Here I am, Lord. Send me.
The call to preach the gospel.
How many of us have heard it?
How many of us have answered it?
How many of us think it just means being a missionary to a foreign country?
Technically, foreign would mean ANY country, because the bible classifies us as “aliens”; foreigners in our own land.
What if “Here I am, Lord, send me” DOESNT mean a foreign country? What if it means the country you were born in? Your own backyard? Beside the neighbourhood mailbox? In the grocery store or the laundromat?? Maybe someone in your own family or extended family? Your family-in-law?
Are you still willing to be sent?
Somehow being sent as a “missionary” to your in-laws or your neighbours next door, just doesn’t seem so glamorous, does it? There’s no emotional send-off, with people praying over you, wishing you well, supporting your cause. Nope. Just a day-in, day-out kind of monotony of ministry that makes you wish sometimes for just ONE crazy, wild trip overseas, trekking into jungles unknown, across deserts on camels, speaking to people that have no idea what you’re saying without an interpreter. No recognition. No fanfare. No title. No fixed role. One day you are chopping wood and building a wheelchair ramp. The next day, you are holding someone’s dying hand in the hospital. And there’s no pomp and circumstance. No one even expects you to pray for them or with them; in fact if you suggest it, they kinda look at you funny. After all…..you are not a “minister” or a “pastor”; that’s a title reserved for people that hang out in churches and it’s their job to pray and be “religious”.
Maybe our lives ARE the jungle. Maybe chopping through cultural issues and racial boundaries is more difficult than slicing through jungle vegetation. Maybe we speak a spiritual language so foreign to the average unbeliever, we need someone to interpret for us. Maybe those missionaries sent overseas are wishing for just ONE ordinary day that doesn’t involve treks through the jungle and people who speak a language that needs interpretation.
Maybe we need to just give up and GO. Go wherever we are sent; the backstreets of the cities where no one else wants to venture; the prisons, and the hospitals, and the emergency rooms and the hospices where people are dying. Maybe Walmart on a Saturday night. Go where GOD thinks we are needed. Where The Lord of the harvest says we need to harvest the ripe crop. So that when our lifetime on earth is finished, we can go home to our Heavenly Father and hear him say “well done, my good and faithful servant; my daughter, my son, I’m glad you’re home.”
I think we need some missionaries here.
Or wherever you are right now.
Are you willing to go??