Adventure and Calm

I just finished reading Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” to my kids and I was a bit struck by the final two chapters. Where most books would merely state, “a year later Bilbo finally was home and remembering his journey,” or something of the sort, Tolkien spends two whole chapters on the return home.

Bilbo wants to be back in the calm of the shire. But he also mourns the loss of his adventure the entire way home. And he never really recovers from it. He never enters back in to his local society and he’s always more in touch with the people who stop by to visit and remember the adventure.

I identify with all of this. I love the calm of America. And I desperately mourn the loss adventure I felt in ministry in China.

I have no solution, I only found commiseration in a Tolkien book, and maybe some near-tears too.

You Might be a Universalist Because Your Theology of Hell is All Wrong

I’m increasingly running across people who say something to the effect of, “God can’t send people to hell. I can’t reconcile that with the graceful loving God that I know. Therefore he must send no one to hell.”

Now before I get too deep in to this, I should clarify, I am not at all a universalist. Heck, I spent a decade of my life trying to tell people about Jesus and train others to do the same. But I have to say that idea of our loving, gracious God sending people to a place of tortue, burning, and eternal torment is something I can’t totally grasp either. Maybe that is how things are. But I don’t think I’m entirely convinced.

There are quite a few verses in the new testament that give us an idea of hell. Matthew 13:42&50, “weeping and gnashing of teeth”, Mark 9:43, “where the fire never goes out.” Matthew 25:41, “the eternal fire prepared for the devel and his angels.” Revelation 21:8, “the firey lake of burning sulfur.”

I mean, those seem pretty damn (ahem) clear right? The interesting thing is the Bible gives us almost nothing on heaven (besides a descending city). Why is there so little written about heaven in the Bible? I buy that the puritans were interested in painting a picture of hell so horrifying that folks would be scared in to heaven, but I don’t buy that the writers of the Bible would (again, I could be wrong about this).

C.S. Lewis’ “Great Divorce” gives a picture of heaven I think is probably near-prophetic. I’m not sure we’re going to know exactly what it’s like (the new Jerusalem sure sounds a lot more like a city than C.S. Lewis’ picture paints for example), but as far as what we’ll be let in on in this life, I think it comes about as close as we’re going to get.

Likewise I think his picture of hell is something we don’t often consider. Lewis paints hell as an almost-dark city where everyone has everything they want, but they’re miserable. They’re separated from God, which is the only thing that could truly make them happy.

Essentially heaven, in Lewis’ imagery, boils down to “communion with God.” And hell boils down to “separation from God.” That is, those who go to heaven get God in his fullest, and his perfect creation. Those who go to heaven get themselves in their fullest, and their imperfect desires.

The picture I often like to use as an example is that of a child and eating. If we left our kids to decide what to eat, they would choose ice cream and candy for every meal—always. They would constantly feel terrible, and hungry, and then go in search of more ice cream and candy.

Likewise hell is people getting what they ultimately want, themselves. Their own decisions. So hell becomes a place where they get exactly that. Want a bigger house? Want to live further from your neighbors? Just move, get what you want. But we know those things aren’t actually what satisfies us. Still, we eat more ice cream, but are never satisfied.

Hell is getting yourself. It’s like fire and brimstone in terms of joy (i.e. not much), it just also has the continual allure of pending satisfaction (just one more bowl of ice cream and everything will be great). The images of eternal fire and weepeing and gnashing of teeth, of the firey lake of burning sulfur, I think they’re images depicting the misery of the lost striving to find fulfillment in being their own gods.

If people who don’t believe are eternally tortured by a gracious God, I understand why that’s hard to accept. If people are given over to themselves for eternity by a gracious God, it’s honestly not much better (any better?), but it’s something we can somehow grasp.

I’m not a universalist.

I believe in this life (on this side of death) the believer, in pursuing God, gets a glimpse of heaven now—communion with Him does make everything else go strangely dim. And in this life the non-believer gets a glimpse of hell now—vain pursuit of self-satisfaction.

