A few days ago, I put away my winter clothes and brought in my spring and summer clothes. The change of the seasons is a bi-annual tradition for my closet, but this time I felt sad. The next time I perform the ritual, I’ll be cleaning out and packing up my closet for good; and I’ll be getting rid of some clothes and shoes I cherish.
I will be taking this dress with me!
When it comes to possessions, my books will be the hardest things for me to give away or to sell. Deciding which ones to take with me will be like selecting favorites from your children. Perhaps I’m being a bit melodramatic, but you get the picture. I love my books.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m attached to my clothes and shoes just like the next woman. Deciding what to take with me and what to leave behind will be hard. Rearranging my closet was just another reminder of my transitioning life. In a way, I think I have begun to start to grieve my old life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still super excited about the next phase of my life, but change is change; whether good or bad, it’s always challenging.
To paraphrase Shakespeare, “a rose by any other name would smell the same.”
The word missionary invokes all types of images: “super Christians” traveling (flying if they have capes) to a foreign land to do the Lord’s work, hypocrites trying to browbeat natives into western civilization via Christianity (think The Poison Wood Bible), saintly people who never get angry or upset, who don’t have a selfish bone in their body.
I struggle with what to call myself, for I too grapple with the term missionary. I have a South African friend who vehemently dislikes the word because it reminds her of the awful mission schools run by missionaries during the apartheid days. I have other South African friends (both coloured and African) who insist that the term has evolved and no longer carries the negative connotation; on the contrary, it is seen in a positive light. Added to these considerations, I too have stereotypes about missionaries that I need to let go.
Missionary or cross-cultural Christian worker. Hum? These days the later is the more politically correct term. Perhaps it’s the most accurate term; but let’s be real, it’s a mouthful. Maybe I could shorten it to CCCW or C2CW or something cute like C2CW.
What I call myself will probably depend on the audience. As of now, I will continue to use both terms to describe myself. I imagine a term will evolve organically, once I settle into South African life. However, if I had my way, I would use no special term. I’m merely a Christian trying to live out her faith, and I often fall short. God has just called me to live out my faith in South Africa for a few years.
It took me quite a while to muster up enough courage to meet with my priest about my sense of call to do mission work. I knew once I confided in him, I would truly have to examine if this was a God-calling or not. I was still scared that it might be. Periodically, over the next year and a half, we would meet together to pray and talk. His gentle guidance and prayerfulness was exactly what I needed. I felt encouraged.
In the fall of 2010, we felt as though it was time for me to move forward, and I entered a formal discernment process at my church. For the next eight months, I met with a body of faithful and prayerful parishioners who had committed to serve on my discernment committee to help me determine whether or not God was calling me to mission work. Working with this committee was a humbling experience, as I had to be vulnerable, totally honest about my spiritual journey and life. But having a group of people walk this journey with me for many months has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.
There was a general consensus from the committee that God was calling me to mission work in South Africa, so I continued to move forward and the discernment committee morphed into a sending a committee. There were so many details to work out, and I felt a bit overwhelmed: with which mission agency should I go, and what type of work should I do? Although I had a desire to work with young people and to use my publishing skills, I really didn’t have a clear sense of direction of the type of work God was calling me to do. It took God a while to work out the details, but God was at work behind the scenes in amazing ways. In the words of a new friend, “When we say ‘yes’ to God, he takes over and takes care of the rest.” I feel like this is so true of my journey. Once I said yes to God—“yes, God, I’m willing to go”—God took over, taking care of the details.
I will be going under the mission agency SAMS (Society of Anglican Missionaries and Senders), and I will be serving with Growing the Church, an Anglican organization that serves the entire province of Southern Africa. I will be doing youth development work and working with their media ministries. For more information, check out my blog “Placement Decision: Growing the Church.”
Besides giving you a glimpse of the background story of why I’m becoming a missionary, I hope this discernment series blog will help you take a closer look of what God is doing in your life. What might he be calling you to do? I believe that God has callings for each of us. Some of these are general callings; others are more specific. Some are for life; others are for a season. Perhaps God is calling you to help the elderly neighbor next door, to tutor a child who is struggling with reading, to go on a mission trip, to become a lay reader, to become a foster parent, to become a teacher, priest, or writer. Who knows? Working for God’s kingdom knows no bounds, and God equips us with gifts for a reason. Remember the wise saying of my friend, “When we say ‘yes’ to God, he takes over and takes care of the rest.”
