The distance from Texas to where I live in Southeast Asia is ten thousand miles. Like many other cross-cultural workers, we sold everything, quit our jobs, withdrew our kids from school, and waved goodbye to our family.
“We won’t be coming home for Christmas this year, Mom and Dad. We’ll be in our new home.”
TEN. THOUSAND. MILES. AWAY.
It’s Good
And it’s good. It’s all good because that’s where God has called us to live. I’m good with that. Excited about it. Looking forward to it.
So why is it so stinkin’ hard to go the last few steps? We’ve come all this way and somehow I am content to live my life just out of reach of my final destination.
Just Out of Reach
I give the best of excuses:
I don’t want to go sit with my neighbor who lost her husband because I won’t understand what they are saying.
I don’t want to drag my kids to church AGAIN because I’ll just be standing in the back of the room begging and bribing them to be quiet during the long sermon in a dialect that is not even the one we are studying.
I don’t want to invite my neighbor over because who knows how long she’ll stay and I really need to get some things done this afternoon.
What am I doing?
So, what am I doing here? Here on the other side of a screen door that I have constructed between me and them? We can see each other, talk to each other. We can even press our hands hard against the wire screen and feel little organized squares of each other’s skin that protrude through the mesh, and then safely remove ourselves without being too terribly affected by each other.
Why is it that can I sacrifice every convenience I’ve ever known, and the time with family that I love so dearly, but I just…can’t…seem…to go that last little bit?
The Last Mile
That last mile. Or ten feet. Or maybe the last few inches.
I heard a sermon from a well-seasoned missionary about this very thing; which tells me that this feeling is not a unique or new problem. But it’s one that should be addressed.
The last little bit is the hardest. That may not seem to make sense, but I think it is true. We move to our new world, make our new home, and settle down. And then we are lulled to sleep. We are fooled by the fact that, since life here is harder, THAT’S the distance to which we were called.
And all along this was just the landing spot. Now God has the right to call us further.
God Has the Right
God has the right to say:
“Come, make this hospital visit.”
“Come, take the long grueling bus trip to visit your friend’s village family.”
“Come, spend a few more hours learning this language.”
Take these last steps. You’ve come this far. Don’t let a growing sense of “home” numb you to the fact that there is a little more “go” to go.
What About You?
Have you found yourself getting comfortable just a few inches short of where God has called you to go?
What “screen doors” have you set up to protect you from uncomfortable things?
Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well.
1 Thessalonians 2:8
So very true. I’ve often talked about the “comfort zone” we can get stuck in after making that trek across the world. And the image of the screen door–wow, so vivid to me. Thank you for writing, friend.
Thank you for your example to me and so many other women!
Great insight Jana…and it will apply even when you retire and leave home to come “home.” The call is still there…keep going, just not quite as far…keep being, just not in quite so strange a place…keep giving of yourself, even you don’t have near as much to give as you used to. ..remembering, it’s all for Jesus.
Thanks, Dad. Your comment on retirement is so good. And as I read your last bit I’m thinking “quantity is not the same as quality.” Even if “quantity” changes, the quality of what you and Mom give is a great example for all of us to aspire to. Thanks for raising me to know that “it’s all for Jesus.” Love you.