but we only have a 5-minute walk and we’ll be home! We pass by the little store where Daddy often times gets 20-cent cones of ice cream and MJ says “Ice cream?” He’s been so good, but there is a line and mommy just wants to get home! “We have some at home, MJ. Let’s go get some ice cream and see Daddy!” With that, we are off.
“We are home.” (Sigh) MJ did great. Nathanael did great. All in all it went well. So, am I ready to do it again sometime? Let me think about it…(hesitate)…Sure!? ..… Oh! Here come the butterflies!
The feeling is all too familiar… the same feeling I have every time I try a new roller-coaster, embark on a new journey, visit a new place. I remember feeling this way when I mustered up the courage to jump off a 30-foot cliff into the crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea in Morocco in 2002. The same feeling I had when I boarded the plane the first time I flew internationally by myself at the age of 17… butterflies in my stomach flittering up to my throat.
I have thought and planned and tried to consider every possibility and scenario. At last the time has come. What do I have to lose? Well, a lot, but there is much to gain…freedom and the satisfaction of having accomplished such a monumental task. So, what did I do today? I gathered up my two children and went to visit our teammates. What?!?!?
You may think that sounds easy, but let me shed a little light on the subject. We don’t have a car, so that meant I got the two boys ready, tried to pack a “light”, but fully equipped diaper bag, put on the baby front pack so I could “carry” Nathanael, but still have my hands free just in case. I then had Michael John wear his “Monkey” (a nice little backpack with a tail for Mommy to hold). I made sure they were both properly attired to suit the Russian taste. Too little or too many layers and I would be sure to get an earful from one of the dear old ladies out and about. After giving MJ a serious talking-to about where we were going, how we would get there and the importance of his cooperation, we headed out.
I held on tightly to MJ as we walked the 5 minutes to the tram stop. He walked the whole way without fussing. Then we sat and waited for a tram to come. It wasn’t long before we saw one, and I made sure to give MJ the heads-up about how we would have to enter it. The doors only open for a short time, and there is a very high first step followed by two slightly shorter steps, and we would have to try and find a seat or hope someone sees us quickly and gives up their seat for us to sit and get set in the 45 seconds that the tram spends at most stops.
Ready, set, go! “Step up, MJ!” I half drag him aboard. “Yes,” a seat by the door. “Oh, and one across…I think I can handle this…” Now, I just have to hold on to MJ with one hand while searching for my pass and situating our bag so it’s not in anyone’s way… “Breath, we’re on…” So far so good, no one seems upset by my youngest being in a pack and my eldest being in a harness…if anything, I think I see some sympathetic looks.
Three stops later, “MJ, we are going to get off now. I need you to hold Mommy’s hand as we get down.” Again, he cooperates as he half climbs, half stumbles down the stairs. “Ok, one down, one to go!” We walk around the corner to our other stop and wait…and wait. “Oh, I see one… Dear God, please let it be a number 6 or 10… Sorry, MJ, that’s a bus but it’s not the number we need…” MJ is getting restless… “Finally, there’s a 6... oh great, it’s packed. Here we go… hold Mommy’s hand.” Stumble, stumble, drag, squeeze. Good, someone got up near the door, but I really need 2 seats. Oh, another person’s getting up…” Well, that didn’t work out. I tried to say in Russian that I had to sit together with MJ, but several people started to say things as one of them tries to show me that they will hold on to him, while I take a seat in another row. At this MJ screams, so I quickly sat down (more like leaned on the seat as most of me was in the aisle!) and get MJ calmed down so we can ride the bulk of trip in this terribly hot, packed trolley-bus.
Well, the good thing is, both kids are not underdressed and some of the adults standing around us seem to be amused and are amusing MJ. That helps! I look down to check on Nathanael who has snuggled in and somehow managed to fall asleep amidst the chaos. What a picture of tranquility. I kiss his cheek as I search for MJ’s sippy cup--one of my tactics for keeping my 2-year-old occupied in situations that I know he dislikes… (Smile). He’s still so American in his desire to have his own space!
Twenty minutes later, it’s time to get off. We manage to get down a little more smoothly this time…we just might get the hang of this! Now for the last leg, another 5-minute walk to their house. At this point, MJ wants to be held, but with the constant reminder that up ahead he will get to see his friends, he perseveres. (He doesn’t really have much of choice, since his mommy already has her hands full!!)
(Sigh of relief) We are here and can play, rest, and fellowship for a couple of hours before we try that again. We had a very pleasant visit, and two hours later I gathered up the courage to trek out again. This time our friend carried MJ to the bus stop which was perfect considering it was late and he was getting tired. We got perfect seats on this half-filled bus after only a few minutes of waiting. It was nice.
“What?!” The driver rattles something off in Russian… next stop, he says it again and this time I catch it, the bus isn’t following its usual route. Okay, well, I have about 10 minutes to figure out how to get these two boys home once the bus stops. It’s a good thing MJ was carried because now he has to walk an extra block and a half to find another tram stop. Bless his heart, he’s done wonderfully and with the promise of another sippy cup and crackers, we make it to the stop, sit and end up waiting for a while.
The boys are peaceful, but it’s getting late and the wind has picked up. I keep glancing, straining to see if a tram is coming all the while trying to keep MJ entertained. “Yea, there it is. Ok, MJ, we are going to get on the tram so we can go home and see Daddy.” We get on, not so smoothly this time, but the tram is packed. As it begins to move, someone notices us and gets up so we can squeeze in to a little seat--big momma, big brother and little baby, plus bag! But we are in, several stops later it’s time to try and squeeze off, but again, not so smoothly. “Moshna, moshna”, I try and say, and finally they glance my way and see the kiddos. A guy backs off the tram and helps MJ down! “We’ve made it!!!” Well, not quite, but we only have a 5-minute walk and we’ll be home! We pass by the little store where Daddy often times gets 20-cent cones of ice cream and MJ says “Ice cream?” He’s been so good, but there is a line and mommy just wants to get home! “We have some at home, MJ. Let’s go get some ice cream and see Daddy!” With that, we are off.
“We are home.” (Sigh) MJ did great. Nathanael did great. All in all it went well. So, am I ready to do it again sometime? Let me think about it…(hesitate)…Sure!? ..… Oh! Here come the butterflies!
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