People often ask me what a typical day looks like for me. There’s no such thing as a typical day, but today was a good example of how full things get–and how suddenly things happen! The average day is more likely to have a long drive, but other than that, today was pretty much par for the course.
Hanging out with somebody else’s kid: typical hobo behavior. (That’s Jenna‘s Ellen!)
7:30: start hitting snooze.
8:10: get up.
8:30: take somebody’s kid to preschool.
8:40: Mass and Jesus time.
10:30: make a new friend and eat some chips.
11:15: phone call from a friend: “Want to come meet the religion teacher at my school?”
11:35: meet religion teacher.
12:00: meet another religion teacher. “Nice to meet you. Want to teach my classes this afternoon?”
12:15: meet chaplain. “Nice to meet you. Want to teach my class during his free period?”
12:30: tell freshman boys to man up and fight for the women around them.
1:10: meet with administrator to solve all the world’s problems.
1:30: meet senior campus ministry all stars. Ask them their favorite thing about being Catholic. Be disappointed when nobody says the Eucharist.
1:45: tell freshman boys to man up and fight for the women around them.
2:25: give senior boys the hard sell: live for Jesus or quit wasting your time.
2:45: impromptu spiritual direction with a Jesuit who asks hard-hitting questions.
3:00: talk discernment with a handful of seniors.
3:30: stop by adoration.
4:15: process life and trust on the phone with a beautiful friend.
5:15: help with dinner and kids.
6:00: dinner. Defer to the dad when kindergartener asks what circumcision is.
6:30: pack up to switch houses.
7:00: ladies’ night–tea and cookies with some moms at somebody’s house.
9:30: drive to a third home, socialize.
10:00: start dealing with emails and scheduling and the like.
eventually: bed.
Lesson learned: never say, “It’s okay, I’ll shower after Mass.”
Somehow, I think this picture is relevant–maybe because my no-shower hair is equally disastrous, if less obviously so? It certainly has nothing to do with the weather I’m currently enduring. Let it snow!
After last week’s post on how every Christian is called to be a missionary, my friend Jenna asked me to get specific. What does it mean to be a missionary in everyday life? So I started brainstorming and here’s what I came up with: 100 ways to evangelize right where you are. While missionaries aren’t just evangelists, I feel like I pretty well covered the service and justice aspect of Christianity in the pro-life post. So I’m sticking primarily with things that are more directly about preaching the Gospel, but all those pro-life practices are ways to be a missionary too.
Not all of these tips will work for all of you. Some types of evangelization take a certain personality. Some will be helpful only with particular individuals (37, 45, 74) while others are more universally applicable (12, 68, 72). Remember: nobody is a project. Treat every person as a child of God, never as the object of a strategy, and you’ll be off to a good start.
Fall in love with Jesus.
Take your children to daily Mass.
Offer to help someone with small children at Mass.
Invite someone to go to confession with you–offer to take him to dinner afterwards to sweeten the deal.
Read the Catechism. The whole thing.
Take your baby to visit the residents at a nursing home.
Sign up for a holy hour in the middle of your prime social time. Then when you leave the bar or the football game to head off to pray, invite people to join you. You’ll be amazed what happens.
Call someone who’s hurting.
Take a picnic lunch to an area with a large homeless population.
Do your daily Bible reading on your commute. It gives your neighbor an opportunity to ask.
When catching up with a friend, ask “How can I pray for you?”
Step outside your comfort zone.
Dress as a Saint for Halloween, but don’t be lame about it. Kendra will show you how.3
Listen to your children.
Smile more.
Cross yourself when you pass a church.
If you know someone who’s sitting on the fence, be frank. Ask them if you can have 15 minutes to present a case for the Church.
Don’t be afraid to say you don’t know.
Bake cookies for prisoners.
Pay the toll for the person behind you. Ask the toll booth attendant to tell him you said, “Have a blessed day.”
Offer to go door to door inviting people to church.
Wear a beautiful piece of religious jewelry. When people compliment you on it, take it as an invitation to give a quick testimony.
Tell people about the Saint of the day.
Weep with those who weep.
Take a friend to an art museum. Hit up the Renaissance section and explain what’s going on with all the Saints and Bible scenes. Think of all the catechesis!
Call a friend out on unchristian behavior.
Go to confession.
Introduce yourself to people you see at church.
Learn to pray extemporaneously.
Invite a fellow parishioner to dinner.
When a friend is suffering, have a Mass said for him.
Change your language–say “God bless you” instead of “Bless you,” “Praise God” instead of “Thank God.” See if it doesn’t start some interesting conversations.
