Rethinking Short Term Missions: Long Term Thinking

America has experienced a high percentage of unemployment these past few years. Those in construction have been hit especially hard.

Follow me with this scenario:

You’re a construction worker, highly skilled in building and carpentry. You haven’t had work in over a year and you have no idea how you’ll put the next meal on your family’s table. You find out through your church that a group of Christians from England are coming to your area to help those struggling. They plan to help your area by building a home and painting walls.

What’s your response to this?

Mine would be: “Why would these people spend all this money on flights, hotel, food and more to do something that I’m more than capable to do, especially when I could use that money to feed my family?”

Hmm, I wonder how many others have asked that same question…

So, to this I pose the question: why are we raising thousands upon thousands of dollars to go overseas and do something that the people there are more than qualified to do?

Remember: I am all about short term missions. But it must be thought through carefully. In light of Amy Carmichael’s weighty post before, we can see that missions is very important and should not be taken lightly.

Let me say what I see as a very important factor:

Short term missions should be a part of the long term goals on the field.

If you go and do a short term project, the effect of your visit will last as long as your time in the country. If you go and partner with those doing long term work there, then the effect of your visit will last much longer. 

While short term trips can have a positive long term effect, they can also have a negative one. Ill prepared teams can hinder or break established relationships.

I’ve often heard, “I don’t know what I’m good at so I thought I’d just go and do (insert random task)”. You are more qualified than what you think. You should be using the gifts and talents that God has given you.

When I had people visit me in Uganda, I was passionate about using the gifts that God had given them to be a part of what we were already doing. That way, the effect of what they did in two weeks would last far beyond their visit.

Example: My brother has a business degree and owns his own business. He taught the widows in our jewelry project business skills that they could use in their every day life.

With that in mind, what kind of questions should be answered?

Before you plan your trip, ask such questions as these:

Are there long term missionaries on the field? If so, how can we partner with them? What do they see as the need? What are the gifts and talents of those on the team? Do they match up with what the need is? If so, how can the team maximize the time on the field to help the long term effort? If not, how can we rethink our trip to utilize these? Do we need to look at a different country where our gifts and talents match up?

What other questions do you think should be asked before one detail is planned?

Home Sweet...Where?

I’m a late processor (as if you couldn’t tell that from my emotional breakdown a month after leaving Uganda) and lately, I’ve been processing my two years in Uganda. It's been nine months since I left and I'm just getting to this. Like I said, late processor. There was obviously so much good. It’s home. I love it. It’s where so many loved ones are. It's where my heart is. I am literally aching to move back for good. However, there were definitely bad and difficult times. It’s those things that I’ve been processing through. The hurt. The betrayal. The fear.

Last week was my mission agency’s annual spiritual renewal conference where the entire worldwide missions family comes together and seeks the face of God. It was so freeing to talk to people who could understand. Not in a “I understand the words that are coming out of your mouth” kind of way but a deep heart understanding. Most of my Uganda field was there which made it like a family reunion (dramatic running hugs included). Since I’ve been processing some of the more difficult times, it has been indescribably freeing to talk about this with people who truly deeply understand what I went through as well as what I’m still going through.

There’s something about communing with missionaries. There’s this deep understanding that we have of each other. They could live in Austria and though I live in Uganda, we have this deeper understanding of each other and the struggles of every day life. It amazed me how quickly we would delve into deep conversations. Five minutes in and we were talking about the difficulties of reverse culture shock and struggles in our lives.

Bonus: we can also talk with much expertise on international airports.

I felt insanely honored to even be there. I was surrounded by these amazing men and women who have spent the last 20? 30? 40? years of their lives serving God throughout the world. My two years looks rather pitifully small next to them. They are my heroes. The wrinkles on their faces crinkled with wisdom. The gray hairs on their heads spoke of the experiences that they have had. They have gone before my generation and marked the trail. I kept thinking of Hebrews 12: "all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on" (Message). 

Someday…I want to be like them.

