Missions Misconception #2: "I'm Not Moving Overseas Right Now, So There's Not Much I Can Do"

Sometimes we believe that if we’re not ready to move to a jungle somewhere in Papua New Guinea, or since we’re not physicians educated to eradicate diseases in Africa, there’s not much else we can do to be involved around the world.

I spent eight years after university just living life, going to church, working, raising children, scrapbooking, playing volleyball, and planning vacations. Not a bad life at all.

BUT I had settled for an easy, minimum-commitment routine, one that mostly served me.

I had also absolved myself from any responsibility or privilege to be a light to the nations—and even our own community—because my husband and I didn’t see ourselves living in a tribe somewhere.

Then 9/11 happened. Suddenly the rest of the world came crashing in on my everyday life.

The news, the issues the rest of the world faced, the nations—all of it started affecting my little, private, safe bubble, whether I wanted it to or not.

(Like 2020… 2021…well, every year since then)

I couldn’t isolate myself anymore from the issues of an increasingly interconnected world.

But what could I do to be a light—like Israel to the nations—from my house in the suburbs of America?

Then a friend of my father’s landed on our doorstep one day for a visit. He was from India and brought with him a charismatic personality and a fresh faith in God for miracles.

My somewhat uneventful and ordinary days came alive with spiritual possibility and adventure as I listened to him and caught his vision for championing the cause of orphans and widows from a country that housed one-third of the world’s poor and where only a tiny fraction of the population follow Jesus.

We talked about the possibilities of speaking, writing, praying, raising funds, and even leading short trips. I hadn’t realized how much I could do right where I lived to make an impact on people on the other side of the world.

Then, as opportunities opened up to advocate for the nations, my experiences gradually deepened. God encouraged me to make disciples right where I lived, befriending refugees and international students who were already in my city.

One summer I found myself in the Sahara desert, sitting in the tents of refugees without a country and listening to imams (Muslim spiritual leaders) and pastors debate about our mutual ancestor Abraham.

Another time I ended up in a little hut-turned-church on the top of a mountain in the Philippines, hearing tribal believers, former animistic spirit worshippers, tell riveting stories about my parents, who had lived and worked in their tribe thirty years before.

And then, as sometimes happens, God eventually led my husband, our four children, and me to move to India, to live and work in a city where few Westerners made their homes.

God’s global heart within all of us could burst forth in many forms.

We might be called to stay—as visionary mobilizers, extravagant givers, passionate people of prayer, or effective administrators undergirding those who go.

Or God’s global heart might thrust us into effective welcoming roles, launching us into communities of refugees or into universities to befriend international students.

As we practice following Jesus by discipling the nations in our neighborhoods, he may even lead us to eventually exchange one continent for another as we remain open to his leading.

We discover our role in reaching the nations, though, by starting small, and starting soon, by making friends with people from other countries.

****Excerpt taken from Chapter One of Across the Street and Around the World.

Soooo, have you downloaded your free Guide Ten Ways to Make Ten Friends From Unreached People Groups, Right Where You Live?