Steep Reentry

IBC Director of Missions Kathy Appleton likes to say that missions ruins you for the ordinary. I’m ruined. Here’s why.

Today I started my day driving my four-year-old truck to my air-conditioned job. I checked email. Read some news online. Traded phone messages with coworkers.

A month ago, I started my day with a counselors prayer meeting held in a 40-year-old permanently-disabled school bus with torn seats and broken windows. I served meals for free to kids who usually have to steal their food. And showed my lack of Spanish literacy at the twice-daily Bible studies.

The difference is hard to take.

This summer, I was part of a team working with homeless kids from the streets of Mexico City. The presence of the enemy was palpable. Spiritual warfare was being waged constantly. We really were in a battle for the souls of those kids. I have never fought in war, but I understand from those who have that several things happen to soldiers in battle.

Time slows down. Soldiers say they can sometimes see what’s going to happen before it happens. For us, the enemy’s tactics were predictable if not easy to rebuff. Kids leaving addictions were rowdy, sometimes violent. Kids dabbling in witchcraft were scared away when the light of Christ began to shine too brightly around them. We knew such things would happen. We had people back home praying for just those situations.

Soldiers grow close to their buddies. When you face death arm-in-arm with others, you share a special camaraderie. Our struggles weren’t between life and death but between heaven and hell. Our team (five people from IBC and 16 from a church in San Diego) was certainly drawn together by adversity. We helped each other struggle and pray and fight.

Soldiers get a feeling of importance and find it hard to readjust to life at home. No one else charges into battle like they do so no one else should walk with the same swagger. Right or wrong, short-term missions tends to give the same perspective. You’ve spent a week or two handling matters of eternal importance. Somehow, when you return home, the “big game” or the TPS report seems trivial, almost beneath you. Your mind wanders. Your work can suffer.

Of course, by comparing my summer trip to a soldier’s deployment, I don’t mean to equate them. I never ducked a bullet this summer. Never feared for my life. My deployment required far less courage. But the similarities are there. Battle changes you, whether it’s a battle for political freedom or eternal freedom.

This summer, more than 150 IBCers waged war with the enemy in 10 countries on five continents. Back home now, they are changed. They are battle-hardened and, very likely, battle-weary. It’s hard for them to put their experiences into words. It’s hard for them to readjust to daily living. If you know such a warrior, do them a favor. Ask them about their trip. One of the best ways for them to readjust, I’m told, is by talking about their experiences. They’ll get to tell their war stories. You’ll get a chance to hear of God’s glory. And, if you’re lucky, you’ll both be ruined for the ordinary.

My to-do list today:

· Check with the printer to see when that job will be done

· Send a state-mandated notice of policy change to unemployment offices

· Update a media contact list

· Make changes to a logo design for a picky client

My to-do list a month ago today:

· Tell Jonatan I’m proud of him. He joined the kingdom yesterday and burned a symbol of witchcraft that he used to wear around his neck.

· Talk to Moises more about early church fathers – a subject he’s passionate about. Offer to help him buy more than the one book he owns on church history.

· Pray for Tapia, a new Christian who confessed to counselors this week that he has killed two people.

· Talk to the kid who practices “Santa Muerte” about why he cuts himself.

· Get to know Mariano better. He’s kind-of a loner, but said he’s interested in leaving his life on the streets.