When Camels Slide Down Doors Do You Tell the Neighbors?

Excerpted from Chapter 2—Defining “Mission”

When we made the offer for Martha’s folks to live with us, and they said yes to accept, we had no clue. We had no clue about anything. We thought we did. We could wrap our decision in holy garb and blend it with the best of church clichés on such matters. In reality, however, a journey such as this transcends any and all casual labels. In fact, if you are someone on a journey like this, or one who has made a similar journey, then you know precisely of what is spoken here.

Furthermore, even when those of us who have traveled this road come together, as often as not conversations are not lengthy because understanding cannot be defined by words alone, no matter how much energy one expends trying to massage those words into someone else’s lobe of comprehension. Such understanding can only occur three dimensions deep between the hearts and souls of those who have periodically brushed up against another who has walked in similar shoes.

What this mission has taught us about heart, and soul, and faith—and faith—and the human condition, and the spirit (and Spirit) within us, in almost all regards exceeds the sum total of every lesson we have learned in almost thirty years of ministry service together.

What about defining mission? Prior to our decision to host Martha’s parents in our home we had a clear understanding of mission. Perhaps stated more accurately, our grasp of the concept of mission was as much a “holy assignment to do something for God and others” as it was anything. Not until several years into our journey with Ann and Winston did the road start getting rather steep physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually—and the scales began to fall from our eyes as to the true meaning of mission.

At the beginning of this journey, with over twenty years of ministry under our belts, one day the revelation hit us. Mission is not simply what we do for someone else. It is not simply learning a culture (be that domestic or foreign), or learning the world of the person or people to whom we are ministering. It is not simply a moniker—“missionary”—given to those stout servants of the Kingdom who go where few others dare to go. It is not about someone doing, teaching, preaching, and others receiving, listening, learning.

While it is true that for years mission, to our thinking, had largely been the holy assignment to do for others, several years by Martha’s side on this journey with her parents was required for me/us to finally reevaluate our dim spiritual awareness. What we do to and for others is only one end of the tapered vase—the small end. What that service wroughts in us is the other end of the tapered vase—the large end. I did not even know how self-righteous my own understanding had been, until the awareness stormed my consciousness with new clarity one day.

Mission is only in part what we do for others. The richest part of mission is what we are willing to allow God to do in and to us during the course of that service. If the only thing that changes in us is our level of fatigue while our pompous, self-righteous, missionary-selves continue on—while good may still be done for the Kingdom, the loss to ourselves is profound—and we even run the risk of our service not being done in true love (see 1 Cor. 13).

Our life—our circumstances—either by Creator’s passive will or active will, is each person’s own personal classroom. As Christians, whether we serve in secular pursuits, or in distinctively Christian pursuits, the journey is the destination and our role is as willing slaves (bondservants) of Jesus. We are to give of our best in all regards, at all times, in all circumstances knowing that the ends to which we serve are not our own, but His, and that the journey each one of us is on is each individual’s own, private classroom of Creator’s tutelage. Your classroom is not mine. My classroom is not yours. It is not even my spouse’s classroom, though we may attend class together (and vice versa). The outcomes from that service—from that “time in class,” as it were, are Creator’s to determine and each of ours individually from which to learn. . . .

As we choose to let today be our destination, and as we choose to be eager, fully-present students relinquishing to our Creator our own selfish time-demands (i.e. not being of the attitude that God has not done something in our preconceived time frame, so we are going to pout), then we will see not only more fruit in our daily lives and in the lives of those whose paths we cross, but we will also see fruit that is born from spirit, and not from flesh. “If I preach the Gospel, that gives me no grounds for boasting, for necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel” (1 Cor. 9:16 ESV). Would that all other actions in our life be by such compulsion so that even our patience is by compulsion, and the other aspects of the fruit of the Spirit flow from us with compulsive ease. Griping is an immediate reflection of pride rising up. Whining is pride rising up. Standing tall and thanking God for each new day, and looking to Him to bring about His results in the day at hand—now that is mission at its best.