I haven’t done the math, but I think I’m about halfway through my time here in Spain. This calls for some reflection and recognition of what I’m learning:
Before I came to Spain, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what “cross-cultural missions” really means. My impression of Missions (capital “M”) has been evolving since I was in grade school, so I thought I had a good grasp on the concept. When I was a youngster and Mrs. McLay read stories about people like Adoniram Judson, Hudson Taylor and Mary Slessor, they seemed to possess superhuman amounts of faith and courage. They lived such amazing lives, they were considered special enough to be commemorated on large color cardboard pages for the delight of awestruck children. They were like….characters from the Bible, which to me meant that they lived a long time ago and their like was not to be found today. Did anyone else feel that awe-filled detachment from “the mission field”? It wasn’t until I was in junior high and heard Andy Byrd share about a missions trip to the Philippines that it hit me: “People TODAY are living for Christ in a big way. People like ME are missionaries!” Boom! Lightening struck my brain!
Fast forward to post-high school. I’m auditing classes at ABI, taking a “Missions” class from Steve Napier. The definition naturally comes into question: “What is a missionary? How would you define a missionary?” As people give their answers, I have to revisit those old preconceived notions: “Are missionaries the long-dead men and women who lived in strange foreign lands? Are the students who spend Spring Break building houses in Mexico missionaries? Am I a missionary in my own hometown?” I settled on something along these lines: a missionary is a person who shares their faith and who often has surreal experiences as a result of their obedience (this was to cover the paranormal stories my friends would bring back from short-term trips. It’s just part of the territory, things are different “in the field”).
So, now I’m in Spain, learning sooooo much more than Spanish. I’ve learned that if you want to be a productive member of the community here, you have to A. know Spanish, B. understand the culture and C. have patience. The last one is hard for me because I’m a firm believer in “act now while you’re enthusiastic”. I can’t help it, I’m an “I”! (that’s a joke for those of you from Glacierview, or anyone who’s taken the DISC test. I joke.) The value of flexibility has been made clear during my time here. The schedule is different, the mindset is different; there’s very little about my own culture that carries into the Spanish. I’m very willing to give my time, but what can I do as an outsider? The people from church and my own Maria Jesus have been very generous and welcoming. I honestly feel like I’ve made some good friends in the last month, which is evidence of God’s direction! He knew who would be here when He first started guiding me toward Madrid last year!
How can I explain what I’ve been doing since I arrived? I’ve been trying to keep you all updated on my comings and goings, but as far as what I DO, I’d have to say: nothing out of the ordinary, aka, nothing worth commemorating in a flip book. I attend youth group on Fridays (which is awesome!), church on Sunday and every other Saturday I attend Bible study with the most patient group of people ever. I went to Prayer Group this week, where I sat silently listening to heartfelt supplication on behalf of believers being martyred. I spend time with Maria Jesus and her family, who have adopted me and extended every kindness possible. Twice a week I practice basic Spanish alongside 11 other eager students from all over the globe. I go to the supermarket, the library, the metro station, anywhere I can humiliate myself by speaking pidgin Spanish. Most importantly, in my opinion, I spend time getting to know the other Americans who have waved goodbye to country and familiarity to come live here. They are the ones who give me a better idea of what “cross-cultural” means. What brings them to Spain? The real question is “What KEEPS them in Spain?”. They don’t stay for the emotional high of “surreal experiences”, that’s for sure, nor for the hope of being immortalized by Sunday School teachers world-wide. Every one of them were called to Spain, whether literally (God made it clear from the get-go) or by chains of events and circumstance. It’s not an easy place to harvest; there isn’t much fruit. It’s emotionally and mentally tiring to put yourself out there day after day and receive very little in return. I’m learning that a missionary has to be a servant as well. If any one of these people were self-serving, they’d be halfway across the Pacific on a plane headed home.
So I have to examine my own heart and mind: what would bring me back overseas for the long-term? My enthusiasm for new places and people would last about a month, on its own. 30 days makes a habit, so they say. Nothing exciting about a habit, is there? Would friendships bring me back? Well, I have some absolutely drop-dead fantastic friends back home too. The food…let’s not go there. I still don’t know, which is inconvenient because my time-line clearly indicates that by age 25, I should have God’s plan for my life figured out. Silly optimistic time-line.
This is becoming the Behemoth of all blog posts, let me explain…no, there is too much. Let me sum up. (I’m tired and quoting Princess Bride)
While I am here in Madrid, I may not be able to lead revival meetings or small groups, or even share my testimony without the help of a Spanish-English dictionary, but I can come alongside as a helper, I can encourage, I can bridge the cultural gap with kindness and that light inside me that I talked about a few weeks ago. And you know what? It feels…right. It feels right to be using whatever resources I have to make someone else’s burden lighter. It feels right to do things like babysit or carry groceries and call it ministry. I’m not a saint and I’m not superhuman. I’m just a displaced Alaskan in a foreign land, bumbling her way though the learning process and trying to be a helper. What I have done here isn’t going to wow the crowd or amaze friends back home. It’s not the kind of experience I would have determined “typical Missions” in years gone by. But it’s the place and the people and the friends and the experiences that God called me to. My cup runneth over!
Tags: examination, halfway through, reflection