Amy Medina

When It All Blows Up In Your Face

Sixteen years ago, my husband and I were all of 24 years old when we arrived in Tanzania for our first term. We had only been married nine months, and we were passionate and dedicated, but incredibly naïve. We had absolutely no idea what we were in for.

We were working in youth ministry in a local church plant, and my husband was coaching sports as a way to get to know young people. One young man came into our lives with a real interest in the gospel. He was earnest and really seemed sincere, and it wasn’t long before he made a profession of faith. Since he was from a religion that is usually opposed to Christianity, we were thrilled.

Over the next year and a half, this young man dominated our time and our prayer updates. He was in our home almost every day.

Then, six weeks before we left the country, we found out he had been regularly stealing money from us.

We returned to the States utterly shattered. For many other reasons, it had been an extremely difficult two years. This young man had been a bright spot, and when that blew up, we were completely demoralized and totally disillusioned.

By the grace of God, a couple years later we were back in Tanzania, older, wiser, and a lot more wary. Yet even the loss of our naiveté didn’t really prepare us for everything we would see and experience over the next ten years. Like the ugly split of the indigenous church we attended. Or the married missionary of multiple children who ran off with a woman from the village where he was church planting. Or that time when the national leader who was raised up by missionaries ended up being a narcissist who abused his team. And the worst? A local pastor—discipled, installed, and supported by missionaries for over ten years—was discovered to have an incestuous relationship with his adult daughter.

Boom. And just like that, everything worked for, everything believed in, goes up in flames.

Though we weren’t intimately involved in any of those situations, we were close enough to feel the shockwaves. And they shook us to our core.

Disbelief. Despair. Disillusionment. We can handle the loneliness, the inconveniences, and the bugs that come with missionary life, but not this. Not this. Many missionaries would say that they would rather be persecuted or deported than have their ministry blow up. How could this have happened? Where we did go wrong? Why are we even here? What are we possibly going to tell our supporters?

Of course, these kind of life-altering situations happen also in our home countries. But I think that for missionaries it is especially devastating. I’ve given up everything for this ministry, and there are hundreds sacrificing so that I can be here, we think. And this is all I have to show for it? Blown up bits of carnage? And then there’s that sinking feeling that maybe we should have known better. That maybe it’s our fault.

So what do we do? How do we possibly recover? Move on? Start over?

We start by humbling ourselves. Even if we had no responsibility for what happened, we must do the hard work of searching our souls. Why am I so devastated? Only because of the sin, or because this event toppled my idols of reputation and success? Could my own sin have blinded me to the warning signals I was trying to ignore? Is this public sin bringing conviction on my own private sin?

We do the messy work of cleaning up. This is not the time to gloss over sin or shove it under the rug, despite the temptation to do so. That doesn’t mean that we must share every sordid detail with the world, but ignoring the problem won’t make it go away. Go through due process. Ask hard questions. Find out who all was affected. Examine the width and breadth of the shockwaves, and get help for those who need it. Take personal responsibility when necessary.

We ask for help when we need it. Out of fear for our reputations, let us not neglect to ask for help. This is the time to call upon pastors and trusted friends. Missionary counselors are there, ready and waiting, for times like these. Let us not foolishly assume that we can handle it on our own.

Most importantly, we do not lose hope. The great king Solomon was born to the adulterous David and Bathsheba. Samson was a moral disaster, yet God used him to avenge Israel’s enemies. Peter denied Christ three times, but went on to be a leader of the Church. God does not measure success and failure the way we do. He sees men’s hearts; He knows the beginning and the end, and He can use even the most horrific situation for His good.

In Trusting God, Jerry Bridges writes, “If we are going to learn to trust God in adversity, we must believe that just as certainly as God will allow nothing to subvert His glory, so He will allow nothing to spoil the good He is working out in us and for us.”

Remember that young man who stole from us? After we left Tanzania in shreds, we lost contact. It was the age before social media, and we heard through the grapevine that he had emigrated out of the country. The betrayal so devastated us that for years we rarely talked about it—even between ourselves. But time and God’s grace heals all wounds. We forgave him and moved on.

