In preparing to come to Zambia full-time, many people asked me if I was fearful, worried, or nervous about anything. I could honestly say there was really nothing that was consuming my grey matter. Nothing that was keeping me up at night or causing me anxiety (those of you who know me, know that I am about the least anxious person out there!). I know that might seem unbelievable, but I really did just trust God. This did not mean that I didn’t think about snake bites, which could be deadly, or car accidents on the roads, which are horrible here, or if Carter was going to transition well, and he is, BUT it did mean that I would take those thoughts and hand them over to God and go on with my day.
But then I moved here full-time and all of a sudden, poof, fears surfaced that I was not expecting. Fear of failing as a cross cultural worker. You can read all the books, take all the classes but the reality of it all on the ground is another story. This is what it looks like-Fear of messing up some conversation as I learn the language. Fear of not knowing, nor even having any hint of, some of the expectations of us. Fear of giving help too easily. Fear of not giving help at the right time. Fear of giving help to the wrong person. Fear of not being a good leader. Fear that I missed a wave from someone on the road because I’m so focused on driving on the right and not taking out bikes or people on the side of the road. Fear that person I didn’t wave to will now think I am rude. Fear that I can’t keep up with all the communication back home, here, with our organization, our boss, and the individuals and churches that support us, not to mention family. Fear that I will not be able to keep everyone on our team feeling warm, fuzzy, and wonderful about themselves, this ministry, or the work we all do even though I will be trying. Fear that I am not being the parent or wife my family and husband here need nor to my family back in the states. Fear that I will think I have encouraged someone but ended up not. Fear that I was trying to be Zambian and my American-ness came through instead. Fear that I am not straddling the gulf between cultures in the straight A manner I am used to. Well, the list could go on. At this point, the fear of a Black Mamba snake bite is nothing. Ha!
These fears all of a sudden come upon the mission worker who is trying to live between two worlds, communicate between two worlds and lead between two worlds. You realize how different your worlds are and how much each of them collide on a daily basis. It is the life of all cross-cultural workers. It is place of dependance on God. We ask God to help us see what we need to see and hear what we need to hear. Mostly, we ask for God to go before us and give everyone we deal with graciousness and patience with us and us with them. We are the flawed, human, mission worker who is trying to love God and love people. Thank goodness we have help in our Father, who is the maker of us all, the author of languages and cultures and giver of the Spirit who is our counselor and the uniter of the body, of which I am a part of. We go out into the world because God tells us to even with all the imperfections of the crazy, God loving, globe trotting, world loving, give it all you got, cross-cultural mission worker! And in that, we carry on! No fear!
