Growin' up, our church had a sign that hung over the exit that said, "You are now entering the mission field."  I always thought it was the coolest idea.  Whoa, when I step foot out this door I am ministering to all those lost souls "out there".  Every time I passed under that sign, I would read that sentence and feel...I don't know...holy.  I was goin' out to minister to the heathen.

Now, the thought behind the sentence I'm sure is a good one.  But my mind can do silly tricks and turn things into what it wasn't meant to be.  I suppose the same was true of this sentence.  "The mission field" became something that was "outside".  It was not intimate, and it certainly did not include my siblings nor my parents.

In high school, I thought I had a "heart for missions".  Two summers in a row I went to Tecate, Mexico on youth mission trips.  Sure it was hard work, we built houses and helped do a VBS for the kids, but more importantly, it was a parent approved hiatus from being with the ol' family.  In all honesty, they were vacations.

Anyhow, there I was, pouring all my love out to those Mexican kids, while in my own home, there were two little children who really wanted the love and care of their older sister but instead got resentment and brush off's.  In Tecate, I was hammerin' nails into concrete, hangin' drywall and paintin' exteriors, but at home, I couldn't manage to keep my room clean.  So far from home, I could smile at my fellow mission trippers and laugh at the inconveniences of close quarters, when few of my family even heard much more than a sarcastic remark and a sneer from me.

Friends, this should never ever be the case!

How utterly wrong I was in thinking that the "mission field" was somewhere "out there"!  No dear brothers and sisters, the mission field is right here, in our faces, in our space!  In our homes, under our rooves.  The mission field is not just outside the church, it is inside the church too.  The fact is, the mission field is every minute of every day, with every person.  We rarely ever LEAVE the mission field!  How can we strive to be Godly warriors for Christ as we throw all that we are into our "ministries" while neglecting our closest loved ones?

I used to think how I treated my family really had no impact on what sort of person I was.  I mean, teenagers are supposed to be disrespectful, siblings are supposed to fight.  I'd be nicer to my family if they were less annoying...You know, I was right.  How I treated my family really did have no impact on what sort of person I was, it WAS the sort of person I was and it accurately predicted the type of person I would be as a wife and mother.  How I acted with my family was my true self.  It was the ugly me that my friends never saw.  That the boys I was interested in would never know.  Who you are isn't the person you "put on" for outsiders, the person that makes you say, "You know, you're such a good person," it's the person you are when no one (in your mind "important") is looking.

It wasn't until I had my own family that I realized how off my perception of the "mission field" was.  I would watch other people's children as a favor, and I had more patience with other people's children, and showed more attention and kindness to them than I did my own children.  When guests came into my home, I poured on the hospitality, serving every last whim with a bright smile, when only minutes prior to their arrival I was quarreling with my husband and snapping at my children. 

Oh, but those children I babysat and those guests I had in my home were my "mission field".

WRONGO!

I recently read through Proverbs 31 with my incredible mentor, whom I dearly love.  Something dawned on me, that woman ministered TO HER HOME!  To her household, to her children, to her husband.  She wasn't out there cryin' about "her own ministry", her home WAS her ministry!  Her "mission field" was right there, under her own roof and she knew it!

The Word says so much to us parents about training our children, to us wives about submitting to our husbands, IN ALL THINGS (wow, does it really mean that?).  It constantly equates our relationship with God and fellow believers in familial terms.  The church as Christ's bride, Christ as it's groom.  In some cases, if the love of God were to be likened to the love between a husband and wife, people would be runnin' for the atheistic hills!  And our fellow believers are brothers and sisters?  Hmmmm, I can't think of the last time I hurled an insult at someone at church, yet that is exactly what I would not think twice about doin' to my siblings!  And what of this picture of God being our Father?  Our Parent?  Are we the parents to our children that God is to us, do we even try to be?

