Cherries

A few weeks ago we drove up to Michigan to see some friends for the last time. We stayed with Nate’s best friend, Cody, and his wife Leah for a few days, and they absolutely spoiled us: home cooked meals and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, a trip to an authentic Mexican dive and way too many gifts for Erin. As I was washing a few of the dishes after dinner Sunday night, I came across a cherry pitter that Leah had used for dinner. I don’t know why, but I just felt sad. I’ve always wanted a cherry pitter to use for baking, but it always seemed like such a superfluous thing to buy when we’re going to be living in Papua New Guinea the majority of our lives; you can’t really pit a coconut. 

The next day, we drove near Grand Rapids to visit with some classmates from our missionary training center. We were talking about how good it was to be around other tribal missionaries just a few months away from leaving: you don’t have to explain anything or try to be anyone’s portrait of what a missionary should look/be like.

And you can admit that some days you just don’t want to go. And that week I didn’t want to go. I wanted the cherry pitter. And the house. And the garage door opener. And the grandparents twenty minutes away. Being around peers who want the same things and can sorrow over them, yet concurrently not let it keep them from leaving made me ready to go all the more. 

People say you have to have a firm resolve and a tangible passion and fiery spirit for the souls of men to become a missionary. I don’t think that’s true at all. I am resolved, but it’s more of a state of mind than a feeling of conviction. And when I’m tempted to think that I’m not “spiritual warrior-y” enough for this, I’m reminded of Peter, the bold apostle, who staunchly and fearlessly quaked to Jesus one night, “I will never deny you!” yet broke his promise three times before the sun even rose. So I’m not nervous that part of me is nervous. And I’m not afraid that part of me is afraid. I’ll be there. 

I hope that makes sense. 

If you live in America and you love to cook, I hope you have a cherry pitter, and I hope it brings you happiness as you do whatever God’s called you to in your corner of the world. 

If you want to be a missionary, but you don’t think you’re missionary material, put away your cherry pitter and come spend a day with me; I’m not missionary material either. We can bake some cherry pies together in the kingdom.