I’d like to start off with a question: what do you think of when you hear the word “missionary”? Someone in strange clothing who likes strange food? (Yak cheese pizza is yummy, by the way. So is fried eel.) A fearless church planter going against the odds? Someone comforting a dying person in the slums? A jeans-clad, music-loving book-aholic who spends most days in a classroom in the U.S.A.? The barista at the local Starbucks?
The answer to all of the above could be yes. I think it is so easy to have a narrow view of what a “missionary” looks like. So the following is an honest musing of what life looks and feels like to me, depending on the day.