Masquerading as Missionaries

Yesterday I had the bizarre experience of participating in a missions outreach fair at a local church. Heidi and I represented Bethany at one of her supporting churches and also presented information about our new project. It was bizarre, not because of the event itself, but rather that I was one of the participants. I felt like I was pretending to be a "missionary." I stepped outside of myself and into a role that I didn't quite fit. I couldn't help but wonder, "is this is who I am to become?"

At Our First "Missions Fair"

Even through this whole process of preparation for life in India, I have never considered myself to be a real missionary (although I have used the word to explain my life to some churchgoers who have no other concept by which to comprehend what I'm doing). I really don't want to become that visiting missionary. I just want to be me. The way I view it, I am simply choosing to live, work, and minister in another country.

Heidi is holding up a picture of Bethany, as we were representing her at the church

In spite of my rebellion against being categorized as a typical missionary, I have learned that part of the road of humility is representing Christ to the people he calls me to, and in the way he puts before me. Every fiber of my independent spirit flails at the thought of becoming the normal missionary, tied to the needs and desires of local churches. "But the spreading of the fame of Jesus, Emily, is not about you and what you want!" [Excuse my bit of self talk.] Sometimes representing Christ includes dressing up in Indian garb and explaining my work to the people who sit in the pews in front of me. Sometimes it means standing next to a table with brochures and posters, trying to "sell" the ministry. It is not for my sake that I must, in many ways, take on the somewhat odd and traditional role of missionary, but rather for the sake of those who need a personal connection to hurting people in far away countries. And for the sake of the people to whom we will minister, that perhaps one more prayer might be lifted, one more dollar spent, one more tear shed, for them. And so I resign myself.