Yesterday, when getting ready to go to my church's visitation program called GROW, Josyah put on his Zambian football jersey. He told me it was from Zambia where his Nana and Papaw live. I asked him why they lived in Zambia and because he's been obsessed lately with the fact that we live in my parents house but they don't live here, he said it was because they couldn't fit in our house. I told him they lived there so they could tell people about Jesus and then he said, "but can't we tell people about Jesus right here in Missouri, America?".
Maybe it's just me, but I can't sit through a missionary presentation, especially one on any African country, without being brought to tears. This past Sunday my church had a missions emphasis Sunday. We started out the worship service singing in Swahili, watched a video about a recent trip some people in my church made to Kenya and Tanzania, and listened to one of our pastors preach an amazing message about why sending missionaries is so important. Needless to say, by the end of the service, my heart was again broken for missions and my makeup was missing because my tears had washed it off.
You see, I love missions. It pretty much has defined my whole life. I spent the first 9 years of my life knowing I would move to Zambia with my missionary parents and the rest of my life since then in love with a country and people not my "own". I am married to a Zambian, I have a crazy last name, my children have "weird" middle names and nothing in my life can ever be separated from my life as a missionary kid. I have seen thousands of people saved. I have seen the birth of many churches. I have watched buildings being built and even helped a little bit in the process. I've been in the middle of all the excitement yet it was just normal life for me.
And yet, here I am... Living in America. Most people have no idea I grew up in Zambia. People think I either met my husband online or just randomly in life here. My kids are less Zambian than me despite them really being half Zambian. And just supporting missions financially and prayerfully makes me sad.
Is it because I've been there? Is it because in my life, you go, you don't stay? Is it because, let's be honest, in Christian circles, the only 'spiritual' people are those in full time ministry positions or are training to be? Or is it because, in my heart, I've decided that only people in Zambia need the gospel? I can cry when I see a video of kids in Kenya, a place I've never been, but my heart isn't broken for the kids in Springfield, Missouri? I cry over the spiritual condition of teenagers in Tanzania and overlook the teenagers not in my Sunday School class every Sunday?
On Sunday, one of my best friends and another friend sang a special and covered one of my current favorite songs right now, Oceans by Hillsong. The words of that song always get to me. It talks about being led by God to places you would never dream of going. Trusting God to go where you aren't comfortable. To many, maybe when they hear these lyrics, they might think of Africa, but not me. When I hear these lyrics, I want so badly to think of Africa... but I actually think of Missouri, America.
"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior"
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