Musings about Missionary Life

“Tao po! Ate Melita?” A Philippino lady comes to the door asking for money for her adult son to go to the hospital. He has a boil on his face that has expanded and spread under his jaw, and they can’t afford to take him to get medical attention.

Knock, knock! A child stands there with a letter. My Aunt picks it up and brings it back to the breakfast table Saturday morning. She reads the Tagalog words with her husband, and they decipher that one of the neighborhood ladies has gone into labour early, and needs help. A mother who has birthed four children before, and says there is something different this time.

One sardine. On top of a pile of rice. This is lunch for a poor child, and she wouldn’t even have this if it hadn’t been given.

Looking up at my Uncle with a shy face, a boy, about 14, explains that his family doesn’t have enough money to put him through school, and he is asking to be sponsored.

20%. On a fractions exam. The grade that a young man received as he struggles to understand math and stay in his carpentry program. What should be done? Can he re-take the test? Or is it over for him? How should his teacher decide?

These and many others are the tough situations that the missionaries here at Second Mile face. In one week. Should they give money to help, or would this be discouraging the people from taking initiative to help themselves? How much should they give? Is the health problem enough to recommend seeing a doctor?

Along with household chores and daily life, these decisions are ones that cause the missionaries to turn to God for wisdom on a daily basis. Couples pray for wisdom to know how generous to be with finances. The missionaries struggle to know how to help young believers grow, people who profess Christianity, and come to church, but continue in past traditions and sinfulness. Where is the balance between encouraging people in God’s love and warning them of His wrath?


As I have watched the missionaries here over the past two weeks, I have found it interesting how “normal” their lives are. That doesn’t quite sound right, but let me explain. They are living here, and have all the regular responsibilities of caring for a home and property, raising children, handling finances, grocery shopping, cooking, attending church and Bible studies, and attending association or community meatings. But across the street families are starving and people are aching for the gospel. Again and again the missionaries serve them, and hold services and preach the gospel. Some come. Some go. Prayer meetings are held regularly, and missionaries talk to one another about their experiences and pray for the people. Again and again. My Uncle teaches his carpentry class, and encourages the students in spiritual discipleship as well. Some do well, others fail. Life goes on, new students come, the same neighborhood kids come to Sunday school. Another bible study. More language studying. Another day. Life keeps going.

Sometimes it's exciting, and sometimes its not. Being a missionary is a life-long act of service to God, and faithfulness in prayer, and trusting that God is making a difference even when you can’t see it. Whether you are at home, or abroad.