I want to eat food that satisfies. I want to know what health feels like. Ice cream looks nice, but is empty when consumed exclusively and without the guidance of someone who knows better how to satisfy me. Like most of the world, it has its place if it’s viewed as a part of a “balanced diet”.

Are you a universalist because you haven’t really sorted out what you think about hell?

My Church Attendance Problem: or Profound Cognitive Dissonance

When talking to people about their lives in China there was always this one profound disconnect from logic that drove me crazy. When people would honestly tell me about struggles in life and what made them miserable, I’d ask for details.

“There is so much pressure in life,” they would say.

In a large part (though not exclusively) because of the one child policy, most people in their mid–30’s or younger were an only child and felt the need to support both their parents and their two sets of grandparents. Many of these parents sacrificed everything they had so their kids could go to college and get a good paying job. As such these folks grew up and got a decent job and now their parents feel they owe them something in return.

What they owe could be money to pay things back, but usually it’s the pressure to buy a car (always brand new, always financed), and then an apartment (often bought on a 75 year mortgage), and then find someone to get married to so they can have a kid (grandparents raise the kids usually, and they find a lot of meaning in life through this). Marriage was almost never about finding someone you enjoyed being with, or were in love with, but someone who was your social equivalent and would make a “good wife” (have kids, be loyal etc…) or “good husband” (by providing the things mentioned above).

And I would always ask, “To what end? Why do you want to have a kid? Because you want to? Or because it’s what you’re supposed to do? And how are you going to raise your kid to not fall in to the same pattern of giving that kid immense pressure, to the do the very things which cause you to be profoundly dissatisfied with life?”

After asking this there would be silence for a few minutes. Then a shrug and, “But this is how we live life here.”

Fatalistic and sad.

So then yesterday I’m talking with a friend of mine who grew up in the church like I did and is wrestling with a lot of the same things I’m wrestling with. I hate going to church on Sunday mornings right now. We’ve been to a million churches and almost everything about all of them drives me crazy. They’re overly concerned with the minutiae of things like how far apart the chairs or, or what color the auditorium is to be lit during each worship song—all at the expense of, you know, actually connecting people. Actually preaching the gospel etc… (though the good ones still pull this off sometimes).

And my friend asks, “Well, why do you go?” I go because I want my kids to enjoy church. I go to a big church because they’re the only ones with decent kids programs even though they’re the very ones that make me crazy for all the other reasons.

“Why do you want your kids to like church?” He asks.

“So when they grow up they want to be part of a church.” Is my embarrassing excuse for a response…. I want my kids to enjoy church now so they grow up as frustrated with church as I am, and they feel the need to keep going and to bring their kids because “That’s how Christians live life here.”

The cognitive dissonance that drove me crazy in China and I could not get people to see beyond is the same cognitive dissonance I’m now dealing with regularly. And I have no idea what the answer is.

Observation on Living for Jesus

When I was young, I thought a Christian was supposed to stand out by the superficial things they did differently (not cursing, going to church on Sunday, listening to the right music, etc…).

Now I believe I can curse all I damn well please. Because it really doesn’t offend anyone but Christians anymore. And really only those still in the former camp (am I wrong about this?). But that I’m supposed to stand out by the way I love people, have patience for people, encourage people, and live a life valuing God and His creation instead of money, sex, fame, lust….

Honestly if you live like that, you stand out pretty substantially in this world.

No one asks why you don’t cuss. But people ask why you love the way you do.

Lamenting the Loss of my "Mission"

I’ve talked about this before. I need to talk about it more because it’s what I chew on all day, every day.

I lived as a missionary for ten years in Southwest China. I worked with and worked hard to support some of my biggest heroes. People who spent years in jail for their faith. People who sacrificed more than I can imagine for their faith. I feel like I’m the guy who fought on the front lines with bullets whizzing by my head; I came out completely unscathed, but the people who fought alongside of me were true heroes. They fought, they raided, they attacked and were even captured—but fought on.