The Bible talks about these close familial relations because they are suppose to be our strongest ties, our most meaningful relationships.  And yet so often, there is this pull that our ministry is "greater" than these!  How wrong for us to desire more when we are such poor stewards of what we have!

I have realized that the time I spent under my parents roof was preparing me for ministry, the ministry of service to my family.  The ministry of being and raising Godly warriors for Christ, the behind the scenes ministry of supporting and following my husband, that was what I should have been learning.  Instead I learned to be resentful, to jealously guard my "rights", my "personal space", my "privacy".  I learned how to be sweet and kind as a temporary condition, rather than truly being transformed into a humble and quiet spirit that delights in seeing to the cares of others.  Too often, I heard the same irritated and inconvenienced tones I used with my parents and siblings again as I interacted with my own children and husband.  I was well versed at rolling my eyes at my husband's "unreasonable demands", as I'd had many years practice in rollin' my eyes at my parents.  I never thought twice about speakin' ill of my children or my husband to outsiders, just as I had done to my parents and siblings.  I spent my whole childhood rebelling against authority, telling myself that life would be better once I was my "own person".  All those times I told myself that my actions and attitudes would change when I had a husband and children of my own were my deepest moments of disception.

There was so much that I should have learned.  The fact that I didn't learn these things, I will tell you straight up, is not the fault of my parents.  I bear the full burden of my harbored sins and attitudes.  It is with so much regret that I remember all those unanswered opportunities of grace.  I've watched my younger brother and sister struggle with things that I, as their older sister, could have helped them avoid!  Many times, I wonder if I was the one that led them to such things!  I choked on the yoke of authority only to discover that I am ALWAYS under authority.  I am now under the authority of my husband, in addition to the authority of Christ Himself!  I spent a childhood fightin' to be "on my own" when even now, I am still not on my own and never will be.  I do not have the freedom to do as I will as I thought I would.  Far from it.

I realized that my husband MUST come first (in terms of human priorities, obviously God comes first before all things).  My children MUST come after him.  His Holy Word is very specific in how I, not "should" but MUST commit myself to these duties.  This is my first and highest earthly priority.  And if those two realms are in hand, then and only then, dare I increase my efforts outward.  If those two realms are not, what foolishness it would be to seek ministry elsewhere!  What would it profit me to gain the hearts of others while losing the hearts of those dearest to me!  God forbid!  Lord save me from my arrogance of desiring my "own ministry" for it completely devalues the fact that He gave me my "own ministry" the day I married and had children.  I squandered my training when I lived with my parents and siblings, I completely missed the point of that time in my life, Lord help me not to waste these precious opportunities now.

I still have my "heart for missions".  However now, the stakes are so much higher!  It is so easy to put on a flashy show, sing some songs with starving children and swing a hammer.  How utterly convenient it is to turn off the "missionary" in me after the four week stint is done.  There was a sense of glamor in swooping in to "save the masses", of being the heralded "savior" of poor degenerate souls.  I've learned so much recently that I shake my head in shame of the mindset I once claimed.  The mission field is at times ugly.  It is grueling and ever present.  You don't get to turn it on or off.  You don't get to tell yourself, "In a few weeks this will all be over."  It is smilin' when you don't feel like it, holdin' a little one on your lap when you've had it "up to here" with her.  It's tellin' your friend, you can't join her for tea so that you can have the house tidy when your beloved comes home from work.  With all the hearts I saw turn to Christ when I was a Pharisee, nothin', not one single thing, will ever compare to hearin' any of my children's first earnest prayer.  At the end of the day with my straggly hair and my worn down nails and my food and water splattered dress, there is no where else in the world I'd rather be or no where else I'm needed more than when my husband pulls me to him and says, "I'm the most blessed man on earth because I have the best wife of them all!"

I'm thinkin' I'm gonna make my own sign.  It will say, "You are now entering the mission field."  And I will hang it on the outside of my front door so I can see if every time I come home, 'cause that is my first mission, to serve and nourishing the hearts of those that share my home.