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Get Real: Myanmar

It’s no fun being a new worker. And it’s certainly no holiday. The local people aren’t queuing up to be converted by you. All they seem to want is money from the rich Westerners who arrive on their doorstep. The honeymoon soon wears off.

One day follows another with monotonous regularity. No exciting evangelistic trips upcountry, roaming from village to village with a trusted helper to carry your belongings. No thrilling conversions, healings or revivals.

Before you can do all the interesting stuff, you must master the language – a task that absorbs all your time and energy for at least two years.

They say that if you’re diligent the day will come when you can express yourself accurately and effectively in Burmese. But after only a few weeks, you don’t want to learn any more. Who wants to practice in public the few sentences they know, only to find that their vowels or tones are wrong, or that the people can’t understand them?

Believe me, I don’t want to quit. I want to have a fruitful ministry here serving God in Myanmar. But there is no easy way. Every word must be learned, every rule of grammar mastered, everything practiced, again and again. Sweat without glory.

In the letters from home they all ask, ‘Are the people receiving the gospel? How do I explain that it’ll take years before I’m able to share the gospel with my friends?

Yes, I have friends! I’m so happy to have met Burmese who are friendly, inviting and encouraging despite having to stumble through the same conversation again and again. My limited vocabulary makes communication so difficult.

Every day I fight against feelings of defeat and self pity. Yet I persevere (out of obedience more often than desire), enjoying the odd victory.

Back home most of the Christian songs I used to sing were about dedicating my life to God. I don’t remember any about an easy life.

And I know I am doing God’s will. I know he called me to take the gospel to the Burmese. So I don’t complain. I just get up from my knees and carry on.