I got to be there for it. And in some ways I fear it’s my “glory days” that I’ll always look back on with a bit of longing. I loved rubbing shoulders with the best. I loved caring for, ministering to, and going in to battle with the Lord’s “special forces.” But now I’ve been relegated to the post office.

As a soldier on the front lines, I always believed in my head that the post office was necessary. We couldn’t fight without it, therefore the role it played was essential. But my heart said it was a second class citizen.

Now I’m in the post office. By the grace of God I’m an important player in the post office. But in a real sense, I’m mad at God. I don’t care how important I am. I was willing to sacrifice life and limb on the front lines but, now that He’s assigned me to the post office, I’m angry at Him. “Screw you,” I think, to my commanding officer. You took away what I love. My feeling of glory. Of being someone of importance.

I know without question (in my head) that this assignment is the right one. That what I’m doing matters and how I do it unto the Lord is of absolute significance. But my heart hasn’t caught up. I miss the glory, the adventure, the sense that I was someone of utmost importance.

I haven’t adjusted to life in middle class America (the post office). But there are an incredible amount of lost people here. In some ways it’s more lost than China. And success for a soldier of Christ is faithfully doing what He’s assigned me to do (and this is where I’m assigned! Like it or not).

I’m not saying it’s easy (it’s not). But faithfully doing this here is what I’m called to do.

Lord give me wisdom, on how to do it. Help me to forgive you for removing me from the front lines, because I’m mad about it. I know it’s right. But I’m still mad.

Teach me to be the postman you’ve called me to be. And help me to do it for your glory.

I know my skills, my giftings, and my love of the Kingdom and the Battle are valuable and can be used by the Lord right here. But I’m not sure I believe what I know.

Patriotism in a Time of Trump

“Good men needed to be convinced that their country’s cause was just; but it was still their country’s cause, not the cause of justice as such. The difference seems to me important. I may without self-righteousness or hypocrisy think it just to defend my house by force against a burglar; but if I start pretending that I blacked his eye purely on moral grounds–wholly indifferent to the fact that the house in question was mine–I become insufferable. The pretence that when England’s cause is just we are on England’s side–as some neutral Don Quixote might be–for that reason alone, is equally spurious. And nonsense draws evil after it… A false transcendence is given to things which are very much of this world.”

  • C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves

I increasingly believe almost anything relevant to today, can be found in books written by those who have gone before us.

Shockingly relevant/salient.

We Have no King but Caesar!

“We have no king but Caesar!” - John 19:15

When the disciples betray Jesus it’s horrifying.

When the high priest predicts and ultimately approves of His death, it’s horrifying.

When Peter denies Jesus three times, we feel his shame.

When the Jews hand Jesus over and ask for a robber to be released, it’s embarrassing.

When Pilate tries to release Jesus because he finds no fault in Him, but the people demand His crucifixion, I am already starting to be numb to the foolishness.

But when the people cry out, “We have no king but Caesar!” I just sort of lose it. Their oppressor—they declare allegiance to the one who oppressed them. The very one from whom they hope the messiah comes to rescue them, they declare to be their king.

And in the same breath they deny their God.

On the hand, they deny their God repeatedly, and I’m sure we do too in our idols and actions, but this is so over the top blatant, and embarrassing.

I just don’t really have a box for any of it. Other than to be reminded that we should conversely cry out, “We have no King but Jesus.”

Holiness, Hedonism, and White Collar America

When I moved home from the mission field I made a few conscious decisions. I determined I was going to drink more, and that I would start to curse more.

Now before you get your undies all bunched up, let me clarify what that means. Cursing more means using "cuss words", the kind I grew up believing no Christian would ever mutter. The kind I spent a week feeling terrible about when I said "shit"—to my own surprise—in sixth grade. It does not mean using the Lord's name as a curse word. That is something else entirely, with which I'm wholly uncomfortable. However, most four-letter words have become completely acceptable amongst my generation. So much so, I've noticed them being used in job interviews. Saying "shoot" today is the equivalent of wearing a sign around your neck that says, "I don't know how to interact with society."

