Missionary, you are called to weakness

It’s natural for missionaries to have high expectations when arriving in their new host country.

There is an expectation of competency: many missionaries have been trained, whether by their sending church or mission agency. Many have received post-high school education—bachelor’s, master’s, or even doctoral degrees. Recognizing the challenges of language acquisition, many have invested time learning their host country’s native tongue. Missionaries tend to be a resourceful bunch.

There is an expectation of results: although this is becoming less of a trend, there is still the inherent expectation from supporters to hear about the results of your ministry. You are expected to share what God has done through your ministry—on furloughs, in newsletters, or via updates on social media.

Finally, there is an expectation of understanding your role: you may have been presented with a plan for ministry by your superiors or mission agency that has since been changed. Or perhaps appreciation for your role is not expressed in ways you’re accustomed to, whether by teammates or the nationals you’re ministering to. So, it’s natural to begin questioning your role, feeling underutilized and discouraged.

We, as new-ish missionaries, have had these expectations too. And for most of us serving overseas, we don’t realize we have these expectations until frustration surfaces. We’re too far down the road of frustration in our own minds and hearts. So, we must learn through struggle, heartbreak, tears, anguish . . . and hopefully God’s Word. How do we, as innately proud, self-sufficient, and educated individuals called to the mission field, allow our hearts to interact with these expectations in a healthy and, most importantly, biblical way? It starts with recognizing we are weak.

That’s right. You and I are weak.

The Apostle Paul writes about this concept of weakness in one of his letters to the Corinthian church. He begins by identifying where true strength resides: “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Cor. 4:7 ESV). Paul calls us believers in Jesus Christ “jars of clay.” In the ancient world, this was a common metaphor used to describe human weakness. Paul, considered to be one of the most godly Christians we know in church history, says he’d been made weak.

What do we do with weakness? Typically, we say, “I’m fine,” when someone casually asks us how we’re doing. We fret and anguish on the inside, while outside being smiley and buttoned-up. We look to problem-solve before praying. We seek the counsel of human (albeit godly) individuals before seeking the counsel of our heavenly Father and his Word. But how did Paul respond? He embraced weakness (2 Cor. 4:10–12). Paul recognized that though we are born again in Christ, we still live in the flesh. And this flesh is weak, regardless of position, educational achievement, resumé, etc. We are weak, broken, frail, and sinful.

Yet, at the same time we are alive in Christ. This is the paradoxical reality of the believer’s life. We have died to sin through faith in Christ, and it is no longer we that live but Jesus Christ who lives in and through us (Gal. 2:20). As his church, we are in possession of the same life that Jesus possesses through his resurrection. We are made weak so the strength that only God possesses can be fully manifested through Christ who lives in us.

Amidst the COVID-19 crisis, the language-learning valleys, team-chemistry struggles, hurt received from a Japanese person you’re ministering to, or feeling insecure about your role within your ministry—remember to return to the gospel. We are weak. He is strong. We are sinful. He has defeated sin. And there is tremendous relief in seeing this gospel reality. God’s strength will shine through our lives as we embrace the fact that we are weak.

Let us temper our expectations on the mission field, or in any ministry for that matter. We must die to ourselves; this includes our competency, desire for results, feeling secure in our roles, and a myriad of other expectations we carry on our shoulders. To such weight, Jesus’ response is this:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:28-30 ESV).

May the words shared from Scripture turn our hearts Godward, encourage our downcast spirits and secure our footing in Christ Jesus.