Then, just a few months ago, out of the blue, he contacted us. He was visiting Tanzania and wanted to see us. Of course, we were happy to agree. We spent a few hours together, reminiscing about old times and catching up on each other’s lives. After all, we had a lot of great memories together.

Just before we said good-bye, he got quiet and emotional. Very simply, he apologized for what he had done to us fourteen years previously.

It was a holy moment.

We’re still not sure what God is doing in this man’s life, but we do know for sure that He is not done. We serve a God of grace and redemption. We cannot possibly imagine what He has in store.

The Balancing Act of MK Education

I can still picture them: Miss Eager, Mrs. Sacra, Miss Davis, and many more. They gave up a good salary and a steady career to teach missionary kids in an unstable African country. And I was in their classrooms.

It was the investment of teachers like these who inspired me to pursue education as a career, specifically MK education. And that’s exactly the path God has taken me.

My 7th grade class at ELWA Academy in Liberia, 1988 (I am front right) — My 7th grade class at ELWA Academy in Liberia, 1988 (I am front right in pink)

As a child living overseas, I experienced both MK school and boarding school. As an adult, I’ve been involved in MK/TCK education for 12 years. I’m passionate about MK education, and over the years have spoken to many missionaries about schooling decisions for their children. Here is what I’ve learned.

First, what are the choices? Some parents have many to choose from, others have only one. Each has their own advantages and disadvantages to overseas life.

Homeschool: Maybe you are called to it, no matter where you are living. Or maybe it’s really the only option available to you.

Pros: Homeschooling gives you complete control of your kids’ education, and gives the family a lot of flexibility. It can make travel and transition easier, and it can be a great way to get the kids into the community and include them in your ministry.

Cons: Homeschooling overseas tends to be more isolating than in your passport country, where there are lots of groups to join. It also can be challenging for the homeschooling parent to get into the language and culture; and it limits external ministry options for that parent.

Missionary school (or Christian international school): MK schools are not available for many missionaries, but it’s great when they are, because they are specially created to meet the needs of your kids.

Pros: MK schools can be a great “bridge between worlds” for your kids, especially if the school includes local children. Usually, MK schools provide good academic and social preparation for returning to your passport country and a safe, nurturing environment that doesn’t require a lot of cultural transition for your kids.

Cons: Sometimes MK schools create a missionary “bubble” that keeps the children (or even the family) separated from the local culture and language.

Boarding school: Even though boarding school sometimes gets a bad reputation, many wonderful boarding schools exist, and there are good reasons why it is the best option for some families. I’ve known many families who said they would never send their kids to boarding school, but relented in the end because they could clearly see it was the best option for their kids. And their kids thrived.

Pros: For families in cultural settings where kids don’t get to experience any of western life, or if the culture doesn’t allow them to make peer friendships, boarding schools are a wonderful blessing.

Cons: Pretty obvious: Being apart stinks. But often it’s worse for the parents than the kids.

Local school: This is a diverse category! There are local government schools or private schools, both in English or the local language. These type of schools have a huge range in cost, resources, academic options, language, discipline style and social dynamics.

Pros: Local schools can be an amazing way for a family to get into a community. They are also one of the easiest ways for kids to learn another language and make local friends.

Cons: These schools are often very different than western schools in culture, language, and teaching/discipline styles. They can put kids on a huge learning curve, and parents will need to work closely with their children to know how far to push them and how much to support them. Many times, parents will need to supplement their kids’ academics to make sure they will be ready to eventually assimilate into their home culture.

Some considerations when choosing:

Know yourself and know your kids.

You know yourself and your kids better than anyone else. Regarding yourself, you need to ask: Given my ministry calling, language learning requirements, and my own wiring, how much time and energy can I devote to my kids’ education? Unless your kids are at an effective MK school or boarding school, you will likely need to be highly engaged with your kids’ learning. More parents can effectively homeschool or supplement their kids’ education than they might realize, but it is important to consider how your kids’ schooling will balance with your ministry.

Regarding your kids, you need to ask: How adaptable are my children? Would they be able to handle school “cold turkey” in a new language? How far can I push my kids in a hard situation without breaking their spirits? How many transitions have they already gone through? How will this type of education affect my child’s ability to make friends?

