The First 24 Hours

The golden glow out the window disappeared as the plane descended into the eventide shadows. Delayed, but not excessively, we hauled from the aircraft our heavy bags, (over-the-limit hand luggage, making use of as much space as possible), as well as our heavy eyelids, which surely had bags beneath.

The dry, filtered air of the pressurised tin-can gave way to the warm, clammy and sweat-inducing air of a South Asian evening. We halted briefly to wait for our teammates and then made our way to the visa processing counter. After a long wait in the queue we arrived at the counter to find that we were meant to have filled in a short form before attending the counter. We turned, dragged the overtired kids back down the corridor and found that there were no forms at the desk. Brilliant. A few minutes of asking around yielded results and we soon started filling in the forms.

However, a week of very late nights, early mornings, high cortisol and adrenaline levels, and some dodgy in-flight meals suddenly seized my usually strong stomach. Thankfully, a bathroom was readily available to be the second possesor of the complimentary meal, and then it was back to business. Forms in hand, we again approached the counter. Our teammates were called to the counter beside and were through in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately for us, we landed the more friendly border control guards. “Oh my, you are really that young?” (I guess the bathroom trip hadn’t helped foster youthful looks).

The guard in the booth beside leans in, “You are from Ireland? Do you know George Bernard Shaw?”

“Yes, and it is quite impressive that you know him.”

“And William Butler Yeats?”

“Yes, I actually have a book of his poetry here in my bag. He was a great friend of one of your poets.”

“Yes, I know, some great works from him. I love English Literature.” And on that note he proceeded to list many Shakespeare plays which he had read, and to begin long quotes that he had memorized.

While this was all very impressive, it was not doing my stomach any favours. But eventually, these two border guards, slow as they were, happily granted us access to their country.

After eventually finding enough trolleys for our bags, and sim cards for our phones, we made our way outside to meet our friends who were waiting for us with some vans to bring us and our luggage to our new flat. An uneventful journey ensued, and soon we entered the door of our new home, so wonderfully kitted out with all essentials by our amazing teammates. After a quick dinner at a different apartment, we headed inside again to put the kids to bed.

A few minutes later and our son had managed to lock himself inside the bedroom. We couldn’t find the key, and the door couldn’t be opened from the outside without one. Frantically, we called our daughter to come to his rescue, but she got caught up in her mosquito net and couldn’t get out of her bed! Eventually she got herself disentangled, and opened the door. Crisis averted. Now, to bed.

We surfaced at a reasonable hour, after less than reasonable sleep (though the kids did well). The morning consisted of unpacking, a trip to wander around on our roof that overlooks the city, and a few visits from friends. The afternoon brought with it our first language lesson, with a local tutor. We enjoyed this session, and then had some delicious dinner provided by some of our teammates. The first day was done.

As I got ready for bed last night I was struck by a few things:

1. The overwhelming nature of the task that lies ahead. Standing on our roof, overlooking a mega-city of tens of millions of people, causes the heart to grieve. The Spirit of the One who wept similarly over Jerusalem lives in us, and causes us to grieve. The spiritual task is immense, and terrifyingly so.

2. This is coupled with a feeling of absolute uselessness. It will take so much time and investment just to be able to learn to communicate sufficiently that we can share the gospel. In one sense there’s realtionships and fruit that could still be seen before then, we will not be reclused. But the heavy work of ministry is a long way off. As the reality of being here began to seep in toward yesterday evening, the overwhelming nature of what lies ahead, coupled with so many daily challenges that we already envision as we navigate the culture, began to rise in my heart. Yes, we counted the cost before we left, yes we knew it would be difficult. Now, standing just inside the threshold for the first time, it is even more immense than in theory.

3. Nonetheless, the Lord gives new mercies every morning. He gives manna only for the day at hand, that we may learn to rest on him alone. By the end of first day, there were so many blessings to recount:

• By the end of our first 24 hours we knew more of our new language than we did the day before.
• We know a tiny bit more about the culture than the day before.
• We have been provided with food, shelter and fellowship.
• We have eaten new things.
• We have met our tutors, thus beginning a new relationship with a local person.

So, in spite of the enormity of the task, each day is just a new stepping into God’s mercies for that day, seeking to walk one step closer to the Celestial City, and seeking to walk one step further on the task the God has given us in this part of the world in the meantime. Baulking at the immensity of what lies ahead will not serve us well. Seeking to walk more today than yesterday with our eyes fixed on Christ is what will keep us.

4. The need to abide in Christ. I remember listening to a series run by a missions podcast. In this series they interviewed missionaries in hard places, and asked the same set of questions to each. One of the questions was, “what does it take to minister in that place?” And as I listened week-by-week, I was astounded at how the reply of each one of these individuals or couples, in every continent in the world, was identical for almost every episode: “Abide in Christ”.

It is a peace-inducing thing to know that we are not the vine. It is a cause of restlessness and burnout when we forget. We do not need to bear fruit of ourselves. We need not try harder and harder to bear what needs borne. Our role is to abide in Christ as a branch abides in the vine. Knowing the work is his, knowing the fruit is his, knowing that the Vinedresser is the great Gardener who knows the seasons, who knows how to produce fruit, means that the branch has little to be worrying about. To abide in the Vine who gives his life to the branch on a continual basis, until that life comes out in the form of fruit; that is our calling. A challenging 24 hours, and immense task ahead, but a promise:

“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing… by this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.”

– John 15:5, 8