Divine Voyagers

It has taken a long time, but we have been looking into teams again.
It feels like we’re getting back on a horse that keeps bucking us off, and every time I’m a little more wary of the bruises. However, we know we are called to be missionaries – there is a deep longing, almost a sense of urgency, that comes every time I think about unreached people groups.
So, we’re learning from our mistakes, listening to wisdom, and trying again.

We started by getting rid of all of our preconceptions.
No longer worried about if it’s too hot, or if we’ll fit in. We are now looking for a Bible college, for Tom to use the skills he’s spent the past few years developing working at Moore College, and somewhere that needs an English teacher (everyone needs an English teacher!). We are looking for somewhere to raise our girls, somewhere Jem could keep up treatment for her feet. Now we are more cautious around the type of team we want to join. Caution and urgency are mixed in our lives like water and oil, forced together but trying to separate in two different directions.
Both can be useful.

The one team that has stood out so far is in my mother’s homeland.
(If we end up joining the team, we’ll have to follow some security measures but for now, if you’re reading this, you know where that is.) They are doing some work with a seminary and it sounds like the roles have been written with us in mind. The country is close enough to home to visit, and the team is in a city and really multicultural, multifaceted. Early talks with them have been good, and questions have been asked on both sides to prompt deep reflection. We have decided to go and visit them in January, and we are bringing my parents both as help with the girls and so they can see everything firsthand.

For me, this stirs up all sorts of feelings and questions.

Being born and raised in Australia, I am an outsider to half of my cultural identity. While some people can pick that I’m a ‘halfie’ or ‘Wasian’, almost no one identifies me as belonging to my mother’s country, even if I’m sitting at the table with her.
How do I explain that I have my father’s nose but my mother’s eyes?
How could they know that I grew up only knowing household words like go to sleep, turn off the lights, my love? Bobo. Matikan lampu. Sayang.
Does it matter to anyone that I celebrate Chinese New Year with more care than Australia Day, even though I last stepped foot on Asian soil when I was 13? How will I fit in, how will my daughters fit in? Even Tom has been there more recently than I have, and he has his own associations, his own story of calling.

In amongst all of these emotions, I had a dream. To be fair, I often have wacky, unrelated dreams, especially when I’m stressed about something. However, this one has stuck with me.

In the dream, I was standing in front of a huge river filled with disgusting water. It was brown and mucky, and had all sorts of things floating in it. On the other side was a prison, and I knew I had to cross to visit the people in there. I was nervous, and all I had was a little box with me. On my right was a pregnant woman, and I thought, she shouldn’t have to do this, she’ll get hurt, but she was determined. On my left was a beggar lying by the side of the road, either very sick or already dead, and I had nothing to give him. My only goal was to get to the prison.
Then, recently, I listened to an SMBC sermon about the great chasm described in the gospels, between heaven and hell. The preacher pointed out that we won’t be able to cross that chasm one day, so every time we preach now, it should be “with the urgency of one standing on the edge of the chasm”.
Is this a chance to cross the chasm?

My hope is that, if we do end up there, it will bring me closer to my mum, and her side of the family. I never learned the language because my cousins always made fun of my accent and wanted to speak English. Even the lady at the local restaurant replies to me in English when I order straight off the menu! I hope it will help me understand her culturally a bit, and that she will help me understand the culture in reverse – I won’t be stepping in blind to the pros and cons, like I would have been with France. Perhaps I can even be a bit of a cultural bridge for Tom, and other missionaries who are launched by the team.

Ultimately and always, my hope is that we can glorify God. When our plans are upset, His are not. We can’t say, “why didn’t you send me there, I could have done so much good for you!”
We can’t, like Jonah, run away from where God has decided to send us.
We can only say, “here I am, Lord. Send me.” (Isaiah 6:8)

Pray for:

• Continued learning and peace about the Basque plans falling through
• Our survey trip in January and continued talks with the team
• A clear direction for where to go on mission
• Thank the Lord that the girls are nearly one!!