You might not always have the right answers, and even the right answers might change from year to year or kid to kid. Every year and each child is different, and it is totally okay for each child to do school a different way.

As a side note, let’s remember that this is true for every family, so let’s make sure to support other family’s educational choices, even if they are different from our own.

Remember that you are always your child’s most important teacher.

You, Mom and Dad, are the most important teachers in your children’s lives, whether or not you homeschool them. Keep this in mind when considering their education. Does your child’s school ignore the history of your passport country? Then make the effort to teach it to them yourself during the summer months. Is your child going to school in a different language? Then you need to supplement their education with your own English lessons. Is your child being indoctrinated by a secular worldview? Then make sure you are actively and intentionally training them in a biblical one. Don’t just sit by and fret about the gaps in your child’s education. These days, there are a plethora of resources available to parents; take advantage of them.

Don’t worry so much.

I attended seven schools growing up. So much change was hard at times, but each school played a part in making me who I am today, and I’m thankful for those experiences. A missionary friend told me how both her girls were held back a grade due to so many transitions, but eventually both graduated from college with honors. As a teacher who is now raising her own kids, I am far more concerned about my kids’ social and spiritual progress than I am about their academic grades. I know that the academics will come; the other stuff is a lot more important.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t worry at all. Your kids’ education is a big deal, and you need to take it seriously. But if they lose three months of school because of a move, or the homeschooling shipment doesn’t make it on time, or your kids’ MK school has a substandard substitute for six months, don’t panic. In the older grades, it does get more complicated, but especially when they are young, your kids will recover. As long as your kids are at least average learners, they will catch up. It will be okay.

There is an exception: If your child has a diagnosed learning disability, or if you have any suspicion he or she might have one, then you must take it very seriously. Some learning disabilities absolutely require early intervention to have the best results. So find a specialist to Skype with, and don’t put off getting help quickly.

There’s never going to be a perfect situation, so trusting God is important.

Perhaps the best question to ask yourself is: How can I best balance the needs of my children with the ministry God has called us to? At times, you might feel like that balance is like standing precariously on the top of a sharpened pencil.

No matter what educational road you go down, there are going to be bumps. There are going to be things your kids miss out on, there are going to be many transitions, and you will probably make the wrong decision sometimes. Thankfully, God is holding our children, He knows what is best for them; and He can redeem even the hard circumstances of our kids’ lives.

This is a big issue; really too much for one blog post! So let’s get the conversation started. This is a great place to ask questions or share your advice. What works for your family? How about we hear from some MK’s themselves? And if we broaden this discussion to non-missionary TCK’s, we can bring in other types of schooling as well. How can you add to the discussion? Lots of people want to hear!

Missionaries are supposed to suffer . . . So am I allowed to buy an air conditioner?

Esta was my best kept secret for a long time.

Esta comes to my house four days a week. She washes my dishes, does my laundry (even ironing!), cleans my floors and scrubs fingerprints off the walls. She cuts up fruit and cleans the windows and makes tortillas. And even though all my friends in Tanzania know about Esta (because they have their own house helpers), I didn’t want anyone in the States to know about her.

I had other secrets too, like the air conditioner in my bedroom, the generator in my garage, and the times we go snorkeling in a tropical paradise.

I figured that if my American friends and supporters knew about these things, they would think I am spoiled. That my life is way too easy and if they had to be honest, I might just be a little (dare they say it?) lazy. Maybe the rich wives of Beverly Hills can get away with that lifestyle, but perish the thought that a missionary hire someone to do her dishes.

After all, everyone knows that missionaries are supposed to suffer.

After all, aren’t you counting the cost? Taking up your cross? Denying yourself? Abandoning it all for the sake of the call? Aren’t you leaving behind family, friends, and Starbucks to fulfill the Great Commission? After all, isn’t that why you are put on that pedestal and your picture plastered on everyone’s refrigerator? So that you can emulate the pinnacle of joyful suffering?

