When being a missionary sends you into a quarter life crisis.

Don’t laugh. 

I really told Chris that I was having a mid-life crisis and he reminded me that I was actually 25 and not 50 so it’s called a quarter life crisis. 

Whatever. You get the point right?!

What happens when becoming a missionary challenges everything you ever believed about church, and Jesus, and Christianity?

I completely have the answer. You go through a quarter life crisis.

At first I cried and complained. 

And then I got totally mad. 

And then I thought about all of the reasons that I shouldn’t be mad. 

And then I questioned the very existence of missions. 

And then I decided that I really don’t know what I believe, and that’s OK, because I am figuring it out. 

Before I came to Peru, I was absolutely 100 percent sure about everything. About what Jesus wanted from us, about what we were supposed to do with our lives, about what Church looked like. About what missions looked like. 

And then I became a missionary. In a city where there is not one single church like the ones that I went to back home. Where there are more witch doctors than regular doctors and where Christianity is not the norm. Where rubbing a dead armadillo gives you good luck (and you can pay to do so in the market right beside my house) and where it is actually legal to do animal sacrifices in businesses on the streets in order to cast spells and then charge people for it, all in the name of spirituality. Where it’s typical to have women who are witches walk up to your car in traffic and “bless it” with a bundle of herbs and hold out their hands to you like “where’s the cash at?!” Because they think you owe them for the blessing. Where people and pastors teach that sexism is OK. Where there is no such things as the “Bible belt” and no-one understands what “bless your heart” means. 

And then I became a missionary. In a city that views Americans as ridiculously rich people, no matter what. In a place where Americans have done missions for years and the people have a huge sense of entitlement because they have received so many hand outs. They are ready for us when we walk down the streets. Sometimes people ask me for money and get mad when I say no because I’m white… because they are used to hand outs. 

It is so strange to be able to speak Spanish. To sit down at some one’s house and talk to them and share a meal with them and realize that they are human beings, not projects. That they aren’t just another number to be able to count off at church when you go back home. That they are intelligent and that it is actually offensive for American teenagers to give free handouts to children right in front of their father’s who cannot afford to give them toys. It is so strange to go to the slums that broke my heart so much when I was just coming on short term trips and sit around and watch TV and YouTube videos on smart phones with a family who doesn’t have running water. Because the TV is more important to them than the running water because they don’t view running water as a necessity. Because they don’t view the world like we do. 

And then I became a missionary. And I went to churches that don’t have small groups or women’s meetings or Operation Christmas Child. Church services that don’t have daycare or instruments or pretty lights. Places that mix Christianity with Shamanism. I’ve been faced with so many questions this year.. like what does my relationship with Jesus look like without all of the community that I had in the states? When it’s just me alone with God and nothing else? When no-one shares my same cultural experience? When no-one celebrates Christmas on Christmas? When women aren’t viewed the same as they are in the states? 

In many ways, we have spent a year in Peru as investigators. And I am so thankful for that. We have served in the local church. We have befriended some hippies and some spiritualists. We have befriended pastors. We have made wealthy Peruvian friends and very poor Peruvian friends. We have gone places that only Peruvians go and we have gone places that only tourists go. We have experienced life as they live it, life as they know it, life from this side. Today a friend came over to my house and asked why we had so many towels, because of course she and her boyfriend only share one. I stood there dumbly, searching for a response, and then Chris just gave her one of our towels, because why the heck do we have so many?

So today I am thinking and I am brain storming with God. Brainstorming because I am a girl who loves short term missions. Because I am a girl who loves being a missionary. Because I want to work in this field for the rest of my life. And because I know there must be other people out there going through the same thing, questioning their sanity, questioning missions, and I want to be the person to say you are not alone. We are in this together. So lets ask ourselves:

What am I supposed to do in the face of this knowledge and experience that I have gained?

How can I use what I have been given in the absolute best way to give glory to God?

How can I love the Peruvians (insert your country here) in a way that would be best for them and not for me?

How can I make a lasting impact?

How can I change the religious environment here?

How can I show people what it’s really like to live within the culture that we are coming to serve?

How can I communicate the damage that we do as Americans (who have really good hearts) who give handouts?

Only with God’s help. Only with a ton of love. Only with so much grace for myself and for others. Only with determination. Only with bravery. 

Here I am, in this new season of not knowing and at the same feeling like I know more than I have ever known before. And I know that God is showing me this so that I can show others. So I am starting a new column on my blog, specifically dedicated to missionaries (long and short term) and those living abroad. I want this to be a place where you can learn and grow with me. Where you can come to hash it out and admit that you just don’t have the answers. Where we can work together to change the rich American/poor non-christian foreigner pattern. Where we can not only do better but where we can do great things. Together.