Obedience means we have to fail

The Worst Missionary Ever
Nathan Acheson
www.relevantmagazine.com

I learned to teach in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Sure, I had been trained (and trained well) the summer before in Pasadena, but I didn’t really learn what it meant to be a teacher until later. Now, as I finish another school year in Karaganda, Kazakhstan, I’ve come to the inevitable conclusion after two years of teaching English as a missionary: I’m the worst missionary ever, and that’s OK.

I went abroad for three reasons (they haven’t changed since my interview with Horace). First, I wanted to be involved in ministry someplace overseas. Second, I wanted to travel, and third, I wanted to teach. Teaching with ESI let me do all those things at the same time. There’s no sneaking around with ESI either—some organizations have all sorts of tricky code-phrases and alternate names overseas in an attempt to stay under hostile radar.

There are lots of good and bad reasons for this, but my point is everyone knew I was a Christian, and I got hired anyway. That’s one of my favorite things about my former organization—the openness. Of course, this openness may be why I wasn’t allowed to return to Uzbekistan in the fall of 2005.

In any case, I’m an openly Christian English teacher overseas. That makes me a missionary, I guess. The definition of missionary is a slippery one and a topic that’s maybe better discussed by people who actually know what they’re talking about. All I know is that I’ve been out here for almost two years now and haven’t done a “typical missionary” thing. I haven’t built a church, held a revival or secured my martyrdom. I haven’t smuggled any Bibles (though that sounds pretty fun). I haven’t translated the Gospel of John into the Karakalpak dialect. I can barely communicate in Russian or Uzbek, let alone share the Gospel. In Tashkent it’s impossible to legally meet and study the Bible with other English speakers, let alone invite my students to discuss the ideas in it. Here in Karaganda, I’m not even sure I moved my students along the continuum of spiritual belief at all. The bottom line—I haven’t saved a single soul.

That makes me a failure, right? I mean, what about my supporters who gave me those thousands of dollars—they want some results, yeah? Was it worth it? Am I good stewardship—or in other words, a worthy investment? What is a successful missionary anyway? What makes ministry successful at all? Changing lives for Jesus? Feeding the hungry? Fighting injustice? I didn’t accomplish any of that. I worked 20 hours a week, attempted to learn the language and missed my girlfriend a lot.

My question is wrong. Missions and ministry cannot be successful because we don’t really know what successful means. God isn’t confined to the definition of success in the dictionary. He sees and knows more than we ever will. All missions and ministry safely rest in His hands, and we can’t do a thing about it. When it comes to success, we don’t know what we’re talking about.

This is great news. I can’t save souls, no matter how hard I try or how much I pray. This is a freeing message, though Scripture clearly commands us to go. This is no time to stay home, whether your mission field is overseas or not.

While we’re out there working, don’t get uptight and quantifiable about it. We won’t know if our work is successful, really. We shouldn’t concern ourselves with success at all, actually. Jesus tells us to follow Him, not success. I forgot this at times while overseas. Many churches all over the world have forgotten it altogether. It bears repeating because if you are anything like me, you skip about articles until you see something that you violently disagree or agree with. Jesus wants us to follow Him, not success.

This means we evaluate missions and ministry through a different lens. Do I give to the organization with the better website and more convenient payment plan? Does this mean I choose a church on something besides the coolness of its college and career programs, coffee and worship style? Does this mean something’s wrong when your successful summer Vacation Bible School program has become more important than summer weddings? What is my satisfaction with my ministry dependent on? The regulars showing up on time? New faces every week? Recognition? Lively discussion? Tears? Impact? Growth? Relevancy?

Not bothering about success doesn’t mean we sit idly either. We do everything as if it were for God, because it is. But can we work hard, then, without worrying about success?

I think so. Should I not rather be convinced I am where God wants me? It’s the difference, I suppose, between all the millions of good things I could be doing with my life and doing the right thing.

When I follow Jesus instead of success, I have His permission to fail. I don’t have permission to be a slacker. Nor do I have permission to force God’s plan for me to fit some juvenile ideal of success. I can let God work and rejoice that He’s got an essential part for me to play. That’s my definition of success: Being who God made me to be with everything He gave me.

Empty

The process of being emptied by God is not always the funnest experience. It's painful. Let's be honest. Being pruned and being emptied are two of the most humbling experiences I've ever encountered.

I await, with baited breath, the new person Christ will have made me when this is over-the good work He will do in me. All I know is I am incapable. I can, however, accept that God will do in me what I could never do myself.

I'm learning how to die daily. He's teaching me how to trust in his plan, not my own.

Magic

I need a little magic. Just a little. I need to feel beautiful. I need to feel like the world is not crumbling around me.

Over-rated

Washing my hair. Over-rated. Taking a shower for that matter. Over-rated. I'm not sure if it's my lack of motivation or my dispondent and lethargic disposition as of late that has caused the re-evaluation of personal hygiene. I have no one to impress. I just don't care that much. It takes so much effort to shower, shave, wash my hair, dry my hair, straighten my hair, put product in the hair, slather myself with lotion, put make-up on, pop the contacts in, and cloth myself. It takes forever. It's a production. The only time I would warrant such efforts are special ocassions and dates. I have had neither as of late.

I have had Cake going through my head all day today. It is quite possibly the best way to describe how I feel . 'Nugget' on the Fashion Nugget album. Check it.

Learn to buck up...

Sunday afternoon at the Weinmans'

The smell of glazed ham wafted from the kitchen into the small dining room. She could hear the sounds of her friends shuffling in the kitchen. The clang of Loretta doing the dishes. Ani telling the dog to stay out of the fridge. Brittany and Peter trying to solve the great ham dilemna-when to glaze.

She sat at the small table packed with mocha colored newlywed dinnerware and six too many beer glasses filled with water. The light from the mid-afternoon sun shone into the window and danced playfully off the water like dandelions dancing in the wind.

Ani had fashioned an apron out of a dishtowel and the belt of her worn cutoff jean shorts. Her hair was tossed out like yesterdays news. Curls fell onto her face and swayed in the breeze as she leaned gracefully over the short baby gate to grab the half and half for the mashed potatoes.

Peter leaned over from the stove and touched the small of her back as he kissed the side of her forhead. He loved her. You could just tell by the way her touched her back, like he wanted to protect her from some unseen foe.

She cherished moments like these. Her heart filled with hope that there would be many more moments like this one. Sunday afternoon at the Weinmans.

Day 41

Day 41 without instant messaging.

I'm not going to lie. I miss it more when people don't return phone calls. I've discovered that's a huge pet peeve of mine. I made the effort to pick up the phone and call you, please have the common courtesy to call me back. It's not hard. I'm a nice person, you're a nice person (or I wouldn't really want to be friends with you). Let's make magic.

A moment of self-discovery for you. Reading through the book of Romans for the second time in my life, I've found that God wants us to enjoy Him-His good works, His love, the way He moves in our lives. Christ died not only so that we may be forgiven, but that we could be freed from ourselves. We get in our own way. Christ makes it possible to have the life we never knew we were missing.

God has a funny way of bringing encouragement into our lives at very unexpected moments. Hillary and I were doing the bridal parties hair for Ani's wedding, and as I was picking the next song to play on the ipod, she said to me, "Launa, I love the way you love Jesus. You love Him without having to say anything." Those words touched my heart. It was what I needed to hear that day. Sometimes I feel like I don't love Him enough, or that I'm not doing a good job of expressing how much I love Him.

As Paul says in Romans, pray for me. Pray for the girls God has brought into my life. Pray for significant conversation. Pray that I (and we) may enjoy God in all His wonder and majesty.

I love you, I love your family.