Heading into the Mission or Heading the Mission?

"Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:"   ~ Matthew 28:19

You know how Girl Guides have those sashes that extend from one shoulder to the hip? They're covered in badges that the girls have earned by study, participation or accomplishment. There's the badges that everyone gets for baking a cake or looking after their family pet or sewing a straight line. Then there's that one special badge. The one that not everyone achieves, the one that takes more sacrifice and determination to get. The one that the other girls look at and go, "wow, you have that badge!" For me it was my snowshoeing badge. Not very many little girls got that badge and it was one I was proud to have sewn on my sash (and we're talking old-fashioned-rope-web-rabbit-foot-tall-as-me-real-deal-snow-shoes here, none of that lightweight aluminum stuff we have today). 

**Well, in the Christian sub-culture it could be argued that we have figurative sashes that we sew little badges on to. There's the conversion badge and subsequent baptism badge, the Christmas nativity badge (probably another badge just for girls if you have the honour of playing Mary), the church choir badge, the faithful tither badge, the Holy Matrimony badge, Sunday school teacher badge, guest speaker badge, scripture reading badge, committee leader badge, song leader badge, soup kitchen badge, I could go on but I think you get it. Then there's THE badge. The one you'll get the most questions about, the most ooooohs and aaaaahs, the one that proves that you are a dedicated, self-sacrificing Christ follower. . .The Missionary Badge. Da, da, Duuuummmmmm. 

Some churches, like mine, put a lot of emphasis on going to the mission field. We look at missionaries the way that the public looks at firefighters. We think of words like duty, sacrifice, heroism and we do it all with a feeling of awe. How many years did you spend in the mission? Wow, really? What was it like? Are you fluent in three languages now? What was the hardest thing you saw? Which disaster were you helping with? Did you cure a disease? Did you get a disease? 

Okay, well, we're not all so forthcoming with those exact questions but I'm just trying to get across that an overseas mission is the "Holy Grail" of Christian Service. In saying all this I am in no way trying to take away from the importance and dedication and sacrifice of committing to an overseas mission. After all, it is commanded of us. My question is are we over-emphasizing the overseas mission? Obviously I'm arguing that we are indeed doing just that. 

I remember as a kid when our school would be fundraising for the needy in developing countries. My dad would often wonder out loud about how it was that we could find money to give to people in other countries but we still had homeless and starving people in our own country - our own cities for that matter. These thoughts always stuck with me. The same could be said about the Gospel in other countries. Sure, there are lots of folk who have never heard the Gospel overseas - however, there are a lot of people at home who have never heard the Gospel either, or worse, have never heard it in a way that makes sense to them. 

A few years ago I had the pleasure of doing a ride-along with an outstanding Halton Region Paramedic and fellow Christ-follower. He has been on several missions, including a year spent in Haiti where he and his family were amidst the chaos of the earthquake when it happened. At this time I had not been on a mission yet and I was talking over different options with him. Then he said something to me that I will never forget. He said, "You know, Lexi, the greatest mission field we have is in the workplace." The greatest mission field is not in a third world country with a different language. The greatest mission field is wherever you are right now - wherever God has led you to at this moment. 

That's a powerful and sobering thought. Powerful because you have a mission at this very moment and sobering because think about how you went about your day today. Did you treat it as an opportunity to be a witness for Christ? Your greatest mission field is right here in front of you - but so is the toughest.

Which leads me to another thought. So many of us get excited when we have the opportunity to leave on an overseas mission. I was very excited when I was called to a short-term medical mission in El Salvador. It's a life-changing experience. In fact, I would go as far to say that for many of us, an overseas mission changes us more than it changes the people we meet (take that with a grain of salt). However, as quick as I was to accept the chance to jump into a a new situation in a new culture with new people I have to criticize myself for not accepting that chance on the home front.

