grit and glory

I often refer to my life as a missionary as an interesting mix of grit and glory.

Mostly, my life is nothing more than everyday, run-of-the-mill grit. My days are filled with the same humdrum routine that yours are filled with, even though our schedules may differ. I spend hours behind my desk, which is incredibly messy right now. Who am I kidding? It’s always messy. There are stacks of things piled high on my desk, just waiting for me to tackle them – books I need to put away on my bookshelf, papers that need to be filed, projects I’m up to my eyeballs in.

I spend more time in meetings than I wish I did, and my email inbox is always overflowing. I chat online with friends, use Facebook to connect with people near and far, and download songs for 99 cents a pop. I pay way too much to fill up my car with gas (over $5.00 a gallon at the moment!), but I thoroughly enjoy the full-serve service that comes with it.

I go grocery shopping, stand in line at the post office, and try to get to a coffee shop for a hot frothy beverage as often as possible. I typically leave the office in the evenings with a frustrated sigh of What am I going to cook for dinner? (I always say that French toast is my specialty, but I don’t even make that particularly well.)

Sometimes we go hours without electricity and occasionally our running water stops running, but typically I have a hot shower each morning, with my iPod blaring my favorite tunes. My kitchen counters are laden with appliances; the coffeepot brews my morning cup of java just right, and my KitchenAid mixer makes baking slightly fun. There’s ice cream in my freezer, and a stash of American imports in my pantry. My house gets messy, dishes pile up, and the laundry basket calls for a ceasefire after a long weekend.

I love to read, but don’t have as much time to enjoy that as I’d like. I watch TV, and as of Christmas, I even TiVo my favorite shows. I love a good movie, and have a surprisingly extensive collection of DVDs. I start my mornings and end my evenings by reading blogs of both friends and people I’ve never met (but hope to someday). I don’t really have much of a hobby, unless blogging counts as one.

My life probably sounds more similar to yours than you’d imagine a missionary’s would. Or should.

I’m just like you. My minutes and hours are filled with gritty, unimportant details. Many people think that missionaries are exempt from all that, as though we just hovercraft through life, with our feet barely ever touching down into the reality of the world we live in. Not so. My feet are firmly planted. I walk the same rocky roads you do. I enjoy similar life pleasures (although I do wish there was a Starbucks closer than an ocean away). I live life.

I just do it in Africa.

And that’s where the glory part comes in.

I live on a continent ripe with potential, with hope lying just beneath the surface of people’s hearts. I work among the Basotho, a people notorious for their friendliness, warmth, and welcoming smiles. I look out my kitchen window and my breath is stolen by the view; clouds hug the mountains as though they are saying farewell before a long journey. Zebra and antelope graze on my front lawn, and ostrich peck on my office window while I’m working. Lightning dances across the sky during the rainy season, and the grass turns the most vibrant shade of green you’ve ever seen. Although it all turns brown come winter, when the fields get covered in a blanket of snow, the cold is certainly worthwhile. (Snow in Africa? It’s true.)

I am privileged to live my gritty life in glorious Africa.

Amid the glory of this beautiful land, death is an ever-present reality. It’s the constant lump in everyone’s throat; it’s the hole in our pants pockets, making it impossible to hold onto anything, or anyone. Africa is dying inside. AIDS is the silent killer ravaging the nation of South Africa, the country I now call home. While most of the world turns a blind eye, we’ve decided to dive headfirst into tackling this seemingly-insurmountable challenge.

Imagine that you discover a leak under your kitchen sink. You put a bucket beneath it to catch the dripping water, but you don’t stop there. You wouldn’t be satisfied with having to continuously empty the bucket each time it fills up. The bucket is just a temporary solution while you work on a permanent one. Your real focus would be on fixing the leak.

Unfortunately, most of the solutions that the government and relief agencies have initiated to combat AIDS are nothing more than a bucket under a leaky pipe. Orphanages, hospices, and home-based care, while important, are not sufficient because they are not permanent solutions. If we do nothing more than that, we’ll be replacing buckets until we lose an entire continent. We need to tackle the real problem.

I truly believe that the only way to turn the tide of the AIDS pandemic is to teach and equip the next generation to live moral lives and make wise decisions. Our AIDS prevention program is doing just that. We’ve trained indigenous young people—whom we call coaches—to teach public school students about abstinence, leadership, and finding purpose through a relationship with God. We’ve developed our own curriculum, written in Africa for Africa, and every page is laced with God’s words. Because our classes are taught peer-to-peer, by mentors who speak the same language and are from the same culture as their students, the young people listen with not only open ears, but open hearts as well.

Our main strategy for AIDS prevention isn’t teaching abstinence, as important as that is. Our main purpose is leading students to become fully-devoted followers of Jesus. Long-lasting behavioral change, which is absolutely necessary to stop the spread of HIV, can only come from a life-transforming encounter with God. As young people grow as Christ-following leaders, they learn to make wise choices in every area of their lives—including the area of their sexuality.

That way, we’re not just rescuing them from contracting and spreading HIV. We’re launching them into society as strong, Godly leaders who will one day have positions of influence in the community, government, church, and marketplace. Thousands of students have made commitments to follow Christ, save sex until marriage, and be faithful to their spouse. A new day is dawning in Africa.

My life is overflowing with the glory of lives transformed by the power of God. Looking into the eyes of a young girl who, for the first time, grasps the fact that she is worth far more than just being some guy’s sex toy—that’s glory. Hearing a schoolboy say he now understands that his life is not a hopeless accident, but he was created by God for a purpose—that’s glory. Seeing hundreds of school kids commit to remain pure until marriage—that’s glory. Watching young people flood the stage to give their lives to Christ—that’s unbelievably magnificent glory.

I have given my life for Africa. Though the challenges are mountainous, the money is always tight, and at times it feels like we’re hitting a brick wall, she is certainly worth it. She’s worth it because I see what others don’t; I see what Africa itself does not see. I see what God can do with lives surrendered to Him. I see the “dark continent” shining His light brightly, a beacon for the world. I see the hopeless receiving hope, the broken restored, the dead born again.

While I keep my eyes on the big-picture vision, I also look at what’s happening each and every day. Victory is not only in achieving our big and lofty goals. Victory is in each individual life that is impacted for eternity. They are my glory.

I enjoy the tension of my paradoxical life. The grit is what makes the glory so glorious. If it were all glory, I wouldn’t recognize it anymore. When souls saved and lives changed become mundane, I’ve missed out on the grit of my life. When answering emails and cooking dinner become overwhelmingly weighty, I’ve missed out on the glory. I need both, and I strive to see Him strewn throughout it all.

I’m off to grab a cup of flavored coffee and to see what’s on my TiVo. Tomorrow I’ve got a world to change.