I Am A Missionary…

I am a missionary.  I AM a missionary.  I am a MISSIONARY.  I am a missionary…

I’m learning to wrap my brain around the fact that I am now a
missionary.  Truth is, I think Jesus calls us to be missionaries from
the day He calls to us.  But, I’m now what the church in the US would
call a missionary. I thought that was something only the really straight
as an arrow, goody-toe shoes people did.

You know, those people that dressed up on Sundays, never
swore, did really, really well in school, and were kind, considerate,
and seemed to always have the right answers for everything.  We would
commission them as a church, pray for them, and send them along their
merry way with a check.  They would head off to some third world place
to live and write letters back about their exploits.

Yeah – those people became missionaries.  NOT someone like me.

I don’t like dressing up on Sundays, I do occasionally swear (my
confession for the day), I did fairly well in school, and I try to kind
and considerate, however, I often feel socially awkward.  (One thing I’ve always wondered is, do most people feel socially awkward or is it just me?)

Right now, you could say that I’m a missionary to the missionaries.  I
work for a missions organization who help mobilize thousands of
participants out in the field each year.  We do mostly short term missions work, although we do have some career missionaries.

In April, I will be heading out into the mission field for six months.  Okay, I need to say that again so it sinks in….

In April, I am going to the missions field for SIX MONTHS.

We are praying through it right now to figure out how, when, where,
and who – but, a few brave families are going to head out from
Gainesville in April, traveling and living in RVs as we tour across the
US.  We want to connect with churches, ministry partners, and saints to
work together to help heal the sick, love the lost, reach out to the
broken, and allow Jesus to be seen, felt, and experienced.

I’m not going to a third world country.  I’m not going in a
traditional way to do traditional missionary things like build a school
for orphans.  I’m being sent to my home – the US – to my backyard – to
your neighborhood.  In an RV.

Think hot dogs, lemonade, campfire smores, and Jesus.  Lots and lots of Jesus.

“This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.”  1 John 4:9

I am a missionary.  The first in my family.  The first of my
friends.  The first I have actually really known close-up. As I look in
the mirror and repeat this new identity to my reflection, I realize I
look nothing like what I thought missionaries were supposed to look
like.

I AM a missionary.  I am a MISSIONARY.

I need your help.  Please pray for me and the others who will be
joining us. I need some cheerleaders who will cheer for me when doubt or
discouragement set in.  I need folks who want to become even more
involved and roll up their sleeves to help make this happen.  And I need
help financially.  When I was working in the corporate world, I
received a pay check.  On the missions field, you receive something
called, “support” as your pay check.

If I don’t raise the support needed – this trip doesn’t happen.  That’s how that works.

Please let me know if you would like to help with prayers, cheerleading, rolling up the sleeves, or financial support.

I’ll keep everyone updated as it progresses.  Who knows, maybe we’ll pull into your neighborhood?

I am a missionary.  I AM a missionary.  Yes, I am a missionary to the United States.