This is a loosely held belief, not a conviction. Your mileage may vary.

And for drinking, I determined I would partake more regularly, not the point of drunkenness.

Both of these decisions were related to my reaction against the very tight religious rules under which I lived for a decade as a missionary. The organization I worked for often held these things in wonderful tension, but towards the end, people were confusing priorities and the freedom of the gospel. I'm not saying they got it entirely wrong, just that they swung the pendulum far enough the one direction, that I reacted when I left and chose to swing it back the other (again, probably a bit far).

Now that I'm a non-full-time-missionary I find myself wrestling with just diving full on in to hedonism. Or at least desiring it. Partly because I've now, for the first time in my life, not been living entirely for the purpose of holiness.

For most of my life, I was seeking to be holy, seeking to eradicate each and every sin and making that the laser focus of my life. As I preached the gospel repeatedly in China I realized early on that the Gospel is not about sin management, it's about a savior who has already solved it for us. Our lives should be about keeping our eyes on Jesus, not laser focused on zapping our every remaining sin (a vain life-goal if there ever was one). While I knew, even early on, that life was not about sin management, I was under a religious system where it was difficult to live any other way.

But in embracing the freedom of the Gospel, in reacting—as strongly as I have—to the religious foolishness (the same religious foolishness I think Jesus would have reacted to, and did react against with the pharisees), I feel a little lost.

My life was about holiness. Now it's about keeping a business afloat. My life was about praying for people, and helping guide them spiritually. Now it's about keeping clients happy and managing co-worker relationships.

I don't believe there is anything less holy about what I'm doing now, but it sure feels less holy—or at least less meaningful. I am certainly less-often reminded about the kingdom importance of what I'm doing. And I'm also certainly praying for people less often. Though the Lord regularly tells me this is exactly where He'd have me, it doesn't mean I "get it".

At it's core, I think I've reacted thinking, "If I'm called to be a missionary in China, I'm going to chase God and His holiness with all my worth. But, if I'm called to be a white-collar American worker, I'm not sure I want to serve this way. I'm not sure I'm willing to see it as an equal calling. And I'm not sure I'm willing to put in the same effort for the holiness I previously sought."

And goodness am I stuck with no resolution, just wrestling with this.

Preaching the Truth in Love: Or, Heaven Awaits Now

The grace of God and the joy we have in Him and the excitement we experience in salvation is great—however you approach it. That said, without really stopping to dwell on the absolute misery of hell, and eternal separation from God, it’s difficult to realize just how great that salvation is. We will probably never understand it, this side of heaven.

When we preach the truth to people, when we call them to the Lord things like hell, condemnation, and eternal damnation are things we try to avoid because it’s been used in fear tactics where Christians have “preached” against those we believe have committed sins that are unforgivable. But no sin is unforgivable. With the blood of Jesus everything is redeemable. Literally everything. And the damnation we avoid, the separation, the hell we avoid both in the next life and in this life, are so profound that our salvation is worth more than we can imagine.

Therefore calling others to truth—now—is calling them out of damnation. Out of separation. Out of hell, even in this life. Salvation is great, and the Lord can enter in to even very sinful situations without convicting a person of every sin all at once. But the glory we’re promised, the joy we can experience, is so much greater than the separation we previously had, that it is profoundly worth communicating clearly.

Call your friends out of sin, where you can, where you have authority to do so, where you can do so in love. Because the night and day contrast between the hedonism of this world, and the joy of a life lived in Christ is just that—profoundly different. It’s worth pursuing right now. Heaven awaits now.

Don’t accept sin when heaven is promised. Don’t settle for sin when salvation is free. Don’t avoid the truth when joy is literally standing at the door ready to be let in. And don’t deny those around you the truth when you think it’s love to ignore it. It’s a hard line to walk (balancing truth and love). But an essential one nonetheless.

