It was really hard to come back here.
Physically, not so much. After all, how hard is it to go to
an airport, wait around, get a on a plane, lather, rinse, repeat and poof: home
again. That part was not hard; it was just really
boring.
The hard part was leaving my family. I don’t want to
disillusion anyone, but I really actually kind of like my family. A lot. If I
tried to put into words what I feel about my family, I would completely and totally
fail, because it’s not something I can describe with words. Every time I leave
them it’s like a little stab-not anywhere fatal, just somewhere that hurts.
Usually when I leave I play the tough guy. You know, I’m-going-but-this-doesn’t-really-affect-me
type of attitude. And usually it really doesn’t affect me. Much. I’m here, they’re
there, but there’s internet, facebook, facetime-I can lie to myself and say, it’s
not really any different. I wouldn’t spend any time with them even if I was
home.
And that’s probably true. If I lived in MN, I would probably
have my own place to live and my own life, and I just wouldn’t concern myself
unduly with the proceedings of my family. It’s sad, but it’s true.
So you people who get to see your families, you people who
live near your parents, you unspeakably blessed people who get to spend time
with your sisters and nephews and best friends-please do so. For me. Because
you’ve never sobbed your heart out as you wonder when the next time you see
your father will be. You’ve never watched your parent’s house get smaller and
smaller in the distance and known that you don’t really have a home anymore,
not right now, anyways. You’ve never left your life behind, and then tortured
yourself by going back and visiting it every once and a while.
So, this was about the state of my mind when I was heading home from visiting MN.
Cue: Alisha, sitting on a plane, crying so hard the flight attendant
asked me if I wanted an entire box of Kleenex. While I was sobbing, and trying
to decide exactly how embarrassed I was, I happened to remember a story that I heard
in college while studying the life a Count Ludwig von Zinzendorf:
“Two young Moravians heard of an island in the West Indies
where an atheist British owner had 2000 to 3000 slaves. And the owner had said,
‘No preacher, no clergyman, will ever stay on this island. If he’s ship wrecked
we’ll keep him in a separate house until he has to leave, but he’s never going
to talk to any of us about God. I’m through with all that nonsense.’
Three thousand slaves from the
jungles of Africa brought to an island in the Atlantic, there to live and die
without hearing of Christ.
Two
young Moravians heard about it. They sold themselves to the British planter and
used the money they received from their sale, for he paid no more than he would
for any slave, to pay their passage out to his island for he wouldn’t even
transport them.
As the ship left its pier in the river at Hamburg and was
going out into the North Sea carried with the tide, the Moravians had come from
Herrenhut to see these two lads, in their early twenties, off. Never to return
again, for this wasn’t a four year term, they sold themselves into lifetime
slavery.
The families were there weeping, for they knew they would
never see them again. And they wondered why they were going and questioned the
wisdom of it. As the gap widened and the housings had been cast off and were
being curled up there on the pier, and the young boys saw the widening gap, one
lad with his arm linked through the arm of his fellow, raised his hand and
shouted across the gap the last words that were heard from them, they were
these,
‘MAY THE LAMB THAT WAS SLAIN RECEIVE THE REWARD OF HIS
SUFFERING!’”
-Paris Reidhead
Let’s face it, missions work is a
tough job. Working with these kids is even harder. I’m really far away from
home and I miss my family. I get tested every day in ways that I never
imagined. But these two men-they sold themselves into slavery. Forever. They
were never heard from again. No one ever heard what happened to them. They were
gone, cut off from their families forever.
I’m not belittling my own suffering; I’m pretty sure I’ve
cried myself to sleep every night this week. However, if those men could make
that kind of sacrifice, and launch an entire missions movement, one of which
the effect can still be felt today, then how can I compare? (Not to mention, I actually really love what I do-I just wish I didn't have to be so far away from my family. Like, they should move here). So, really, what is my
suffering compared to what theirs must have been? And I’m not even going to
bring up Paul, or I’m going to be here writing for the next three hours.
However, it was the apostle Paul who said it best:
What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ
Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that
I may gain Christ.
Phil. 3:8
So, my family, here you have it: I really do miss you.
I would love to hear from you! If you have any questions or
comments, or would like to get a hold of me, please email me at alishatomsen@lovehopemercy.org.
If you would like to support me monthly or give a one-time donation, please
contact accounting@lovehopemercy.org
to get started today!
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