Sunday, March 5, 2017

Six months, six lessons – part 2

View from Buda Castle in Budapest

Part two of the six lessons God seems to have been teaching us over the last six months. If you missed it, here’s part one.

“Out of the heavens He let you hear His voice to discipline you; and on earth He let you see His great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire.” – Deuteronomy 4:36 NASB


4. Give up your expectations and rights.
We Americans love our rights. We founded our country on unalienable rights. Even in the corporate working world, we have basic rights to earn something for our work, to have time off, to be treated fairly.

I would submit to you that in mission work — and in God’s Kingdom — we don’t have rights.

We don’t have rights because we don’t earn anything from God — it’s all His grace. He gives it all. And we can’t demand anything from Him. And so in our new world of foreign mission work, we’ve had to pry our fingers off our rights: Our right to use our time how we want. Our right to keep our possessions to use at our own discretion. Our right to control our schedules and our lives.

Would I have guessed five years ago that I would ever be living in Hungary? Not in a million years. Yet God had bigger plans — plans I never would have foreseen for myself. So, another lesson we’ve learned from our journey is that we need to hold our expectations loosely.

This applies to the grand scheme of our lives as well as our day-to-day plans. If our experience tells us anything, being an OMer in Hungary means things probably won’t go as you expect. The car you signed up to use might not be working. Or, you may start your car without realizing the e-brake isn’t on and roll it into a trailer. A ballplayer might call with a request for a ride to the doctor, and you drop all your plans. The store might not have any ground beef that day, so you need a different meal plan for your ministry dinner that night.

We are learning to remind ourselves to trust God in each situation. We try to leave space in our expectations for Him to work.



5. Everybody needs to hear something.
When it came to sharing our faith in the U.S., I think we tended to stay on the safe side. I would feel some pull to say something relating to God in a conversation or to offer to pray with somebody, but I would often talk myself out of it. “People don’t want to be preached at,” I thought.

Of course, we both knew we should share about Jesus with others. Of course we knew that. But it was head knowledge that usually didn’t translate to action. It was more task-oriented than love-oriented.

This seems crazy or even stupid, but it’s like it took us moving to Hungary to really get it. Once we were here, we thought, well, what are we here for? If we went through everything it takes to move here and live here and we don’t take advantage of every opportunity to lovingly share about Jesus, then we’re just wasting time and money.

The truth is that everyone, no matter where they are in life or what they’re doing, needs to hear something. It might be, “God cares about you.” It might be, “You are doing a good job. Keep it up.” It might be, “Things will get better. Hang in there.” It might be, “I’m worried for you.” “I forgive you.” “There is hope.”

Everyone needs to hear something, so you might as well go ahead and say something.

I read a quote in an article recently: “You are the only Jesus somebody knows.” You don’t know what you might say or do that will stick with somebody or make them think. You don’t know if you’re the last step it takes for somebody to decide to follow Christ. If you don’t say something, who will? Of course, we know you need the life to back up your words. But I wish I could shout at my past self, “Quit wasting chances and just say something!”

It’s worth the risk. If it’s not, then what are we doing here? Lesson number five for us.



6. Encouragement is huge.
Now, I mean this in the best way, but it’s your fault that things get tough for us here sometimes. It’s your fault because you are so good and loving and caring and wonderful that it hurts to be away from you. Lately whenever we have folks wanting to send us care packages and asking us what we would like in them, we can’t help but think of how we’d choose just to see you and be with you a thousand times over any American product that we miss.

That being said, whenever we get to hear encouragement from home, it makes a huge difference. It helps remind us why we’re here and that people are supporting us. We are not alone in this journey; you are taking it with us. A card or an email or a picture or a comment online or a package makes our day. Just hearing news from your family at home is wonderful for us because we feel connected to you. And that is the hardest thing about being here – missing chances to connect with you, the people we love.

I wrote a Christmas card to my Grandma Anliker this past holiday season. It was the first Christmas for her and my family without my grandpa. Something came to my mind about the strain of the disconnection she must be feeling – the strain of not yet being reunited with Grandpa and with her Creator in heaven, in perfect peace.

That’s kind of what it’s like for us here – we live in the strain of the disconnect, of a reunion yet to come.

And until it comes, sometimes things are just going to be hard. But the encouragement from the stack of little cards you sent with us or from a friendly note reminding us to stay the course is what helps us get out of bed in the morning and make the plans we need to and carry them out.

We can’t thank you enough for that holy thing you keep extending to us – encouragement.

Thanks for reading,
Much love,
Jessica and Patrick

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