Not a Title, But a Way of Life

The plane touched down on the narrow strip of concrete in the middle of the jungle for my first trip to Iquitos in June 2002.  As I walked across the tarmac to the terminal with my church's mission team I heard the whisper of the Holy Spirit say that this very foreign, very uncomfortable zone would one day be my home.  In July 2004 I was no longer just a mission team member as in the two previous years - this time I was the trip leader.  Leading added a whole new dimension to the experience, which began with half of my team, myself included, getting involuntarily bumped off our flight from Atlanta to Lima.  Fast forward to 2005 - Amazon Mission Fellowship was born of a loose but committed group of pastors and Peru missions veterans devoted to seeing the ministry continue and I gladly accepted a spot in this group. 

I continued as trip leader in 2006, but rather than just a week with my church mission team, I spent my first summer in Iquitos acquiring Spanish and learning the ins and outs of hosting the summer teams.  At home in the U.S. this was the year I was elected as an elder in my church and began a three-year term on the missions committee.  In the summer of 2007 I coordinated and hosted the mission teams with the help of a returning intern.  This was also a big year for AMF as we officially formed our organization with officers, board members, bylaws - the works; I became the first President of Amazon Mission Fellowship.  Along came 2008 and I was a solo act.  Now in my third full summer, I lead my own church team as well as hosted six other teams.  This would be the year the familiar voice of the Holy Spirit would speak again with only two words - "It's time" - and I understood. 

In 2009 AMF got the exciting news that we were now a legitimate non-profit organization recognized by the U.S. Federal Government.  That same year I uprooted myself - walked away from an 18 year teaching career, left family, friends, and home, packed my things and created a new existence for myself in the Peruvian Amazon.  Usher in 2010 and I had a year of life in the jungle under my belt and had learned a great deal about the significant differences between being in a foreign country for one week vs. two months vs. year-round.  The summer of 2011 was the busiest one to date.  By this time AMF had grown from one U.S./Peruvian sister church relationship to five partnerships in addition to two new churches beginning to invest in the mission and a group that partnered with the local schools for handicapped children.  In June 2012 I had come full-circle.  Ten years after my first trip to Iquitos I spent what would be my final summer (at least for awhile) helping so many precious friends - gringo and Peruvian alike - grow their investments in each other.

They tell me that this is the process by which I became a missionary.  I disagree.  I submit that I gained the title of missionary on November 20, 1997 when I acknowledged myself as a sinner in need of a Savior and became best buddies with Jesus.  Call me crazy, but I'm pretty sure I still carry the title, even though I no longer live in Peru.   And I don't just live in the U.S., but (brace yourself) in South Carolina! Yes, I hear the collective gasps as those of you outside of the Palmetto State perpetuate the false notion that Jesus would never come here.

Whether on the banks of the Amazon River or in small town South Cackalacky (and if you don't believe that's legit vocabulary feel free to consult the urban dictionary),  people are lost, hurting, searching, looking for a better way, longing for the love that is found only in the arms of Christ.  So how are they supposed to hear the Truth?  Find the answer?  It's gonna be pretty tough if real missionaries are only those who live and serve in foreign countries.  Last time I checked I wasn't in heaven (though South Cack is VERY close!), and if heaven is home, then that must mean I'm currently living in a strange land.  The question is, am I serving in this foreign place?  Am I putting myself out there among the poor, the lonely, the downtrodden?  Do I know the homeless, the drug addicts, the abused?  Could I tell you where the widows, the helpless, and the hungry live?  Or do I wear my nice clothes while driving my nice car to my nice church where I mingle with other nice people and hear a nice sermon before going to a nice restaurant for lunch after which I will take a nice Sunday afternoon nap?

I've got a lot of work to do processing the experience of Peru.  Significant chunks of that work will play out here on this blog through the retelling of stories and the analyzing of one of the most amazing legs of my journey, through which God fully intends to show me (and you if you're brave enough to go with me) what a missionary really is.  Think you've got what it takes to tackle it with me?  I invite you to come along - no, I dare you to!

