Forgiveness. One of those basic ideas kids probably understand better than adults, because they take it literally, while adults often try to deny that it applies to us. Sometimes we deny it by refusing to believe that the other person deserves forgiveness. Our pain is too great, they did too much damage, and it is impossible to forgive them. Others of us spend our lives denying our pain, explaining it away. If we were hurt by someone else, it means we are weak or too sensitive. It means we are admitting they had or have power over us to be able to hurt us, and that is unacceptable. And if they never hurt us, then we have no need to do the unthinkable and forgive them. Let me illustrate these options with a story of two little boys I once taught. They were super mad at each other (I still don’t know why). I separated them before the glaring turned to fighting. I sat Ethan* down on one side of the room, and Jordon* was with a small group of boys trying to calm him down on the other side of the room . Choose your ending:
A. As Jordan was talking with the other boys, his voice got louder. When I left Ethan to take care of another issue in class, Jordan ran over to Ethan and punched him. Naturally, Ethan punched back, and they both ended up in the Principal’s office. B. Even though Ethan was still mad, Jordan suddenly didn’t care any more. He told the other boys it didn’t matter, and Ethan was just being dumb. Ethan eventually cooled down, and class went on. But those two never played together much after that. C. Jordan left his group of friends and walked over to Ethan. Slowly, deliberately–as if it took every ounce of strength he could muster–he reached his small hand out and put it on Ethan’s shoulder. “I am sorry,” he said. Ethan started crying, and put his hand on Jordan’s shoulder. They had no trouble playing together after that. I’m glad to tell you that thanks to God’s miraculous grace in my class that day, the ending was “C.” And I learned a valuable lesson about forgiveness. It doesn’t mean that we deny our pain–we feel it, and we admit it–whether the other person knows how much they hurt us or not, whether we “should” or “shouldn’t” feel that way. We also realize that they probably do not deserve it. We deserve to be angry at them for hurting us. But, by God’s grace, we make the choice and the action to forgive–to not hold it against them. Why? Well, Jordan told me, “I hate to go to the Principal’s office, that’s why I hate to kill him.” Yeah, sometimes it’s just to keep the peace, but as Christians, a deeper reason goes back to Jesus. We forgive because He told us to. Not only did He tell us, but He did it. On the cross, He asked God to forgive those who were hurting Him. (Luke 23:24) He also took the blame–and the punishment–for all of our offenses toward God, so that God could forgive us. Jesus died to make forgiveness possible. So when we forgive, it’s not just about the other person, or the hopeful result of reconciliation. It is because we want to be like Jesus, and this is what He asks and expects from His followers. For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matt. 6:14,16) And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins. (Mark 11:25) Does it mean you forget? No, not always. God is able to do that, but right now, we are not able to. But every time we remember, we can ask God to help us to forgive again. To leave judgement with Him, and to treat the person with grace–even in the privacy of our own minds. Again, it doesn’t mean to excuse their behavior or discount your pain, it means acknowledging the pain, if necessary confronting (Matt. 18:15), and then choosing to forgive and move on. I truly believe that God is the only one who makes forgiveness possible in its truest definition, and it’s a work of a lifetime, not an instant. Be patient, persistent, and always willing to listen to the Holy Spirit, and even the impossibility of admitting your pain and offering forgiveness becomes possible. *Names are changed.
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It seems to strike when I least expect it. I was just loading some laundry into the washer, and bam. It hit me again: What if? I’ve fought it off several times before, thought I conquered it, but there it was staring up at me from the washing machine. No, it wasn’t a shirt I regretted buying. It was the disappointments from my mission experience last year. This is the third time I’ve gone through this “Re-Entry” thing, and this is perhaps the first time I’ve had to fight off so many “what-ifs.” Maybe because if my plans had gone the way they were supposed to, I’d still be out there, instead of sitting around, looking for a job. Maybe because I wonder how much more effective I could have been last year if things had gone the way they were supposed to. Even though I’ve had plenty of time to face these thoughts and conquer them throughout this year, sometimes it’s just as hard to remember to trust God with my past as it was to trust Him when it was happening.