How many of us actually go out of our comfort zones at home? I'm just observing that we spend a lot of time in each other's fellowship which is comforting and rejuvenating. I'm wondering though if we may need to confront the fact that shaking someone's hand after singing once a month is not missionary work. That spending all of our time with friends from church and in our own community does not spread the Good News. That being too self-concious to strike up a conversation does not further Christ's love or break down stereotypes. How can we take that comfort and rejuvenation we find in our own church and community and spread it outward?

Maybe we need to get a teensy-bit more excited about the mission field God has placed us in before we start longing for the mission field overseas.

Just a thought. 

"And he went out from thence, and came into his own country; and his disciples follow him." 

~Mark 6:1

**The earning badges thing is an illustration. A Christ-filled spirit realizes that these "badges" do not earn him or her a place in Heaven. Only through accepting Christ as saviour and his free forgiveness grants us a place in Heaven. The "badges" are things we are propelled to do through our love for Christ.

My Mom's Story: Part 1- Growing Up in Thornhill

I’m starting this blog for two reasons. The first being that more and more I find I need a writing outlet. I’m inspired by my friends’ blogs and the honesty in their writing so I figured I would give this a try. The second is that its my mom’s 50th birthday coming up and I want to do something in her honour. She doesn’t know I’m doing this and it’s probably best she doesn’t hear about it until it’s done so that she doesn’t put the kaibosh on it out of modesty. My mother is where I will begin. This is not meant to be a biography, yet in order to appreciate what my mother has taught me and how she has inspired me it seems only fitting to look at where she’s come from and how far she has come in her life thus far.


My Mom's Story : Part I - Growing Up in Thornhill

All stories focusing on one’s life seem to begin with the date they came into the world. This seems as good a place as any to start, especially with my mother’s upcoming 50th birthday. My mother was born on July 25, 1961 in Collingwood, Ontario. I won’t go too far into her childhood as I wasn’t there to attest to it and I wouldn’t want to skew another’s memories. However, it seems that she was a curious little kid who was independent and had no inhibitions about leaving her her home and going to visit her grandparents down the street without telling her parents where she was going. She was mature beyond her years and by age six she was certain she was destined to be an only child. Luckily, she was blessed with a baby sister that year who she endeavored to keep out of trouble in the years that followed.
My mom has always had a strong work ethic which I know for certain that she developed growing up in her household. Her parents were from a farming background and they brought that with them to their acreage home in Thornhill, Ontario. There was no sleeping in allowed because there were always chores that could be done around the house and on the property. As there were no boys in the family her dad became an equal opportunist of sorts and made sure his girls were well-rounded in all family tasks. There were no “pink” or “blue” jobs as I’ve heard them referred to recently.
Mom worked equally hard in school. Though she wasn’t one who achieved especially high marks she did excel in art and was athletic, participating in many school teams, her favorite being basketball. Like myself, she struggled in math and also like myself she was bullied and teased about her looks. These two things especially endeared her to me as a child (knowing that she had problems in math but now she paid all the bills and helped me with my math homework and that she was also tormented by her classmates but was now the most beautiful woman I knew). I think it was in these years that she developed her determination. If you want to defeat my mother the worst thing you can do is to tell her that she is not capable of accomplishing something. That’s all the kindling she needs to light a fire and she will burn through any obstacles until she achieves just what you said she couldn’t do. Then she’ll take it a step further and be the best at it too!
Basically, by the time she was 15 years old my Mom was a sweet, mature, independent and well-balanced girl with numerous skills. At this time she also attended and became a confirmed member of The United Church of Canada. That winter her church paired with the nearby Presbyterian Church to billet youth coming from Virginia. Mom of course, in all appropriateness, asked to billet another young woman. However, there were a few local boys there that had come to participate hoping that they could also billet some young American women. One of these boys was the good-natured but more rebellious 17-year-old son of a Presbyterian Church Elder. It was in the church basement that this boy first asked Lee Anne if she’d like to go grab lunch with him at McDonalds. She didn’t answer him. There was another girl named Lee Anne there. She was certain he must be asking that other Lee Anne out.

To be continued. . .