Ministry in Cougar Town

Here's Jamie Wright (aka "The Very Worst Missionary") on why evangelistic ministry is harder in California than in Central America. The context is her observation of a middle aged, married woman flirting with a younger man, in front of her own daughter. If you are not reading Jamie, why not? You should be.

I always think it's interesting when people pat us on the back for being missionaries to Costa Rica. Perhaps they think we were doing something difficult because they don't know that in Costa Rica there's a bleeding-Jesus-in-a-crown-of-thorns bumper sticker on every bus, taxi, and pizza delivery scooter. You can easily engage nearly every person you cross paths with in a conversation about God or Jesus or Faith or whatever. It's really not hard. Every town has grown up around a church, faith is taught in public school, and there's pretty much a missionary on every corner. In Costa Rica, “Jesus” is generally a familiar and comfortable word – not an instant conversation killer.

We've been back in the NorCal suburbs for a whole three months now, and all I can say is that ministry is way harder here than it ever was in Costa Rica. Being an agent for Love and Grace in a place where people truly don't recognize their own need is really tough. Watching a married woman angle for an affair with a younger, hotter man while her daughter looks on is gut-wrenching. ...And sorta hilarious.... But seriously? Gut-wrenching.

I believe Jesus has competition in the American suburbs like no place else on Earth. Everyone here is surrounded by so much shiny new stuff, it's hard to see the Light. Here, depravity is hidden behind tall double doors, and the things that separate us from God often come gleaming, right out of the box. The contrast between Dark and Light has been cleverly obscured by the polish of materialism and vanity. Here, poverty is internal, hunger is spiritual, and need feels non-existent. But it's there.

Behind the facade of perfection in Cougar Town, past the fake boobs and fancy cars and fat paychecks, and at the bottom of aaalll thoooose wine glasses, there's a need so desperate, a loneliness so great, and a brokenness so crushing that you can practically hear the collective cry for Redemption. But the beautiful thing to be found in all of that mess is that there's a Savior here, too, and He's ready to fulfill his promises. 

Jesus is here, in Cougar Town. 

And for the first time in my life, I feel like maybe I'm supposed to be a missionary...

Missionary Turf Wars.

Jamie the Very Worst Missionary  (a pretty good missionary IMHO) is complaining about missionary "turf wars," where one mission group claimed "ownership" of a group of poor children, not wanting other missions to work in their turf.

But, seriously? Missionaries fighting over poor kids? Tell me you see how messed up that is. Tell me you know, deep down inside, how ridiculous it is. Tell me, please-oh-please, tell me, that this is all a bad joke and that you know that there’s no such thing as too much Jesus… Tell me we’re on the same team, fighting for the same side – tell me we can work together to bring Faith, Hope and Love to the least of these…

Tell me this is not a competition.

Tell me we are the Church.

Then, let's act like it’s true.

Go get 'em, Jaime! (If you are not reading her blog, check it out- both funny and inspiring)

The Very Worst Missionary? I Think Not!

Want to read some spiritual writing with a very unique style that will make you laugh, while sometimes hitting you in the gut through the humor? If so, then check out Jamie the Very Worst Missionary. I love the title! If I was a missionary I'd steal it from her. Jamie and her husband are missionaries in Costa Rica. Here's a sample of her stuff:

“Sometimes”, I say to God, ”I just want it to be how it was. Ya know?”

And God says, gently, as always, “Oh, Baby Girl… You’ve got it all wrong.”

And then He reminds me of what I already know, which is that I have been Restored… and that Restoration is for the broken.

In my foolishness, I plead to God to take away the broken parts, make it like it was, like none of this ever happened. But it seems, in my haste to forget life’s biggest challenges, I would erase all of the best parts of the story. Because where I see a heart, broken and aching for the poor, He sees a heart, salvaged from materialism, and Restored to a better condition. And where I see a marriage, broken by every kind of selfishness, He sees a couple, raised from the brink of death, and Restored to a better place. And where I see all the scars left by living a dirty, messed up life, He sees that what was once broken is now made whole. Our scars are simply evidence of what has been Restored. They get to tell the Story of where our lives have been touched by God.

Why would you erase”, He asks me, “all the best parts of the Story?”

“I don't know. I just wanted it to be how it was.”

“Ah, but when you tell the Story how it is…. we’re Both in it.”

And then I feel silly that after all these years with God by my side, I'm still getting it all wrong.

I don't know, Jamie, I think you are getting a lot of it right.