On the Eternal View

“Most days I feel like I’m banging my head against the wall.”

I can’t be sure what people envision when they hear “I’m a missionary in Africa”. I feel like the statement conjures up images of safari animals, red dusty roads, black babies with swollen bellies, maybe even pith helmets bobbing along in the jungle. And I have experienced all of that in my time in Uganda—well, pith helmets have been notably absent.

We joke here about the glamour Americans associate with “saving babies in Africa”. And I myself was quite guilty of envisioning an air-brushed version of what life would look like here. And yet, recently, as I’ve been spending some time attempting to process the last 2 1/2 years, I’ve been overloaded by the total lack of glamour that characterizes them. Most days have been spent sweaty, culturally confused, emotionally exhausted, and not entirely sure of exactly what it is that I’m doing here. I’ve found myself saying the initial phrase at the top of this post entirely too many times. Seemingly one step forward and two steps back, whether in language learning, cultural understanding, giving grace, relationship building, community development, advocacy or whatever.

And yet I hang on that word seemingly. Because I don’t really know how the last 30 months have trickled into eternity. In our women’s Bible study this week we talked about Abraham and how he had to wait for God’s promises to be fulfilled. And how some of those promises were not even completely fulfilled until Jesus came. And how some won’t be checked off the list until Jesus returns to make all things new. Meanwhile, I’ve been listening to the sermon series from my home church about Ecclesiastes—how everything this world has to offer is meaningless. And I’ve been re-reading the book “Broken Down House” which has reminded me of the brokenness of this world and the importance of having an eternal perspective.

It seems that God really wants me to get it through my thick head that even if I don’t get to reap tangible rewards right now, he is calling me to the eternal view. The one that makes missing holidays and birthdays with family worthwhile. The one that values muddling through the daily confusions of living cross-culturally. The one that provides hope in desperate situations.

I’ve had plenty of “i-oughta-pinch-myself-i-can’t-believe-i’m-in-africa” moments here. I’ve had lots of moments of joy and laughter. And I trust that some of the things I’ve done will benefit someone. But even without those things, I am looking forward to the day that it all makes sense, when the eternal plan is rolled out and we see how God used moments we never would have guessed were noteworthy.