"Bloom Where You’re Planted: A Christmas reflection from a first-year teacher and missionary"
John `1:1-18, Romans 5, Psalm 66
When I first embarked on my Ecuadorian adventure back in August to go serve as a missionary as a high school literature teacher at an international school, “bloom where you’re planted” was the optimistic motto I planned on holding myself to. I jumped in with both feet, knowing that it would be a challenge, but driven by a fierce spirit of adventure which served as a rose-colored lens that tainted the realistic situation that this job would be the most difficult challenge I have ever accepted. Although this has been exceedingly difficult, I am not at all regretful of that initial eagerness and air of excitement that I felt. Had I not been “blinded” in a way to the weight of the trials that I would face, I wonder if I would have even come. And even more, whoever said that being pressed beyond what I believed I could handle is a bad thing? After all, according to our good buddy James, we are called to be joyful in trial because the testing of our faith produces perseverance (James 1:2).
I know this is true deeply, and I hold it to be true firmly. Yet, knowing that there is truth and goodness in suffering does not make one happy in suffering, nor does it make suffering easier. This has been the struggle for me. The initial sparkle and shine of an exciting new adventure quickly lost its luster as I became more and more aware of the impossible demands that my job placed (and still places) upon me. This, I believe is to be expected with many life experiences. How often do we eagerly accept a calling or an opportunity with great ambitions and expectations, only to find that there are unexpected obstacles and hurdles that must be overcome? Certainly this is not the first, or the last time, that I will have this kind of experience. But I pray earnestly that this is the ONLY time that I will have this kind of experience at this level of stress and difficulty. However, just as promised in James, the testing of faith produces perseverance, so if I am to face a trial of this type again, at least I will do so with indomitable spirit and perseverance!
As an English literature teacher, one of my biggest pet peeves is ambiguity in speaking or writing, so at this point I feel that it is necessary (for your sanity, but also for my own) that I depart from the use of ambiguous phrases as “the most difficult challenge,” “impossible demands of my job,” and “this level of stress and difficulty” so that you can begin to understand my struggle, and more importantly, what I am learning and becoming because of it all.
So to prevent that this speech seems like a rant or a plea for sympathy, I will tell only what is necessary for you to understand my basic situation, so that you can more fully share in the lesson that God is revealing to me. My struggle is this: I am being stretched spiritually, emotionally, academically, mentally to the point where I literally have nothing more to give. Having come to Quito with the tag of “missionary,” with hopes of using my God-given strengths, talents, and passions for youth, literature, and education in order to make an eternal impact in His kingdom, how frustrating it is to continuously feel inadequate in every way due to forces beyond my control. Yet the problem it is not that I am actually ill-equipped for this calling. In fact, my situation is quite the contrary. God HAS called me here for “such a time as this.” I AM blessed with a passion for and gifted understanding of literature and language. My passion for young people and education truly IS purposeful in God’s kingdom plan. I know these things not because I have succeeded with facility and expertise in my calling, but because I daily experience my calling and the role of God’s grace within it. That is to say, were it not for all of these previously mentioned truths, there is no way on earth that I would be able to face the challenge of teaching four very different upper-level literature classes with little-to-no curriculum as a first year teacher in a foreign country, while also trying to live and serve selflessly as a servant in the Lord’s name.
So if my challenge is facing my own calling in a place and time that is apparently exceedingly taxing in many ways, what is the purpose in this and what is the purpose in my sharing it with you? Many are the purposes, my friends. As my story is still unfolding, and I am only at the midpoint in my first year of teaching, concrete purposes are quite hard to identify, but I am confident that purpose is apparent, and will continue to become more and more tangible and knowable in my story. But even so, I will share with you the truths that are becoming solidified for me and the profundity of the questions and the wonder that are an inherent part of growing.
Truth number one: Grace is real. Beyond knowing this in a metaphysical manner of understanding that it is God’s grace, or His unmerited favor and love for us, that saves us from our sin, I am realizing that grace is the reason why I can continually face myself as an imperfect being, face my job in all its trials, and face my God in all His beauty. God has been and always is gracious with me, thus I am to be gracious with myself and with my students. Grace is double-sided. After accepting it as an idea that saves us (for we are saved by grace through faith, and not by works lest any man should boast (Ephesians 2:8-9)), grace can become a means of humility, surrender and growth.
Paul reflects on the depth of God’s grace for us as he writes in his second letter to the Corinthians, “And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecution, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (NKJV)).
This very completion and fulfillment, stemming from grace, that Paul speaks of when he says “when I am weak, then I am strong,” corresponds powerfully with the second truth that I am coming to know in a deeper way: Redemption and Sanctification stem from great suffering. The idea that God allows us to pass through trial and fire in order to bring us closer to Him is a Biblical truth, and a beautiful one at that. Purification of precious metals passing through the fire is a classic Biblical metaphor that symbolizes the refining process of becoming more Christ-like. Just as a refiner’s fire (see Zec. 13:9 and Psalm 66:10) removes the dross and infirmities from precious metals, God tries us in a similar way by allowing that we pass through the humbling “fire” of various tribulations so that we might be broken down in our flesh and built up in Him.
Yet within this process of experiencing grace and pressure, a third truth grasps my heart: questions and weeping are 100% necessary for growth and surrender. Many are the days and nights that I have found myself broken in tears, in frustration, in loneliness, wondering “Why am I here,” “Why does this have to be so hard,” “How could I ever have thought this to be a good idea.” And while I know my emotional instability can be analyzed as a symptom of sleep deprivation and an unbalanced lifestyle, I believe that even more, it is a symptom of my literal cry for help as a broken being attempting to please God. It is in this time of utter weakness and dryness when I feel that I have nothing more to give, that I can really know what it means to allow the joy of the Lord to be my strength.
At Christmas we celebrate Christ’s birth, life, death, and resurrection as the principle means through which we can know and experience God’s grace, redemption, and the painfully beautiful process of sanctification that begins when we surrender ourselves before the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Lords, the Great I AM. The Apostle Paul reminds us of this miraculous grace and its indispensable part of the Christmas story as he compares Christ’s merciful coming to Adam’s tragic fall. He writes,
“Nevertheless death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those who had not sinned according to the likeness of the transgression of Adam, who is a type of Him who is to come. But the free gift is not like the offense. For if by one man’s offense, many died, much more the grace of God and the gift by the grace of the one Man, Jesus Christ, abounded to many. And the gift is not like that which came through the one who sinned. For the judgment which came from on offense resulted in condemnation but the free gift which came from one offense resulted in condemnation, but the free gift which came from many offenses resulted in justification. For if by one man’s offense death reigned through the one, much more those who receive abundance of grace and of the gift of righteousness will reign in life through the One, Jesus Christ.” – Romans 5:14-17 (NKJV)
This year as I celebrate Christ in the Advent season, it is only natural for me to think about my own struggles, questions, and personal battles in light of the promises that are being fulfilled daily as I experience God’s grace in diverse ways over and over again each day. Yet as I look back towards my original hope for my mission, I must ask myself: am I “blooming where I’m planted”? I suppose that depends on our definition of blooming. If we take “blooming” to mean something that has already flowered and is flourishing healthily and abundantly, then perhaps I am not. But if blooming is budding, unfolding, growing, being pruned of dead parts, and sprouting new stems, then yes. And if this is the case, which I believe it is, I hope I will bloom forever.
