On Missions

When I was a teenager, our parents paid for us kids in the church youth group to travel about a thousand miles to Mexico. Once over the border, we went to a grim slum and began 5 days of "Mission" work. Generally, general contracting type stuff; painting and all. On the last day, we'd go to Disneyland.

I once had one of the worst depressions of my life, at Disneyland. If I'd figured out a way to kill myself that day, without freaking out the other kids or getting the leader in trouble, I'd have done that. I remember hiding out in a little cinema that showed old Mickey movies, drowning in pain. To me, Mickey Mouse and Disneyland are emblematic of the Bad Times in my life. Thank God for medication. Whenever I think "Disneyland" I think "Suicidal".

So, it was a "good" thing, even though we never once spoke of Jesus or gave any "religious" material to the people we "helped". I think it was a good case of meeting the short term need and failing the long-term.

I read a heartbreaking tale of one college aged girl, selling her car to go on a mission trip. She needed a thousand dollars.

I couldn't help but think; she could have stayed home, helped the needy and used that thousand dollars to buy a lot of hot meals, Bibles, tracts, Scripture booklets, or all of the above. As Christians, we don't need to go over there to help others. We can serve perfectly well at home.

Look at me and my husband: he can hardly get to the bathroom unaided, and needs help with almost every aspect of daily living. He could never go overseas or out of the country.

Me? I have a very nasty mental illness; I believe it's better if I stay home. All medical professionals are fluent in my native language, and have an excellent grasp of my illness. I have access to excellent hospitals, pharmacies, and my doctor.

I have heard the Call, but it's to stay home. God needs me here. Who will hand out Bibles at the "Bad" bus stop and route? Who will hand out Bibles and candy to cashiers, people waiting in line, bank tellers, and day laborers? [shrug] Just me as far as I can tell.

God has a place for each of us, in Kingdom work. "Missions" and "Evangelism" DO NOT HAVE TO MEAN leaving the country and embarking on physical labor. We are commanded to share the Bread of Life, but we each have a different way to do it.

We can go overseas, as the "Everloving Church of God". We can build a barn or a school. You know what? IT DOESN'T MATTER if we aren't sharing Jesus with them too! I think "My life is a witness/my actions are a witness" are a COP OUT. You need to TELL THEM "I am doing this because Jesus commanded me to help you, and here's some information about him. If you'll allow me I'd love to share what He's done for me."

Let's see what JESUS has to say:
Luke 9:26If anyone is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him
Mark 8:37-38 (New International Version)
37Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? 38If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels."

That's pretty clear: We're ashamed of Jesus, He's ashamed of us. I used to be very furtive about my faith.

Please allow me to share a story that still pains me. When Ron and I first moved to Houston, I had wanted to leave him. I wanted to have my own job and had planned to get settled, make sure Ron was set up in his program, and run.

God had other plans. He wanted me to help Ron, ala Genesis 2:18 "I will make a helper for him." I had one terrible job after another, for a total of (counting) 5 jobs in 5 months. ACK!

In my second-to-last job, working for a small business, the owner/manager was a woman. I'll call her Jackie. Jackie took us all to lunch one day (me and the other "girl"). She pointed out a well-known building in Southwest Houston. It looked like a pyramid. "That's my church!"

Something about that building had always creeped me out, and I realized why when she explained the theology: Try to live a good life and the universe will bless you.

"My sister thinks I have to 'get saved' like SHE did or I'm going to hell! Can you IMAGINE! How intolerant! What do you think, Heather?" I was completely dependent on this woman for my living and I mumbled something about different paths to the truth.

But I knew I'd denied Him, and made Him cry. I felt horrible. Jesus died for that sin, and forgave me. I have worked on forgiving myself; but I never allow myself to forget the shame I felt. The above verses IMMEDIATELY came to mind. That's the Holy Spirit Conviction... oooo-eeee.

I moved on when she began exhibiting interest in Ron, calling him "sexy" and wanting to meet him in person. That was too, too, wierd. I have not stopped asking God to provide other good witnesses to show her the truth. UGH.

I shared this recently, but I thought you might find it interesting. You may wonder how I got started handing out the Bibles.

Even as a kid, I always loved tracts. I loved the idea of a little piece of paper that told people about God; that could give them peace and eternal life. I used to study them intently in the narthex of the church. I was always drawn to stories of missionaries, and one older lady at Church told my parents I'd be one.

They laughed. "You don't understand. Heather is different." [grin] I look forward to meeting her in Heaven and telling her, "You were right!"

