Bad Missionary

Yesterday we got confirmation on what we suspected was the reason our friend Atipz killed himself.

He had a relationship with a girl who was forced to marry another man. A man she didn't love or even like really.  She was in love with Atipz and a couple years ago begged him to sleep with her, so the man who was paying pigs and money to have her as his wife wouldn't want her anymore. Unfortunately, it didn't work. The man still bought her and Atipz was forced to pay a large fine for sleeping with her. The girl always refused to call the other man her husband and refused to sleep with him hoping he would just give up and end the marriage. 

We did not know that she and Atipz still had a relationship, though. Until…

One day about three months after his death this girl came back to our village and had a miscarriage. She told us she was about three months along. We were all highly suspicious and asked several people if this was our friend's baby. Everyone said no, but we still had our doubts. And just yesterday a young teenage girl spilled a whole bunch of village secrets to Abby. One of which included that the baby the girl lost was in fact, Atipz's baby. Even though I had my suspicions it still makes my mind reel and stirs up grief in my heart like a helicopter flinging debris of questions, doubts, anger, and confusion which land all over my body from my nauseous stomach to my shaking hands to my brain that just won't stop spinning. 

As much as I want to be angry with this girl, I just find myself feeling sorry for her. She was basically sold to a man that she didn't like. She lost her brother to suicide in July and in August she lost the boy she did love to the same act. She then lost her baby. It is hard to feel anything but helplessness and pity for her even though her actions and the results of her actions make me want to scream. 

With all this I keep thinking about another horror story very similar to this one that I heard about a month ago. The same young girl who spilled the beans yesterday came running up the airstrip yelling in the Hewa language. I couldn't understand most of it, but I did catch the phrase "puma maya" which literally means "ate the rope" but is saying that someone hung themselves. I ran out to find out who she was talking about and was immediately relived to find out it was someone in another village. Someone we did not know. Later we heard a gruesome tale about how this young man wanted someone else's wife. Whether or not they had an actual relationship I don't know, but he was going to have to pay a lot of money to her husband for whatever he did to show his desires for her. He decided instead to hang himself, but no one realized he had done so until six days later when a breeze blowing down the mountain brought the smell of death into the village. When the men went to investigate they found his body already grossly decaying. 

I was saddened and disturbed to hear this story, but it did not effect me the same way any of the deaths of the people in our village did. I have often felt really bad about this, since I am pretty certain that this man was not a believer and is more than likely not- not with his Creator right now. As a missionary, I feel like I should have some innate sense of grief and despair when anyone goes to hell. I feel like I hear the deep voice of the old missionaries who used to speak at churches talk about the "soul of the heathen". Shouldn't that be me? Shouldn't I be worried about "souls"? Should I really be writing to tell all of you that I am relieved that the death was not one of my friends even when I truly believe they are all in heaven right now? Am I a bad missionary?

But here my thoughts turn to my Lord who spent the majority of his time on earth in one little spot. He spent his time with very few people relative to all the "souls" that inhabited the planet at the time. He truly invested Himself in only twelve men. I am sure many people died and went to hell as He walked the cursed ground that we still walk today. He modeled for me a real relationship with people - not the counting of souls like hash marks on a chalkboard. 

Do I believe that he cares for each and every "soul" that has ever walked this ground? Yes. Do I believe that he wants every single one to turn to Him to be made new and to enter into paradise with Him? Yes. But I also believe that he spent 33 years here to show us what He wanted us to do when He left. If His purpose was strictly to die to save souls, then He could have accomplished that very quickly, but he chose to really live with people for a reason, and I think that reason was to teach. He wanted to teach us how to really love people. How to really love each other. How to put others above ourselves and really care for the needs of someone else. To do that we have to live alongside people. Walk and talk with them daily. Share life together.

He also knew that we were only human. That even though He could have touched every soul on earth, we cannot. Our mortal bodies will only allow so much. I think He wanted us to care about souls for sure, but to get up off our you-know-whats- and do something about it. We have to invest in souls to really care about them. So yes, I do care about those lost souls still out there. That is why I am here. I want all the Hewa to come to know the Lord. But to accomplish that goal I need to invest in lives here. I need to disciple the believers and show them what it means for a human with limited resources to care for souls. And if I am going to care about them and form relationships with them, then yes, I am going to grieve harder and longer when I lose one of them... no matter where they are in eternity. 

So yes, I care about souls. I love souls. And I love the flesh that surrounds them while they are here. I love their smiles and their laughs. I love their hard-working hands that are often missing digits. I love when they sing off key in a language that I don't fully understand yet. I love that they befriend me even though I am very different from them and  teach me how to live in their world that I am so helpless in. And I truly and desperately miss them when they are gone. And I hope and pray that that is how God wants me to love souls.