When you’re standing there on the center of that church stage, surrounded by hundreds of people praying for you, plane tickets in hand, earthly possessions packed into bags exactly 49.9 pounds each, you feel ready to suffer. Yes! I am ready to abandon it all!

And then you arrive in your long-awaited country and you realize that in order to host the youth group, you’re going to need a big living room. And in order to get the translation work done, you need electricity, which means you need a generator. And in order to learn the language, you’ll need to hire someone to wash your dishes and help with childcare.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in a bigger house than you lived in your home country, but you are ashamed to put pictures of it on Facebook. You don’t want to admit to your supporters that you spent $1000 on a generator, and heaven forbid people find out that you aren’t doing your own ironing.

You even find there’s a bit of competition among missionaries themselves. A couple of friends and I had a good-natured conversation on which of us deserved the “real missionary” award. I live in an African country, but I’m a city dweller. “You live in the village with no running water and a pit toilet,” I told one friend. She responded, “Well, how about Michelle? She did her cooking outside on charcoal for two years.” Apparently, if you suffer more, you are a better missionary. Or more godly. Probably both.

But does this attitude really come from Scripture? Yes, Jesus speaks out against hoarding up wealth and loving money more than Him. We are called to deny our desires for the sake of the gospel. But it shouldn’t be about choosing to suffer for suffering’s sake, as if suffering equals more godliness. It’s about choosing to be intentional, and embracing both the suffering and the privileges that come along with it.

If God has called you to work among the upper-class in India, then you’ll need to live like them, in a modern apartment. If God has called you to work among the coastal tribes of Tanzania, then you’ll need to live like them, in a simple cinder-block house with a pit toilet. Each life has its set of challenges. Each life has its set of blessings.

When comforts or luxuries come along with God’s calling, should we feel guilty? Or instead, should we see it as an opportunity for stewardship? Since I have Esta working for me full-time, it doesn’t mean that I sit around watching television while she cleans my floors. It means that I have extra time for ministry. It means that I am happy to open my home for youth group, overnight guests, or large dinner parties, because I know that I have someone who will help me with the work. Since I do have an air conditioner in my bedroom, it means I am getting much better sleep than those around me. How am I going to steward that privilege?

God doesn’t judge our godliness based on our degree of suffering; He looks at our hearts. Have we made comfort, or even suffering, into an idol? Are we insisting on a way of life that helps us, or hinders us, from connecting with the local culture? Or are we being intentional with the lifestyle we have chosen? Are we using the gifts God has given us to indulge in our comfort or to increase our fruitfulness? These are the heart questions that are far more important than the outside appearance of suffering.

We often quote, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” but fail to remember the context of that verse. “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” And what’s the secret? “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

As missionaries, we are usually prepared for being in need and living in want. We know Christ will strengthen us in times of homesickness, scary diseases, and no indoor plumbing. But we can also learn to be content when we get to vacation at the historical castle, our ironed laundry is hanging neatly in our closets, and the generator is purring. Let’s not idolize comfort or be needless martyrs.

If your motives are right, then go ahead and buy that air conditioner. Use it to the glory of God.

5 Tips for Newbies About Relationships with Oldies (From an Oldie)

The Newbie. In August of 2001, that was me. Standing in the dirty house that was going to be my home, totally overwhelmed by the barrage to my senses–smoke in the air, humidity on my skin, roosters crowing. What on earth was I going to cook? How was I supposed to get anywhere? And what the heck was I supposed to do with the trash? The first meal I attempted was baked potatoes (and only baked potatoes), and I cried in front of my husband because I couldn’t figure out my Celsius oven.

I needed people, someone who could walk me step by step through my life. I was thrust onto a new team, and into a larger missionary community. I knew nothing about these people, and yet I needed them desperately. How should I navigate those relationships?

I’ve lived 11 years in Tanzania since then, and turnover is so high that missionary years are kind of like dog years. Multiply by 7. Somehow, living here 11 years makes me a veteran. I’ve learned a lifetime of lessons in those years, including how to use a Celsius oven. But maybe some of the most important lessons have been in relationships with other missionaries.

At orientation, our mission told us that the number one reason people leave the field is because of relational problems with team members. Let’s work together to reduce that, starting with these tips to Newbies, from an Oldie.

