I lay on the couch, tears streaming down my face. A crushing weight presses down on me.
It’s too much. All of it is too much. I can’t help those in need.
I heave a breath, sit up, and wipe my tears.
It’s fine. You’ll be fine.
But then I think again of those around me who are hurting. Society seems to be against them. Sin seems to have an eternal hold on the village. The brokenness is so much, so deep. I can do nothing to fix it.
Why am I even here?
I begin to weep again. But even as I do, my mind races.
I can’t stay in this pit. I need out.
I’ve prayed. I’ve sought the Lord. What else can I do?
My mind begins to list through the people who love me. Who can I talk to? Who can I cry with?
I make my way out the door of my small home.
I could call family and friends from the states. Many know the details of my current situation which has broken my heart.
I could travel two hours to the city and ask to crash at my missionary friend’s place. We could talk all night.
But right now, at this moment, I need someone here.
I pull out my keys and head to my car in the family parking area.
On one side of the family compound, the little cousins play in the trees. If I wanted to forget and have fun I’d go to them.
Inside the communal kitchen, Delfi and Estela are laughing and making lunch. If I needed a favor or wanted to plan a family event, I’d go to them.
But I pull myself into my car instead and drive out from the compound where I live. Five families live in the compound along with me, each with our own individual houses.
These are the same five families who planted the church in Chivoc almost 20 years ago. We live together. Do ministry together. Have fun together. During covid when the world shut down around us, we closed the compound doors and had bbqs, soccer games, even family church services.
One of the brothers is a shopkeeper. He buys me sparkling water whenever he travels to the big city to fill an order for the store. One of the brothers is a bus driver. He takes my car to the shop whenever I leave for the states.
One of the brothers fixes electronics. One is a handyman. Three of the women are exceptional at making food for large groups. And all of us work together in ministry.
It is as if God made this great team and put us all in one place.
Not only that, but they have accepted me as one of their own. The little cousins come to my house in between their games to sit and read books from my library, or to engage in an elaborate Playmobil war.
The women include me in family celebrations and meals. The men stop by to borrow a water hose since my spigot is closest to the garage for washing cars.
I drive down the road which would have been an easy five-minute walk. But today I don’t want to villagers to see my tears. Small towns. People are quick to talk.
Community
God did not create us for isolation. He created us for relationship. And this is especially important when you are in the front lines of ministry.
4 lies missionaries believe about community
- Lie #1: I can’t relate to the nationals because we’re from such different worlds.
- Lie #2: I can’t be vulnerable because I have to appear strong and spiritual.
- Lie #3: I don’t have time to have friends.
- Lie #4: No one understands what it’s like being a missionary.
4 truths missionaries should believe about community
- Truth #1: We are all human beings. You may relate to the nationals more than you could imagine. If you love their country, then wait until you meet them!
- Truth #2: Be wise in your vulnerability, but often, this is more dangerous than beneficial and even sometimes is sin.
- Truth #3: If you don’t have time for friends, something is wrong. Control your schedule. Have rest time. Have relax/fun time. If your work is truly so important, you need to take care of yourself to ensure longevity.
- Truth #4: It may be true that no one can understand exactly what it’s like to be in your shoes. But you don’t understand them either! That’s what friends are for, investing in others and getting to know them.
Go to the field, prepared and ready to work. But don’t neglect community. Love others well. Serve others. And ask God for friends.
Don’t be isolated. God made us for relationship.
I turn down the narrow dirt lane that leads to Rebecca’s house. She is part of the Boch family as well, but moved to her husband’s plot of land when she married.
Besides my own parents, she and her family are the ones I am closest to. I’m not sure how it happened. She, her husband, and her two girls all accepted me with open arms as soon as I arrived in Guatemala six years prior. They haven’t stopped for one moment since.
I drive up to the house. The girls sit on the outside porch doing homework. Their new puppy yaps and jumps against its leash.
I slide out of the car. My eyes brim with a new onslaught of tears as I approach.
Rebecca looks up from her embroidery and her smile widens. “What a wonderful surprise! Do you want some lunch? I have—” She stops and puts her embroidery to the side. “Natalie?”
I stand before her. Unable to speak. My throat burns.
Rebecca stands and draws near. “You’re not okay, are you?”
I shake my head. And that is enough.
Rebecca nods. “Let’s go inside.” She puts her arm around me and leads me to the house. There I cry on her shoulder until the tears stop and my heavy heart is relieved.
