Thoughts on Comfort and Security and Fear
Do I value my comfort and safety above the souls of the lost?
That’s a convicting question for me because often my response is yes. I had to struggle with the question especially in light of God’s call to South Asia.
In the west, we are the land of open spaces, clean streets, temperature-controlled houses, in-home servants (dishwasher, washer, dryer, etc.). We don’t’ know how to live without these things, because we haven’t had to. And we live in relative safety.
But that’s not how much of the world lives. We worship our false gods of comfort and safety so much that we question when people choose to step outside that zone to be among the peoples of the world.
But consider Jesus, who had the literal perfect home, and he left it to live among sinners. He sacrificed everything in heaven and came as a little baby. He came knowing that he was going to be a servant, to be mocked, beaten, hated, and killed. He left His home for another much less comfortable and glorious.
Why? Because he loved us, had compassion on us, and sacrificed for us.
In Philippians 2, we are told that “he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. . . . so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow . . . and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the father.”
“But is it safe?”
This is likely one of the most-asked questions regarding global missions. If I’m to be vulnerable, this is one of my most challenging concerns to wrestle with since we’re going as a family.
Before getting married and having children, I traveled to many countries without any of my family members. Safety wasn’t a concern for me because I was only responsible for myself.
When my family was planning our trip to South Asia in the fall of last year, there was no comparison. Having responsibility for myself was one thing; being responsible for two small girls was another. How would I handle it if something happened to them?
The Lord really grew my trust and faith in Him during that time. I was afraid, but I knew I had to give that over to Him and to obey.
I had to continually remind myself of his faithfulness and that my girls aren’t really mine; they are his and he loves them more than I ever could. He knew them before I did. He created them. Nothing comes as a surprise to Him. Yet I still was afraid. I had to daily remind myself of verses like Psalm 56:3-4.
“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?”
The Lord knows my fear and promises that I can trust Him!
So, off we went to explore the possibilities. We boarded the plane for our first leg from Chicago to Dubai, then on to our destination. Our daughters’ first flight was 14 hours! I was unsure of what to expect when we arrived. I’ve traveled the world, yes, but never to a Muslim country. Never as a mother. Never in one of the most persecuted nations for Christians.
There are many reasons not to feel secure, except for the reminder that we can’t go outside of the reach of Christ.
He is there with us just as he is here with us.
When we arrived in the middle of the night, after about 26 hours of travel, there were plenty of reasons to be afraid. There were men insisting we hire them to collect our bags while we were simultaneously trying to figure out which immigration line to get in. What would they think of a family with two small children coming to “tour” their country? As blue-eyed, blond-haired tourists, we stood out. How would I answer the questions they would ask? Also, my 2-year-old had a very obvious need for a diaper change. When could I change this blowout before it got everywhere?
They moved us from line to line three times before calling us forward. I was relieved when they didn’t ask us many questions. The men wanting to help us retrieve our bags continued to plead with us to give them our luggage tags. Would they steal our bags? Would they want too much money for payment? There were more bags than we could carry, so eventually, we said yes and they marched off, my husband following. I had my youngest daughter in the baby carrier and my oldest holding my hand, but we couldn’t keep up; toddlers can be slow. Eventually, they got all the bags and I found a room to change the diaper.
But then we couldn’t’ get ahold of EM who was to meet us at the airport. My husband called him over and over. It was midnight. What would we do? We had the four of us, seven huge bags, three backpacks, and a stroller.
And there was some event going on outside the airport. A riot? A wedding? We couldn’t tell.
We prayed continually, and when we walked out of the airport, there he was. His phone wasn’t working, but he had been waiting there for hours for us. None of our luggage was stolen, but we probably were overcharged for their very eager help.
After a number of days in country, I realized that I wasn’t afraid like I thought I would be. I had been afraid of the idea of this country more than the actuality of being there. The people there are just people, like you and me, and their souls are worth my stepping outside of my comfort zone.
God doesn’t promise our safety in an earthy sense. We aren’t safe because of the lack of obvious danger at our doorsteps.
We are safest whenever we are in obedience to our Savior, and sometimes that means going where the travel advisory says the risk is high.
It’s changing our thoughts from “Where can I go where there is no risk,” to “Where can I go that would bring glory and honor to God?”
There was a time when the vast majority of missionaries died on the field in the first two years of arriving in-country. Today we have much better medical knowledge, better technology, and quick access to travel in order to evacuate.
Yet, we have such a small number going. Why?
Why does mission work matter to you? Because it matters to God. God’s heart is for the nations to bow down in worship to Him. Jesus was pretty clear in Matthew 28:18-20.
Going might mean getting on an airplane with all your belongings in tow, but it also might mean putting on your boots and knocking on your neighbor’s door with a bag of cookies. We have the nations here in the U.S. as well. Love your neighbors. Sacrifice for them. Make yourself uncomfortable for them. Invite them into your homes and give them a seat at your table.
L.B. is a member of the RPCNA. She and her husband have been married for 5 years and have 2 young daughters. They are committed to working with RPGM in South Asia.