NOTE: This is the third post of a three-part series that recounts my discernment process to become a cross-cultural Christian worker in South Africa.
In the fall of 2007, I returned to South Africa. This time I went on a outreach trip with my church. We helped our “sister church” with their ministries by planting a garden to help support their feeding scheme, in which they feed 200 orphans a healthy meal once a week.
We also helped to build a new home for a family of six who lived in a nearby informal settlement. I have never felt more fully alive as I worked on these projects and interacted with the South African people. I felt a deep-rooted joy like I have never experienced. I was blessed to return to South Africa several more times on outreach trips, and each time I had this same sense of joy. Sometimes it was so hard to come back home. As the plane left South African soil, I would feel as though a part of me was being ripped apart, being left behind in South Africa.
some children the feeding scheme serves
Over time, this sense of being called towards something began to transform into a nudge, a gentle prodding to do outreach work in South Africa. But life went on. I worked, played, met another guy, fell in love, and got engaged. Yet in the midst of the excitement and stress of wedding planning, every now and then a voice would speak to my soul, saying, “What about South Africa?”
For many reasons I ended my engagement; and at the same time, I decided I needed to pay attention to this nudge that wouldn’t go away. In the following weeks, I went through an epiphany. I know this sounds nerdy (hey, I embrace my inner-nerdiness), but I distinctly remember spending a few evenings thinking and writing about my life, the American life, and the life we are called to live as Christians: The American way of life is one big cycle. Where’s the meaning in it? Our parents work hard. Why? So that we can we attend good schools, be involved in activities, be well-rounded. Why? So that we’ll get into a good college. Why? So that we’ll land good jobs. Why? So that we’ll marry, have a family, and work hard. Why? So that our kids will attend good schools. . . One reason I broke up with my fiancé was that I felt boxed in, confined, stifled. I was getting trapped into this cycle of life I didn’t want. I wanted out.
Let me be clear, there is nothing wrong with marriage and a family (and yes, I still want these things for myself), but I feel as though God wants much more for us than that—whether we’re married or single. (Yes, even singles fall prey to a similar cycle of life.) I believe God wants us to step outside the cycle and to make a difference in our little corner of the world. Through Jesus Christ, we have abundant life, and God wants us to enjoy it. I think we often sell ourselves short.
After a few weeks of my philosophical and theological musings, I started to carve out some intentional time of prayer. If God was calling me to do outreach work in South Africa, I wanted to be certain. Packing up and moving away from my family, friends, and comfortable way of life to live halfway around the world was no small thing! I wanted to make sure that it was God’s voice I was hearing and not my own. I spent a lot of my prayer time reading “calling stories” in the Bible—Abraham and Sarah, Gideon, Jonah, Jeremiah, the Twelve. I would end my prayer time listening in silence, which was hard for me. A billion thoughts raced through my mind, and I often fell asleep. But I felt I needed this time of silence to listen to God, since I don’t have much silence in my life. It would have been easy for God’s voice to get drowned in the noise of my life.
Turning aside to pay attention to this nudge to do outreach work in South Africa was both exciting and scary. A few days into 2009, I mustered up enough courage to meet with my priest. “I believe God is calling me to be a missionary in South Africa,” I said.
NOTE: This is the second post of a three-part series that recounts my discernment process to become a cross-cultural Christian worker in South Africa.
My first and only international business trip took me to South Africa over the new year of 2006-2007. My best friend Anna got to go with me. It was a magical time. I felt a soul connection with South Africa; it was a feeling like I have never experienced before in my international travels. On the last night of the conference, I remember looking up at the stars and feeling as though I would return someday to South Africa, but I didn’t know when or how.
In the spring after I returned home, I entered into a season of restlessness and spiritual wrestling. I recently broke up with my boyfriend, and I was angry. I was being considered for jury duty for a capital murder case and that process made me question my long-held beliefs about capital punishment and our justice system. I had a lot of questions for God, big questions: Why doesn’t God bring the right man in my life? How could a loving God allow so much injustice in the world? Why are some people born into environments of unimaginable abuse and poverty with no way out, while others are born into loving families and communities? I kept thinking about the poverty I saw in South Africa, the young man in Nashville who was about to be tried for his life. I was frustrated, angry, and having serious doubts of faith. I wanted answers from God. I was miserable, and I was making everyone around me miserable. Looking back, I think this crisis of faith was much worst than I thought at the time; it scares me to think about how close I was to throwing in the towel, to walking away from God.
