Confessions of a "missionary"

Some call this missionary work. I don't know about that.

Define Missionary. Who are they? What do they look like? Where are they?

Why isn't everyone that is in Christ, really in Christ, called a missionary?

I feel that I may have been put on a pedestal with coming to Africa, but how does that make me any more extraordinary than anyone else? I am in Africa because this is where the road has lead me. If you would have told me a year ago I would be here there is no way I would believe you. My expectations on what this would be like has turned out to be wrong. Not entirely bad wrong but very different. And it is really ok. I know that I am supposed to be here. We have to go through rough stuff to get to the good.

The thing is: Life here feels a lot like it does at home (I live on an air-conditioned ship with wireless internet so there's not too much of everyday African living that I get to experience). I am the same person. I still have the same struggles trying to find my purpose here. No superhuman powers turned me into an extraordinary person when I stepped off the plane. I walked off of the plane in faith that this is where Christ has brought me.

What about the people that walk into work every day with the same amount of faith as it took for me to get off the plane and go through customs in a new land? What about the people that spend their free time with foster children and volunteering in health clinics and teaching children how to read? Being nice to someone that probably doesn't deserve it in our eyes? Waiting another 30 seconds to hold the door open for someone when they could have easily acted like they didn't see them behind them? Showing a refugee that has come to a safe place from their war torn country how to find a job, open a checking account, go to the doctor, buy groceries and get around town?

These are missionaries, too.