travel

When To Give Up?

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The past few weeks have been painful.  I had a bad toothache on top of my chronic neck issues.  Sleeping and eating became extremely difficult.  Like a city that still hasn’t been able to repair the flood walls after the last devastating storm, it did not take much time before waves of despair washed over me.

Yes, I knew that eventually this round of suffering would likely end.  Antibiotics did finally do their thing for the infected root after a few days of excruciating pain.  But I’m also more keenly aware than ever of my own deteriorating condition.  I have gone to the gym faithfully for years, live a generally healthy life, and yet it is all simply a matter of time before I’ll succumb to old age.

It’s been a rough year, maybe even a rough decade, as the strong have fallen and yet another romance seems to be up against impossible odds.  The death of Uriah, despite my best efforts to prepare for the outcome of the terrible prognosis he received, is still difficult.  And now the unexpected circumstances of the pandemic are a real threat to my most successful relationship.

It has been over two and half years, early January of 2019, since Charlotte and I have been physically together.  I had visited her over the holidays two years in a row and might have done the same had a contractor, remodeling my house, not overstayed their welcome.  So, thinking the immigration process would soon be underway, I had promised Charlotte that I would visit the next year if she was not here.

Unfortunately, as December of 2020 approached, it soon became very clear that I would not be able to keep my word.  Travel into the Philippines, for a foreigner like me, had been banned.  It was, to say the least, a huge disappointment.  And, obviously, having not come through, my own credibility also took a huge hit.  Sure, I could not have known, but then how do you assure of anything in times like these?

I’m still not allowed to visit my love and there’s no end in sight to our wait.  The Philippines is unusually strict as far as allowing noncitizens into the country and the immigration process, already arduous, has slowed to a crawl in the current pandemic era.  In any year prior to 2020 there’s a good chance that we would be buying plane tickets right now for her and her son.  Now everything is uncertain.

It is torture.  What has remained of my hopes is being severely tested.  Sure, the first step of the K-1 Visa process may soon be underway (we submitted our paperwork at the start of the year) yet the US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) hasn’t even started to review it.  The estimated start of processing is 6 to 8 months, we’re on month 8, and they could deny our application.  And that’s just the start, then it moves on to the US Department of State.

Very recently I’ve heard that the Embassy in Manila isn’t even doing the interviews right now and, if true, this would mean a tremendous backlog of cases.  They’ll likely force Charlotte and Y-dran (her son) to get the experimental vaccine or at least make it exceedingly hard otherwise.  I’m not completely comfortable with that and yet what choice does one have?  They basically have us over the barrel.  Even with full compliance we’re looking at possible years of additional waiting.

It is so completely unnecessary that Y-dran has to wait even longer to have a father in his life, so absolutely unfair that Charlotte’s patience continues to be punished with one more year of waiting, and that’s not to mention my own distress trying to decide what is best considering the circumstances.  It seems every path I try to ease our suffering is met with a new obstacle.

Just today, as I further explored our options to visit or meet somewhere, I found the ticket prices for my go-to airline have about tripled from last time that I looked and are pretty much prohibitively expensive.  I do not even mention that sort of thing to her right now because it is too depressing too talk about.  Maybe I’ll do a GoFundMe to raise funds if there is actually an option for us to see each other.

At this point nothing else in my life matters besides my obligation to Charlotte and Y-dran.  If it weren’t letting them down, it would be easy to jump off of a bridge given the current outlook.  I’ve been stuck in this nightmare of having my most sincere romantic hopes be dashed by things unforeseeable for decades.  I’ve already endured complications that extended our seperation for years and now this.

Charlotte and Y-dran.

Prior to the pandemic we would likely have everything processed by now and would be purchasing tickets.  Now it is perhaps foolish to believe that we’ll ever be together or at least not for many years.  Which, given our current ages, and the ticking biological clock, could mean that we never have children.  At the very least, I’ll be even older and in less favorable condition than I am now, which is a very hard pill to swallow for both of us.

I’ll admit that my resolve is being strained to the max.  Given my physical battles and my history of seeing everything possible go wrong in pursuit of happily ever after, there is this nagging fear that the past couple of years have been wasted on a lost cause and that I’ve dragged down to other people with my own delusional faith.  I know Charlotte could find another man.  Am I selfish to hold on?  How long do you keep dreaming before giving up?

The problem is, if I give up, I’ve given up on life and love—I have let cynicism win.

Then again, it does feel that the odds are stacked up against us.  Why would this all happen right now, when we already had such a tough journey?  We’re up against the world, a cold-hearted system that doesn’t care about our story nor our love.  Those making these decisions, processing our paperwork, can hold out indefinitely without feeling an ounce of our pain.  We’re not giving up although maybe we have picked a battle that can’t be won.

