First, I write this to
everyone. But, I want to let Bre, Blue, and Jillian know I had you guys in mind
when I wrote this. Miss you guys so bad, you each have no clue the impact you
made in my life, and do not be silent about what God done in your life this
summer.
I will never forget coming
home from Sudan the first time. Perhaps, the strangest thing was that home was no
longer home. I didn’t move, my house was not rearranged, and my friends were
still there. Actually nothing much had changed at all, but I sure had. Over the
summer I felt as if I was to die that day I would have truly lived more in that
summer than many people get to in a lifetime. Home was no longer home, and I
simply was not comfortable in my own skin. But after a few weeks passed
something dangerous happened…
I put my summer in a box.
I literally unpacked my backpack that had been my best friend all summer and
stuck him in the closet. I put the money, bracelets, and the pipe made of shell
casings on the shelf to be put on display to collect dust. I emptied my memory
card on an external hard drive and looked at the photos of Peter, mapuar, and
Elizabeth as I compressed them in a folder. Then I took the letters, my
journal, and my notes and stuffed them in a box that went under my bed.
See what happened over
those weeks was one of the most trying times in my life. One of my biggest
mistakes in my thinking came when I realized time simply did not stop because I
was gone. Some friends had transferred college, people had broken up, and
church had a summer full of activities. It simply got tough when my hopes ran
high at the question of “How was your summer?” I was so excited to tell stories
of how I had seen God move in nomadic African cattlekeepers, stories of how we
danced in the rain with tribal drums, or stories of how people burnt their
handmade idols, but almost every time that question simply wanted a “It was
good,” as a response. It got old, it got old real quick. I will never forget
when an older gentlemen patted me on the back and said, “Well, it’s back to
real life.” I found it ironic, that the experiences of attending a five year old’s funeral (dead from malaria), seeing twelve year olds constantly carrying
AK47s in their arms, and seeing people pray to idols was some how equated to a
false “reality.” Because the truth of the matter was it all seemed very “real
to me.”
Eventually, it got old
being known as the “summer missions” guy, so I learned to keep quiet. The faces
on the slideshows I showed was just that to many, just faces. But, to me the
faces had names and souls. They mattered to me and they certainly mattered to
God. I found out that summer that until you know there is a problem, you do not
look for the solution. That summer I found a huge problem, 2.7 billion people
had never heard of Jesus Christ and I wanted to be part of the solution. My
heart now broke for the man who “prayed to a tree, because he did not know how
to reach God” and I knew if I didn’t do my part in sharing Jesus with him, who
would.
But others didn’t really want to hear this. So I shut up. Before I knew it, my life had became routine
again. I was working, going to school, and life was back just the way it had
been before. I had put my summer in a box and it simply was too tough to look
in it and try and share it with others. I took on the fortress mentality and
decided I was an island. That I would do this by myself and everyone else could
go on their own merry way, unmoved by 2.7 billion people not knowing Jesus.
Until I received a little
letter in the mail addressed to myself that we had written the last week of the
summer. It was now February, and honestly Africa was not on my mind. It was
cold and civilized where I was now, but the letter took me back to a time I
felt alive in the heat of the wild. I remembered what God had done in my life
and when I did I could not be silent. I opened the box.
Over the next few years I
would walk several students through the World Christian Bible Study, speak at
many churches, and often times be the “summer missions guy” in many social
gatherings. It was not easy, at all. Most of the people I shared with did not
go on to do summer missions, did not ask me about my experience, or even say anything. But a few
did, a few even went on to do summer missions and God has done great things in
their lives also. I learned this, just like people need to hear the gospel, we
have to help people realize there is a problem, and there is a solution.
Through God’s Word, stories, devotions, and living out your gospel experience
you have an opportunity to impact the 2.7 billion. No man is an island, and God
never intended on us doing this alone. The channel in which God uses is not an
individual or a single organ, it’s a church, it’s a body. And that same grace
and patience you show to the refugee, has to be shown to the Christian who does
not understand why we travel to third world countries to share the gospel. They
both are essential to the kingdom, and both have a part in God’s plan of
redemption.
So share your stories,
live through your Gospel experience, anticipate friction, open the box, but
know this might be the greatest thing you may be able to do for the kingdom
right now is to never, ever, be silent.
-Justin