Ministry

Looking back on my blog, I notice that I have not given a very clear, cut-and-dry description of my ministry here. Its not that this is a difficult thing to do, but I feel that to so would be taking away from the true nature of the work of God.

If I were to simply tell you what I do here, I would tell you that I go hang out with shoe-shiners and play soccer and wally-ball with them. I would tell you that the work I do is significant because most shoe-shiners grow up in a very rough background and because of this identity they usually drink and find other lowly pastimes to participate in. I would tell you that I am significant because I am building relationships with them and showing them a different way to live in light of Christ. I would say that those who have supported me can rest assured that their money is being used for the causes of Christ and then explain why. I would do all these things and then sit back and feel like crap.

Everything I stated above is true. The ministry I am helping with is great work. There is nothing wrong with it. My problem is in relaying the message to you all back home. Coming to Bolivia, I had this idea that missionaries were some sort of super-Christians, able to step out in faith in a strange and dangerous land to risk their lives for the Lord, unlike the majority of Christians who simply stay in their hometown and go to work. This is not true. Missionaries are ordinary people with ordinary days, ordinary problems, and ordinary families. There is nothing "super" about them apart from their identity in Christ. They are just like you. Seriously.

My problem with giving an account of my ministry time is that I do not want you to go away envisioning me as some sort of super-Christian. What I do is important, but what you do is equally important. A strong temptation for me is to tell you all about all the shoe-shiners and youth I meet, tell you about every bruise and scar and bad smell, then tell you about the laughter and the brightness in their lives, then tell you about their immenent destruction, then tell you about the hope they have in Christ. None of these are bad, but for the hidden adgenda of what would be my writing. I secretly want your aproval. I secretly feel that I must present to you a scenario more dramatic than the one you experience in the United States because not to do so would be boring and uninspiring. I refrain from giving you the sob-story detailes because I find it not only unfair to the people I work with, but also destructive to your perspective. The last thing I want is to create for you some fantasy world where REAL ministry happens, somewhere far away (like Bolivia) where you dont know anybody. The last thing I want to do is to separate YOUR world from THE world. We are not seperate.

I find it fascinating at how different this place is not. Sure there are cultural differences, people drive differently and speak a different language, but its really not all that different. People are still people. They still smile and laugh. They still get angry when someone cuts them off. They still discipline their kids. They still like it when you call them by name. This is not a fantasy world. This is not some "far-away land" with poverty and homless people and jobless parents and possibly elves and hobbits. No, this is an ordinary place with ordinary people, and we, as ordinary people, need to start taking some ordinary steps to help out in extraordinary ways. In Bolivia, in Mongolia, in Somonauk, in Sandwich. I want you to know that this is not an alien world, and that the love of Christ, no matter where it happens, transcends the system of a world bent on its own destruction. Missionaries are nothing special or supreme to spread the love of Christ. They are but one part among many in the body of Christ.

And so, I look not for your approval. I look not for you to feel that your money was well spent. Instead I ask for your participation in a world lost and hungry for truth, for love, for oportunity, and for hope. God bless.

Grace and Peace,
Clay