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My Tumultuous Transitional Decade

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It is hard to believe that another decade has already come and gone. This past decade has been one of many transitions for me, from the launch of this blog in 2014 to a big change in career a few years later and, on top of all that, a departure from the only religious identity I had ever known for another.

It was a decade marked by an extreme of faith, the high-water mark of my spiritual life, leading to the most profound of disappointments and suicidal despair, all followed by a rise again from the ashes. If there is such a thing as living a second life, a life after death, then I am living proof of that concept despite the scars.

Delusion, Disappointment and Divine Humor

This blog was started, mid-decade, to be a record of my journey and also a story of the triumph of faith within a Mennonite context. However, things did not go as anticipated, my enthusiasm was not shared by those who had the power to make a difference, and my misplaced faith ended up being fully exposed by the end of it all. That was the lowest of lows for me.

However, even in my lowest moments, in the midst of that, there was a moment of levity where my sharing my disgruntlement with the impossible Mennonite marriageability expectations went viral. That remains my most viewed and shared Irregular Ideation blog to date (and recently vastly eclipsed by a blog on another blog I curate) and my proof that God does indeed have a sense of humor.

Somehow, surprisingly, my influence within the Mennonite denomination would peak with my candid expressions of frustration with the religious culture that came with my departure. A couple of my serious blogs, decrying fundamentalist influence and another discussing the role of ritual and tradition, even found their way into Mennonite World Review and an Old Order email group.

It would be hard to give that up. And I knew the newfound popularity of my blog would likely suffer once I formally announced my departure from Anabaptism—which does seem to be the case as traffic has diminished since then—but that is also the kind of sacrifice that a Christian commitment requires:

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26‭ NIV)

For the first time in my life, I had left the comfort of the Anabaptist fishbowl for something bigger. Who knows what that will bring?

Dramatic Changes and Delicious Ironies

The move to Orthodoxy has been part of a huge paradigm shift and was pretty much the only option that I had left. It was a refuge to preserve the little faith that survived the collision with a terrible reality of my misplaced hopes. I certainly didn’t go to replace what had been devastated in me. And there are all of the problems found in every group of Christians from those recorded in the book of Acts onward—all of the silly squabbles and turf wars included.

Nevertheless, the beauty of Orthodox worship, the focus on Scripture and glorifying God in our song (rather than human emotion, etc) along with a simple (and timeless) Gospel message, helped me to move forward. Orthodox worship centers on our Communion together with God and (unlike the traditions I was most familiar with as a Protestant) they do not attempt to explain the explainable. At some point, we need to let go of our own understanding and embrace the mysteries beyond our comprehension.

Moving on from religion to real estate and other miscellaneous items, I started the decade paying down my debt for my first home and driving cars that probably belonged in a scrapyard. But then, in 2014, spurred by my other and disappointments, I bought my first new car, paid cash for a handsome black Ford Focus—my best purchase to date. In fact, I was so pleased with that purchase that I sold my prized (but high mileage) Jaguar XJR and bought a brand new Shelby GT-350 two years later when they first came out—an extravagant purchase which also led to some very meaningful friendships.

Anyhow, having reached the pinnacle of automotive excellence (at least for a working man’s salary) it was time to rest comfortably, save my money and relax a bit. Or, rather, that had been the plan…

But somehow (possibly working in an office with a bunch of restless Amish investors rubbing off on me?) I ended up buying a second property with the thought (at the time of purchase) that I would move in to and sell my old place in Milton. But suddenly that plan didn’t make sense anymore, why not rent the new house and build some equity instead? Needless to say, my ideas for a comfortable existence went out the window and, only two years later, now I’m working on house number three. Not exactly a business empire, yet more than calculated risk than I’ve ever taken on before.

In the time since my blinding hopes ran into a young Mennonite woman’s all-consuming ambitions, my feet have landed in three different countries (read more here and here) and all on the opposite side of the world. As it turns out, despite my self-doubts, all that I really needed was a good enough reason to go. I had started the decade thinking that I was incapable of finding my own direction in life, that I needed to hitch myself to someone else’s ambitions to get anywhere, and yet here I am moving on. Yes, very soon, echoing the central complaint of the young woman who rejected my offer of the impossible love, I will no longer be thirty years old living in Milton.

Where False Devotion Fails, True Love Prevails

I was wrong to hope to find the kind of love that is only possible with faith within the Mennonite context.*

That said, I was right about one thing: It is only that kind of love could ever motivate me to do anything worthwhile with my life.

Truly I did nothing, over the past few years, on the strength of my own effort. No, I’ve needed physical therapists, family, spiritual fathers, sisters, and brothers. Not to mention those friends on the road who made my loneliness bearable, also those who know my name at the various establishments that I frequent, my generous current employer and the many others who have positively impacted my life over the past decade. To all those people I owe a debt of gratitude.

