A Jon Post

When he was young, about the age I am now, he wanted to go. He even had a location he felt the Lord had put on his heart. China. He bought and read many books about missions in China, the Chinese culture, the Chinese language, all of them still in his library bookcase today. He was passionate. He was unafraid. He was going.

Father and Son

But the timing wasn’t right. He got married, he started a family, and he was VERY good at his engineering job. He went on a short trip to Taipei, but the long term vision changed.

I came along after a few years. Growing up under his love, care, and stern hand of discipline, there was nothing I wanted more than his approval and pride. I wanted to be a veterinarian; I wanted to be the President of the United States; I wanted to be a basketball player; I wanted him to tell me “Well Done”.

I was 14 and, for the first of many times, I went to Africa. I found something that grabbed me even more than all the others: I wanted to be a missionary in Africa. I went back 5 times over the next 6 years. I could feel the purpose and meaning in what I was doing. The Lord put something on my heart much like He did my father’s so many years ago.

My father was quick and faithful to show me how much approval and pride he had in my heart to go. I never doubted that he supported me completely.

In the purpose and meaning I found in being “a missionary”, I started wondering, “Why didn’t my dad do this?” I knew he had wanted to when he was younger. I just thought he had compromised on what the Lord had put on his heart. I let pride well up in my heart. I thought “Well, where my father failed I will succeed.” I even implied in conversations with him “Everyone should be like me! You should be going to China as a missionary!”

It’s been 13 years since I first went to Africa. I am married now and I’m doing what I set out to do. I’m “a missionary in Africa’.

Next step? Starting a family. My wife and I are planning to have children soon. I will be a Missionary Father.

Now, in my travels and my church experience I’ve noticed that children of missionaries tend to struggle mightily. We all know it’s true. Yes, there are some terrific successes in missionary parenting, but in general these kids are miserable people. Growing up as children of these “overseas missionaries” must be a very hard thing to do. As I look to become a missionary father I have started looking for ways to avoid some of the pitfalls that seem so common in my line of work.

I’ve talked to missionary parents about this and I’ve talked to missionary children about this. Both success stories and failure stories.

And I realized something.

I know what it means to be a missionary father.

I’ve always known what it means to be a missionary father.

I have always known what it means to be a missionary father.

I grew up with one.

His missionary heart never wavered. It never compromised in its strength or passion. He just realized what most “missionaries” never do.

His mission was me.

I know now what it means to be a missionary father: I am a missionary to my children. Everything else is just my 8-5 day job in comparison.

Ministry outside my home will never be as important as ministry in my home.

My father taught me that.

I’ll be a missionary father soon. I hope I make mine proud.

a layne post

When I was a little girl, I was in gymnastics. I remember doing the event called the vault. You run as fast as you can, bounce off a springboard, and do some sort of “trick” over the vault. Well sometimes it did not go as planned. I distinctly remember a few times running as hard as I could, not bouncing off the springboard; instead running right over it and directly into the vault, knocking the breath clear out of me. My family could attest to these moments of agony.

This is a little like how I feel this week. All the anticipation, the gearing up, the good-byes… I was (and don’t get me wrong, still am) ready to give it all; to make a difference, now only to wind up stuck without a vehicle, waiting in a lodge we did not plan to pay for, unable to get in touch with the people who have our car.

You know, with all my missions experience, I know it is not glamorous. I know that is not all “people getting saved and sharing the gospel”. I know there is a lot of behind the scenes work and complications. I don’t know… maybe I just didn’t expect it to be hard the first day.

Our current home (for the week)

Here is the update:

Upon arrival, our friends who were caring for the car had had a sudden death in the family and had to leave town. We would not have our car for a day or two, until they got back in town. When they got back in town, a little later than originally expected, there had been a break in. Someone had gotten under the hood of our vehicle, taken our radiator, cylinder head, and other things. Because it was reported quickly, the thieves were caught. They were taken to the police and beaten until a confession was made. (how it works here) The parts were recovered, but now the vehicle is having to be put back together. So we wait.

Plan once we get the vehicle:

We will travel to visit some friends about an hour from here. Fellowship and be encouraged. This next weekend we plan to make the drive to Mozambique and start living there until further notice of Angolan visas, of which there is nothing to report.

We appreciate your prayers. Your comments on the last post were fabulous. We love them! Thanks so much for sharing with us, for being a part of this with us. We love you.

Short fun story:

In a taxi on our way back to the lodge the other day, we were sharing with the driver where were we from and what we are doing. (I always love to share with them that Jon and I met in their country!) The man was enjoying the story and proceeded to ask if we could drive to our country. Jon explained it is very far and there is a big ocean between. “Ahh,” the man said, “so a bus would get stuck.” Jon replied, “It would sink!”

I love Africa. I love the boisterous laughs of the women. I love the friendly smiles and the constant greetings. I am happy to be here.

A bit of "holiday" for myself