I have to say a lot of goodbyes. It’s one of the worst things about being a missionary kid. Homecoming felt awesome, full of unpredictable possibilities of thrills. Homeleaving feels disgusting. I’m not sure I’ve ever had so much fun and now I have no clue when I’ll be back. At the end of the day, not one of the thirteen hours I spent traveling passed without me wondering once more if I would return to stay.
I tried to imagine coming to Mexico in my minivan, with a wife in the passenger seat and maybe a kid behind us. The back is stuffed with our few, necessary possessions. I imagine renting a cramped apartment while we learn the ropes of our job. Maybe we’ll get upset stomachs after we go to a taco place. Maybe our side mirrors will get stolen. Maybe our neighbors will have a party and keep us up all night. Maybe we’ll spend hours together in the van waiting in bumper to bumper traffic. Maybe we’ll gather around our Mexican friends and laugh and weep together. Maybe we’ll visit my old friends Carlos, Javier, and Pedro. That’d be the bomb! Or maybe reality would be even more the bomb than anything I could dream.
Some preachers that I respect have made me think twice about returning to Mexico . For example: John Piper teaches that the most important missions are frontier or pioneer missions—missionaries that take the Good News to people groups that have never been exposed to it because that is working toward the second coming of Christ. Out of curiosity, I checked out websites for Frontier Missions and the Joshua Project. These websites give their own analysis to the spiritual need of countries based on how established Christian churches are there. According to their data, missionaries should be focusing on Muslim countries, not Mexico . Supposedly, Mexico has established Christian ministries. But when I dug deeper I found that they considered Catholic churches to be Christian. Of course the Catholic church is well established in Mexico ! They make up more than 90% of the population! But are these churches teaching the Good News? No. They teach a false gospel. Most Mexicans have never been exposed to a sacrificed Christ who is sufficient to restore our relationship with God. It’s hard for me to get work up about unreached people groups when the “reached” people groups have so many more lost people in total.
I will wait for the Lord to open opportunities and continue to show me the need before I set my eyes on Mexico . Until then I will store the love of my Mexican friends in my heart and press on, knowing that God can satisfy while I’m chained to America for a while.
The drive from the Indianapolis airport to Lafayette shocks me. Instead of swerving around traffic and weaving through concrete buildings we fly down open roads surrounded by lush greenery. Walking back to my room, the floor boards creek under the weight of my suitcase.
I find that my nine-year-old sister Nicole had slipped a 3x5 card in my suitcase. She says she’s going to miss me very much. Natalie also wrote me a card she designed and decorated herself. Inside she placed two pictures of us and some Mexican friends that I frame and place on my desk. I remember how my family, including my dad, was choking back tears as we said goodbye earlier that day. My dad and I spent a lot of time talking and bonding. The thing I miss most about Mexico might be talking to Dad about just anything.
Next I pull out a soccer ball that the youth at Nueva Vida church signed for me. So many wrote “gracias”. I fight back tears once again because I had nothing to do with the goodness that they received from me… it all comes from God… and yet He is so gracious to let me taste the fruits of His own goodness.
As I set the ball on my desk, I notice that my cheap, thread bracelet that we got as a group in Poza Rica is starting to lose its color. “Never take it off,” Javier said to me on Skype, “and if it breaks, tape it together so you don’t forget us.” After he said that, Natalie started joking around saying "Don't cry Nathaniel! Don't Cry!" I pretended to cry, burying my face in Natalie's shoulder only to look up and see Javier crying for real. And as the tears started rolling I found that our friendship meant more to Javier than I realized.
Before I climb into bed, I slip off the t-shirt that my best neighbor Carlos gave to me the night before. It’s made of slick polyester and looks kind of like a soccer jersey. I can’t wait to flaunt its uniqueness in front of confused Americans. The night before I left Mexico, Carlos and I talked on my front patio. I found that our restored friendship and his introduction to my dad's church meant more to him than I realized.
Crawling into my full sized bed, it feels twice as big as it needs to be. I take time to thank God for allowing me to enjoy His glory working in the lives of all these people. "Dear God, nothing beats seeing Your glory. Thank You for opening my eyes. I couldn't have dreamed of a better visit. It thrills me to see Javier burn for You. It thrills me to see Nueva Vida exploding. It thrills me to see Carlos looking for You. If I am not mistaken, this is Your doing and You want it to thrill me. I ask that You keep raining Your grace down and I'll dance all the harder in it, enjoying the way it soaks me to the bone." I close my eyes and instead of falling asleep to the constant rumble of traffic and booming parties and barking dogs, I drift off to the piercing sound of my own ringing ears.
I find that my nine-year-old sister Nicole had slipped a 3x5 card in my suitcase. She says she’s going to miss me very much. Natalie also wrote me a card she designed and decorated herself. Inside she placed two pictures of us and some Mexican friends that I frame and place on my desk. I remember how my family, including my dad, was choking back tears as we said goodbye earlier that day. My dad and I spent a lot of time talking and bonding. The thing I miss most about Mexico might be talking to Dad about just anything.
Next I pull out a soccer ball that the youth at Nueva Vida church signed for me. So many wrote “gracias”. I fight back tears once again because I had nothing to do with the goodness that they received from me… it all comes from God… and yet He is so gracious to let me taste the fruits of His own goodness.
As I set the ball on my desk, I notice that my cheap, thread bracelet that we got as a group in Poza Rica is starting to lose its color. “Never take it off,” Javier said to me on Skype, “and if it breaks, tape it together so you don’t forget us.” After he said that, Natalie started joking around saying "Don't cry Nathaniel! Don't Cry!" I pretended to cry, burying my face in Natalie's shoulder only to look up and see Javier crying for real. And as the tears started rolling I found that our friendship meant more to Javier than I realized.
Before I climb into bed, I slip off the t-shirt that my best neighbor Carlos gave to me the night before. It’s made of slick polyester and looks kind of like a soccer jersey. I can’t wait to flaunt its uniqueness in front of confused Americans. The night before I left Mexico, Carlos and I talked on my front patio. I found that our restored friendship and his introduction to my dad's church meant more to him than I realized.
Crawling into my full sized bed, it feels twice as big as it needs to be. I take time to thank God for allowing me to enjoy His glory working in the lives of all these people. "Dear God, nothing beats seeing Your glory. Thank You for opening my eyes. I couldn't have dreamed of a better visit. It thrills me to see Javier burn for You. It thrills me to see Nueva Vida exploding. It thrills me to see Carlos looking for You. If I am not mistaken, this is Your doing and You want it to thrill me. I ask that You keep raining Your grace down and I'll dance all the harder in it, enjoying the way it soaks me to the bone." I close my eyes and instead of falling asleep to the constant rumble of traffic and booming parties and barking dogs, I drift off to the piercing sound of my own ringing ears.