Often I wonder about the good intentions of people of faith. I think we really do have good intentions but it seems we often miss what the actual “cost” may be to “do” the work of servanthood. There may be pieces that can’t be realized ahead of time. Yeah, I believe we do have good intentions. But, as my grandfather used to always say, “If your gonna do it, do it till its right.” A church mission team working in north western Kenya was staying at a retreat center where the water was supplied by a well and storage tanks on a hill above the center. Each morning women would carry water down the hill in large jars on their heads to fill toilets and basins throughout the center. Preparing to return several years later the team decided it would be a great idea to take some plumbers from the church and pipe the water from the hill directly into the center. This would save the women their hard “back-breaking” water haul each morning. In addition it would give immediate access to water in the rooms and kitchen of the retreat center. These were good if not honorable intentions. However, overnight the women water carriers found themselves out of a job and their families immediately suffering. Further, with easier access to water in the center there were extra demands put on the well. Within several months the well dried up. Another church mission team was working in a village in Haiti. After installing a water purification unit in a village they planned to replace the communities old but operating hand pump with an electrical pump in the well. During the installation the shaft slipped and fell 100 feet tangled in rebar. Stuck in the well casing virtually irrepairable. The people of the village were then forced to walk 3 miles getting contaminated water at another well. Then, that well dried up because of the extra use. With great sacrifice and stick-to-itiveness the church and mission team made a decision to truck in purified water to the community until something could be done. A rescue operation has been put together equipped with a variety of creative tools in an attempt to repair the well. If the repair cannot be done, the church will drill a NEW well for the community because of their mistake. Sticking with it. Florence is in her 80’s and rarely traveled more than 100 miles from her small Kentucky community. She’s a great missionary. Her work quiet and powerful. It’s longevity and commitment reaches over decades to people she has never known or met. Around town local folks have realized the value of sending quality Christmas cards to Florence. And, throughout the year for special occasions she prefers bed sheets as a gift of choice. Nestling down each evening in her home in Crestwood, Kentucky she goes to work. Old Christmas cards are remade. Cut, shaped, and reassembled with messages of hope. Next to her chair are boxes to place the cards in and when filled she sends them to missionaries around the world to give out to people with whom they work. Then with hope and prayer Florence awaits correspondence that the box arrived safely. When not making Christmas cards Florence tears bed linens into long strips. Using a homemade contraption of wood she winds the strips into rolls and tucks them into more boxes in order to send to clinics where missionaries need bandages for the sick.

I caught up with her one day and as we were talking she suddenly got emotional. As the tears rolled down her cheeks she told me the source of a deep joy. Florence had just received word a box of bandages she sent had arrived at its destination. On que I expressed my celebration, too. However, was soon stopped dead in my tracks to face the limitations of my own understanding of commitment like looking in a mirror. Florence takes her work seriously. She prays for and tracks every single box sent out. She had been praying for that particular box of bandages to be released from a customs office for eight years.

Where to Wander to Next?
Mother Teresa’s personal calling was a response to Jesus cry on the cross, “I Thirst.” She spent her life attempting to “quench the thirst of Jesus.” The existence of her ministry was based on the same. In each Sisters of Charity chapel above every altar are the words, “I Thirst.”

Emerging throughout the world is a water crisis like none we’ve ever experienced. I’ve often wondered why we don’t take water ministry seriously in the church. Ordinary people can learn to use incredibly effective water tools. It doesn’t have to be left to engineers and folks with lab coats. The church can play a powerful role in saving lives and letting water share the Gospel story. If we’re doing work in developing countries, let’s consider taking along skills like water purification, well drilling, health education and hand pump repair.

But, doing mission work like this we would be forced to change the way we are “doing” missions. What “wanderlust” is not is long term commitment, relational, sacrificial small living and thirst quenching grace.

Let’s quite talking about our problems at home like gas prices. Let’s ask the right questions to do the mission work right. Will these gas prices diminish our passion for the Gospel to be taken into distant lands? Is our sacrificial commitment so strong that no matter what the costs are at home we will live even hungrier and more thirsty to do that which we are called to do? As the richest people on the planet, how thirstily committed are we willing to live in order to live for those who will drink water today that will make them sick tomorrow?

Mark Hogg

“Wanderlust” is usually reserved to describe the hearts of drifters, gypsies, carnies and prodigals whose passion for travel and exploration usually govern not only ones’ lifestyle but decisions and relationships, too.

Though never working the carnival nor evolving from gypsy lineage, I often hold fast to a prodigal’s heart that can call on a breeze. Wonderful possibilities are envisioned and I can quickly be off to distant lands chasing bright shiny objects if I’m not careful.

Over the last 30 years the mission work of the church has grown to epic proportions. Though with good hearts, we’ve sprinkled love like pixie dust assuming a dab is all that’s needed. Living out the gospel is difficult to do in snapshot segments. Projects of value and acceptance of culture are critical allies on the mission field but more so are long term relationships. There’s a conquering element and even an arrogance to North American culture. In a time when world wide water and hunger issues face us daily we must ask ourselves if we’ve been been feeding our own cultural and insatiable thirsts on the mission field. In these changing times shouldn’t we look back and evaluate our effectiveness with those we are called to visit and hope to satisfy a need.

In the early years “missionary” was reserved for people living in distant lands. They emerged every few years to visit churches in North America, showing carousel after carousel of slides to encourage congregations with stories of hope and wonder. Today many North American Mission Culture “missionaries” are recognized by slick brochures, conference booths and large teams of smiling faces. Our culture seems to have dictated a “mission-cation” style of short-term trip to infuse our “restless wanderers” sitting in the pews who may need a prodding.

This way of mission ministry leads to planning meetings where questions echo like, “Where are we going next year?” and “What are we doing next time?” We seek the thrill of the experience to quench our thirst for excitement. The “where” has become more important than asking “how should we go about missions.” The “what” has become more important than wondering if we should we do a project just because we can.

Do. Done. Next.
A pastor friend of mine was driving through the countryside of Ghana with a guide on a mission trip. Over the course of several hours he noticed again and again they were passing empty churches. He eventually asked the guide why there were so many churches empty and lifeless. The guide replied, “The North Americans like to come here and build churches. . .So we let them.”

Mark Hogg