Missions 2oo7

The 2009 KM mission team left for Cambodia this Monday. If I could I would have endured 10 hours confined in a box to go with them. Going to the airport with them and then seeing them off made me oh so very nostalgic and I found myself reminiscing on when I went on missions with my team two years ago.

We had a team built for disaster. Or that was my first impression at the first meeting… and quite a few others that followed. There were three groups of threes: Three obbas, or older guys, who I had never spoken a word with, who never smiled/ answered/ showed any sign of response when I greeted them at the door during my two years as an usher were sitting in a corner and whispering amongst them. Three high school kids, feeling awkward and unwelcome I was sure, were sitting in another corner mutedly and the last three (one boy, two girls), who were all in the same cell group and were close to each other, were there chatting away. Our leader, who was much older, married and a stranger to me, was trying to break the ice but it seemed an impossible feat.

Although my heart was with Cambodia, having listened to so many testimonies from those who had been there and thus having decided to go there on missions, it wasn’t with my team. Rather, it was with the India mission team, which included my best friend, brothers and sisters whom I knew well. Our team didn’t get along and I felt left out, not knowing which threesome to join. When our team wasn’t doing anything, I would sneak over to the India misson team and pretend that I was a part of them, colouring in love hearts and cutting up cardboards in the shape of sheep.

Then it worsened. The older guys started showing up late for meetings or not showing up at all at times saying that they had exams and thus had to study. I’m a pacifist, so I didn’t say anything although I wasn’t too happy but this ticked off one of the other girls, and harsh words were exchanged. Furthermore, the need for prayer within the team was being neglected and I didn’t see hope for our team.

But God works for those who have been called to His purpose, as Romans 8:28 declares, and He did work. Through worship dance. Haha. As we learnt a number to razzle-dazzle the Cambodian children, we became undignified and unguarded. We had fits of laughter while watching each other attempt to dance, the really bad ones compete against each other and argue with passion that they were the better ones. The ice shattered and we became one. From then on, it only got better. Our bond became stronger at every meeting, and we had so much fun as we got to know each other more. We were an eclectic mix of people that would never have come together if it hadn’t been for missions but by God’s grace everyone got along with everyone else, despite the evident difference in personalities and age – our leader was 13 years older than our youngest member.

When we finally went, it was even better. We had massive fun doing everything, anywhere and all the time. Worship dancing in the villages, clipping children’s fingernails, bus rides to and from the places where we ministered in which we sat on the floor cross-legged applying ridiculous amounts sunscreen on our faces until we looked like zombies or went through the photographs we took and laughed uncontrollably while zooming into everyone’s faces. We were on a perpetual high, and us girls had so much fun singing kiddy worship songs non-stop and simultaneously annoying the guys. We huddled in the guys’ room to watch the Premier League and although I didn’t know anything about soccer except for the fact that David Beckham was in Manchester United back then, I still had fun watching the guys go crazy over a yellow card or an assist that was allegedly very awesome.

So this was how all barriers were broken down. It didn’t matter who sat next to who when we were on the road or having a meal. I felt unity so strong within our team and experienced for the first time what it meant to be one in God. We bonded spiritually as well, as we shared about our individual walk with God every day. QT sharing in the morning and ministry sharing at night took place without fail whether it was 4.30am or 1am respectively.

Even after we returned from our trip, we had monthly dinners where we caught up with each other, ate, prayed for the nation or went to karaoke. They were the first people I told about my decision to surrender to God’s command to go on missions by myself. I remember feeling so secure, so encouraged and empowered by my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ even though I had no money and had not yet gotten my parent’s permission.

We still talk about the numerous hill-lehhh-rious incidents that took place when we were there. Like a fisherman talks about his greatest catch over and over again but never gets sick of it, we regurgitate but strangely never get tired of both recounting or listening to the stories. We said jokingly that all of us should go again just to take more photos because the photos that were taken were so little and of poor quality. However, as I talked to KM obba at the airport, a fellow ’07 team member, I seriously felt a deep longing for that joke to come true. And though I’m not five years old and I know that there is probably next to no chance that it will actually happen, a girl can still hope, right?  :)