Week four of being in Bolivia and week five of being away from my family is proving to be a difficult one. The honeymoon phase of this trip has worn off, leaving me with the realization that I am over four thousand miles away from home. The words to the song 1030 Miles by my friend Allie Dunn have started to ring true in my everyday life (change the 1 to a 4, and it's spot on). Sure, I still have the privilege of talking to my parents on the phone every night along with amazing friends who I have stayed in contact with thanks to Telegram, but I am still incredibly far away in a culture that is very different from the States.
A week ago SIM Bolivia had its annual Spiritual Life Conference which is essentially a week long retreat for all the SIM missionaries in Bolivia. This time was such a gift. I thoroughly enjoyed my many conversations with the long-term missionaries, allowing them to pour wisdom into my tired soul, but as the week progressed I internally began to put up a wall.
I think some subconscious part of me wanted to go on this trip to Bolivia and see that all the missionaries were either super holy Christians whose theological talk would go way over my head or old, run-down people that were nothing like my family and friends in the States. Part of me wanted there to be a divide between us. One that made their lives seem so incredibly different from mine, but there wasn’t. Our conversations were ones that I could very easily relate to. The stories they told paralleled my life and the lives of those I know who aren’t missionaries. Granted all of them were much wiser and have more Biblical knowledge than me, but they aren’t this unattainable subset of human beings. They have families. Families that look just like those you see in your church. They have to deal with struggles and sadness too. Simply put, they are just people who followed God’s call on their lives, just like any of us who claim to be Christians should be willing to do.
This is where my wall comes in. These past few weeks haven’t exactly been a walk in the park. Unless that park is Jurassic Park, then maybe I could relate a little bit. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it has been far from easy. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss summer (in case anyone didn’t know, it’s winter here in Bolivia). I miss little things like Ralph’s Italian Ices and naps on the couch with my dog. Even with the technological advances of 2016, nothing will replace getting a hug from your mom. I’m crying as I type this because, yes, I am homesick, but also because the wall is coming down. The wall I built up a little more with every conversation I’ve had these past few weeks to emotionally distance myself from the realization that God could call me to this long-term in the future.
While reading A Passion for the Impossible (a biography about the life of Lilias Trotter, missionary to Algeria) the Saturday after the conference, I came across this quote which served as the Ronald Reagan declaration to my Berlin Wall.
How many of us have said and sung with all our hearts “Anywhere with Jesus,” but at the time we did not realize all that it meant for us. Indeed at home, and surrounded by all that home means, we could not know. When the test comes we must not forget that “Anywhere” means for missionaries something different from life in England, and let us take very good care not to make a misery of anything that “anywhere” brings us.
To us, in Algeria, it must mean something or other, Arab food. Do we object to it? And mice, do we mind them? And mosquitoes, do we think them dreadful? In some parts in means close contact with dirt and repulsive disease. Yet if Jesus is there what have we possibly to complain of? It means living among the stiff-necked and untrue people and struggling with a strange and difficult language. And yet let us evermore write over all our miseries, big, and for the most part very little, these transforming words “With Jesus.” And then the very breath of Heaven will breathe upon our whole being and we shall be glad.
- Lilias Trotter
Have you ever had one of those moments where something happens and there is literally no other way to explain the perfect timing other than to look to God and say thanks? This was one of those moments for me. I realized that over the past two weeks I had allowed increasing homesickness to combine with increasing cultural frustration, resulting in making a misery out of the place that God has called me to for this summer. Aside from missing many familiarities from home, Cochabamba is actually a pretty great place to live. All of the things I kept stacking against it were petty and really just an outward result of the emotions that were building inside.
As of right now, I am not sure what God is calling me to. Is it missions? Nursing? Ministry? Maybe it’s all three or none of these. Regardless, this week has been a great lesson in openness and obedience. If I were to continue thinking of things that I disliked about being so far away or about missionary life then chances are, by the end of the summer, I would’ve thought my way out of this ever being a further option. This quote doesn’t just have to apply to missions or even a career that directly involved ministry. Maybe you’ve lived in NYC your whole life and really can’t stand it. From the thousands of tourists to crowded, smelly subways, you’ve had enough. You know the job you’re being offered there is the job of a lifetime, but you have created all these miseries around you that make it impossible for you to even consider staying there any longer. Before saying no to something, whether it be a college/graduate school, job, career, relationship, think through the cons you’ve listed in your head. Are they because of untrue miseries you’ve created over the past weeks, months or even years? Could these be stumbling blocks to your obedience to God's call? If you are unsure, pray for clarity of mind and a pure heart toward the situation.
After reading the quote, I decided to look up the hymn that Lilias mentions. I could probably write another 1,000 words just on these lyrics, but I’ll just pick one for right now. One that I hope can encourage anyone who is reading this, especially those who aren’t quite sure what to do next.
“Ready as He summons me to go or stay, anywhere with Jesus when He points the way.”
Maybe I’ll end up being like my dad and living in the same house my entire life, or maybe I’ll end up calling a country thousands of miles from that little house on Staten Island home. Whatever it may be, I’m ready to go anywhere once Jesus points the way because, with Him, home can always be with me.
