As C.S. Lewis reminded us, adventures are never fun when you’re having them. And although we would probably all say that we’re hoping for a life of adventure, most days I find myself rooting for something a little more mundane.
In the last few weeks I have written literacy materials in my third language, including stories that only use four syllables. Seriously, I feel like Nahuatl Dr. Seuss.
I have treated a young boy who cut two of his fingers with a machete. Then I told my co-worker that on my next furlough I’d like to take a class on treating wounds and learn how to give stitches. If you had told me 7 years ago that I’d say something like that I would have laughed in your face. I don’t do wounds. I don’t do blood.
I have proof-read Bible lessons and fixed spelling based on the rules that I made up. Even then, I sometimes find myself confused.
I have made hundreds of photocopies of birth certificates and government I.D.’s. I have copied people’s music from one cell to another. I have charged radios, flashlights, phones, DVD players, and stereos that people have brought to our house, which is one of the few homes in the town with power. I have lent my computer to people needing to talk to someone in the city, and have sent emails for people who don’t know how to write.
I have chased donkeys from the airstrip on a four-wheeler, and zoomed around town to make announcements, and splashed my co-worker with mud while crossing the creek.
I have taken portions of newly translated Nahuatl scriptures and translated them back into English to be sent to our consultant for review. I have recorded some of those scriptures in order to be able to hand out audio versions of the Word of God.
I have sat in team meetings where we have to co-ordinate buying groceries and Christmas vacation and internet usage. A little bit different than your average co-worker relationships in the US.
I have prepared jewelry orders for the village ladies and have sorted through boxes of beads and run around town organizing the work.
I have talked to people who came to the house to borrow our wheelbarrow, and our shovel, and our pick, and a hammer, and a piece of tin, and some scissors, and a USB charger, and a movie. I’ve chatted with people who were looking for Coke, and baby clothes, and corn meal, and to borrow money.
And, over the weeks, I’ve had conversations with people about God, about who he is, and that it’s possible to know him. I have told them about God’s son HesuKristo, and what he did for us, and about the hope I have in a future with him.
All of the seemingly mundane moments are part of the adventure of being conformed. For us, all of the lending, and chatting, and helping, and copying, and doctoring are part of sharing God’s truth. They are part and parcel of the Gospel, and are a privilege and should be a joy. I’m working on that last one and on enjoying the adventurous path God has put me on.