Entirely His

A missionary is someone who does full time ministry in a foreign country.

A missionary is someone who raises his or her own financial support.

A missionary is someone who is sent by the church to do “God’s work.”

The word “missionary,” or rather the connotation our culture has assigned it, really bothers me.  To the point that I usually don’t even call myself one, although our lives do reflect all 3 previous statements.

It bothers me because it is exclusive to a believer’s circumstance instead of the transformed heart that comes from knowing Christ.  (Just like the word “ministry.”  How did we change that word into an occupation in today’s eyes?  Did I really not start doing “ministry” until I traded in my paycheck for support letters?!  Perhaps this is an entirely separate blog...)

But the other day, I found such clarity to the term.  Good ole’ Oswald writes about what it means to be “entirely His.”  He says:

“A missionary is someone whom the Holy Spirit has brought about this realization:

‘You are not your own” (1 Corinthians 6:19).

And it’s that simple.  You don’t have to move to another country, you don’t have to change occupations, you don’t have to change anything about your circumstances, you just have to be entirely His.  All the time, every day, in spite of circumstance.  Which means you have to be available to whatever changes He has for you and trust that He knows best, despite your own discomfort and pain.  

He continues to write about Jesus telling His disciples that they cannot be His disciples if they don’t hate their mother, brother, spouse, children, life…  I’ve loved Jesus for a long time, but this is a verse that I just never understood.  We’re supposed to love everyone... and then hate everyone?    

Oswald points out that it is not a matter of being saved, it’s a matter of being wholly available to God, being entirely “His.”  If we belong to those around us, we can’t belong to Him.

Which was a huge "ah haaaa" moment for me.

Maybe I am a “missionary” more for my own sake than for the people of Chile.  Maybe God knew that I wouldn’t be able to live my life in the States and willingly sacrifice the things that come between us. Maybe the things I have been mourning and missing are the things that would have kept me from being entirely His if I actually had them.

Because I struggle with the fact that I don’t see my family anymore.  I struggle with knowing our child isn’t going to live a car ride/reasonably priced plane ride away from his/her grandparents.  I struggle with the reality that we don’t have close friends in the same country.  I struggle with knowing that I’m never going to "fit in" again in whatever country we end up living.

And they are indeed painful things.  But didn’t He say it would be painful?

Before Tracey and I got married I told him that we could not keep any sweets in the house.  (He thought I was kidding, I said ask any of my ex-roomates…  He asked if we could get a lock box; I said no, obviously I will figure out how to get inside…) I have discipline in a lot of areas in my life, but binging on sweet things is not one of them.  I know myself.  I know my tendencies.  And I know my weaknesses.

My relationships with the people I love have often kept me from being entirely His.  Which is why that verse has bothered me so much, which is what God knew about me way before I realized it on my own.  He knows me.  He knows my tendencies.  He knows my weaknesses.

And He wants what’s best for me.

It doesn’t make the mourning any easier, but it does make it sacred.  What I see as pain and loss, God has revealed as merely an answer to a prayer I made a long time ago:

To be entirely HIS.