However, there is one who has been there for me unlike any other, the one who didn’t lose hope in me despite my delusions and attachments to Mennonite dogma; the one who told to be strong for her, to get out of bed and go to church again. Everything I’ve done over the past few years would not have been possible apart from the investment of faith that she has made in me. She, as a person who has experienced her own personal misfortune, showed more love for me than those who claim to travel the world as a display of their Christian love.

In this coming decade, I plan to spend far less time trying to please the falsely pious and proud, who can’t be pleased and are obsessed with their own image, and more time with the downtrodden and truly humble.

That is the vision behind FACT, an organization of one, so far, that has already given me some hope that my seemingly divergent strengths and interests can finally be combined into something useful and good. I hope the vision of FACT will soon grow into concrete steps towards truly meaningful actions and compassionate solutions for OFWs and their families. But that, of course, will take more than my own personal efforts and I hope there will be others willing to put aside their doubts and help those who are already doing all they can do to better themselves.

*Mennonites, like people of all established religious traditions, are really good at carrying out their own particular programs and denominational prescriptions. Similar to their Anabaptist cousins more known for their barn-raisings, Mennonites love to help in disaster relief projects. They will also dutifully staff and fund their own private schools (or homeschool if they are more trendy) and now even travel the world as missionaries. All good things, I suppose. But all those things do not require any real faith on the part of Mennonite individuals, they are a cultural inheritance, a good way to find a romantic partner, an acceptable path to rise through the ranks, and are not truly sacrificial acts of faith or love.

Entering Into A Strange New World

In the past decade, my plans got turned upside down. I gave up on old dreams and, from the wreckage of my hopes, found some new vision. Had anyone said, ten years ago, that I would have three properties, traveled to the opposite side of the world, and converted to Orthodoxy, I would have probably laughed at them. But here I am, having started a journey to the impossibility and ended up here, perplexed.

We started the decade with a president who would seem more comfortable in a lecture hall and ended it with a persona built for professional wrestling, reality television, and trolling on Twitter. Yet, contrary to popular opinion or at least in contrast to the fears of half the population, the earth has not fallen from orbit nor has the moon disappeared from the night sky, life has gone on. Albeit, my assumptions, the idea that our political decisions are rationally based, had to change overnight. Scott Adams has persuaded me.

My identity, my religious and political paradigm, has changed very significantly in the past decade. I’ve witnessed the passing of my last remaining grandmother in 2017, one of my dad’s brothers also died in a logging accident mid-decade and then, uncle Roland, a man who had helped to facilitate my stay in the Philippines, was murdered.

Over the same time, I’ve been processing the battle with cancer of a younger cousin and good friend, who just finished college and plans to marry soon, who already sacrificed a leg (in the past year) and now has new growths in his lungs.

So the fight will continue for him as it does for all of us.

One day at a time.

None of us knows what trials we will face in the next decade and yet need to continue to live in faith. I hope to be done with my inventory taking, soon break free of the transitional time I am presently still in, and finally have some of those long-awaited triumphs that have eluded me in certain areas of my life. But, at the end of it all, I can’t really tell you what this next decade will hold, whether Trump will win in 2020 or if there will even be a year 2030.

There is no point in getting stressed out about what we can’t know. Our life is a vapor, it appears for a little and then it is gone. So make the best of the time you have and don’t worry about tomorrow!

Made In Taiwan

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I started writing this blog while going through security at Taiwan’s Taoyuan International Airport and feeling sad because of what I left behind for a return to the old routine. But I’m also grateful, once again, for the opportunity to travel to the other side of the world to meet someone and make a few friends along the way.

And, speaking of new friends, when I had arrived a couple weeks earlier, the Taiwanese taxi driver—commonly referred to as “my friend” by the Filipinos working there for his habitual use of those words when answering the phone—was there (with my hosts) to fetch me at the airport. And, indeed, he was extremely friendly and only a few years younger than me. He could also carry a conversation in English.

We were both into cars.

We agreed, passing a Tesla, that the electric vehicle was too expensive and impractical.

Taiwan has a wide variety of vehicles. I saw everything from scooters, big rigs and strange small trucks to Audi’s, Beemers, and Bentley’s. Of course, I also saw Ford Focusses, like my own sitting at JFK Discount Parking, and a few other models also found in the United States. Sedans are much more common, pick-up trucks (besides the occasional Ranger) are almost non-existent, and did I say that scooters are everywhere once you get off the highways?

I used all forms of public transportation while there, taking a city bus or employing “my friend” to drive us in and out of Hsinchu City to the malls and restaurants there. We also rode the train to Houli Flower Farm, in Taichung, to take in the flower exhibit and horse ranch there. We took the express train, by accident, on our way to the zoo to Taipei. We thought we could use our “Yoyo” card (or at least that’s how “悠遊卡” sounds when you use the card) and stand on the express, but the conductor politely informed us we needed tickets and found us some seats. However, the more economical and efficient option was to take the direct line bus and we did on our later visit to Taipei.