Thankfully, God is much more persistent in his relationship with us than we are in our relationship with him. God doesn’t give up on us. He used some key people in my life, including my dad, to help me get through the time of wrestling. Like Jacob of old, I believe I emerged stronger in my faith. I never did receive answers to my questions; but with God’s help, I decided to trust God anyway. I am learning to live with the questions.
Funnily enough, once I came to this point in my faith journey, I started to have a sense of being called towards something. I didn’t know what, but I felt as though God was calling me towards something, to do something. It was a time of mistiness, but I felt warm. It was a time of uncertainty, but I felt hopeful. I was no longer scared.
NOTE: This is the first post of a three-part series that recounts my missionary discernment process.
an indigenous flower of SA (Please don't ask me the name!)
“Hello, Short-Timer,” greeted a colleague as we walked to our cars after work today. “When do you leave us?”
“Next . . . in January,” I replied.
Suddenly, it hit me. I have less than a year before I move to Cape Town! As I drove home, feelings of excitement, fear, and being overwhelmed hit me like waves. Sometimes I wonder how I am going to get everything done while still working full time and while still trying to have a life. Sometimes it seems impossible; at other times, all the factors of my transitioning life seem to operate like clockwork.
So why am I going through all this bother? Why am I giving up most of my material stuff, my way of life, my comfort zone? Why am I leaving my family and friends to move literally across the world? I think these are the questions most people really want to ask when they ask me, “Why are you becoming a missionary?” At times, it is even hard for me to imagine a life without Starbucks and my iPhone.
Since this blog is about my journey to become a Christian cross-cultural worker (missionary), I thought it might be helpful and interesting (and perhaps entertaining) to hear part of the backstory. So in the next couple of weeks, I plan to start a blog series that tells about my discernment process, how I was able to discern God’s call to mission work.
After much prayer, discernment, and reflection, I have decided to serve with Growing the Church, an Anglican initiative of southern Africa that is committed to the spiritual and physical growth of the church. To put it plain and simple, I feel as though this is where God is calling me to serve. The vision of Growing the Church is to help the Anglican Church “be a vibrant God-centered church, which is clearly growing spiritually, numerically, and holistically.”
Growing the Church is a provincial ministry that serves the entire Anglican Church of Southern Africa, which includes the countries of Angola, Mozambique, Lesotho, Namibia, Swaziland, St. Helena (where Napoleon was exiled and did not escape), and South Africa. The initiative began in 2007 and is still in the growth stage. One of their ministries is the “school of youth development,” and I will be helping to grow, shape, and develop this ministry. The details of my work are still to be fleshed out, but I think a lot of it will evolve organically overtime once I’m in Cape Town. I also have the opportunity to work on one or two publications while I’m there.
Katy, Trevor, and me
I’m super-excited about being a part of Growing the Church. It’s a small organization, but God is already using it in big ways. It will be a privilege and an honor to be a part of this team. I love working with young people, and to have the opportunity to help equip and empower young people to be leaders in their churches and communities is a dream come true! South Africa has one of the youngest populations in the world, and the church in South Africa is rightly concerned about the future of this generation, as they are faced with so many difficult issues, such as the lack of quality education, high unemployment, and HIV/AIDS. The young people of South Africa (and the province of southern Africa) are the church and country leaders of today and tomorrow. It’s very humbling and exciting to know that God has chosen me to come and walk beside them on this journey of faith.
me with local youth leaders and Estelle (far right)
I am also super-excited about the people with whom I will be working. Father Trevor Pearce is over Growing the Church and Estelle Adams also plays a key role in the initiative. Both Trevor and Estelle took such wonderful care of Jen and me while we were in South Africa, and we had an amazing time with them. I instantly connected with them; and when I move to Cape Town next year, I feel as though I will be moving to a city with family members waiting to welcome me with open arms.
I hope you will share in my excitement. Thank you for your continual prayers.
1. After two tries during previous trips, I finally made it up Table Mountain. The third time is a charm, and the view was spectacular.
Jen, Ali, Nicole
2. Jen, Ali (our host), and I attended a reception for Proudly Macassar Pottery, a job creation program that empowers young men, teaching them how to make Udu drums and ocarina-like flutes from clay. It was a fun-filled evening in the heart of South Africa’s wine country.
Alfred displays his artwork
3. While touring False Bay, I met Alfred, a refugee from Zimbabwe. Like many refugees in South Africa, Alfred depends on his handiwork to make a living.