Why I Do What I Do

Life is fragile. We become more acutely aware of this fact when death touches us. And it seems like I've had more than my fair share of encounters with death lately.

In December 2010 my husband's paternal grandmother passed away. I returned to Iquitos in January 2011 to learn that my friend Johnny from the AIDS hospice lost his fight on New Year's Eve. A few months later I was at the Iquitos hospital when a gurney carrying a small mass covered with a sheet wheeled past me; Margarita informed me it was Jessica, another friend from the AIDS hospice. In January 2012 a Peruvian friend and Young Life staffer in Lima lost his wife to a sudden massive heart attack just three weeks after the birth of their second child. Days later we said good-bye to my husband's maternal grandmother. Barely a month after that I was enjoying a leisurely evening of watching TV while Skype chatting with Collins when all of a sudden I gasped at the breaking news on CNN - Whitney Houston was dead. Fast-forward a couple of days to Margarita receiving a phone call summoning her to Lima due to the untimely death of her brother. Then came the passing of America's oldest teenager, Dick Clark. In April some dear missionary friends in Paraguay shared the news that the wife and biological son of one of their missions colleagues had been killed in a terrible car accident just as they were finalizing the adoption of their daughter. And most recently, in May, a former student, dear friend, and shining example of man died tragically in a motorcycle accident. Some were family members, some precious friends, some friends of friends, some famous icons - yet in one way or another, the death of each of these people affected me in a very personal way. A few leave me lamenting the passing of an era, while others cause me to question why and still others shatter my heart into a million pieces as I grieve the gaping holes they have left behind.

Physical death isn't the only kind of ending that life hands us. We experience the loss of relationships - friends betray us, relocate to another city, state or country, or they just kind of fizzle out and disappear. Hopes and dreams crash and burn - circumstances outside of our control inject themselves into our lives and derail our carefully made plans. Jobs come and go - often at someone else's discretion leaving us wondering how we will provide for ourselves and our families. Material possessions are here one minute, gone the next - whether lost through the tragedy of natural disasters, pure accident, or our own ignorance and stupidity, stuff just doesn't have any staying power. The truth we must all come face-to-face with eventually is that possession is only an illusion. Nothing is really ours. People, desires, money, things - they only pass through our lives, lingering for varying amounts of time, and then they're gone. And one day we, too, will be gone.

Pretty morbid picture, huh? It would be if that were the end of the story.

Enter Jesus. The Good News. The Gospel.

In Him there is no death. Only life. Abundant life. Eternal life.

In Him we find forgiveness and salvation. In Him all losses are recompensed and all brokenness is made whole. In Him our emptiness is filled and wrongs are made right. Because of Him there is hope and joy and peace in the midst of devastation. Because of Him the tomb is empty and death of any kind only has a temporary sting. In the words of Bill and Gloria Gaither:

God sent His son, they called him Jesus;
He came to love, heal and forgive;
He lived and died to buy my pardon,
An empty grave is there to prove my Savior lives!

Because He lives I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives all fear is gone;
Because I know He hold the future
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!

This week I celebrate my 10th year of serving in Peru that began with my first mission trip here in 2002. I also embark on my 7th summer of hosting mission teams, facilitating partnerships, and helping build relationships among U.S. and Peruvian churches. Additionally I open my 4th year of living in the Amazon, beating out a daily existence with some of the most beautiful people on the planet. There are those who think I'm crazy for having followed God into this place for this season of my life. I can only say, yes I am - crazy about the God who rescued me from hopelessness and gave purpose to my life. Crazy to tell others the reason why the overwhelming physical and emotional losses in my life haven't destroyed me. Crazy in love with my Savior who loves me right back no matter how imperfect I am. Crazy to share that death has lost its sting and is not the final answer.

Jesus says, "I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world" John 16:33 (NLT). He doesn't promise that life will be easy, fair or free from pain and suffering. What he does promise is something much bigger and greater - peace and hope.

Because there are still people in this world who think the morbid picture is all there is…
Because we are not promised tomorrow…
Because life is fragile and fleeting and time is of the essence...
...that is why I do what I do.