When I got my Gideon Bible, I was thrilled. I carried it around everywhere and studied it intently.. until someone "vanished" it. I have a new one, I just find the whole concept of stealing Heather's Bible to be wierd, weird, wierd.

When my first boyfriend lost his uncle to AIDS, I tried to tell him about Heaven and Hell. Jesus came to earth for us, the Son of God died for us! All we have to do is believe! NOT interested - he is a pagan now.

I went through a period of trusting God completely, but not living a very Christian life. I was very angry about my life and situation (plenty in the other entries on that). I broke commandments. I stole. I hated. I carried grudges. I wished bad things on people. When I met Ron, we [cough] did not wait until marriage; instead we shacked up for over 10 years. Over the years, I collected several paperback Bibles.

I was very desperate and miserable in 2002. I took it to God and told God I wanted to leave Ron, but whenever I prayed about it I got a NO. Why would God keep me in this situation? We weren't even married! Didn't God CARE I was miserable?

I knew at this point I had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. I did not know about the Bipolar.

I sulked a bit and went to bed. I had a dream, where God told me He would make sure "All your fondest dreams" would come true. I just had to be patient. I had another dream from God, when I was 13. I recognized it.

This time I backtalked. "Yeah, right. ALL of them?" God showed me a little house with a yard. He knew how much I wanted a real home instead of the horrible rental. "OK, a house, but what about the deli? What about Ron?" God told me He would allow the deli to be closed... and Ron? "He's going to marry you." Yeah, right. Everytime I tried the ultimatum Ron said "There's the door".

Ron's gonna marry me, Lord? "Heather, he will DEMAND to marry you." [Sure enough, he did, not a year later.]

I had a better relationship with God after that, wary but trusting. Sinning yet devout. I had very strong premonitions right before Christmas in 2002. I thought I was going to die, and I told Ron goodbye. I told him everything I would want to say, if I died. I told him that while the years hadn't always been kind, I was glad we'd spent them together. If I'd had a choice between a winning lotto ticket or life with Ron, I'd still choose life with him. I love you.

A week later someone's banging on the door and driving me to the trauma center. The first thing I grabbed after I got dressed - a towel. When I'm really upset only a towel will hold MY tears. I hate tissues. The second thing? My Bible.

An Intensive Care Waiting Room is one of the most intense places on Earth: For hours to weeks, your loved one could die at any moment. You have no control over their health and progress. It was very common for a dejected family member to tell others 'They had to put her back on the ventilator". I formed some strong connections to other families, especially the longer-term ones like the Chinese man and Jennifer's husband. They both eventually improved and moved on to the "Step-Down" unit.

The oddest thing for me, as I spent the next three weeks in my chair, was watching the family come in. Then, at newstime you would see the victim on the news "A horrible accident on the Beltway claimed one life today" "Man assaulted at nightclub" (his family brought 5 toddlers in to run around all night while he died). I quickly drew the conclusion that yes, if it bled it led on the news.

So, so, many hurting people just broke my heart. I had confirmation from God that Ron would live. I also knew he hadn't married me yet, and God had promised that too. "They" don't let vegetables get married. You have to be pretty sharp. So I knew he'd have a good outcome in the long run. I was by no means certain, but I at least had these thoughts floating around during the bad times. I'm a hopeful person, and I had my faith.

No one else did. I sat there clutching my Bible and watching everyone suffer, desperate for a word of Comfort. I realized I needed to bring in "my" economy Bibles. I put them on the "book exchange" rack - not the last time I'd do it, either.

I was still very shy about my faith, so I did it secretly during lunch. I CRINGED when the first person walked over there. "Hey, Bob, they've got BIBLES." I shrunk down, convinced they would GET me. "Really? Grab me one, would you?"

I knew I had done God's will when a very nice lady walked up to me and said "I was having a terrible time, worrying about Mom. But then I picked up the Bible someone left out and I felt so much better." She knew it was me, and she was thanking me.

I have a taste for the economy Bible. I like a simple, cheap, thing I can lug around and mark up. Generally, when I've got it "right" I'd be led to hand it out to someone. God has always been very loud in His requests.

So, I hand out the Bibles. An African driver described it perfectly: You're a missionary, at home.

You don't have to leave town to serve God. You can serve Him anywhere. Make sure, if you are serving God, that people know you are, and why. Don't be ashamed of Jesus, and He won't be ashamed of you.

I hope you enjoyed my ramblings on the subject.