It seems that one little question can multiply like a virus into a thousand more. Feelings can range from anger and regret to sadness and confusion. At the end of the day, I just want to know that it had to be this way. That there wasn’t something I could have done differently. Or at the very least, to see something in the plans-gone-wrong to make it worth it somehow. It’s easy to tell someone who is questioning to trust that God has a plan. But when you’re in the middle of it, it’s a lot harder to do when His plan seems so different from what you expected. From what seems better. But I guess that is still what it comes down to. A choice to believe. An exercise of faith to pray that desperate prayer, “Lord, I believe. Please help my unbelief.” A turning of the eyes from myself to God; from my weakness and regrets to His strength and redemption. We all know that God does not rejoice in our suffering. He hates seeing us cry or rage at our disappointments. But sometimes He has to let us go through it anyway, for reasons we may not understand, just like He did with His own Son. And the hardest and best thing we can do is to put our “what-ifs” in Heaven’s offering plate. In that moment of surrender (which often must happen over and over), we find peace in return. We can discover that God Himself is enough, even if we lose everything else. And we learn that there is nothing wasted in His time-economy. Whatever happened, He can transform it into something good, something even beautiful. He will not fail to do this for us if we ask Him. “We know that God makes all things work together for the good of those who love Him and are chosen to be a part of His plan.” Romans 8:28 (NLV) The safest place you can be is in the sky. Clouds below, sun and infinity above. As much as I don’t really care for flying, there are some comforting things about it. When you are in the air, you are in no-man’s-land, the world-between-the-worlds. You are not where you were, and you are not where you are going. You don’t have to let go of the past or face the future. You can just simply be imprisoned in the present, high above whatever is going on in the world. As soon as you land, you are committed to joining the world again, ready or not.
The challenge of joining the American world again can be really hard. I remember subconsciously raising my legs off the floor in a futile attempt to resist the plane’s descent into the bright lights of Honolulu. America was too fast, too loud, too bright. I wasn’t ready for it yet. For several months afterward, there was a big hole in my heart for the simplicity of my old island life, and I did not feel like I belonged at home. Sometimes I would look up at the evening sky, and the big, puffy summer clouds reminded me of island clouds. And then sometimes I wished I could just live in the clouds–no need for decisions, commitments, new things, or missing old things. Yes, the safest place is in the sky, but it’s not the best place. If you stay in the world-between-the-worlds forever, even your my mind, you’ll miss what God has for you next. It takes awhile, but eventually you come to realize that the best is not behind you–it’s ahead. Because God is already there. God is not finished with you yet. He still has plans for you, and He has not forgotten you. He will walk through this landing with you, and plant your feet on a firm foundation. What are you supposed to say to that exactly? Whether it was a fantastic year or the worst experience of your life, it’s hard to know how to explain it all in 30 seconds or less (probably the average American attention span). You don’t want to avoid the question, but you still feel the need to somehow answer honestly and accurately (although by now you might have just given in and are telling everyone it was “great” whether it was or not.) One student missionary I know summarized her year in one word: unforgettable. Genius. It could have been awesome or terrible, but it was definitely unforgettable. While that’s obviously my favorite one-word answer so far, here are some other ideas:
Other ideas? Feel free to share. At 18, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life: teach. In fact, I had known this since 3rd grade, and could not understand how other classmates couldn’t decide on a major. But by 20, I was a General Studies major, with a nice collection of major-changes already under my belt. And then I left as a student missionary youth worker in New Zealand, and came back confident that I had it figured out this time. Pastoral Care. This was it. It was a brand new major, and I was a brand new me. Until I hit Greek class, which almost killed me that semester. So I changed my major again. This time the only question about which major to take was “Which one will let me graduate the fastest?” Which actually worked pretty well for me.