Biblical Reasons I'm Voting for Donald Trump

Love your neighbor, unless he’s Syrian. Then, by all means keep him off your damn lawn. - Luke 10:29

He shall judge between many peoples, and shall decide disputes in favor of America; and they shall beat their swords into guns, and their spears into bullets; nations shall not lift up sword against America (for they will be afraid), and she shall be great once again. - Micah 4:3

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but strong judgements on the appearance of individual women. - Matthew 10:34

And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up serpents with their very tiny hands; and if they speak poisonous words, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, even when unwelcome.” - Mark 16:17-18

And have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the democratic fire; to others show no mercy or fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh of that woman's husband. - Jude 1:22-23

If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations—“Do not late night tweet, Do not lie to get elected, Do not touch without asking”—according to human precepts and teachings? - Colossians 2:20-22

If your enemy is hungry, do not give him bread to eat,
and if he is thirsty, deny him water to drink,
those who work hard will be able to fend for themselves. - Proverbs 25:21

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever votes for him should not pay more taxes but have eternal life. - John 3:16

All verses are quoted from the GAV (Great American Version).

Idle Thought on a Sunday Morning

If you want a really big church, make it a cult of personality.
If you want a healthy church, consider making it about Jesus.

Love Your Neighbor Unless...

“Love your neighbor, unless he’s Syrian. Then, by all means keep him off your lawn.” - Luke 10:29

Things the Bible does not say.

An Unnecessary Toy, and God Teaching Us a Lesson

I am a pipe smoker. I have shared that before, but it’s an important detail for the rest of this.

I am a pipe smoker, and as such, I have often fiddled with my existing pipes. If you don’t smoke a pipe, you probably don’t know that a slightly larger hole in the shank of the pipe makes for a much better pipe-smoking experience (in my, and other’s, opinion). In fiddling with reshaping and re-drilling, I found out about the world of pipe making and relatively early on I became interested in the idea of one day having a lathe to make pipes of my own.

Now, as you know if you read this blog, I spent most of the last decade in China with my four children in apartments barely big enough to hold my pipes. Actually, the apartments were too small for my pipes, but my wife was insanely accommodating and allowed me to store pipes at home despite the small-ness of our apartments. The idea of ever keeping a lathe in our apartment, however (no garage, often on the 6th floor or higher), was pure foolishness. So I just always assumed I would never own a lathe.

Fast forward to today, I live in relatively-suburban America (it’s been a huge adjustment, trust me), and I have an oversized garage where my pipe collection fits just fine. A few months ago my Uncle sold his house of 35 years and moved in to a small apartment. In his old house, he housed a metal lathe originally belonging to my grandfather who passed away about 15 years ago. He called me, when cleaning out his basement, and asked if I wanted a lathe. My father was even willing to drive it out from my Uncle’s place to my new place.

I do not need a lathe.

I always figured it would be nice to play with one a few times, but then I’d probably make a pipe or two and decide I wasn’t really in to it.

But, now I have a lathe. In fact, tonight I turned my 5th pipe on that lathe. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in learning, and I have a long ways to go, but I really enjoy standing out in my garage and working on a pipe. I don’t need a lathe. I figured I’d never have a lathe. Lathes like this one cost about $1500+. I got his lathe for free.

Tonight as I turned this pipe (the first one I’m really pretty proud of), I was standing there thinking about how good the Lord is to me. He knows I don’t need a lathe, but he found a way, without my digging around, to get one to me for free. And I’m thoroughly blessed by it, the immense space in my garage for it, the fact that I ever have time to play on it, etc…

This is an example of the Lord just blessing me above and beyond. It is an unnecessary desire of my heart, but it’s been a desire for a long time. Getting a lathe for free is only and just a big blessing—that is all.

I was standing in my garage thanking the Lord for it tonight, thinking, “The Lord has provided this home, this place in America, this oversized garage, and even a lathe to boot. Goodness He has taken care of me. Thank you Lord for taking care of a job, a life and home for my wife and kids (things I truly care about and have fought for), and even a toy above and beyond that. The Lord really can and does take good care of me.”

