Take the romance out of it

I don’t look at this dirt under my feet and proclaim “I LOVE YOU!” 
Or stare at my charcoal stove and think “I could never live another day without you!”
And I certainly don’t tell the boda boda as I get on, “I trust you.” 

I don’t walk through the booming loud slum and say to it “I want you to be louder.” 
Or walk through the city where you can’t move one foot without bumping into someone and say “I want you to be closer.” 
And I don’t look to these children and announce “You guys are all I’m living for.” 

When I slip in the slum and land on my butt, I don’t look to the ground and say “Thank you for catching me.” 
Or when he cheats me because of the color of my skin, there is no “Thank you for teaching me” that comes from my mouth. 
And I don’t sing “Africa, you are perfect and HOLY!” 

I see widows prostituting, children starving, the rich not caring for their own, families hopeless, missionaries burnt out, people dying, empty bank accounts, kids who don’t dream about their future because they have HIV, schools that costs too much money, families that look to me to save them, and dads who can’t carry the weight of responsibility that hovers over them and chokes them until they break and leave, and I don’t declare “Uganda, you love justice!” 

There is no romance there. I don’t want to be pursued by Uganda.

And I don’t want to pursue Uganda, because we would not be equally yoked. 

We were made to worship. There is only One that can hold the weight of our worship. If we put the weight of our worship on our jobs, our families, entertaining ourselves, or even the place that we desire to go to serve the Lord - all of those things will surely crack. They can’t hold the weight of worship. Worship was defined for One. 

There is an outlook that many Christians have towards missions that entails these thoughts of great adventure, living with immense purpose, and walking around soaring on wings like eagles. 

There are plenty of days that I feel without purpose. There are plenty of days that I just want to see my friends and do something fun even though I know there are sick mothers I need to see. There are plenty of days that I want to make a plate of chocolate chip cookies and curl up by a fire. The place doesn’t create the purpose. The romance is not in the mission. The romance is not going across the world where you have to light a fire with a plastic bag and some charcoal, scrub your clothes clean with your bare hands, always have dirty feet and sweat dripping down your face, and you hold sick, dying, and unloved children every day. Don't be blinded by that, it's not fun. 

Once I let the romance drain from every spot that I misplaced it, and after every broken heart heals that I've experienced because the place doesn't love me as much as I loved it, and when I realized that this place needs WAY more than I on my own can offer, the idol that we so often make of modern day missions comes crashing down. 

The romance is that there is a Maker whose love covers every wrong and He is everywhere. He calls me His own. God has brought me to a place that exposes who I am to the core and I was the first to learn that I’m not a hero, but that I’m loved by One. 

We can’t wait to be loved. We can't wait until we get "there" until we start living the way that He desires us to live as loved. We can’t be more excited about where God is going to call us, than we are to spend time with Him. We can’t worship the gift more than the Giver. We can’t look at a problem and think it needs you, more than it needs God.  He is waiting for us.