CEE Story From The Mission Field
Where are the Elephants?
June 3, 2002
When God called me to be a missionary I was 22 years old. Though I was surprised at God's plans for me the adventure seemed very appealing. I could see myself blazing a trail to an unknown tribe in some remote jungle. I'd live in a hut, cook over an open fire, have evening pow-wows with the village women who, of course, were new converts and loved me immensely, and watch my children running free in the wide, open spaces with the elephants, perfectly adjusted to this savage life and leading the village children to the Lord.
Can you guess that my expectations and reality were a little different? Imagine my surprise when I got off the plane in Bucharest, Romania, a city with 2.4 million people and went to live in an apartment the size of my mom's living room. To make the reality even more stunning, I was no longer the 22-year-old single college girl -- I was a wife and mother of two. Suddenly not only were there no elephants to run free with and no wide, open spaces in this crowded city, but even if there were I would have worried about the safety of such an activity and never permitted it. Living in an apartment was probably more sanitary than living in my imagined hut, but when the roaches came to visit and the radiators failed to work, even the apartment became a little too primitive for me. The reality of mission life hit hard.
Unfortunately, for most missionaries this is the case. The first couple of years on the field, we are immersed in what we call culture shock -- a state of total wide-eyed disbelief at new surroundings -- that you can't foresee or avoid, which leaves you feeling small, insignificant, and incapable of functioning (sounds fun, huh?).
My culture shock began with the descent from the plane when I realized that I couldn't talk to anyone. About the only word that made sense to me was "toaleta." That one I could figure out -- especially if I followed my nose, but other than that brief and fleeting knowledge, I was pretty much put out of commission from all of my communicating on a meaningful level. The awareness of my helplessness deepened when I arrived in our new neighborhood and I tried to do a little shopping. Shopping translates in any language, right? Surprise, surprise! In some cultures shopping is actually not a pleasure. In Romania, in 1995 all of the products were behind the counter and had to asked for by name, or in my case, an embarrassing game of charades (have you ever tried acting out "diapers"?).
I sunk even further into the abyss of culture shock when I realized how, as a mother of small children, I would be a prisoner in my own home. I couldn't take them shopping because I walked to the store and took home only what I could carry in my two arms; they couldn't go outside and play because according to my standards, parking lots weren't good playgrounds for toddlers; I couldn't even take them to church unless I wanted to stand outside in the snow with them during the sermon. Where were those wide-open spaces and good-natured elephants I had dreamed of?
The expectations were many and the disappointments just as numerous. So why did we stay? How did we survive? We stayed because we were called -- pure and simple. We survived by allowing each disappointment to drive us to re-examine our own hearts in light of God's Word. We asked ourselves some hard questions. Did we come to be appreciated and lauded as super-Christians, or did we come to serve God? Did we come to share our wisdom and godliness with the world, or were we willing to humbly continue to learn of Him? Did we come to have adventure or did we come to follow Him wherever He would lead us. Each situation, each disappointment only worked to purify us and make us more like Him.
During the first couple of years I would constantly go the Lord and ask Him to give me the solution to a problem. How do I love this person? How do I work with this culture? How do I overcome my fear? How do I accept this humiliation? How do I live with this disappointment? Every single time the answer from the Lord was the same! Learn more of me. Jesus, more of Jesus, was the answer every time. If I saw things as He did, loved as He did, understood as He did then it would all be okay. I learned to sit at Jesus' feet and learn of Him.
I never realized it before but I often found my joy in other things instead of in Christ Himself. When the other things were stripped away I began to find joy in Him alone. That was the greatest gift He could have given me. Now, I can take that with me wherever I go, in whatever situation I am in -- elephants or not. I need not fear anything now because He is always with me, will never forsake me, and it is in Him that I find my joy. What a blessing!
View the photo essay of "Where are the Elephants?"