You can’t be a missionary because you love people. You will hate the people.

I sat in a little conference room at 7:00 at night in Camdenton, Missouri. It was dark and cold outside. My thick gray coat was still buttoned. 

“You can’t be a missionary because you love people; you will hate the people.” 

The words pinged off my ears like the tiny metal ball in a pinball machine. 

My heart decompressed. It was okay. The guilt didn’t need to be there.

I had always felt like I was harboring some terrible secret in my heart: 

Pssssst. I’m not an extrovert. I don’t have a broken heart for every person on the planet. I just want Jesus, and his heart beats for the nations, and my heart beats for him.

The woman continued to share how the hearts of the people are bitter. They want you there, but they get annoyed so easily; they mock at how stupid you are for not being able to get their language more quickly. They squeal with delight when they successfully pit you against your teammates at who they love more. They steal from you. they team up and take advantage of your kindness. Your anger burns inside you. BUT YOU DON’T REACT. You remember the words that Jesus said to the multitude on the Mount of Olives, “If you are nice to those who are nice to you, what reward do you have? Don’t sinners do the same?” 

So you grit your teeth and love them. 

If you were left to your human nature, you’d leave. Don’t they have any idea what I gave up to be here? 

I could be ___ back home. 

I don’t need to put up with this. 

But you stay. 

Because Jesus stayed. 

You stay when your love and affection for the people runs thin. 

And you stay when it melts and evaporates. 

Jesus is there. 

And you are there because he is there, not because they are there. 

And if you just stick it out, the hate melts like hardened wax. 

And Jesus shatters hearts.

And he dehumidifies minds. 

And the gospel appears. 

And it glows.

And it saturates. 

And it transforms. 

And the people that hated you that you wanted to hate that you didn’t –

Fall at the feet of Jesus, their Creator. 

And the deep chasms of anger suddenly close and you find yourself on the same even plane.

And the fog lifts and you embrace a sister.