As we walked through the neighborhood the other night, I asked how they had come to Tanzania and about some of the challenges they had faced. The husband and wife spoke very little English when they arrived ten months ago. Their children knew none at all and, of course, did not understand Swahili. Placed in an international school, the children—like most—picked up English more quickly than their parents.
The adjustment to a new culture has not been easy, especially for their thirteen-year-old daughter. Leaving family and friends, her mother told me, was the hardest part; when she first arrived, she cried for three days. I am quite sure that, though they have adjusted over the past ten months, it is still difficult to live and serve so far from home.
One married woman in the class asked a question that is very common among those preparing for cross-cultural ministry: Who is responsible for caring for the missionary family, especially the children? It is a question rooted partly in fear and partly in the reality that missions is not limited to taking the Gospel to the world; there are many other important considerations that must be taken into account.
When my wife and I decided to go to Kenya, we did not consult our children; they were young, and there was little need to do so. Fourteen years later, our girls were deeply rooted in the culture and had formed strong friendships. Once again, without consulting them, we made the decision to return to the United States.
Our youngest daughter really struggled living in a culture that was her own, but not familiar with and it was painful to see her go into depression and sadness.
So here is the more difficult—and perhaps controversial—question: Should a missionary family, fully convinced that the Lord of the harvest has called them into His service, make allowances for every member of the family, especially the children?
Missions today is far removed from the era of our forefathers, who sometimes took their coffins to the field, knowing they would likely never return home. Many endured profound loss—children, spouses, and dear companions. I am not suggesting they were entirely right, but can we say they were wrong?
I am fiercely protective of my family and would not knowingly place them in harm’s way. Yet I sometimes wonder whether, in our generation, the feelings and preferences of the family are placed ahead of the work to which God has called us. In the end, who is truly guiding the ship —Christ or the family?
Again, this is not just an American dilemma, but certainly more so than other cultures. I often meet missionaries who are tied up in emotional knots because they can’t make a clear decision because they don’t want anyone in the family to be unhappy. From my experience, it’s a no-win situation.
There are no easy answers. Certainly, better pre-field training should be a part of the equation, but that is no guarantee that will put an end to missionary attrition. Today’s generation seems to learn more toward counseling and therapy sessions, which, in my opinion, is a professional way of having paying clients meet every week.
Yes, I understand—I am now an old man who no longer fully grasps the world as it is today. But what I do understand is this: the cost of cross-cultural ministry has remained the same since our Lord gave His final charge in Acts 1:8. To be a career missionary will always involve pain, loneliness, and seasons of deep sadness.
Yet alongside that cost is an overwhelming satisfaction—the assurance that “He who calls you is faithful” (1 Thess. 5:24). God is trustworthy. He completes the work He begins in a person’s life and provides the strength to see it through.
I have the highest regard for my Egyptian colleagues. And I believe that, twenty years from now, they will look back and say that one of the greatest experiences of their lives was being called a missionary.
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