Many people in the church have a misconception about missionaries. They believe we’re the infallible, the upper echelon, the holy-and-set-apart warriors of God. Or something like that. A little known fact is that we prepare ourselves before going to our home country to deal with the inescapable pedestal that we’re put on. For me it’s uncomfortable and always awkward. I feel burdened and inadequate with statements like, “Oh, you’re amazing. I could never do what you do. Praise God for you… someone who will go! Impressive and excessively brave!” I’m not impressive. I’m not amazing. I’m not even all that brave. In reality, I’m doing the exact same thing people at our home churches are doing every day. I’m completing the task God put in front of me, and often not completing it very well. But He put it in front of me, not in front of you. If He put it in front of you, you would do it. Whenever I reflect on the careers people have that are supporting us, I feel certain they are the brave ones. Really, who wants a career in psychiatry? Yuck. Or teaching? Been there, done it, failed. Doctors of any sort? Gross… insides should be left to the inside. Church ministry? Terrifies me. Vague political jobs in DC? The ministry there is so huge I wouldn’t even know where to begin. And I honestly don’t even want to begin. God has His people in each of those areas and thousands more besides. So let me tell you a piece of life for an infallible, holy-and-set-apart warrior of God that will hopefully help debunk the general theory that missionaries are any more Christian than other believers.

Ever since we arrived in PNG one month ago, I’ve been struggling. Not with adjusting to the heat or the smells or the food or the people. Nope, I’m good on all that. In fact I love being back here. The heat isn’t bothering me so much right now and I’m even becoming courageous enough to drive around by myself (that’s huge for me). I’m struggling with something much deeper than the surface level transitions: my character and my walk with God. I’m easily frustrated, which quickly develops into full blown anger at any moment. I feel distant from God and have little to no desire to fix that. Studying my Bible is daunting right now and my prayers are mostly selfish. I would love to blame my thyroid levels, but I’m pretty sure they’re in tact. I could also blame hormonal imbalances and, well, the heat, but in the end it’s just me. Or so I thought and so I’ve been taught to think.

Ray has not developed a good sleeping routine here. She just can’t sleep through the night. Something happens to her, some nights around 11pm and other nights around 2am, that wakes her up with no desire to go back to sleep. Nothing is actually wrong with her physically. She’s not too hot or too cold. She’s not dirty, though I always take the opportunity to change her diaper. She’s not hungry. She’s just scared, or mad, or insecure. Or maybe a combination of all of them. It doesn’t happen every night, but it happens regularly. We haven’t known what in the world is going on because she wasn’t like this in the States. Being practical in thought at all times, we assumed she has started to have nightmares as a result of her malaria prophylaxis. It’s an unfortunate side effect, but better than having malaria. So we comfort her the best we can, and try and get sleep the best we can. It’s hard.



A rare moment where Ray is happy in her crib!

These two things may seem unconnected, but I’m not sure they are. Yesterday evening some of the national translators came to Brian with a minor problem about the dormitory. As he sat with them on the front stoop of the dorm watching the cool evening rain, Ray started crying in our house. Her tears motivated the men to address something with Brian that they’ve been concerned about for quite some time. Different men from different language groups have all felt the presence of evil on this property. They believe it’s an evil spirit invited by previous tenants and never kicked out. It harasses them at night causing anxiety for themselves and they believe it’s also harassing Ray causing her to wake up the way she does. We live so close to them they can’t help but share in our sleepless hours with her. Instead of being frustrated at her or us, they are certain she is sharing their experience.

Papua New Guineans are more deeply connected to the palpable spiritual world than we are as Americans. It’s part of life for them. For us, it’s always medicine or sickness or just a bad attitude that needs to be dealt with. I would never assume an evil spirit is attempting to wreak havoc in my life or my child’s life. But we’re in PNG now and I trust these men. I trust their instincts and their sensitivity to evilness in this form. They are afraid, but they are not cowering in fear. Their first reaction to hearing Ray cry out in the night is to pray for her.

They prayed for Ray… and I didn’t. I, the infallible superhuman Christian didn’t even think about our battle against things unseen. I was too busy being angry about nothing and trying to meet Ray’s physical needs to fix the nighttime crying problem. I should have been praying for Ray, for Brian, for myself, and for the men living behind us. I have little doubt that my faith will be developed and strengthened through our interactions with Papua New Guinean Christians. I would say they are the real infallible, holy-and-set-apart warriors of God, but then I would be doing the same thing to them that many American Christians do to me. We are all running the same racing, plagued by the same evil, saved by the same grace.