My time in Taiwan revolved around the life of the Filipino workers there. I stayed in an apartment near the dormitories where they live. The Filipinos are drawn, away from their families and friends back home, by the better pay of electronics factories in Taiwan. It is not easy for them, but oftentimes their families rely on the extra income they earn and thus they make the sacrifice. With these Pinoy expatriates, I dined on the local Filipino and Taiwanese fare, explored the aforementioned touristy sites, and visited a small Filipino church (of a Protestant variety) in Hsinchu—enjoying a Sunday afternoon with “Pastora” after the service.

The food in Taiwan was delicious. One of my favorite dinnertime destinations being the “Shabu-shabu” restaurants—each place at the table had a burner, you would go, salad bar style, to select from an array of meat, seafood and vegetable options, then cook everything together in the boiling pot full of water.

Some pictures…

Oh, and in case you were wondering, McDonald’s still tastes like McDonald’s on the other side of the world. We had some while at the zoo.

Anyhow, here are some pictures of me horsing around at the flower farm…

Taking in the sights around Hsinchu City…

A Buddhist temple…

The smaller of two malls in Hsinchu City…

On top of world in the amazing Taipei 101…

National Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall…

Some random observations: A long dress don’t make a woman religious in Taiwan. The country, especially the region where I was, is bristling with industry and the multi-floor factories, scattered amongst the small farm plots, were no doubt churning out many goods destined for the United States. The cities have gardens in backyards rather than graffiti on the walls and crime is relatively low.

My only regret from the trip is the short layover in South Korea and not being able to visit some friends living there, otherwise it was an awesome trip and I look forward to next time!

The Beautiful City of Baguio

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It was a great relief to finally meet Charlotte.  We met outside the terminal in Manila and to accompany on the final part of my journey to Baguio.  I had left central Pennsylvania at 4 p.m. (EST) on Christmas day for a four-hour drive to NYC, boarded the Korean Air 747 (after navigating the check-in procedures at JFK) a little after midnight, arrived in Seoul about 5 a.m. (their time) and arrived in the Philippines around noon.

It was dark when we finally arrived in Baguio, a city with an altitude of 5000 feet (nearly as high as Denver, CO) and a history tied to U.S. colonialism.  Baguio, with a population of several hundred thousand, was established in 1900 by the Americans as a refuge from the searing Manila heat.  It is dubbed the “summer capital of the Philippines” because of the cooler temperatures found there and remains a popular Filipino destination.

The many lights dotting the hills were a beautiful sight as we rolled around the bend.  The weather was very pleasant when we waited at the bus stop for Charlotte’s uncle (Roland) to pick us up and take us to one of those houses perched on the side of the mountain.  Soon I was carrying my bags up, around and through the twists and turns that led to my home of the next few days.  It was strange crawling into bed that night realizing the day was just starting where I came from.

Baguio overview….

One of the best views in the city was from the apartment of Charlotte’s parents and that is where the following pictures were taken.  It was truly a spectacular view, there is no camera lens in the world that can possibly capture the color and depth, you’ll have to go there if you really want to appreciate the fullness.  But, for a small taste…

In the city…

We went to various locations around the city over the next few days.  There are various government buildings, markets with hundreds of vendors selling all manner of things, Burnham park in the heart of the city, McDonalds (and other US franchises) and a huge mall…

Transportation…

Driving presents a unique challenge, given the steep grades, busy roads and lack of parking available.  The roads into the residential parts of the city are too narrow at many points for two cars to comfortably pass and, in those cases, the car going down usually yields to the one climbing the hill.  Adding to the required skill is that most vehicles there have manual transmissions.

Oh, and everything is diesel powered, including many of the late model Ford Rangers that I loved so much.  Toyota, however, seems to be the favorite of the local population and the Tamaraw FX is everywhere.  Of course, then there’s the Jeepneys for public transportation, a vehicle that resembles a Willys Jeep that got stretched and turned into a piece of mobile artwork.  There was even a Ford Mustang (look closely at the last picture in this series) making its way through traffic in Baguio…

Trip to lowlands…

To celebrate New Year’s day the family loaded up and headed down to a resort in the lowlands.  That took us down Kennon road, past the Lion’s head and eventually to the Hundred Islands National Park where we loaded up for the boat tour.  That was a wonderful time of picnics, swimming and time together.  It was also an introduction to a slightly different version of Filipino life and a place where little motorcycles with sidecars (or “tricycles” as they called them) ruled the roads…

Igorot heritage…

The more fascinating parts of my visit to Baguio was learning about the local culture.  The Igorot people, who make up most of the Baguio population, were farming in the mountains there long before the Europeans arrived and still celebrate this unique heritage…

Family…

There was one thing more wonderful than anything else and that being the warm welcome.  I was treated as family and felt right at home.  In fact, it made me think about how truly deficient we are of this kind of true connection in the U.S.  Real wealth is not having an accumulation of stuff, real wealth is being a part of a family and loved…

The “culture shock” for me came upon my return to the U.S. and being alone again in Marriott room provided in Atlanta where we were diverted less than an hour from landing in NYC.  Sure, I didn’t need to use a bucket and water scoop to shower or flush the toilet, but I missed being called “Tito” (uncle) by children wanting my attention.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the wide open spaces of Pennsylvania and did miss my Ford Focus too.  However, I could see myself going back to Baguio.  There are plenty of seats on a 747 if any of you wish to join me!

