Rzeractor

Missionaries get to ponder all kinds of things we don’t even think about until we realize that the reality of what we’re doing is going to effect every part of our lives.  Then little by little, like the skin of an onion (love Shrek) you start peeling at the meaning of life as a missionary.  Our oldest daughter is reading the book From “Jerusalem to Irian Jaya”, a biographical history of Christian missions.  We did not pick it, but it is part of her curriculum, and we believe God’s choice for her because of what he has in store.  She has not gotten to the story that is mentioned below yet, but I ran across it while looking for a graphic for the blog.  It touched me because there may be a time when Ron is up river, on a boat, and cannot make it home.  Looking at things from a Christ-eyed prospective changes a lot and keeps us from taking it personally.  At least in an offended way.  So I would like to share this story from one missionary’s Christmas. 

 It was only a few days before Christmas as Bernie May, a pilot for Wycliffe Bible Translators successfully delivered emergency medical supplies to the isolated Amazon village. Now he eagerly anticipated being back with his wife and children in their South American home-away-from-home. Yet as the evening grew dark, he knew he would not be able to fly out until the morning.

With his pontoon plane waiting on the river, Bernie arranged for temporary protection for the night. But then . . . it began to rain. The rain continued, even up until Christmas Eve, the missionary felt increasingly depressed by his misfortune. His wife, Nancy, and their boys were six hours away; and by this time, they would have received his radio message: he would not be home for Christmas.

As a family, they had prepared their hearts to be separated from their loved ones and friends, but it was Christmas Eve . . . and they were now separated even from each other.

Back in Pennsylvania, everyone would be coming home from church-to the sounds of caroling, the smell of roasting turkey, and the sight of falling snow. But where was God’s missionary? Here he was . . . stuck in a remote jungle . . . in a makeshift shelter . . . in the pouring rain . . . alone.

In Ruth Tucker’s book From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya, Bernie May tells of his experience:

“Oh God,” I moaned, “I’m in the wrong place.” . . . But that night, under my mosquito net, I had a visitation from God-something like those shepherds must have had on the hills of Bethlehem.

There were no angels, and no bright lights. But as I lay there in my hammock, desperately homesick, I felt I heard God say, “My son, this is what Christmas is all about. Jesus left heaven and on Christmas morning He woke up in the ‘wrong place’-a stable in Bethlehem. Christmas means leaving home, not going home. My only begotten Son did not come home for Christmas-He left home to be with you.”

(Excerpted from The Mission-Minded Family – Releasing Your Family to God’s Destiny, by Ann Dunagan – Published by Biblica/Authentic – Click here for a FREE Sample)