I have incredible friends here in America. I’m constantly humbled by their love that crosses the thousands of miles between us. Sadly, no matter how much they can try to understand, they can’t. It’s been a heartbreaking discovery. As friends, you want someone else to understand you completely and where you’re coming from. There’s been this sense of loneliness knowing that no one else can fully understand what I went through nor what I’m going through now. There have been some heart sinking moments in my time here in the States where I have realized that it’s just not possible for them to truly understand, no matter how hard each of us tries. How can I ever fully put into words what it’s like to no longer have a home culture? To not feel at home in the place that I was born and raised. To not fit in with my home culture nor the culture where I now live. This sense of homelessness and the frustrations that come with that. The difficulty of remembering how to act/talk/socialize in American culture. Feeling overwhelmed by the fast pace American decision making. Trying to think of the English word for something and only thinking of it in another language. And more…and more…

This is the life of this missionary and from what I’ve gathered, many others as well. It’s difficult in ways that most can never understand. It’s also more exciting and fulfilling than anything else that I have ever been a part of.

I mentioned these struggles to a friend and they replied, “it must give you a greater understanding that this world is not your home”. While at the time I didn’t appreciate that response (the sense of homelessness isn’t quite a good feeling), it is true. This world is not my home. I look forward to the day that all of my friends and family throughout the world are in one place, glorifying His name. A place where cultures will all come together and we will all have one everlasting home. What a party it will be! Can you even begin to imagine? God's beautiful diverse creation all in one place, the boundaries of culture and language no longer holding us apart. Together. In one voice. Praising our King.

Yes, that’s when I’ll truly be home…

Lessons From Sesame Street

Whenever someone uses my computer, the first thing they often say is: “whoa, you have so many things open”. If they are using my internet browser, then it’s “holy cow, you have a thousand tabs open!”. They’re right. I like to have everything that I’m working on open at the same time. I swear it helps. As far as internet tabs, it’s all that I’m currently researching. Included in there are some favorite songs that I can only find there that I like to listen to over…and over.

I was visiting my brother and his family in California in January. One afternoon, my niece and I cuddled up to watch Sesame Street videos on YouTube. Sticky little fingerprints covered my screen as she pointed to Elmo at every appearance ("Auntie Chaiyah, watch Elmo!"). We came across this one by will.i.am and…I have a confession to make. That video has been one of my tabs for weeks as I listen to it over…and over. It plays in my head and I catch myself humming it. It’s just so darn catchy!

Sidenote: some of the video comments are hilarious, mainly mentioning how will.i.am looks as though he is performing community service by doing this video.

During one of my listens, I checked out the other suggested videos on the side and saw one entitled “Magnify”. It took me by surprise.  I thought, “I can’t believe that they have a worship song on here”.

Dead serious.

I watched the video and then realized that OBVIOUSLY, this was about magnifying something with a magnifying glass, not about magnifying Jesus.

Yeah, my blonde roots show sometimes.

While the archaic term means “glorify”, it got me thinking about looking at God through a magnifying glass. I thought of those biology classes where you’d see all of the microscopic details of a bug. It makes the object larger than it was and you are able to see all of the tiny details that are impossible to see otherwise. While the little details of a bug never really interested me (three older brothers and still a girly girl), I thought about what it’d look like to magnify Jesus in my life. What would I see? What would I notice that I otherwise wouldn't? What would it look like to magnify Him in my life? What would my every day look like if I did this?

When my problems and frustrations seem so big, may it remind me that He is bigger. When I become too focused on myself, may I instead focus on Him. When the unknowns of my life overwhelm me, may I look close at Who controls my life.

What about you? How would magnifying God change your every day life?

An Unworthy Friend

I came across this hymn today and couldn’t stop rereading the lyrics. It left me in awe of my Savior…my Lord…my Friend.

Jesus! What A Friend For Sinners!

Jesus! What a Friend for sinners!
Jesus! Lover of my soul;
Friends may fail me, foes assail me,
He, my Savior, makes me whole.

The title of this song struck me. So often I think of myself as not good enough, as if I need to clean myself up for Jesus. But, no! Jesus, what a friend for sinners, ie. people who go against God all the stinkin' time! Perfect God being friends with those that go against Him constantly. Knowing how sinful that I would be, He died for me. I cannot look to another human to satisfy me, whether that be a friend or a potential husband. They will fail me. No matter what Hollywood tells me, they will not complete me. Not only will Christ not fail me, but He loves me in my failings.

Chorus:
Hallelujah! What a Savior!
Hallelujah! What a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,
He is with me to the end.

