When Reality Hits

There is one problem with blogging and journaling that I have discovered; it makes it all too easy to discover when you lie to yourself. See, in my last entry I wrote about the beauty of leaving your expectations behind that you may truly embrace whatever it is God has in store for you. I truly believed that I had given my expectations for this trip to God. I soon discovered, however, that I had multiple unconscious expectations. I had this idealized view of what a call to missions must look like. I anticipated an automatic connection with the country, a feeling of belongingness that would cause me to realize that this is where I was truly meant to live. I believed that I would look into the eyes of the children I was working with and feel such a deep connection that the only logical explanation would be a call to serve there and work with them. I assumed that everything would fall into place perfectly and the clarity that I would receive would be so great that there would no longer be a doubt in my mind that missions in Ukraine is what I was created for. The idealized view of a missions calling was shattered the moment the plane landed in Kiev.
We got off the plane, grabbed our baggage and headed to meet Misha, one of the members of the Free Methodist Mission based in Rivne. As I attempted to greet him, I realized the limits of my Ukrainian, and my hesitancy to even attempt to speak it. There is something highly intimidating about trying to speak to someone in their native tongue when you've only been practicing it in your dorm room. As we traveled to Rivne, I listened to Julie, a former American missionary to Ukraine, point to all the various apartments she had lived in throughout her 10 years as a career missionary, and I began to panic. How did she do it? How did she, as a single woman in her 20s, live on her own in a foreign country? How on earth was I supposed to do that?
This was not the only time my concept of what it would look like to be called to missions was completely disproved. Often I found myself in situations where I felt completely out of place. It was the middle of the trip when it truly hit me. We were in Bushcha, a small rural village that looks like it was taken straight from the pages of Jack and the Beanstalk. We were living with a young boy, Vitya and his mother in a small home surrounded by vegetable gardens, a cow, some chickens and pigs, and complete with an outhouse that would serve as our toilet for five days. Here we were doing a day camp program with the children. I had been told I would lead crafts, and assumed that explaining the instructions of each craft while someone interpreted for me, would be my only task. I was wrong. They expected me to be a team leader, assigning me four children to lead through the various activities. I had no idea what to do. I was excited to begin doing the camp. I love working with children. It's what I'm good at. It's my comfort zone. However, on that day I had no idea how to work with those children. I found myself staring at them when I normally would have been striking up conversation to get to know them better. I could not explain the rules of the games to them as I didn't even know what it was we were supposed to be doing.

This face captures the confusion I felt all day long. 

By the end of the first day, I felt like a complete failure. All I had seemed capable of doing was smiling. As I journaled later that day, I cried out to God asking Him for help as I had no idea what to do. I couldn't speak to those children and that was all I wanted. Gone were the fantasized pictures of an automatic connection and perfect clarity. The difficult reality of a call to missions had come crashing down upon me.
Though God began to teach me different ways of communicating, and provided me with strength even when I felt my weakest, the challenges continued throughout the trip. As the end of the 2 weeks neared, I realized that I was still unclear of what I believe God was calling me to do. I was scared of what a life of missions work might look like, and though my language skills had improved slightly (meaning I learned about 3 more words) I still felt completely inadequate in that department. However, there was one very clear moment of peace, where I realized that being called to missions isn't exactly a perfect process. I was talking to Julie, and asked her one simple question.

Did you ever feel like there's no way on earth you could possibly do this?

Her answer was a clear and strong, yes. I realized then that God doesn't always provide us with those lightbulb moments of clarity. Being called to serve Him is rarely easy and simple. It is often difficult and scary and completely confusing. Instead of a journey of "ah ha!" moments it is more often one marked by tears and complete surrender as our strengths are taken from us and we are forced to rely completely on God and His power. Though I did not receive the picturesque clarity I was hoping for, there are a few things I have learned. I love God and serving Him. I want to spend the rest of my life telling others about Him. The children in Ukraine captured my heart, and I miss them dearly. There is great need within the families of Ukraine. If God calls me to go and live in Ukraine on my own, He will give me the strength I need to do so. Finally, a call to missions is an incredible adventure that can be described most accurately by one verse that I took for granted for far too many years,

Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. -2 Corinthians 12:9 (NLT).