We hear a lot about having faith, trusting in what we cannot see, and relinquishing control in our lives as Christians. I thought that we were doing our best to live our lives in this manner (and I think that to some extent we were), but we felt called to "walk by faith and not by sight" on a whole new level just over one year ago. This is something that I've wanted to write about for quite a while now, so this may end up being a bit of a long story (shocking, I know).
When my husband and I met in medical school, one of the things that drew us to each other was our Christian faith. As we grew in friendship, I shared with him my hope to one day serve as a medical missionary. This desire had grown out of many things--being raised in a loving home where caring for the less fortunate was always a priority, having enjoyed many family trips to India and witnessing firsthand the multitude of needs facing people in a developing nation, and I suppose a simple yearning to help those who need it most. My husband was intrigued by the prospect and certainly gave it some serious consideration. Even back then, some 18 years ago now, we both felt drawn to this call and this way of life, especially when we had the opportunity to meet with visiting physicians who had served as missionaries overseas. There was something about their experience, perspective, and joy in living out their faith in a most concrete fashion, that was so attractive to us.
We felt even more pulled to the work of international missions after we got the chance to spend an incredible 4 weeks as observers in a mission hospital in south India in early 1997. The Christian Medical College in Vellore, Tamil Nadu, was one that I had long heard my parents and friends speak of in the highest regard. It was known as a premier place of training for physicians, and my (then brand-new) husband and I were so grateful that we were able to arrange some time there while we traveled to India to meet my extended family, just weeks after our wedding. While there, we not only met some fascinating people from all over the world (Australia, Great Britain, and Houston, TX, to name a few), but we also got the unique opportunity to see outstanding medical care being delivered to persons in very high need. There was something so fulfilling about being a (albeit extremely small) part of that process. There was a contentment and sense of purpose there that we have rarely witnessed since. So there we were, just months from graduating from medical school, full of hope and dreams and ready to change the world.
And then, quite frankly, life happened.
We started and completed our respective residencies in Houston, TX. My husband decided to volunteer for the U.S. Army as a primary care physician, and then went on for further training as a pulmonary/critical care doctor. And, most wonderfully, we were blessed with one then two then three little miracles who have kept us busy and stretched and humbled and joy-filled every day since.
So then fast forward to early 2010, when we had finally completed my husband's commitment to the army, we'd nestled into the amazing community of Greenville, SC, and thought we had found the place to put down some roots and raise our little brood. And somewhere in the midst of all that settling, my husband began to feel a little unsettled. He started to see the deficiencies in our US healthcare system--not a lack of technology or science, but a slow pull from the compassionate, giving, deliberate way of caring that had drawn us to medicine in the first place. The demands of our culture and our medical system are so many that the
systems seemed to be replacing the
relationships. The need to bill at a certain level, take care of a very high number of people with tremendously complicated problems, in a sometimes unreasonably short amount of time, were taking their toll on my husband. But at the very same time, these stressors were opening a door to a most unexpected possibility for us.
During those days of questioning and searching, as we wrestled with how specifically we were being called to serve God, we found ourselves drawn once again to the possibility of medical missions. To be completely honest, my vision for missionary work had always been on a short-term basis. You know, take a few weeks off from work, pack up our kiddos, hop on a plane and give a little love and medical care to the needy, then head back to our lives of carpet and Thai take-out and manicured lawns and Disney vacations. Nothing wrong with that. Really. But my husband's vision was taking on a new form. Something a bit more committed...and involved...and sacrificial.
At the risk of losing my readership (or the patience of my sweet 5 year old playing Barbies behind me) here, I'm going to fast forward once more. My husband did the legwork of researching various missionary organizations, narrowed it down to just a couple of groups that sent entire families, and then in September of 2010, we found ourselves (all five of us), on a discernment weekend in Los Angeles, with the Mission Doctors Association. This group has been sending both physicians and their families to developing countries around the world for over 50 years now. They clearly knew what they were doing, but I wasn't sold on the whole three-year commitment just yet. I remember sending an email prayer request to some of our closest friends before we headed to L.A. In the email, I shared that my desire was that I would get out of the way and make room for the Holy Spirit to make God's plan clear to us. And boy did He deliver. Every one of my doubts, concerns, challenges, and fears was not only answered, but was also embraced and accepted and understood. We met with a wide array of former missionaries, people who had found themselves in the same place we had--right in the middle of life, but wanting so much to be the hands and feet of Christ in a radical and whole-life kind of way. To say that I left that discernment weekend full of peace and assurance would be an understatement. By the end of those four days, we
knew (as much as any human can know anything I suppose) that this was what we were meant to do.
Let me not, however, glamorize this choice too much. There have been hard decisions to make along the way, and many moments of doubt and fear as well. We have had to buckle down with our financial decisions, trudge through the expected doubts and questions of our children and some acquaintances, and
every single day place our trust in the One who promises to never leave us or forsake us. I have had to leave a job that I loved more than any I've ever experienced. My colleagues and patients are furthering God's kingdom right here in upstate South Carolina, and I felt a tremendous sense of fulfillment as part of that wonderful pediatric practice--and will miss it terribly. Our children started this school year with the knowledge that they would not be here past Christmas time, and that is nothing short of devastating when you are 10, 8, or 5. My husband is leaving patients that he adores, and facing questions about our admittedly counter-cultural decision all the time. We have had to seriously consider the option of homeschooling the kids, depending on the academic options that exist wherever we are sent to serve. And that may mean that my opportunities for medical service are seriously limited during those years. We are just beginning the hard work of literally going through all our earthly possessions, one at a time, and making the tough decisions to "store, sell, or donate." There is much work to be done, of this I am acutely aware.
And yet, despite all of that, we are walking forward, one step at a time. Because even though there are many hurdles along the way, the joys are so many more. We have seen God throw open a great many doors of unexpected blessing on this journey. I hope to record some of them in the future. For now I will close by saying that the occasional peace that comes with this leap of faith is indescribable. There are simply
transcendent moments where everything else falls away, and we rest in the knowledge that we are safe and secure, right in the palm of our Father's hand.
Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the LORD Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it. Malachi 3:10, NIV