Then immediately after this, I thought, “Oh no. I’m thankful for this right now only because God is about to take my job away from me and I’ll need to remember how He provides for a job, a home, a life, and even unnecessary toys, just so I don’t panic when it’s time to look for a new job.”

That’s ridiculous, but somewhat portrays something I think many of us think about God. We think, “Yes he does take care of us, but He might take it all away just to remind us He’s in control and we’re not.”

But I think that’s a terrible misconception. God does not see us a foolish to whom He wants to teach a lesson. Now we are foolish, and He does teach us. But He loves and delights in us, He even wants to (and does) see us as His children.

I hope I can accept the Lord’s delight, without fearing it’s conditional or only there temporarily to teach me a lesson of some sort. I want to delight in His unnecessary but much appreciated gift, and His care of all my other things.

Lord, help me to delight in you. To trust you, and to trust you aren’t out just to take things away so you can teach me a lesson. And thank you for providing, above and beyond what I could have imagined.

Reconciling the career of an artist and Christianity

What does it mean to be an artist and a Christian.

Almost by mere nature of being in the art world, you are seeking fame. Your name must be well known whether you are a writer, potter, painter, musician or sculptor. Well, in theory you don’t have to be well known, but if you want to make a living doing what you love then you sure as well need to be.

The problem is, it is the Christian’s job to make the name of Jesus great, not our own. So how do you reconcile these two?

I genuinely am asking. And if anyone has a great answer I’d love to hear it.

Missions Disillusionment

My first year in China I remember taking the train from where I lived up to a much bigger city. We would make this trip about once a month because there were so few foreign imports or restaurants where we lived. The trip wasn't too long, just about three hours, and the ticket was reasonably priced. The trains back then were all old, not like the bullet trains crisscrossing the country now. The one we were on looked like it was built before World War II, and it may very have been.

So there I am standing on the train as it sways back and forth with some significant regularity and I'm looking out the window. As far as the eye can see and in every direction, there are people. Mostly small villages of just a few homes built of cement and standing together in the midst of small farm fields. From a distance these villages always look peaceful and clean. Up close they're usually filled with the sound of dogs barking, chickens clucking, pigs oinking, and children screaming. They have a the stench of a village lacking a real sewage system, and even the human waste is often shoveled from the back of the outhouse in to buckets and used as fertilizer.

I didn't know all of those details at the time. I just knew these villages represented a China I wasn't experiencing in the mega city where I lived. I'm not sure I ever wanted to live in a place like this, small little villages like these, but I know I found them fascinating.

So there I am, looking out the window and, as I always do when passing through the country side, I'm soul searching. Praying about this huge country and the sheer volume of people who had never heard the gospel. I'm dreaming about how Hudson Taylor himself may have travelled the paths we're passing and I'm wondering what the Lord has in mind for this country.

I'm picturing a future day where I'm running through these rice fields carrying Bibles to people who are waiting on their front steps to receive them. I didn't tell them I'm coming, the Lord just tells them a messenger is bringing good news. Or at least, that's how it plays out in my head. I'm that messenger. I'm playing the central role.

In retrospect I see a shocking amount of personal ambition in my desires for seeing this country reached. And wrapped up in that ambition—at the center of all of my fantasies of how China would be different in ten years—is me. I wanted to be the savior of China. It is often still the case that my ambition is at work and while I know it's foolish, somewhere deep down inside of me I still sometimes believe I am the savior of China. This place has been just been waiting for me to arrive, and now I'm here! Just wait until all the missionaries watch me do what they never could. I assume I'll accomplish bigger (more important) things than them because they weren't brave enough, bold enough, and their walks with the Lord were nothing compared to mine.

Years later I know a lot better. I know that very little has changed as a result of my work in China. I've worked my tail off and these people are not yet fully sanctified, in fact I can say with some certainty, not a single one of my friends is. I figured by now the government would have had me pegged as the biggest problem in the whole country, the guy who was most fearlessly preaching the gospel and seeing innumerable converts. I would have at once been kicked out for being so effective, and have been allowed to stay behind because the change was so positive even the communist party couldn't deny the good I had done for China.