During your mission experience, you probably had time to think about the decisions ahead in your life. This is often a big reason why many SMs are SMs in the first place (including myself)–to buy some time to make some of these decisions. For some SMs, the question is answered–they had an awesome year of ministry or teaching, and are convinced that this is their life work. But others of us agonize about our major for awhile, frustrated that the year we took out to serve God was “in vain” when it came to making life choices easier. To the major-strugglers, here’s some encouragement (and those who think they have it figured out…you might be back here soon). Be patient with yourself. You are still young, even though it seems like life is passing you by at 21 or 24 years old. Think about it. Jesus didn’t start His public ministry until He was 30. Moses didn’t figure out his “real” job until he was 80. (Yes, there was Joash the boy king, but child prodigies are in another category). Remember how God has led you through other times when you felt blind–maybe this last year. Have you experienced Him coming through for you before? Hold on to those memories, and believe He will do it again. If you say you believe that God is leading in your life–or if you can only ask Him to help your unbelief–then you can be confident that He will not drop you off at the ad building and leave you after your SM year. This does NOT mean, however, that your journey is guaranteed to be simple. Some of us learn better by trying lots of things out. Don’t be afraid to change your major if you need to–learning lots of things is never a waste. However, I recommend taking your time to get back and settled in a little while before making any huge changes to your life plans. Sometimes things look overwhelming when you’re in the middle of transition, and you might be looking for something that isn’t really you. If you want, check out the career counseling services at your school. It may not give you all the answers, but can point you in a good general direction, or confirm where you’re already headed. Talk to friends and family, and hear them out. Whether you feel understood or not, they do care, and might have some insight about you that you don’t see. But most of all, keep the conversation going with God at all times. Learn how to listen for His voice–through His Word, through others, through circumstances. If you wait on Him, He will be faithful. In one of my career-questioning-crises, I ran across this quote that sums it up well: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” – Rainer Maria Rilke “I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.” – God (Jeremiah 29:11, MSG) Dear [Returned] Student Missionary:
You’ve returned. You’ve been called, you’ve gone, you’ve served, and now it’s done. You’ve come back changed, whether you feel like it or not. Now you run through Wal-Mart with the glee of a child at Christmas. Applesauce and peanut butter and ice cream and Taco Bell have never tasted so good. Toilet paper is exciting. Friends and family hail your return. But you’re back to real life. And perhaps, if you’re like me, life’s purpose eludes you. Reverse culture shock is real. Trying to fit back in with the lifestyle that once was yours is hard to do. In fact, it’s impossible. You can never fit back in exactly as you did before. Everyone tells you it’s because you’ve changed, and they’re right. Please, learn a lesson from me: You don’t have to fit in. You tried so hard to blend with your host country or state or school, spending months learning the nuances that determined visitors and foreigners from those who belonged. You found a niche and did your job there. But when you come home, don’t do it again. Don’t try to learn all the new habits and behaviors that make one a part of your home culture. Don’t struggle to fit in. I came home from my year away and tried so very hard to re-acclimate. To become the epitome of perfect PT student, to engage with others as any 23-year-old college student should, to wear my hair and my clothes and my makeup just so. To fit in with the crowd. To blend in where I’ve been placed. It’s taken me a year to remember that I left a home culture that I didn’t blend in with. I’ve never been “typical”. I’m not an average American. I never was very good at being the cool kid. I don’t often resonate with the characters portrayed in films and shows that are supposed to be just like me. I’ve never fit in… but it’s never bothered me. I always enjoyed life. I enjoyed it until I decided that I should care what others think of me. That I should find out what the social norm was and adhere to it. To fit in. To become average. To do the things that others did, because that was how life was supposed to work. But in becoming average, I’ve lost things. I’ve lost the freedom to go crazy, to cast off inhibitions in favor of embracing propriety. The ability to express myself as I know how, trying instead to shove my thoughts and emotions into neat Rubbermaid organizers, labeling each with a narrow assortment of emoticons. I’ve lost highs and lows – dynamics. My life feels stationary. I don’t feel like anything’s moving; I don’t dare believe I’m growing. So, Student Missionary: Remember what you were before you left, too. Don’t try to become someone you never were. Embrace who you became in your time as a missionary, but don’t cast away the foundation that led to your transformation. Remember who you were, and allow that person to be influenced by the place and the people with whom you served, but never forget who you were to begin with. You’ve spent a lifetime shaping your character, a character that God bestowed upon you so that you’d be ready to answer the call; don’t give it up. Student Missions gave you purpose – it gave you a place to live and a people to serve and a job to do. It became your life. When you come home, it’s easy to lose that purpose. Remember who you were. Embrace your former role and let it be changed by what you did last year. I am Jessica. I am a sister, a daughter, a classmate, a friend. I was a student missionary teacher. When I came home, I focused so intently on showing others how well I fit in that I lost sight of what makes me different, what makes me who I am. But now, I cast off every weight, pursuing a life beyond the cultural norm and living a crazy life for the One who set me apart from the beginning. By Jessica Stotz |
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