Sitting at JFK Getting Ready For My Second Act…

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I’ve said before that I could travel the world with the right person beside me.  My problem had always been knowing how to focus my attention when the choices seem to be endless.  I had hoped to find a complimentary part, someone who was better at organization and making plans, to help overcome my own deficiencies.

Unfortunately, if you aren’t married by twenty-one you risk being typecasted.  And, after three decades, nobody gives you credit anymore for your unrealized potential and your marriageability is more likely to be determined by that existing list of faults and failures.  That was the case with me—I was, as one ambitious young woman put it, “thirty years old living in Milton” and was thus, in her eyes, ineligible for so much as a first date.

Fortunately, while the door closed for those who had long wrote me off (and those whom, after much anguish, I had finally determined would never fully accept me as one of their own) there was someone who saw me as irreplaceably special.  It was a person who was on her last hopes before we found each other and someone who held me together when my hopes in the church of my youth were lost.

In my lowest moment I found a precious bhest, someone who could look beyond my grief and loss of faith, who encouraged me to attend a church (any church) and believed in me.  It was in the midst of the struggle that I decided to visit this extraordinary person who lives on the complete opposite side of the world.  I purchased tickets nine months ago for a flight that is scheduled to depart at 12:50am on December, 26th.

The sermon yesterday, on Christmas Eve, was titled “going back to the beginning” and took us back to the starting point of the canonical Gospel. The text, Matthew 1:1-25, covered the genealogy of Christ, centered on Joseph’s decision to accept Mary as his wife despite her pregnancy, the prospect of raising a son not his own, and the potential harm to his reputation. It seemed a fitting send off for someone set to embark on a similar journey of faith and decision.

It is a strange conclusion to a tumultuous year of change—of ends, some painful, of unexpected new beginnings and a few noteworthy accomplishments. First leaving my church of thirty years, after holding unto a sliver of hope for an amicable resolution, left me feeling like one cut from their tether and reeling through space. Next a new job that utilized natural talents once thought forever buried. In the spring being a bedside witness to the passing of my only remaining grandma. In the fall receiving a first rental check. It has been a chaotic year that has left me with mixed emotions, of sad moments intertwined with happiness, and culminating with this unprecedented trip.

I am getting ready to board that flight.  It will be my first solo trip to a foreign country and only the second time in my life (other than a drive into Canada) I’ve been out of the United States.  My flight will take me from NYC to Seoul, South Korea.  And, Lord willing, if Trump and Kim Jong Un can keep the nuclear war on hold, I will continue from there and arrive in Manila (the capital city of the Philippines) in approximately twenty-one hours and fifteen minutes.

That “right person” is not physically beside me, but they have made planning a trip to the other side of the world possible for me and have left me wondering if this is God’s answer to my prayer a few years ago when I asked to go through whatever it took to make the impossible possible.

I have a new job, a new church and what seems the beginning of a second act quite different from the first.  It is amazing what can be accomplished in one year…

Missionary Or Imposter? Pitfalls and Potential of 21st Century Evangelicalism.

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If any of my travel companions shared my disquietude it was not outwardly evident. It was an exciting break from routine and adventure, a chance to travel with a group of peers. Better yet, the ‘missions trip’ label gave it full religious sanction.

However, my guilt started weeks before. We had raised a large sum of money through fundraisers. In fact, we probably had enough cash to employ a team of Haitians for a year. But, to my dismay, most of it would go out the tailpipe as burnt jet fuel used to ferry us in and out. It seemed to me obscene that we were flying into that earthquake ravaged nation for only a few short days.

When I expressed my concern I was assured that this exposure would be a good opportunity for the young people to grow in awareness and compassion. I tried my best to accept that answer. But, finally on the ground in Port-au-Prince and throughout the trip my pangs of guilt would return, my concerns verified.

The most notable experience was when a young Haitian man, seeing our enthusiastic labors to paint a church interior, beckoned for my attention. In our short conversation he pled for work to feed his belly and said the obvious: “I can do that!”

It was true.

