What If Elijah Came To Dinner?
A missionary was coming to our house for dinner, and I had a list of must not’s for my wild, run amuck, family. I can’t remember precisely but the list went something like this:
You must not swear - and the pg words are also swear words, so just don’t.
You must not act like a bunch of heathens - even though she’s used to heathens you are not heathens tonight.
You must not be anything but your best selves - the kind of selves you take out in public.
I’m a mama of four children born a bit too close together… can you tell?
I was burning the chicken and trying to wash the dining room floor when the doorbell rang...almost an hour early. Worst nightmare.
There she stood in my home seeing the me I really am.
How fortunate, that on that evening, she reciprocated the gift, and brought only the one she really was, to dinner.
It was an eye-opener for me.
I grew up in a time when missionaries were a bit mysterious. They showed up at church on random Sundays to speak for their allocated five minutes at the pulpit.
Five minutes.
Hurry up missionary...sum it up in five minutes… all that God has done in your far away place… you can do that right?
And yes, they could! They could do this summary while dressed in some kind of odd looking clothing from the far away country they were talking about; all of it adding to the mystery. A blonde lady in a kimono, a short red-bearded man in a turban.
Afterward, we gave them money, which usually meant we didn’t go out to lunch that day because we were helping the missionary do their missionary-ing.
They would position themselves at the door with prayer cards depicting their photographs which would end up on our household refrigerator reminding me every time I went in search of a snack, that those people existed.
Missionary books didn’t help much either. Many of the stories shared were of the great and mighty works of the Lord on the mission field, told in such a way that left you thinking… I am for sure not made of the super spiritual giant kind of stuff that missionaries consist of.
Later, when I grew older I would find some comfort reading the collections of Elisabeth Elliot, one of the giants on the mission field who said things like,
“God’s work done in God’s way - never lacks God’s supply. ”
but also said:
“Remind me Lord, that not everything needs to be said and that there are very few things that need to be said by me.”
And then, in a wild and random twist of fate, I too would become a missionary.
Just a year and a half after that first dinner with my missionary guest, I stepped onto my own mission field in my own far away land.
Becoming one yourself blows the mystery all together. You discover the truth about missionaries real quick… it’s all Jesus working in a simple person. That’s it. Jesus only Jesus.
I’ve been off the field for five years now, and occasionally host missionaries in my home. This month I hosted a woman serving in a secret church in the Middle East. It’s all so secret that I can’t mention her name or where she is working. She arrived to our home just as our Friday night home youth group was dismissing and our house was filled with wondering, inquisitive students. She shared with them a summary —- five minutes—- but dressed in her own regular clothes— and their response got me laughing.
“You’re like a Ninja” one of the boys said. They all laughed and went on to tell hypothetical situations that this missionary could wind up in and how she could overcome them by her “super spiritual strengths.”
It’s true, I thought, while watching the students tease with the missionary. She does indeed have super spiritual strengths and yet… she is just a girl. Fully human in a God story.
Later in the week, as I got to know her on a more personal level while talking over coffee in our pajamas, discussing men and relationships, eating snacks way too late at night, watching her reflect on her own story by the campfire... I couldn’t help but consider who this woman was in my home.
She was a part of planting the first church in a closed Muslim community.
She had witnessed persecutions to the point of a close team member being taken to prison for years.
She had been hauled into police stations and told to never preach the Gospel again. And preached anyway.
She smuggles Bibles into unreached places.
She lives in danger risking her life to make disciples.
And yet here she sat speaking about real life, real fears, annoyances and … normal, every day human, things.
Staring at this powerful woman of God who sat around my campfire the most random though came to me…
What if Elijah came to dinner?
What if.
Would I think the same of him?
Elijah the prophet who God allows to part the Jordan River. - 1 Kings 2:8
Elijah, whose prayer to God caused the rain to cease in Israel for three and half years. - I Kings 17:1
Elijah, who called down fire from Heaven. - I Kings 18
That Elijah.
What if he came to my home and I served him burnt chicken and mashed potatoes? What if he sat around a campfire and shared his real true heart? What, I wonder, would I discover?
I suppose I would figure out he too was just a boy. Fully human in a God story. I can surmise this because of what we find in 1 Kings 19. After all that, after all that miracle living….he ran for his life in fear of a queen’s power to murder him. We find him hiding under a tree… begging God to kill him…lamenting he was all alone in his fight against evil.
He too was not such a mystery.
Elijah is mentioned in the New Testament as “a man just like us” - James 5:17
This indeed should bring the future missionary heart a bit of comfort.
God uses people.
He uses us.
The miracle, the work, the big beautiful story is all truly just HIM.
He invites us in because we are His creation and He wants to work with us.
Pressure is off.
Mystery is revealed.
So go ahead and invite a missionary to dinner.
The only real difference is, they’ll eat the burnt chicken without even flinching.
