What brings me to Manti?

As I've attended various evangelistic churches over the past six or seven years, I've had the opportunity to hear countless Christian missionaries tell their stories about going into the foreign mission fields. Some of them go for long-term, even life-long ventures into third world countries, and others go on short term missions to help the missionaries that are already in the fields. Some go as medical teams, some go as infrastructure builders, some go as teachers. All of them brave whatever physical hardships, third-world conditions, or political resistence to Christianity that faces them with a certain amount of "that's just part of the deal." They're willing to sleep on church benches, travel to the ends of the world, live out of a suitcase, and speak directly to people who might just hate Christians. While I was impressed, part of me thought they were nuts.

I remember the first time I was asked to join a team that was heading for India. I picked up the brochure. I listened as the missionaries told about everything from the smell to the food. I looked at my friend, Michelle, who was leading the mission team, and said, rather matter-of-factly, "No, I'm really not into third world stuff. I'm not called to be a missionary. I really don't get that whole 'heart for missions' thing. I think I'm a check writer." (I never let on that as a Military Brat, I'd spent some time in third world countries and travelled outside the good ol' US of A.)

Then I was layed off from my corporate job. Almost by accident as I was hitting the internet on the job search, I was drawn into a discussion board about Mormonism. Before I knew it, I was up all night some nights online witnessing to a people group I knew a lot about. The more I answered their questions, the deeper I had to dig into my own beliefs as a Christian, as well as into my past as a former Mormon.

Pretty soon people were asking me to join them on missions trips to Turkey, Israel, the Phillipines. I easily put them off, and said, "No, that's just not my thing. I'm not a missionary." As the years went by, everything that I would claim as a security - family, home, belongings, some friends, corporate America - fell away one thing at a time. I was learning to be pretty flexible, and rely on The Lord for everything that I thought I could provide for myself. One time I had a Philipino pastor ask me to come to the Philipines over a lunch meeting. I had looked at his pictures from a missions trip, and said, "no thanks." He said, "You're too comfortable as an American." Then I gave him a little insight into my "American " personal circumstances at the time, and he replied, "Oh, you're being prepared to be a missionary." I cringed.

You see, the word "missionary" didn't have the greatest association now that I was no longer Mormon. I'd had "every member a missionary" (Mormon slogan) and "I Hope They Call Me On a Mission" (a Mormon children's song) drilled into my head since age 3. We'd had more missionaries in our home than I can count. I really didn't want to hear any more about it, and the word still occasionally catches in my throat like water down the wrong pipe. "Evangelism", that's the word that seemed to flow with me pretty easily.

I remember that I'd heard the story of those girls who'd gone on a mission trip to teach in Afghanistan and ended up getting caught by the Taliban and causing an international scene. The first time I heard it, they fell into the "nutty missionary" category. A few years later when I heard the rest of the story, I was fascinated, and started understanding their heart for the women and the oppression of the extreme religious conditions in Afghanistan. I started seeing some parallels. I started "getting it".

Then, people started asking me to share my testimony of leaving Mormonism with church groups. After a sermon on Legacy in 2004, I knew something had changed. I was getting that "missionary heart" thing. I recognized that my legacy had been changed because somebody had shared the truth about Jesus with me. I was a becoming a missionary for a lost people group, in a foreign culture, in a modern society, with all the trappings of American life, clean, sweet-smelling, milk-drinking, Mormons. Perfect looking, but perfectly lost. I became willing to sleep on church benches, travel to the ends of the world, live out of a suitcase, and speak directly to people who might just hate Christians.

Now, like Jonah, this is not the mission I would have liked to pursue. I kind of like LA and the media, and the beach. I've lost my whole family to Mormonism after I left the church. Mormons can be pretty smug and superior. They think they have the truth. Welcome to my Ninevah. BUT, I know their language. I pray they come to know the One True God. I pray that their leaders repent for leading them away from the Holy One of Israel. And, I'm trying hard to avoid the Jonah attitude that brings upon one a good scolding from The One Who gives the assignment! =) Now it's hard for me to shut up about them, the belief system, how Christians need to wake up to this unreached group in their backyard.

So, here I am... off to Manti, Utah... a short-term mission. Where I'm looking forward to meeting with newly saved Ex-LDS, and working with long-term missionaries in the field and Christians who see the same perfect looking, perfectly lost people group, and are willing to put feet to the faith and share The Gospel where 100,000 Mormons will come to see the Mormon Miracle Pageant, but hopefully be met by the Miracle of the Good News about Jesus!

I hope you enjoy Postcards from Manti, and begin to reach out to the lost in your own backyard!