A Missionary Without Honor

We’re on furlough stateside now and it’s the first furlough that I’m wondering how much longer we have overseas. In the past we have always thrived and then, in the last year, found our boundaries. Suddenly where we live isn’t obviously long-term-able for the family. I’m not saying we’re leaving right now—we’re not planning on it. But eventually we will be.

Anyhow, I’ve been chewing lately on why I’m so opposed to leaving. The first and most obvious reason is I still believe overseas is where I am called to be. But the second reason is fear.

We’ve been outside of America for a long time and frankly, I’m not real sure what life looks like state-side.

But it occurs to me what I would miss the most (and maybe what I really fear) in leaving the mission field, is the honor I have being there. I’ve been in-country long enough to be somewhat senior. Not the most senior, by any means, but many people have been there shorter than I have, which earns me some respect for longevity. But then there is that which is undeserved, the honor given just because I’m white, or because I speak Chinese, or whatever.

Someday moving to America means someday giving up an immense amount of honor—honor I’ve grown used to. But that is kind of a lame reason to stay overseas. I hope I lean on the Lord enough to have the strength to stay exactly as long as I’m called. Likewise, I hope I have the courage to leave when it’s time, even though America is intimidating. And even though I would be forfeiting a certain amount of honor with which I’ve definitely grown quite comfortable.