4. One afternoon, I attended a special prayer time at a local Anglican church. Several parishioners had been praying for me for weeks, and they wanted to meet and pray with me. It was a very special time, and I felt humbled to know that people who I didn’t even know existed were praying for God’s guidance in my life.
team celebration
5. Over the weekend, Jen and I attended a camp for students who recently completed a Scripture Union lifeskill course. In the mountains of beautiful Franschhoek, we bonded with the campers and leaders. All of the students come from disadvantaged backgrounds and live in the Cape Town townships.
Estelle and eldest son
6. Sunday afternoon, a new friend invited us to her house for lunch. It was a lunch on par with a Christmas dinner. Estelle and her family truly have the gift of hospitality.
Jen, tour guide, Lu, Vuyo, Nicole
7. It’s always a treat to spend time with my South African “family” in Johannesburg, and this time was no exception. We stayed with Father Xolani and Mathabo Dlwati and were able to spend some time with friends from St. Thomas Anglican Church. Lu, the Dlwatis’s precocious little boy, had Jen and I in stitches with his witty sayings.
8. We spent a delightful afternoon in Soweto, visiting Father Xolani’s mom and meeting several of his family members. Father Xolani is a great friend of my church and is the current rector of St. Monnica’s.
9. It was amazing to experience South Africa with my friend Jen, who offered to travel with me in order to be an extra set of “eyes and ears” during my interviews and meetings. Her moral support and wisdom was invaluable. Plus, we had a great time together. I will forever be thankful for her sacrifice of time and money. I am so grateful for our friendship.
10. After days of meetings and interviews and much prayer, I feel confident about which organization I believe God is calling me to serve. After I meet with my discernment committee and finalize things with the necessary people, I will make an announcement.
My right side was drenched in red wine, and I hadn’t had anything to drink. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said the flight attendant as she hustled me to the back of the plane. Thankfully, I was wearing a T-shirt, something to which I wasn’t particularly attached. Jacqueline scrubbed my shirt, gave me a clean shirt to wear, and some frequent flyer miles for the bother.
It was dawn as we descended into Amsterdam. The city looked beautiful in the time between night and day; the lights were glowing, the canals twinkled in the budding light, and red taillights beamed from the motorways. I always giggle when I think of Amsterdam. When I was studying in England, I went to Amsterdam for a weekend. My English friends gave me a hard time; they couldn’t believe I was going to Amsterdam just for the art. Of all the Americans on the trip, my friend and I were probably the only students who went there solely for the Rembrandts, Rubens, and Vermeers.
While I was waiting for my connection in Amsterdam and still reeling over paying seven dollars for a measly pastry and a very small cup of coffee, I struck up a conversation with a gentleman named Garry. He grew up in Zululand but has lived in Texas for thirteen years. He’s an engineer and fixes oil rigs all over the world. Garry was very familiar with The Upper Room, since he was involved with the Walk to Emmaus. We talked for more than an hour about life in South Africa and about faith. We exchanged cards and promised to be in touch. He’s a delightful man with many connections to NGOs in his native country. God is blessing my life with such amazing people before I even hit the ground in Cape Town.
We’re flying over the Italian Alps now, and the scenery is stunning. Snow-capped mountains stretch toward the sky; tiny villages dot the landscape. This is one of the few times I’m grateful to have a window seat.
“Please call me as soon as you can,” said the voicemail. Oh, no, I thought. This can’t be good. I called my friend and traveling companion and found out that she isn’t able to fly out today. My poor friend spent last night in the ER with an awful stomach bug. She won’t leave Nashville until Tuesday. Please keep her in your prayers for a speedy recovery.
I’m now at BNA, waiting to board. I’m amazed at how calm everything is on this Sunday after Thanksgiving. Usually, it’s a zoo at the airport on this post-holiday weekend. I also had my first experience with the infamous “naked machine.” I hope my picture isn’t plastered all over the Internet.
I’ll be traveling for the next 24 hours, plus some–Detroit, Amsterdam, Cape Town. It has been sunny and nice in Nashville for the past few days, but today it has turned cold and rainy. It will be nice to have summer again for 10 days.
I’m excited about what waits for me on the other side of the pond. Let the adventure begin–well, after I and my luggage arrive safely
my church. For the next eight months, I met with a body of faithful and prayerful parishioners who had committed to serve on my discernment committee to help me determine whether or not God was calling me to mission work. Working with this committee was a humbling experience, as I had to be vulnerable, totally honest about my spiritual journey and life. But having a group of people walk this journey with me for many months has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.
Adventures in Living 