Expectations

Why did we come to Africa as missionaries?

Was it for personal gain?

Was it to make a name for ourselves?

For me, was it the times when I was little that my dad returned from his business trips to South 

Korea, bringing beautiful traditional clothing, elegant dolls, an exotic smelling hard (stone?) chess set, and stories of wonderfully kind people?

Was it the mission stories he read to us weekly for years when I was young?

All I know is that was in my heart most of my life.

For Jamie, it was a mission trip with Pathfinders when he was in ninth grade. He found his path in missions.

So we came. We’re here, and it’s not at all what we expected.

We expected a lower standard of living, and it is.

We expected big fat bugs and skinny muddy roads, and there are.

We expected tropical fruits and exotic birds, and they abound.

We expected daily tasks to take more time, and they do.

We expected to meet very poor people and barely clad children, and we have.

I expected to make deep friendships with the nationals, and we haven’t.

I expected to join a united group of missionaries, and was disappointed.

I expected to be wise enough to know how to help when asked, but I don’t.

I expected to transition smoothly, because this is what we’ve always wanted, right?

I expected to be the person who easily forgives, who is always gracious, always focuses on our purpose, and stays close to the Lord. That is who a missionary is, isn’t it?

Truthfully, I almost always feel lonely. Doesn’t that mean I’m a failure?

As I write this there is the sound of desperate wailing in the street. My heart feels a deep sadness as I listen to their pain. How often these dear people must lay a loved one to rest! The pastor in church last week said, “There is not one of us here who has not lost a loved one.” Not one!

Then I realize that I’m lonely, empty, hurting, floundering, lost, and discouraged because my expectations were all about me. All my striving and fighting. All my hopes and fears. And that is not why I’m here.

It’s not about me. Not being a missionary. Not life.

Time to change my expectations.