Does The Average Missionary Just Kind Of Taste Funny?

Missionaries strive for relevance—at least they should!

Smart ones learn the language, or attempt to at least. Most take on some of the culture of the land. They eat the food, and most enjoy the cuisine—unless it is cow’s blood mixed with urine

Few, however, live in mud huts any more—but neither do the nationals. Some even adopt the national dress. But, for the most part that’s not all that hard since Western styles are pretty much the norm for most of the people.

The music barrier is seldom breached; and for the most part, the nationals don’t push the issue, as they have grown accustom down though the years to hearing the Beetles and Rap and Hip Hop, and all the rest. But slice the cultural equation anyway possible and you still come up with 2+2=3 and the foreigner is kind of an odd ball third. Neither fish nor fowl.

Now, I am not against enculturation. I think it is a good idea. But, generally speaking it is never fully accomplished, and the missionary ends up being ‘different’.

So, what’s the point of even trying to adapt to the culture, or to become relevant? Well, I would say none, if you are depending on your adaptation to get you through the cultural barrier. However, our goal as missionaries has never been to become Parthians when we are Medes. Or Elamites when we are residents of Mesopotamia. Or Cretans when we are Arabs. For after all—when it is all said and done, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Gal. 3:28)

There is, however, one language that all understand, and one sentiment to which all can identify. And, that is the language of love. Godly love. John 3:16 love. Every culture relates to that. And, love is effective, too.
I think of Mark Buntain—who incidentally, never really mastered the language, but who’s life spoke volumes of love. I think of Mama Lillian who spoke Arabic with grammar almost like a kid—I am told. Yet, Egypt still remembers her message of love, and still calls her blessed. I could mention others, but won’t because I think you get the point.

If we haven’t got the point by now, most probably we never will, and like the clown in the cartoon we will just taste funny; and, need I mention, look funny, too?