He is so much a part of my life. He has saved me from the punishment that I so deserve. He is a friend who knows the depths of my heart and is faithful to the end. His love for me can’t be described in a poem or love letter. His love for me surpasses all that I can even imagine. His faithfulness shows that He will never leave me.

Jesus! What a Strength in weakness!
Let me hide myself in Him.
Tempted, tried, and sometimes failing,
He, my Strength, my victory wins.

Sometimes failing? I’d change that to “often failing”. My weaknesses are so clear to me. I can try to hide them from others but I cannot hide them from God. He knows me so completely. He knows the gifts and talents and also the struggles and temptations. When I rely on my own strength, I think that I can do it when in fact, I can’t. In my weakness, His strength shines through. In my weakness, I can take shelter in Him. Though I feel as though I lose battle after battle, it is through Him that there is ultimate victory.

Jesus! What a Help in sorrow!
While the billows over me roll,
Even when my heart is breaking,
He, my Comfort, helps my soul.

There is not a doubt that sorrows have come and will continue to. When I feel as though I have cried out every tear and my heart is overwhelmed, I am not alone. No matter how lonely I may feel, the truth is that He is my help and comforter. Oh God, help me rest in that truth.

Jesus! What a Guide and Keeper!
While the tempest still is high,
Storms about me, night overtakes me,
He, my Pilot, hears my cry.

My Guide. My Keeper. My Pilot. I love the imagery of this. I heard an illustration talking about how God doesn’t hold the flashlight out showing us 10 steps ahead but instead, holds it right at our feet in order that we only see the next step ahead of us. Each step He guides. Each step we walk by faith. No matter how insane my life feels or how lost I think I am, not only is He present but He is guiding me. He is flying me through the storms, never leaving my side. My problem? I'm in the co-pilot seat trying to tell the pilot where to go and trying to take over the controls. I'm a bad back seat driver.

Jesus! I do now receive Him,
More than all in Him I find.
He hath granted me forgiveness,
I am His, and He is mine.

Though He knows all of my failings and weaknesses, He chooses to forgive me. Unreal. I don’t deserve it. I can search the world over and try to find a friend like Him but I won’t find it. His faithful love is overwhelming. His personal care is unfathomable. I am His…and He is mine. I am His daughter. He is my Abba.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!
Hallelujah! What a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,
He is with me to the end.

Thy Brother's Blood Crieth

Years ago, long before God began guiding my heart towards missions, I came across this short story by Amy Carmichael. It broke my heart then and does so every time I reread it. It inspires me to GO. As we begin this journey of discussing short term missions, let us realize that above all, our world desperately needs Christ.  Be inspired. Let's GO.

The tom-toms thumped straight on all night, and the darkness shuddered round me like a living, feeling thing. I could not go to sleep, so I lay awake and looked; and I saw, as it seemed, this:

That I stood on a grassy patch, and at my feet a ravine broke straight down into infinite space. I looked, but saw no bottom; only cloud shapes, black and furiously coiled, and great shadow-shrouded hollows, and unfathomable depths. Back I drew, dizzy at the depth.

Then I saw forms of people moving toward the edge. There was a woman with a baby in her arms and another little child holding on to her dress. She was on the very edge. She lifted her foot for the next step... Then, to my horror, I saw that she was blind. Before I could say anything she was over, and the children with her. Their cries pierced the air as they fell into the inky blackness of the ravine!

Then I saw more streams of people flowing from all quarters. All were blind, stone blind; all walked straight toward the edge. There were shrieks as they suddenly knew themselves falling, and a tossing up of helpless arms, catching, clutching at empty air. But some went over quietly, and fell without a sound.

Then I wondered, with a wonder that was sheer agony, why no one stopped them at the edge. I could not. I was glued to the ground, and I couldn't even yell; though I strained and tried, only a whisper would come out.

Then I saw that along the edge there were sentries set at intervals.

But the intervals were too large; there were wide, unguarded gaps between. And over these gaps the people fell in their blindness, unwarned; and the green grass seemed blood-red to me, and the ravine yawned like the mouth of hell.