1. Hold back the criticism, and look for ways to learn.

When you first arrive, you will notice about 12 things that your missionary team is doing wrong. Keep your mouth shut. Instead, ask lots of questions. After six months, that list will go down to 6 things. Continue to keep your mouth shut, and ask more questions. After a year, it will dwindle to 3 things. At that point, you can humbly, carefully, start bringing up your ideas.

Don’t give up or give in if change doesn’t happen as quickly as you like. The longer you stay, the more impact you will have on your team, and the more credible your voice will become. As much as Oldies might grunt and groan about Newbie ideas, we really do need your fresh perspective and new vision.

2. Lower your expectations of how Oldies should welcome and guide you.

I had been on several short-term missions trips before arriving in Tanzania. I think one of the dangers of STMs is that when you do arrive long-term, you expect to be treated the same way: The red carpet thrown out, someone who holds your hand everywhere you go, all your meals bought and prepared for you. But when you arrive in a country to live, it won’t look quite like that. If you don’t get the welcome you expect, if there’s not a parade for you at the airport or your house isn’t ready, it’s easy to think that the Oldies don’t really want you there. But that’s not true! Remember that missionaries are almost always overworked and distracted. Plus, a lot of Oldies have just forgotten what it feels like to be a Newbie. If you feel thrown in the deep end, well, you probably are. You will have to learn to fend for yourself quickly and it will definitely be overwhelming. Try to prepare your heart and mind for this ahead of time.

3. You may need to take the initiative in asking Oldies for help.

Even though Oldies might not be able to walk you through every step of the way, there are plenty of us out there who are eager to help. We can be a listening ear; we can commiserate by telling you horror stories of our own adjustment; we can tell you the best place to buy pita bread or how to find a refrigerator mechanic. Most Oldies are happy to answer your questions–but they probably won’t come to you; you’ve got to go to them. There’s a lot of Newbies out there, and it can be hard for us to know how to meet all those needs. You will have to take more initiative in relationships than you realized. That doesn’t mean Oldies aren’t glad to have you around. We couldn’t do this work without you, and many of us are happy to help out if you ask.

4. Remember that missionary communities are eccentric.

If you spent your whole life in one church, you may not have ever interacted with people who are theologically different than you. Welcome to the mission field! You may find missionaries in your community—even your own team–who are all over the theological spectrum. You’ll find that missionaries tend to be strong-willed, Type-A kind of people. (I’ve found that missionaries tend to be a disproportionate number of former Student Body Presidents and Valedictorians.) Put all these people together, stir the pot with some extreme heat or extreme cold and some cultural barriers, and you’ve got yourself a very interesting stew.

Be prepared to have your theological assumptions stretched. Be prepared to be surprised how love for the Gospel and lost people can transcend denominations and petty differences. Listen well and forgive abundantly. Steadfastly determine that there will be very few hills you will allow yourself to die on. Since it’s likely you are one of those Type-A people yourself, this may be tough. Choose humility.

5. Be patient with Oldies who seem relationally distant.

If we hold our emotions away from you, if we seem distant and hard to befriend, please don’t take it personally. Know that it has a lot to do with getting our hearts broken too many times to count. I remember as a Newbie, I was eager to dive into relationships with everyone in our missionary community. We had everyone over for dinner. We wanted to get to know everyone…and we did! Then….people started leaving. And leaving. And leaving. People’s terms ended, emergencies happened, health concerns came up. We stayed, but everyone we loved kept leaving. Choosing an overseas life means choosing a life of saying good-bye.

After a while, it just gets hard to initiate relationships with all the Newbies. If we hold ourselves aloof from you, it’s because of the callouses that have grown on our hearts from so many wonderful friends leaving us. We might not even consciously realize that we are holding ourselves back from you. This doesn’t mean we don’t want to be friends with you. It does mean that it may take more time for Oldies to open up. Please don’t give up on us. We need your optimism and energy as much as you need our experience and advice.

Store up your emotions and experiences being a Newbie. As you become more comfortable, as the years slip by and you become an Oldie yourself, you don’t want to forget what it felt like to just step off the plane and wonder how on earth you bake potatoes in a Celsius oven.