These thoughts are embarrassing to have written down for others to witness. But somehow they're play a central role in what kept me overseas. It's a big part of why I like to run. Even in America, when I'm running for exercise, I see a disturbing part of my heart come out in my runner's-high delusions of grandeur. About three miles in to any run I begin to "realize" I'm the fastest runner in the whole world, 'they' just haven't discovered me yet. I know I can win any marathon, run farther than anyone has ever even tried before, and the Lord was so lucky to have me in China because if I had just stuck around any longer in America I would have been huge in the um, running world. See, you can tell they're delusions of grandeur because I'm not even sure what the word is for the kind of people who should have discovered me by now.

Running in China the delusions are just as embarrassing, but far different. There I imagine how great of a runner I am, and how useful of skill it will be when the government begins more intensely persecuting the best evangelists. Again, I obviously would be at the top of their list and one day, with very little notice, I would be required to run—Jason Bourne style—all the way to Laos and across the border to avoid a martyr's death.

Starry eyed and fresh off the boat these are some of the thoughts missionaries have, or at least some of the thoughts this missionary had. Years on when we have seen a small handful of people convert, seen pastors leave their church because they're having an affair with one of the younger girls in attendance, or watched countless missionaries come and go, our perspective begins to change. Now my delusions of grandeur involve me being gainfully employed ten years from now in a way that can actually continue to provide for my family now that I've left the field.

When running and dreaming about fleeing to Laos I worry about my some tendons in my feet and knees which have been bothering me lately, and how I would carry all four children on my back. Something which, even on an intense runners high, I'm now painfully aware I probably couldn't do for even a hundred yards.

My ambition and real desires get slowly peeled away over time and they become more and more shameful over the years.

A German missionary who has was in China for twenty-five years and planted the biggest network of churches in the whole city is someone I both look up to, for their faithful service, and someone I look down on (because I'm a prideful fool), twenty-five years and just one church network? I run in to these Americans who have been in the field for thirty years and I probe in to what they're doing. I want to hear their strategy for changing the country or changing the city they live in, or at least for reaching their neighbors. Often when asked these kinds of questions they smirk slightly and give a very vague answer I can't possibly accept as sufficient. I now recognize this behavior in myself when a young and bright eyed missionary wants to know how I'll change China and I no longer believe I'm going to.

None of the longer term folks ever try to talk the young ones out of their ambitions, they know from experience it would never work. They just hope the drive for significance leads to some wonderful friendships, some conversions, and a softened heart which will keep them around long after they've realized they're mostly worthless. And why does the Lord pull people in to the mission field for as long as he does just to point out how little he needs us?

Why do we labor through painful experience after painful experience just to find out China wouldn't really be that different without us. God could have accomplished this without any missionaries, he just is blessed by our presence. And why does this not cause us to crawl home weeping? Some do I suppose. The others stick around, and though it appears some stay just because they're now afraid of ever moving home, they actually stay to see the Lord work significant changes in the little fruit they witnessed.

I often wonder if missionaries are just the creme of the prideful crop whom the Lord sends overseas because he has no use of such pride. He sends us to be missionaries, not so we can reach a people, but so he can reach us. Because it takes cross-cultural pain, awkwardness, and years of seemingly worthless service for us to realize we aren't as awesome as we initially believed we were.

I stayed as long as I did because I wanted to see significant change in the little fruit I witnessed. I wanted to see my friends stand up and pursue the Lord passionately. I would hope they all would become like Paul and plant church after church, but I no longer see it happening unless they're pushed by a younger "more strategic" missionary to do so despite their calling. They're probably just called to stay and be faithful believers at their jobs in the oil industry. They're probably just called to stay and humbly serve the Lord in their hometowns in the way I, the cocky missionary, would never have let the Lord use me.