We were doing menial tasks. We did work almost any Haitian could do with a bit of supervision. We could have sent two people for a year and had a far bigger impact. Yet, here we were, playing in the paint, doing unskilled labor in front of pleading eyes, as if to taunt them with our privileged position.

What is Christian ‘missionary’ service about?

Young people in my church are encouraged to serve as missionaries. What this often implies is travel to some exotic locale to do work projects and possibly to share a Christian witness with the indigenous population before jetting away to the next big thing. Some commitments are longer, they stay years as teachers, nannies and doing a variety of other things.

We celebrate those who go elsewhere with prayer cards featuring their picture, a “serving in [insert location here]” tagline and a favorite Bible verse. When they come back there is often a report to the congregation; which usually includes some humor about cultural oddities, maybe an expression of how blessed they were through the experience and many pictures.

I have little doubt of the sincerity of those who have embraced this idea of Christian service. Images of men like Hudson Taylor or Jim Elliot have been impressed upon their young minds, reminders of the 10-40 window fill their thoughts and they go with strong feelings of obligation. To many church raised people the ultimate Christian example is doing something over there somewhere.

I am, on one hand, happy for enthusiasm and dedication to the cause of Jesus Christ. And still, on the other hand, I question the effectiveness and wisdom of the current effort. I also suspect there is a deeper problem, a fundamental difference between the Spirit that motivated the early church to act and attitude that propels many today.

There are many reasons why a person may travel the world. But, according to Scripture, not all who claim to represent God truly do and not everyone who does wonderful things in the name of Jesus is actually saved. In fact, Jesus warns specifically about those whom he will not recognize for their efforts:

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice as much a child of hell as you are.“ (Matthew 23:15)

And it was not just the non-Christian religious leaders and Pharisees whom Jesus warned:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’“ (Matthew 7:21-23)

How can it be? How is it that some missionary efforts are flawed beyond mere ineffectiveness and are actually destructive? Why is the work of some rejected despite the outward appearance of faithfulness?

These are questions we should ask. I do believe this severe criticism and warning from Jesus applies to us today. I believe someone can spend their life in missionary work, can profess to have faith in Jesus, and—despite their dedicated religious effort—still not be doing the will of God.

Too often missionary efforts go unquestioned. It is easy to remain silent, because we know we ourselves should be doing more, and take a position: “Well, at least they are doing something…” But this reluctance to be involved is unfortunate and is what leads to wasteful or even counterproductive effort.

#1) True Missionary Service Must Be Spirit-led

I’ve talked to a young person who is determined to be a foreign missionary. I asked them how they knew it was God’s calling for their life and the reply (or lack thereof) did not convince me that they truly knew. It was simply something they wanted to do.

Others referenced Scripture, they quote the “go ye into all the world” of Jesus commissioning the disciples, dutifully applying it to themselves without considering context or chronological order. A case of proof-texting where a person can find whatever they want.

But this is not how Jesus started his ministry nor the way he told us to determine God’s will for our lives. We see instead that in his ministry Jesus was led directly by the Spirit:

“As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.’ Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” (Matthew 3:16-17, 4:1)

Jesus was led by the Spirit. And that this is the exact same Spirit that was promised and is now made fully available to those who believe in him:

“On one occasion, while he was eating with them, he gave them this command: ‘Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promise which you have heard me speak about. For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.'” (Acts 1:4-8)

It is easy to skip around the Bible to defend an established dogma and find what suits our own particular religious agenda. But we should always remember that the Pharisees also diligently studied Scripture. Yet, without the Spirit to guide them in their study, they were way off base and seriously misled.

If we do things our own way we end up like Abraham who had two sons, one of the bondwoman and his own human effort, the other of the promise God had given. (Gal 4:21-31) We are the same, we do not trust God, we get impatient and take matters into our own hands.

Instead, rather than go out on our own understanding and effort, we must wait on God’s timing and Spirit.

#2) True Missionary Service Starts Here, Not There

It is interesting to note, the author of a popular quote about every Christian being either a missionary or an impostor spent his years preaching in his native England and not overseas. So was he, by his own words, an impostor?

The full quote, from a sermon Charles H. Spurgeon preached, sheds light on what Spurgeon actually meant in his usage of the term missionary:

“Every Christian here is either a missionary or an impostor. Recollect that you are either trying to spread abroad the kingdom of Christ, or else you do not love him at all. It cannot be that there is a high appreciation of Jesus, and a totally silent tongue about him. Of course I do not mean, by that, that those who use the pen for Christ are silent; they are not. And those who help others to use the tongue, or spread that which others have written, are doing their part well; but I mean this,—that man who says, ‘I believe in Jesus,” but does not think enough of Jesus ever to tell another about him, by mouth, or pen, or tract, is an impostor.“

What Spurgeon is actually saying is that everyone who truly believes in Christ will share that with other people. He is not saying that we need to travel further than our next-door neighbors and hometown to do that. He is saying that a person is missionary wherever they are or they are an impostor.

