Authenticity and the Past

Becoming a missionary is a significant responsibility. Meeting people in a relationship that introduces Jesus and fosters spiritual growth demands authenticity. Building relationships with people from other cultures increases that demand simply because the differences – and trust me, I look different than the people in Africa – cause wariness, hesitation, or mistrust. Authenticity on my part is the only way people will start to let their guard down, and even then I sometimes still get it wrong.

The people I’ve met in Africa generally assume I am a missionary (or a vacationer). Inevitably people (Africans and Americans, pretty much everyone) ask one of two questions. “Why on earth would you want to do that?” or “How did you ever get into missionary work?” Yes, there is this incredulous tone in their voices when they ask. I sometimes feel that I should make up a really incredible story to go along with their surprised tones. I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.

Oh wait, I do have a really incredible story by which to answer their questions. To be honest, I think my story is even more unbelievable than what they expect to hear. But if I leave out the part about Rick’s death, what kind of story is left? Seriously, think about it. What really is left? His death is entirely and completely foundational to my story and to authentically answering the question of why or how I got into this role.

Yet people have suggested both directly and indirectly that telling my story beginning with Rick’s death is not the right thing to do. I don’t feel that I use his death to garner sympathy, although please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. I use Rick’s death to talk about how amazing God is to walk alongside me this whole time and to reshape my life into something beyond my wildest dreams. I want people to know a God that can do that for them too. But without the Rick piece…what is that?

Please don’t misunderstand. I am not talking about dragging a dead Rick around in every conversation. I am walking away from My Second Year and, for the most part, the connection that year had with Rick’s death. I’m not bringing Rick forward into parts of my life where he doesn’t belong. Unfortunately (or fortunately…whichever) I can never walk away from 20 years of life with Rick and, to be honest, I don’t really want to. That part of my life is taking what I believe is its proper place. But there is a place for his legacy in my story.

So…get thee behind me Satan, God is too good for me not to talk about my WHOLE story. I’m not leaving the story of Rick’s death out and I’m not going to lose focus on God’s plan for my life. So, yes, my story begins with an end.