What I Wish I’d Understood Before Going to the Mission Field

This article was first published in French at TPSG.

When I committed my life to missions on the old port of Marseille, France at age 16, I wanted to conquer the world for Christ. The secular university studies which followed soon thereafter, rather than dampening those dreams, only served to nourish them. Because, by the grace of God, I didn’t find myself corrupted by the philosophies of this world, but instead rooted myself in a community of faith that taught me the importance of deep fellowship, sound theology, and consistent outreach. 

When seminary studies finally did come, they further fanned the flame of missions. Because for me, advanced theological education didn’t take place solely in the halls of academia. It was coupled with service in an urban church plant, which included not only sound teaching and genuine community, but also regular evangelistic efforts in our gentrifying neighbourhood. 

 

The Blessing of Theoretical and Practical Preparation

And nearly every year during that long season of preparation, I had the privilege of taking part in short-term mission trips, which furnished further training for cross-cultural service. I spent most of my summers overseas, in refugee camps, in remote villages, and large cities; in lands as distant and distinct as India, Albania, France, and Ethiopia (just to name a few). Moreover, once my husband Dan and I joined Crossworld, we underwent extensive psychological evaluation and further formation in cross-cultural communication.

 

So, naturally, when Dan and I departed for Senegal in our early thirties, I believed we had the maturity, training, and preparation necessary to serve overseas effectively. I soon discovered, however, that all the theoretical and practical training in the world couldn’t properly prepare us for the realities of uprooting our family indefinitely to the other side of the globe. 

 

Lessons Learned on the Field

August 2007 marks 14 years since we made that journey to the nations. And since that time, I have learned a few lessons that I hope may be helpful to young people equally eager to conquer the world for Christ.

 

Short-Term vs. Long-Term Missions

First off, there’s a big difference between short-term and long-term missions. As a short-term worker, I was completely cared for by the host families I stayed with, whether they were missionaries living in a Western-style home or refugees residing in a small cinder block structure. I did not have to procure my own meals. I did not have to worry about hiring a plumber, an electrician, or a mechanic to ensure the proper maintenance of a home or car. Blessed with a hearty immune system, I rarely got sick, and when I did, my hosts ensured I received the best medical care possible. 

 

I didn’t have a spouse and children to invest in and nurture, so I didn’t have to make arrangements for their education or watch any of them endure prolonged periods of illness. I was paradoxically entirely dependent upon others (as others met my every physical need) and at the same time entirely independent as well (as I focused, unhindered and undistracted, on ministry). 

 

Unrealistic Expectations

In a similar vein, my experiences as a short termer created unrealistic expectations. During trips ranging from 10 days to 5 months, I did everything from conducting kids’ camps, leading women’s Bible studies, and teaching English as a second language, to evangelizing and witnessing entire households put their faith in Christ. And I anticipated that once the dream I had cultivated since adolescence came true 17 long years later, I’d experience a similar level of fruitfulness and productivity. What I discovered instead is that short-term trips are designed to cram as much ministry into as short a period as possible. But they don’t represent real life. If I had stopped long enough to ask, any of the missionaries who hosted me could have told me this. 

 

Make Haste Slowly

Moreover, when making one’s home in a new culture, the adaptation process takes not months, but years. Whereas on short stints, I had jumped into active ministry the moment I arrived, such an approach was inadvisable in the long run. Instead, we were to “make haste slowly… with a proper balance of urgency and diligence. If tasks are rushed too quickly then mistakes are made, and good long-term results are not achieved.”

 

We knew this in theory before going to the field, but it’s another story when you need to write regular newsletters reporting back to partnering churches and individuals. Thankfully, our team of senders was gracious and understood our need to learn our host language and culture in order to communicate the gospel more effectively. 

 

A Realistic, Sustainable Lifestyle

Moreover, the austere conditions I lived in during many of these short trips were all part of the adventure, but they were not sustainable for a family in the long run. On one trip, 13 women slept in inflatable mattresses in the same room. On another, I lived in a hut the roof of which was infested with large predatory creatures who fed on the rats who also inhabited it. I fell asleep at night to the squealing of the rodents who didn’t survive the chase. 

 

Yet because I had not only endured such conditions but thrived in them, I had falsely believed that my lifestyle would be much the same when I relocated overseas for good. The dissonance between my expectations of myself and my reality created a tremendous amount of guilt. This was compounded by the disparity between our modest income and that of most in the culture that welcomed us.

 

When Helping Hurts

Few North American evangelicals would consider missionaries wealthy. On the contrary, our dependence upon churches and individual supporters can at times give the impression that we’re paupers! And yet those who serve in the developing world are viewed as wealthy by most in their host culture. And that is true, in relative terms. We tend to be educated professionals who can afford airfare, cars, and homes that are beyond the reach of many. We know where our next meal is coming from, we can afford to send our children to school, and should someone in our household get sick, we have the means to pay for their medical care. 

 

Dan and I endeavored to be generous, but we felt paralyzed at times by the crushing needs, and we didn’t want to simply give handouts that robbed our friends of their dignity. Books like “When Helping Hurts” by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert helped us understand the danger of creating patterns of dependency rather than empowerment (which is particularly thorny for Westerners in post-colonial Africa). But putting their words into practice was easier said than done when a brother or sister came to us in crisis. Seminary had not prepared us for these scenarios. “Missionary Guilt 101” just wasn’t in the curriculum!

 

Depending on Local Friends

We navigated these challenges by depending upon our Senegalese friends for wise counsel. Dan and I learned that the most effective missionaries were those who partnered with national leaders whenever possible. Joining and serving in a local church allowed us to develop meaningful relationships with likeminded believers who could explain their own culture to us far better than a Google search could. (This may seem obvious, but we were surprised at how common it was for missionaries to remain on the periphery of church life.)

 

Experience is the Best Teacher

Since our journey to the nations began in 2007, Dan and I have learned invaluable lessons that have made us more effective workers today. Because if experience is indeed the best teacher, that is true insofar as we reflect on those experiences and integrate their lessons into our life and practice. We couldn’t have learned them by reading any book or article, as wonderful as some of them may be. But these are helpful insofar as they serve as a road map that tell us what to expect on the windy path before us. 

 

If you sense the Lord leading you to missions, my hope is that these words will be a signpost of what may lie ahead for you. Not to discourage you because the road will be bumpy, but to give you hope because you know what to expect. When you face the same dissonance that we did, know that you’re not doing something wrong. It’s all normal. And most of all, may the gospel of our risen Lord fill your heart and mind so that his grace, and not guilt, serve as your meditation day and night.