Photo credit

Amy Medina has spent almost half her life in Africa, both as an MK in Liberia and now in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, since 2001. Living in tropical Africa has helped her perfect the fine art of sweating, but she also loves teaching, cooking, and hospitality. She and her husband worked many years with TCK’s and now are involved with pastoral training. They also adopted three amazing Tanzanian kids along the way. Amy blogs regularly at www.gilandamy.blogspot.com.

Longing for a Better Country

It was May of 1989. I was 12 years old, and my family was getting ready to leave the country where I had spent most of my childhood.

We were leaving Liberia to go back to California for a year-long home assignment. We packed up our house and put all our personal belongings into the spare room. Another family would stay there for the year we were gone. The plan was that we would return in the summer of 1990, and would stay in Liberia for my four years of high school.

But during that year we were gone, a civil war broke out in Liberia. It got worse. And then it got catastrophic.
And finally it got so bad that all the missionaries were evacuated. The compound where I grew up was bombed. Many Liberian friends were killed. We never returned.

We lost everything. Everything we owned was in Liberia, and it was all looted. I lost my dog, my bedroom, my sixth grade journal, the painting my grandmother made me when I was born, and my childhood treasures. More significantly, I lost my home country, my identity, my innocence.

I never got to say good-bye, either to the country or the people I loved. Liberia haunts my dreams; it remains an unfinished part of my life to this day.

I grieved deeply for Liberia at age 13. But we were forced to move on—and quickly. We were reassigned to Ethiopia; I was off to boarding school—all in a period of a few months. I grew up; I went to college, and shortly after I was married, God brought my husband and me to Tanzania, east Africa. I was thrilled! Back home in Africa, at last. I figured all of the holes left in my heart from Liberia had been filled.

It wasn’t until the spring of 2013, at age 36 and after 10 years of life in Tanzania, that I realized that the ache of Liberia had never left me. We were leaving Tanzania to go back to California for a year-long home assignment. I was packing up our house and putting all our personal belongings into a spare room. Another family would stay in our house for the year we were gone.

As much as I was excited to visit California again, anxiety swelled within me. The feelings were too eerily familiar to what I experienced as a child–packing up, leaving everything behind, assuming I would return. I found myself worrying that the same thing would happen again….that I would lose everything.

It was a mostly irrational fear. Tanzania is a far more stable country than Liberia was in 1989. But after losing Liberia, and then being evacuated from Ethiopia in 1991, I realize that you never really know what’s going to happen in Africa. I was forced to come face to face with the loss I had experienced so long ago.

We went on that home assignment, and we did return to Tanzania last year. In many ways, it was a healing experience for me, to return. But if there is one thing this life has taught me, it’s that I must hold loosely to everything. Everything. I can’t put down roots anywhere; I will never find stability. Even if I spend my whole life here, I will never be allowed citizenship of this country. I will never be allowed to own property here; I will never grow old in one house. I may someday have to evacuate with the clothes on my back. Or, I could just get robbed blind.

I’m reminded that I can’t love this life so tightly. This life is not all there is, and it’s definitely not worth fretting over. After all, can I ever ensure the protection of my earthly treasures? Even if I was to live my entire life in one house in America, would I be guaranteed stability and safety? It’s just an illusion, and my transient life as a foreigner helps me to remember that reality.

Liberia, Ethiopia, or Tanzania are not my home, but America isn’t either. I will always be a foreigner, until that Day when heaven meets earth and all is made new. So I set my sights on things above, and relax my grip on my possessions, my country, my identity. They were never mine to begin with. The whole reason I am living in Africa is because I want to store up treasure in heaven. May I never try too hard to cling to the things of this earth as well.

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Amy Medina has spent almost half her life in Africa, both as an MK in Liberia and now in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, since 2001. Living in tropical Africa has helped her perfect the fine art of sweating, but she also loves teaching, cooking, and hospitality. She and her husband worked many years with TCKs and now are involved with pastoral training. They also adopted three amazing Tanzanian kids along the way. Amy blogs regularly at www.gilandamy.blogspot.com.