“I feel such a misfit, like a square pin in a round hole,” confessed Peggy, one of the workers. “I came here with my husband and kids to reach the locals, but I just don’t seem to meet any! I do full time home schooling for the kids, running the household and doing some administrative duties. All the homes have high walls around it, so it’s difficult to see or meet people. Everytime I go to the store or park I try to speak to some of the ladies there, but it feels so plastic and unnatural. It’s not easy to find a bridge to their world, and to get invited into their homes”.

 

“I wish I had the language ability of Peggy,” sighed Margret when the doorbell rang again. Streams of local women seem to be visiting her all the time. Not knowing the local dialect does not seem to bother them, and they feel welcomed and loved in Margret’s home. “I feel this inner frustration of not meeting the standard of the other workers, speaking only a few words of the local language, yet having so many dear friends in whose lives I am playing a role. Sometimes the language barrier hangs like a sword over my head. My memory is not what it used to be, so I find it difficult to master the new vocabulary. Yet, the local ladies are so patient with me, inviting me to their homes. We communicate in a variety of ways, and they seem to enjoy practicing their almost fluent English on me.”

 

“I feel so guilty for not being out there,” said Susan tiredly with a baby on each arm, and two toddlers pulling on her dress for attention. “I seem to spend all my life in the home with the young ones. My husband is out there doing a wonderful ministry with the other men, while I am home bound most of the time. I have studied the language before the kids came, but alas, I just don’t have much opportunity to use it since. The four of them are quite a handful. Often I wish for some more grown-up conversations with other ladies, sharing with them the good news of Jesus Christ, instead of changing nappies and picking up toys all the time. I constantly pray for the work and for people, but I feel it’s just not enough.” It’s so easy to compare ourselves with others, yet we have to learn to live fully in the situation that God has given us.

 

“I want my kids to learn the local dialect too, but all their friends seem to be practicing their limited English on them. I am afraid they will never learn Arabic and be one of them,” said Mary whose teens are constantly playing with the neighborhood kids. “Of course they know a few words, but maybe I am expecting too much of them. I sure hope and pray they will influence their friends with their lives and testimonies.”

 

“Miriam was a local girl that came for English lessons at my home. We had a great relationship, and she finally confessed one day that she loves Jesus too. I spent many hours with her to coach her in her new belief. But then she got engaged to a cousin and seemed to lose all interest in faith issues. Last week she came to say that she don’t believe in anything anymore. She brought the Bible back and seemed to have turned her back on me and God. I cried for days, feeling miserable and such a failure, ready to go home. I wonder, what could I have done differently?”  Sarah did her best to guide Miriam on the road to spiritual growth, expecting her to grow strong and vibrant in her new faith. The disappointment when the seed fell on rocky ground was very real to her, seeing dear Miriam slipping away into her old life. Maybe her husband or cousin put pressure her, luring her away with either threats or promises. Belonging to the larger family remains a strong need in Islamic culture. Being rejected for her new faith or becoming an outcast in the community is a very high price to pay. It is not uncommon to see the young faith of new believers being strangled by the pressures of the community.

 

“I have endless opportunities and time to talk and witness to my local friends,” wrote Elizabeth, a single lady in her late thirties. “I often get asked why I am not married yet, since it’s almost unheard of in this culture to be without a family. They just don’t get it that God has not yet provided me a with a husband. Most times it doesn’t bother me at all, but some days it really gets to me, and I have to struggle with the issue of being single and alone all over again. I thought it would be easier by now, but it still isn’t. I have to lay my singleness before the cross again and again, and learn to be content with God’s plan for my life. Fortunately I do feel very welcome by the Arab and Western families here, feeling like a daughter in their homes, well-loved and accepted for just being me.” Questions are raised by the community when they see a single person who should have been married already. Either something is “wrong” with the person, or they need to step in and solve the “problem”. It is unthinkable for them that any parent would sent their son or daughter into the wide world by themselves, with no larger family around them to take care of them. The Western model of independence seems like a horror movie to most Middle Easterners who are used to have a sense of belonging in a large extended family.

 

Many workers feel the tension of language learning and relationships in the Arab world, trying to balance it with schooling, kids and normal life. And yet, it is all God’s work – He is still in control. God is the one who is bringing people to Himself, and sometimes He might use you and me in the process. It’s His mission, His vision to bring people from many tribes and languages into His kingdom. Sometimes our workers might feel like spectators on His pavilion of grace, just watching what He is doing in peoples lives. It’s not our efforts or language ability or training that will bring them into His kingdom – it’s His love!”