Then I saw, like a little picture of peace, a group of people under some trees with their backs turned towards the ravine. They were making daisy chains. Sometimes when a piercing shriek cut the quiet air and reached them, it disturbed them and they thought it was a rather crude noise. And if one of their group started up and wanted to go and do something to help, then all the others would pull that one down. "Why should you get so excited about it? You must wait for a definite call to go! You haven't finished your daisy chain yet. It would be really selfish," they said, "to leave us to finish the work alone."

There was another group. It was made up of people whose great desire was to get more sentries out; but they found that very few wanted to go, and sometimes there were no sentries for miles and miles along the edge.

Once a girl stood alone in her place, waving the people back; but her mother and other relations called, and reminded her that her furlough was due; she must not break the rules. And being tired and needing a change, she had to go and rest for awhile; but no one was sent to guard her gap, and over and over the people fell, like a waterfall of souls. Once a child grabbed at a tuft of grass that grew at the very edge of the ravine; it clung convulsively, and it called - but nobody seemed to hear. Then the roots of the grass gave way, and with a cry the child went over, its two little hands still holding tight to the torn-off bunch of grass. And the girl who longed to be back in her gap thought she heard the little one cry, and she sprang up and wanted to go; at which her friends reproved her, reminding her that no one is necessary anywhere; "The gap would be well taken care of!", they said. And then they sang a hymn.

Then through the hymn came another sound like the pain of a million broken hearts wrung out in one full drop, one sob. And a horror of great darkness was upon me, for I knew that it was "The Cry of the Blood".

Then a voice thundered. It was the voice of the Lord, and He said, "What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground."

The tom-toms still beat heavily, the darkness still shuddered and shivered about me; I heard the yells of the devil-dancers and weird, wild shrieks of the devil-possessed just outside the gate.

What does it matter, after all? It has gone on for years; it will go on for years. Why make such a fuss about it? God forgive us!

God arouse us! Shame us out of our callousness! Shame us out of our sin!

1 John 3:17

Paraphrased by Amy Carmichael

"But whoso hath the gospel of Jesus Christ, and seeth the heathen lost and dying in their sin, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?"

Rethinking Short Term Missions: An Introduction

I read this post by Jon Acuff today and remembered that I had mentioned one time that I was going to write a blog about the different mindsets of a short-term and long-term missions (I’m sure you’ve all been on the edge of your seat waiting for it). I’d like to expand that more and talk about short term missions as a whole. This is something that’s been on my heart for awhile. It’s, in fact, something that I’m deeply passionate about.

Allow me to preface this by saying: I am by no means an expert in this area and would never claim to be. I may even be dead wrong in my observations. There are numerous others who have written about this that are far more qualified to talk about this subject and can put it into words better than I can. However, I learned a lot living in Uganda the past two years. I learned what an absolute idiot I was on the short term trips that I had been on before. I was reminded of that by watching other short term trips come to Uganda, being embarrassed/horrified/surprised by the things they did and then realizing how I had done all of those things before.

I’m a big fan of short term trips. God used those trips in my life to bring me to this point now (despite my seriously idiotic moments). If you’ve been able to hear me talk about Uganda in person, you’ve been able to hear how much I encourage people to come and be a part of what God is doing. I encourage these trips…but I think it’s time for some rethinking.

I went to a conference this past October with a local church. I had some great conversations with one of the pastors about short term missions. We talked about the need to revamp these trips. Honestly, his reaction to what I said surprised me. Sometimes I worry that I’m like that person Jon Acuff wrote about. I’ve tried to bite my tongue and not come across as a know-it-all, haughty and/or making blanket statements that may not be true. I don’t think that I have any earth shattering insights. Again, not an expert here. But, for him, it opened his eyes to a different side of missions. It made him rethink how his church does missions. Through that, he’s encouraged me to talk more about this. And, I figure, if this helps spread the name of Christ throughout the world, then let’s do that.

Because, really, that’s what this is all about.

Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit (Matthew 28:19)

How can we make short term trips more effective? Really, the question is: how can we help spread the name of Christ through out all nations?

I’d like to spend a few blog posts on this going over various topics such as:

-       The point of short term trips: why are we even doing these?

-       The pre-trip planning: what can you do before you even get on the plane to prepare?

-       The on-the-field time and how do make that more effective and avoid cultural gaffes.  This is probably where I’ll park for awhile.

