So when I updated the blog and began
posting anew last year, I addressed the notion that the title of 'missionary'
does not apply only to those who forsake family, friends, and
comforts to move around the globe carrying the gospel to unreached people
groups. There are unreached people
groups living in the U.S. and every other country for that matter - possibly
even as close as the house next door to us, or residing in the same house with
us. A 'missionary' is simply a sinner
saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ witnessing to that fact in both
word and deed. Thus we who identify
ourselves as followers of Jesus are all missionaries. What exactly does such an everyday, ordinary
missionary look like? Allow me to share
an example.
He has been a faithful, dedicated, most
trustworthy employee in Iquitos since MMI established the mission in the late
90's. He is a jack of all trades -
electrician, plumber, housekeeper, landscaper, painter, concrete mixer,
veterinarian, delivery man, personal shopper, carpenter's consultant, money
changer, adult babysitter (yes, he stayed with me more than once at El Jardin
when I got spooked and I'm not ashamed to admit it - I was occasionally a
fraidy-cat on that very large, very dark property). You name it, he's probably done it. And this goes on year-round, not just during
our typical mission team season. All of
it in service to a Christian mission, evangelical churches, resident and
visiting gringo missionaries, and his fellow Peruvians.
He arrives early, stays late, and returns
for emergencies and urgent situations (including finding a motokar at 3 a.m. to
take him to his work place when an unnamed resident missionary mistakes the
power company guys for robbers during a power outage and threatens them with a
hunting knife - who does that????). Even
when he's exhausted and ready to go home for the day, he never fails to ask what
else he can do to help and hangs around to actually do it. And you will never, ever hear him complain.
Lest you begin to think he might not
really be human, you need to know that he has an affinity for hammocks. Well, truthfully he has an affinity for
napping whether it be in a hammock or elsewhere. Give him a few minutes and a place to prop
his head and he can fall asleep faster than you can blink. Though we often joke about him being lazy,
he's really a workhorse who has perfected the art of power napping!
As our friendship deepened over the
years, we shared our personal stories and I was privileged to see the beauty of
his heart. I cannot count the number of
times his simple counsel has calmed me down and readjusted my perspective when
things aren't going according to plan.
He finds humor in the most frustrating of situations and with his
infectious giggle always makes me laugh.
We cried and prayed together when his young son nearly died from dengue
fever (upon his son's recovery he stated numerous times that he will always
believe that prayer saved his son when doctors said there was nothing else that
could be done). When we had moments of
conflict, he would often go home, then turn around and come right back to my
house to talk to me again, because he couldn't rest while things were not right
between us. He allows me into his family
home and to know and spend time with his wife and children - an inner sanctum
that he rarely permits foreigners to enter.
And when the circumstances of my personal life get overwhelming he never
fails to look at me and say, "Don't worry.
God knows and He is in control."
Those who have been to Iquitos know him
by his last name - Villa (pronounced 'Bee-jah'). I typically refer to him as Villita
('Bee-jee-tah') or 'chancho' (Peruvian Spanish for pig - and it is a
term of affection, I promise!). His
given name is Edgardo Villa.
Villa walked with Collins and me through
our long-distance relationship from dating (Skype calls) to engagement to
marriage and another 16 months of living apart after marriage. As any good Peruvian would, he began asking
me as soon as he found out about our relationship if we wanted children. After Collins and I were married, the first
question to be asked after each brief visit we were able to have - "Are
you pregnant yet?" He grieved with
and for us when Collins and I found out that the answer to that question would
always be "No." And he
celebrated wildly with us when we learned that a young Peruvian woman living in
the U.S. had chosen us to be the adoptive parents of her baby boy. And he continues to share life with us; even
though I no longer reside in Iquitos we exchange emails and enjoy regular phone
calls during which he is on speakerphone talking to all three of us - especially
baby Toby.
I have spent more than 11 years in the
company of and was ministered to by this true missionary - the local who
humbles himself to become the servant of those who come to his country sporting
the title. He's not a Bible-beating,
street corner shouting, eyes closed, hands in the air kind of believer (and
just for the record there is absolutely nothing wrong with being that
person). Rather he is a quiet, constant
example of the love of Christ. Blog
space would be sadly lacking if I attempted to recount the endless examples of
Christian love and service I've witnessed in him; he would be embarrassed if I
did and upset with me for violating the sanctity of our friendship anyway. He wants no recognition and desires to be as
far away from the spotlight as possible; he embodies humility.
