All this time I thought it was just my problem—but I think it’s one of the barely mentioned secrets of missionary life that being seen as just another member of the host culture church you plant yourself in is a serious uphill battle.
For my first two years, I attended a large evangelical church here in Managua, a church where the worship and preaching are very dynamic. Yet week after week, I was greeted by strangers who did not even ask me my name, never mind invite me into any other aspect of the life of the church. Repeated efforts to join small groups or get connected in some way yielded little response. I don’t know how the other missionaries attending this church felt, but I began to feel completely isolated and alone.
Having come from a church in San Antonio where I knew all the other young adults by name, regularly had deep conversations with various generations within the congregation, and considered my pastor my friend, this was really hard on my spirit. I confess, for a while I stopped going to church altogether. I was completely disillusioned.
Finally, several months ago, I started going to another church, a more traditional denomination with wood benches in place of folding chairs, a printed order of worship, and piano/choir led singing instead of a band. The choir’s voices are beautiful and help me meet with God in a different way than the exuberance of my former church. The pastor (who I’ve actually talked to and remembers who I am) is thoughtful in his preaching, but not emotional. And that’s more than okay. This church has something else, too. A group of jovenes (youth) in their 20s that meets every Sunday night, where I’ve started to make some new friends. Instead of “hermana”, there I am Pamela. And that’s a great feeling.
Still, it’s hard to overcome the constant sense of being an outsider. I’d been in the same church back home so long (8 years—yikes) that I think I’ve completely forgotten what it’s like to be new and have to start over. Everyone else has a history, a web of relationships and inside jokes, and family connections that tie them together. I am the new girl. And while I am interesting because I am a gringa, I’m not in anyone’s confianza (trust circle) yet. While I am accepted and greeted with hugs and smiles, I don’t yet have the confidence to share my deepest hurts and needs with even the closest of these new friends.
Even more than a circle of friends, I think what I miss the most is having a pastor. Perhaps, as my Guatamalan friend remarked to me, it’s because the Nicas don’t think a missionary needs a pastor. That others are far more needy than someone like me. But the truth is that lately I feel a lot like a lost sheep. And I’ve rarely needed a pastoral conversation , a trustworthy soul, more than right now.
And the nearest one is thousands of miles away.
2 comments:
Oh Pam, I've finally had the chance to sit and really read this entry, and I can so relate to the thoughts of your heart. You and I are so alike: we value community - deep, heart-level community of trust and communication - and we had it in our respective places back in Texas.
Throughout the last 7 years, I have struggled to find that place as well, and I have attended churches in Prague, Budapest, Virginia, and now Alabama, and wow, I've experienced that uphill battle & isolation that you so vividly described in each one. The only solution I can come up with is the same as getting over a painful breakup: time. The passing of time will make it easier. And in our case, perseverance and trust that God will meet our needs for deep-heart friendships.
I have been in the same church family for 13 months now, and it's still an uphill battle, though it's getting easier. In the early months, not only was I an outsider, I was new in town and a "new mommy" for the second time, so my options for getting out were (and still are) limited. It got to the point where I just flat-out asked people to be my friend.
I think I've noticed that, in my 30s, people are less interested in building their communities. They have what they have and don't give much thought to expanding that - or, they get married and the need for outside friendships kind of goes away (which is not the case for me & Dave in any way - extroverts that we are.) I think people just have their routines and trust circles, and they don't consider the exclusiveness that they portray. After all, we IV alums came from a ministry that trained us to welcome and love on each new person who showed up - to value them as most important - to look for the new ones and see every one as an opportunity to grow, evolve, change.
Church communities, frankly, don't place that high a value on the new folks, I'm afraid, at least from my experience, and I feel that it's even worse in international communities. I experienced this in a Hungarian-speaking Christian church in Budapest. I was desperate to make friends so I volunteered to serve in any way possible, thinking it would be a link to community. I was told there was nothing for me to do but bring refreshments once a month. Right after that, Dave was asked to preach. I think this was a gender/cultural issue, no biggie, I brought the food and prayed my small contribution would lead to something - anything - resembling a feeling of been a "part of things". Alas, it didn't. I stuck it out but moved away the following year. And if I was still there now, I'm sure my place would be much more solid there. Perhaps they new I would be leaving all along, so why invest?
Now that my husband works in our church, we're not going anywhere. When the going gets (or got) tough, I had to stick it out and make the best of it. And God honors that, too.
The more time passes, the more I realize just how spoiled we were with IV. :) Closest thing to Heaven yet, and I'm glad I got to taste it.
Now I use this knowledge about community, looking out for new folks, and being cautious about exclusivity - I feel God has given me that lesson in order to make sure no one is isolated in whatever community I am a part of, now. As far as it depends on me, I try to be as welcoming as possible, and it really makes me crazy when I see that I am the only one who does this.
Hang in there. You will find it, yet! (And, if/when you move back to the States, you'll find yourself missing what you have in Nica, too... it's inevitable).
With love, dearest.
I'm praying for you, friend. I agree with Dawn that IV did such a great job at teaching about authentic community so when we don't have it, it feels like a hole.
I wish I was there to give you a hug and pray for you in person. :)
Post a Comment