-       Oh you know, and more topics that I’ll probably think of along the way. I’ll take topic suggestions too so…suggest and I’ll make something up or give my best answer…or ask trusted missionaries that are wiser than me.

I’m about to embark on a three month travel extravaganza. However, I’m going to really try to keep up with this. Until then, I’d like to point you to one of those people that has already approached this topic and done so excellently. Check her out (and be reminded that she totally stole my title...or I stole hers. Whichever). You just must read her posts on short term missions that she has nicely put on one page here. Seriously, read it. Or, you can wait until I write and will probably use a lot of what she says. Just kidding. Maybe…

Perhaps in rethinking how we "go" we can improve the possibility of "making disciples".

Perhaps those one-two week trips can have an impact long past when the team flies away.

Perhaps we can better "all the nations" for Christ.

Ready for the journey?

The Reign of Mouse Terror

I was sharing rodent stories with a friend and realized that I had never blogged about the infamous mouse infestation we had in Kampala. I seriously can’t believe it. In April of 2010, this was my LIFE (slight exaggeration…but only slight). Although in ways I can. Life in Uganda was so busy that I failed to blog much of life there. This time in the States is a good time for me to catch you all up on what happened in the past two years. So, enjoy…

My roommate Kate was the killer of the house. By that I mean she would kill any insect or bug for me. I would cook her dinner. She would kill cockroaches in my room. And reach tall things for me. It was a great deal. She was my hero. However, Kate left for the States to visit her family in the month of April leaving my roommate Kacie and I. I can’t remember if we knew we had a mouse when Kate left but oh, the evidence became clear.

At first we thought we had one mouse but soon we were pretty sure there was more than one. These were no ordinary mice. They had super human powers. They had acrobatic abilities that made me think that they had worked in a traveling circus.  You think I’m exaggerating? The mice would run along the gas line to our stove, jump to a small ledge behind the stove and then leap ON TOP OF OUR COUNTERTOPS. Once on our counters, they had access to the WORLD. We would open our cupboards and out would jump a mouse. There were mouse droppings EVERYWHERE: on our silverware, on our newly washed dishes, etc. These mice literally controlled our kitchen for an entire month.

Don’t think we were sitting back waiting for them to die of old age. We tried everything to kill these super powered rodents. There were mouse traps…that would be licked clean of peanut butter with no dead mouse.  There were sticky glue traps…that I literally watched one mouse land into and get out of it.  Super. Human. Powers.

The mice would hide in the area behind the stove, making it impossible to get to them.

Until…

The mice weren’t scared of us. Obviously. They were brave. And one day, one of them got an extra dose of confidence.

I was sitting at the kitchen table facing the kitchen.  I saw the mouse inch his way toward the door. This happened a couple times and he would scurry back to his haven. I got a broom out for the next time. The next time came and I ran at the mouse with my broom, slamming the broom at the mouse while screaming hysterically the entire time (please, visualize this. I’m sure I looked ridiculous). The mouse ran under our refrigerator and I knew that this was our only chance to rid our house of this mouse. Kacie and I boarded up the area under the oven with bags of flour and cutting boards so that he couldn’t hide there. And then we called reinforcements.

I had Kacie watch the fridge while I went to get our night guard Michael. Michael came in, looked under the fridge and requested a stick. Michael poked the mouse under the fridge, trying to get him to come out. Kacie and I were holding mixing bowls and colanders, clearly ready to help by um, throwing them at the mouse? 

And then…he came.

All of a sudden, the mouse was running rampant all over the kitchen. Within seconds, Kacie ran screaming out of the kitchen, closing the door. Inside of the kitchen was me, screaming while holding my colander, and Michael, chasing the mouse with the stick. Michael cornered the mouse, stepped on it and used his stick to kill it. 

Within 60 seconds, our month long hellacious mouse infestation ended…

…until the next day when we realized that there was indeed more than one mouse.

The problems continued until the night Kate came back from the States, fancy new mouse trap in hand.  Kate set the trap the night she returned. The next morning I came out to the kitchen, checked the trap and…there it was. The second mouse.

THE REIGN OF TERROR HAD ENDED.

Kate had been home for less than 12 hours and the second mouse was dead.

Like, I said, Kate was the killer of the house…and we were forever grateful.