I just want to come out and say it; I’m not a mommy. Shoot, I’m not even a woman. (OK, those were some of the weirdest sentences I’ve ever written.) But despite my obvious shortcomings, I’m still writing this article. Here’s why:
I look around and see young moms and experienced moms who are serving cross-culturally, and they’re under siege. I see them, battle-weary and bleary-eyed, burdened by expectations that would crush the strongest. I see them wrangle toddlers and tonal languages. I watch them brave open-air markets with raw meat hanging on hooks and open-air homes with neighbors peering in through windows.
Missionary moms are exposed on all fronts, and they feel it. Everyone’s watching them. The local people watch every move, confused by the foreigner and her progeny; when she returns “home” for a visit, she feels watched just the same. (And for the record, jet lag does strange things to children, so any misbehavior can and should be blamed on jet lag, for at least the first two months.)
The mom on the foreign mission field is stretched thin. She must take care of her household, figuring out how to do all the stuff she used to know how to do. She must learn the local language and culture, educate her children, save the world, communicate with senders, support her husband, and convert everyone through her calm spirit and mild demeanor.
I’m speaking with slight hyperbole. Sort of. But if you pause and observe, you too will see that missionary moms, especially the newbies, have a whole lot on their plate. And it’s stressing them out big time.
Missionary dads are expected to do “the work.” Period. They are judged, for better or worse, on their work product: how is the ministry going? Not so with moms. The missionary mom is judged by how well her kids behave, how well her kids transition, how well her kids are educated, how healthy her marriage is, how well she knows the local language, in addition to how well the ministry is going.
It’s not fair, and I’m calling it. We need to pause and care for the women among us who are being crushed by unrealistic expectations.
So can we call a cease-fire? Can we stop taking aim at missionary moms, expecting them to be EVERYTHING and then criticizing them when they fail to accomplish the impossible?
And can you, missionary mom, stop taking aim at yourself? You can’t do it all, but that doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human.
Paul says in Ephesians 4:16, “He makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love.”
No part does ALL the work. Each part does its own work, and that work is special. What is the special work to which God is calling you?
Maybe, right now, your primary task on the mission field is taking care of your own little people. That is special work that helps the whole body to be healthy and growing and full of love. It’s not less-than. Maybe it’s leading an entire mission. That too is special work that helps the whole body to be healthy and growing and full of love. It’s not less-than.
When missionary moms, due to external pressure or internal insecurities, try to do EVERYTHING, the whole body ends up being hurt, not helped. The most important thing for you to do is the work God has called you to do.
I’ll say it again, a healthy mission field does not depend on you doing it all. Health and growth and love come when each person does the work that God is asking her to do. No comparisons allowed.
The mirage of the perfect missionary mom is alluring and dangerous. If you try to follow her, you will be perpetually discouraged, depressed, and exhausted. On the flip side, if you feel like you are the perfect missionary mom, you will be perpetually arrogant, haughty, and annoying.
What would change if you forgot the mirage of the perfect missionary mom and started remembering the Perfect One instead?
Remember, his burden is light.
He is the Lord of Rest, the Bridegroom, longing for his Bride.
He is not a taskmaster, demanding more widgets.
He is a loving Husband, pursuing his favorite girl.
He is a tender Father, splashing in the ocean with his children.
He is a Warrior, protecting his people.
He is a Comforter who really sees.
He knows you are human, and he’s glad about it.
He knows you can’t do it all, and he’s ok with it.
He is jealous for you, longing for your whole heart.
He wants your gaze fixed on him, not the mirage.
The next time you’re tempted to criticize another mom, lay down your weapon and state what she is doing instead of what she’s not doing?
Before you criticize yourself, identify and declare what you are doing instead of what you’re not doing.
Are you doing what you feel like God has led you to do? Wonderful! The Body of Christ needs you to do that. The mission field need you to do that. Your family needs you to do that.
So here’s to the missionary mom, the one in the trenches with the toddlers.
The one who raises kids abroad and then sends them “home.”
Here’s to the missionary mom, far away from pediatricians and emergency services, who lives with constant awareness that help might not be coming.
Here’s to the missionary mom who lives in a glass bowl, aware of the stares.
The one who liked shopping when shopping was simple.
The one who would really like a Starbucks coffee. Like, right now.
Here’s to the missionary mom whose children experience more goodbyes than most.
The one whose kitchen looks more like Bear Grylls than Martha Stewart.
Here’s to the mom on mission, the one who rocks the cradle and changes the world.
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