I had a series of seemingly unrelated revelations today.
The first came as I stopped by First Baptist to pick up my computer. There were some people in the office, so I poked my head in to say hello. Before any other conversation could emerge, one of them asked “Are you leaving the country any time soon?”
I’ve gotten used to that question. But I realized this afternoon how odd it is. None of the three people I was talking to really had any clue that I’m heading back to Ecuador. I haven’t been around First Baptist enough for anyone outside of Discussion Group to really ask me about it, so it wasn’t a loaded question. If it wasn’t a loaded question, why was there a question at all? Which brings me to another question, how is it that I’ve become used to that question? Obviously other people have been asking me that same thing, and while people at church and La Casa ask when I’m leaving, it’s not as if there is a shortage of other interested parties in general.
Tons of people I know have gone on “mission trips”, plenty of them to foreign countries, and all pretty much overflowing with excitement and stories and faith when they returned. But even out of the specific people that I think of, I just don’t seem to have any knowledge of them being bombarded with questions about returning to the mission field (H & D, I’m simply ignoring you in that statistic because either of you could make the same point I’m going for here).
Another such thought came tonight as I gave my Ecuador presentation to the United Methodist Women of Newland UMC. It’s always interesting to see what people comment on at the end or ask questions about during the presentation. I like to see who absorbed what I was saying, or at least what I was trying to say. Or even who got something else totally meaningful and totally related out of it even if it wasn’t what I was intending.
The group was awesome, and I think really understood the value of relational ministry. And I always expect someone to say “I couldn’t drink river water in the jungle,” or “I couldn’t eat guinea pig,” (you would if you were unspokenly competeing with four 14-year-old girls who had no problem with cuy). It’s just that I tend to expect people to eventually laugh and say “Well, I would if I had to,” or “God would pull me through.” I’m surprised at how adamantly people are opposed to doing anything out of the ordinary, even at the risk of missing out on serving the Lord, or having the time of your life mud wrestling in the jungle, or discovering you actually enjoy guinea pig. Or serving the Lord. Did I mention that one?
Now I certainly don’t mean to say I’ve got the corner on the market on how to serve God. If everyone was called to serve God in Ecuador, it would be a really crowded 98,985 square miles of earth. It just makes me appreciate my ability to live without Fudge Rounds and an Xbox. It also reminds me for those times I do spend living in a third world country how lucky I am to have toilet paper.
But ultimately it just reinforces in me both the notion that ministry involves a Call, and the idea that a Call implies a response, whether it be affirmative or otherwise.