It is true that some men in the early church traveled far and wide to spread the good news. We can read much about Paul’s missionary journeys and of other men sent out. But not all went. Not all traveled over land and sea. In fact, few probably did. Many others were needed to establish and serve in their local congregations.

All missionary work is local whether it takes place here, over there or in Jerusalem:

“…repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.” (Luke 24:47)

The idea that Christian missions is a trip overseas and something over ‘there’ is plain wrong. In our age of internet connectivity and social media, a person can be an evangelist—literally speak to people on the other side of the world—from their bedroom. So start in your own Jerusalem, stay busy where you are and then if you are called elsewhere you will be ready to serve.

We must be faithful where we are, because changing addresses will not change who we are and the need is everywhere. We need to start serving our neighbors here where we are or we are an imposter.

#3) True Missionary Service Glorifies God, Humbles Us

Many parachurch organizations exist today to support the evangelical efforts of others. American missionaries to foreign countries are often well-supplied with their own plans and material support. But in this there careful planning can be a dependency on ourselves and our own efforts rather than God.

Sending people out as Jesus did would be unthinkable. Try to imagine this:

“He told them: ‘Take nothing for the journey—no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra shirt. Whatever house you enter, stay there until you leave that town. If people do not welcome you, leave their town and shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them.’ So they set out and went from village to village, proclaiming the good news and healing people everywhere.” (Luke 9:3-6)

It was total dependence on God. There are no five year plans. There’s no walled in compound or institutional support structure—not even so much as a change of clothes, a bag of personal hygiene supplies or packed lunch for the journey.

These men went out literally with nothing but the clothing on their back and the message of the Gospel. I can imagine that there was a bit more urgency to get to know people and make friends when your next meal depended on it. I wonder also if their total dependency and vulnerability is what was required for miracles to happen.

We can make Christianity look more like a profitable enterprise than a walk of faith. When we go out with obvious advantage over those we are trying to reach it should be no surprise that some seek our wealth rather than our Jesus and ‘convert’ for the wrong reasons. When we go out with our big checkbook or provide for needs (based in our own abilities to raise funds) it quickly can become about us rather than God’s glory.

Jesus gave a different example:

“In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.” (Philippians 2:5-7)

If we wish to present ourselves as entitled recipients of American prosperity then we ought to bring it with us. If we are cultural imperialists selling Capitalism then we need to display those wares. But, if we want our faith in Jesus to be be the focus then we must live it and leave everything behind.

People are not completely dumb and many can see through a religious act. If we wish to be effective we must “become all things to all people” (1 Cor 9:22) and lower ourselves. Our hiding behind walls (necessary to secure our possessions and keep people at a safe distance) will likely speak louder than our words when or if we finally do get around to speaking.

Jesus left his privileges behind. If we are to be of the “same mindset as Christ Jesus” we should mimic that example.

#4) True Missionary Service Is About Them, Not Us

Seems obvious, doesn’t it? Why else would someone travel besides love for those they seek to reach?

If you don’t see a reason why a person would choose to be a missionary besides sincere faith here are some alternative explanations:

  • They love adventure. You do know that the millennial generation prefers experience and travel, right? It has nothing to do with faithful sacrifice and everything to do with seeking pleasure.
  • They want to escape. We do not send missionaries like the early church. Sure, those who wish to go may get a rubber stamp blessing from a church. But, in this age of individualism, people today decide for themselves and might do it to be further independent from accountability.
  • The ‘cool’ people do it. Positive peer-pressure is good, right? Well, yes, assuming that going into missions is merely a group bonding experience, a chance to be with age-group friends and maybe find a mate. But, if that’s not the missionary position we want to produce, it could be a concern.
  • It is self-gratifying. Some people really feel good about themselves and simply like to crow about it to vulnerable people. A missionary, especially supported by others, has power over those who are needy and can enjoy a near celebrity treatment as a foreigner.
  • They are duty-driven and fearful. I recall this guy named Jonah. He finally did what God said because he didn’t like being fish food. But, despite the grace he received getting spit out alive, he lacked any love or compassion for the people he was told to reach.
  • We like praise. Who doesn’t want a few feathers in the cap and ‘mission accomplished’ signs to welcome them home? Well, Jesus told us that those who act righteously for the praise of others have their reward.
  • We like projects. It takes some discipline and focus to do missionary work. Unfortunately, real love is something that does not fit a formula or schedule and people do not like being your project.

All of those things aren’t necessarily bad in their right place. We should enjoy ourselves with good friends. The less materialistic focus of the millennial generation is one positive thing about them and a potential strength. Confidence is great too and so is a sense of accomplishment or being recognized for the right things and encouraged.

Yet the purpose of missions is not our own pleasure. If it is not primarily for the good of those we claim to serve then we might be better staying home until we mature spiritually and love genuinely.

