Yesterday I heard a comment that I've heard a thousand times. Someone was introducing us to a group, and he said, "Andy and Nancy are missionaries to Moldova."
Something stopped within me.
Is that who I am?
I think I am a person, who serves in the role of missionary. I am a man, a follower of Christ. But a missionary? No...that is something I simply do.
Perhaps I'm splitting hairs, but there is something dangerous when we start to think what we DO is who we ARE. It is especially dangerous if that DOING can set you apart from you you are.
This situation where this comment was made was a small group, a place where people come for safety, counseling, and encouragement. I had visited with a couple of guys earlier that I am not sure if they knew much about church or God. The last think I want to do is for people to label me "missionary," mostly because in Christiandom now that means "super-Christian."
I am far from super. I am far from sainthood. I am far from perfect.
I do happen to serve in a unique situation, doing some unique work. I think God has called us there, His strength and my stubbornness help me stay there. We are trying to do work that I am unsure of, struggle with, and at times, pray that survives. I get frustrated with traffic, imperfect churches, and the stress of going to grocery stores.
And I'm a missionary?
No, I'm just an ordinary guy, doing what he can do to show God's grace and mercy. I want to glorify God in all I do. Some days that desire is greater than other days. Some days I'd rather quit and go milk cows, or sell shoes, or mow lawns.
So next time introduce me a Andy...an ordinary guy trying to serve God, be a good husband and father, serve in ministry...and who happens to serve as a missionary for some strange reason. Just ordinary...Andy.