What is a Missionary: My Journey of Realization

 I am a small town girl who, for a long time, had never really been very far from home. The most I have broadened my boarders so far is when I went to gulf shores this past summer. Even then, it was the ride there that excited me, getting to see as much of the state of Alabama that I possibly could out a car window from the interstate (at least until I saw the ocean for the first time.) When I was 17, the biggest thing I did was spend spring break with my best friend at her grandparents' house an hour and a half from home. This would not have even happened if she had not written my parents a detailed letter as to what we would be doing and how I would be safe.  So, you can imagine how overwhelmed I felt as a freshman in college called to do mission work in Nairobi, Kenya.

I was 19 years old. It was an ocean away from home. My family was scared, worried, and frustrated with me. My grandmother's main concern was whether or not I would be sleeping in a mud hut and eating grasshoppers for my meals (she, too, is a small town girl). I began doing anything I could possibly think of to raise enough money to get to Kenya that summer of 2013. Zach, my friends, and I baked desserts for hours in the kitchen of my dorm at college.

Our profits from the bake sale were great, and even after that it seemed money was coming in left and right. Unfortunately, after a while, the money slowed down. Most of the money raised ended up going to pay for my passport and would need to be used for the plane ticket, and then I had nothing left for the trip expense itself. Soon, the deadline came and I was empty handed. This sounds discouraging, and perhaps a little embarrassing, and at first it was!  But, now that is not the case for me. I had confidence that God would give me the right time to go because I knew for certain (and still do) that He called me to Africa. I thought God was saving my trip for this coming summer, but now that is not the case and He had marriage in the plans instead. Whenever I do go to Kenya, I am certain that it will be alongside my husband which is an even better idea than what I had in mind (God has a way of doing that!) But, the confidence I speak of was not easily obtained. God had to teach me a lesson.

Because of the heart God gave me for the work to be done in Kenya, I will have to admit that I could not see any kind of mission work that was as important here in the United States of America. When I thought of Jesus' words, "Go into all the world," I could only see far way places. God so sweetly began the process to correct my misunderstanding in the summer of 2013, the summer I thought I was going to be in Kenya.

I sat in the pew at church countless Sundays thinking, I don't understand, Lord. I feel like I am supposed to be in Kenya right now. I felt incomplete and confused. Then, my church began talking about a trip to Nashville called Mission 615. Everyone on the team including my best girl friend from church wanted me to join them in a one day outreach to the homeless of Nashville. I agreed to go, my heart pumped and ready for whatever God was about to do. The experience changed my life.

At first, I was hesitant to call it a mission trip because I did not understand how traveling 2 hours from home could be just as important as crossing an ocean. But when I took a bus to the projects to invite inner city kids to a Saturday church service, when I saw their eagerness to sit and hear about God and their hunger for something that would give their lives hope as they prayed at makeshift altars in a gym, it shook my understanding.

When it was time for the evening service for the homeless, I was put to work in the nursery. The children of the homeless competed for my attention the whole hour, and some in some pretty silly ways. But it was the toddler who more than likely hadn't had a meal that day who wanted to share his Cheetos with me who altered my perspective.

 The truth that I have realized for myself, is that while I am certain I am called to go on that trip to Kenya one day, my permanent calling is to be a United States missionary. One country is not more important than another in God's eyes, and quite honestly I am a missionary in my dorm room, and as soon as I walk out the door, wherever I walk. All of God's children are under the same calling, but in different ways. A trip to Nashville for one day is as much of a mission trip as a week or two in Kenya. One week from today a team from my college and I will be heading to Atlanta, Georgia to work alongside an organization called Street Grace to fight against human trafficking in some way. I no longer measure the urgency or validity of a mission trip on how long it takes or its location. I could spend my time anxious and waiting to go to Africa as if my life depended on it, or I could open my eyes to the opportunities God is placing all around me each day and grab them with both hands. 

I choose the second option.