My caution is that our priorities be in the right order. Missions is about having true love for our neighbors. If you are not willing to serve your next-door neighbor, then you probably have no business traveling over land and sea on a religiously sanctioned trophy hunt. We need to go in genuine love for the people we are serving or it is going through the motions and it is spiritually empty.

#5) Missionary Service Is About Faithfulness, Not Dogmatism

In the book of Acts we have the interesting account of Philip and an Ethiopian. We are told Philip was promoted by an angel to take a walk. It was on that walk Philip encountered an Ethiopian eunuch on a chariot (the Bentley or Rolls Royce of their day) and an important man. Philip was directed by the Spirit to go stand near the chariot.

So Philip obeyed.

The man was perplexed about a passage from the book of Isaiah the prophet. Philip asked the man, “do you understand what you are reading?” The Ethiopian admitted his need for help interpreting the meaning of the passage and Philip explained. The result was an on-the-spot Baptism (no mandatory background check or ‘young believer class’ waiting period) and the two never crossed paths again.

Philip was faithful. He was willing to adapt to circumstances and do what needed to be done without much hesitation. Faith is creative, it is free, it adapts as need be, and motivates us to become all things to all people, like Paul:

“Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.” (1 Corinthians 9:19-23)

Religious dogma, by contrast to Spirit-led faith, is rigid and inflexible. It tries to make every situation conform to a predetermined ‘cookie cutter’ mold or established mode and becomes easily frustrated when things do not fit the prescriptive ‘one size fits all’ solutions. It is confining rather than empowering and is often confusing or confounding in practice. It is limiting of full potential.

The front lines of evangelicalism have shifted dramatically. The internet has opened a new front and can get us beyond ‘enemy lines’ much like the invention of the airplane revolutionized warfare. Unfortunately many Christians are stuck slugging it out in the trenches, too fixated on established fighting methods, blinded by missionary dogmas built in the 1800’s, and unable to take advantage of the opportunities right in front of them.

Likewise the Pharisees did everything right outwardly, in their own minds (and that of their religious peers) they had righteous living all figured out to the last detail, but they lacked the mind of Christ. Nothing in their religious devotion or diligence in studying Scripture revealed the truth of God’s word (John 5:31-40) to them. They thought of themselves as gatekeepers and in reality they themselves would not enter in.

We have been warned about the false security of religion, but do we have the faith to change where need be? Do we have the imagination or vision for today? Are we like Philip who followed the Spirit and improvised? Or are we stuck fighting trench warfare in an age that may require a different approach?

An Object Beside the Road

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“Delicious!”  A man yells, from a grassy knoll to those passing back and forth on the road below, as he points in the direction of a large structure beside him.  He excitedly invites the travelers to join him in celebration of deliciousness.

Another beside that man extols the virtue of “home cooked” and describes images on the structure as being nutritious food.  She implores, “come dine with me!”  Then, in a hushed voice, she tells the travelers who listen that the guy yelling delicious is a simpleton and there’s much more to be told about the object than that one word.  She hands the traveler a chunk of the structure to eat.

Others stand very near the structure seemingly oblivious to their surroundings.  They bow their heads reverently as they memorize portions of the structure.  They ignore the travelers while reading ritualistically. Some carefully catalog and categorize the colors, pictures, shapes and the sequence of letters on the object. Amid their detailed analysis, they warn each other about those who got into discussions with travelers that were led away and distracted from studying by the groups furthest from the structure.

To the left of the guy yelling “delicious” sits a group sitting smugly in the shade of the object.  One tells the others, “it is just wood and canvas and intended as a place to shelter.”  They discuss together the materials that the structure is constructed of and theorize the process of how it was built.  And, other than lofty arguments over how to distribute the available protection of the shelter, this group rests confidently knowing they better understand the purpose of the object than the others.

Just then another traveler rounds the bend, he looks at the reverenced structure, utters the words, “delicious home cooked food just ahead.”  And then attempts conversation with the others about the meaning of the structure. For his perspective on the structure (that it is a marker pointing ahead rather than a destination point or object of worship) he is ridiculed as a dreamer, condemned as dangerous and ignored as boring.  Eventually, with night falling, he tells the other travelers, “follow me to the restaurant advertised on the billboard.”  They leave the object beside the road.

Those sitting left of the structure shrug and continue their lofty discussion.  The guy yelling delicious is now dancing with tears running down his face having forgotten about the travelers already.  The rest of those gathered on the knoll lament the lack of dedication to the structure.  Some double down on their efforts to worship the structure, they warn all the more passionately against ever leaving the structure and continue trying to find their sustenance in the structure.

Meanwhile, just down the road, as the sun slips beneath the horizon, two travelers sit comfortably at a table eating a home cooked meal. “Delicious!” One traveler says to the others…