“Never let evil talk pass your lips; say only the good things men need to hear, things that will really help them.”5
Dress modestly but look awesome.
Have friends who aren’t Christian. Don’t try to convert them. Just love them.
Make beautiful Christian art–poetry, photography, music, sculpture. Give glory to God and draw hearts to him.
Never use apologetics as a weapon. If you get angry, take a step back.
Ask someone to pray for you–even if she’s not the type who would offer.
When you receive communion, act like you really believe, like you’re really in love. Your attitude will touch people around you and you’ll find your faith strengthened. It’s more about living what you believe even when you don’t feel it than it is about faking it, and the more you live it, the more you’ll feel it.
Take a friend out for a beer. Hang out. Just be friends.
Bear wrongs patiently.
Ask people’s forgiveness.
When you find yourself judging someone for not being Christian/Catholic or not being a “good” Christian/Catholic, make a list of five things about that person that make her a better person than you.
Remember that you can’t know the state of anyone’s soul.6
Fun fact: I was about to write pretty much that exact blog post with ways to dress as a Saint but be awesome about it–you know, St. Peter Martyr with a hatchet in his head, a Holy Soul with flames licking at your feet, mummy/Lazarus, a princess, a knight, St. Lucy with your eyes gouged out. But then I googled to see if there was a picture online of anybody ever dressed as St. Denis (carrying your mitred head under your arm–awesome!!) and I found that Kendra had done it dramatically better than I was going to. [↩]
Believers can have more than a little to do with the rise of atheism. To the extent that they are careless about their instruction in the faith, or present its teaching falsely, or even fail in their religious, moral, or social life, they must be said to conceal rather than to reveal the true nature of God and of religion. [↩]
CCC 847: This affirmation is not aimed at those who, through no fault of their own, do not know Christ and his Church: Those who, through no fault of their own, do not know the Gospel of Christ or his Church, but who nevertheless seek God with a sincere heart, and, moved by grace, try in their actions to do his will as they know it through the dictates of their conscience—those too may achieve eternal salvation. [↩]
Not long after my conversion, I decided that the only reasonable thing to do with my life was to be a missionary.1 After all, I thought, if Jesus is God, why would I not want to spend the rest of my life telling other people about it? So I (at the ripe old age of 14) formulated my first life plan: be a missionary in the Ivory Coast.2 I had a glamorous image of being called by God to preach the Gospel, being sent to a far-off land where I’d suffer for him. Probably someone was going to make a movie out of my life, it was going to be that cool.
And then life happened, and I was on plan number two: teach high school religion. But I was still called, still preaching, still sent, and certainly still suffering. I began to see that God had called me to be a missionary, just in Georgia instead of Africa.
Not the far-off land I was anticipating….
Now when people ask me what I do (or where I live or why I’m in town or how I know their brother), I answer that I’m a missionary. And people accept it because I’m doing something weird and preachy that doesn’t make much money. But when Family Missions Company asked me to blog for World Mission Sunday3 about my life as a missionary and all I could think was: so are you.4
Sure, I’m a missionary now. I wander from town to town speaking of the love of God, never knowing what consolation or persecution tomorrow will bring. But I was a missionary when I was a teacher and when I was a nanny and when I was a student. And I’ll be a missionary if I work retail or answer phones or stay at home. If you’re a Christian, you’re a missionary. It’s part of the job description. The question isn’t if you’re going to be a missionary–it’s for whom. Because either you’re preaching the Gospel of Christ or you’re slapping the name Christian on some other gospel. And any other gospel masquerading as Christianity comes from the Evil One.5 Choose today whom you will serve.6
You’ve already been called.
On the day you were baptized, you were commissioned. You were anointed as a prophet and sent out to make disciples of all nations.7 There’s no such thing as an armchair Christian. You are the salt of the earth, the light of the world.8 You are the body of Christ9 sent to feed and clothe and teach and love.10
But really, if you believe that Christianity is true, why wouldn’t you want to share it? Are you so obsessed with your own comfort, so afraid of rejection that you’re willing to withhold the love of Christ from hungry souls? Are you so impressed by your own inadequacy that you believe God can’t use you? This is joy and beauty and true love and we’re afraid to lead people to the water because they might be annoyed that we offered them a drink. The missionary vocation isn’t for the chosen few–it’s for every Christian there has ever been. It’s for people who don’t know a lick of theology, people who aren’t comfortable praying out loud, people who are timid or selfish or lazy or awkward. It’s for you. Do something about it.
You’re already preaching the gospel.
If you claim the name of Christian, you’re preaching. Your life speaks volumes to the people around you. It proclaims the message of your gospel: “There is joy in Christ” or “Those who love the Lord serve” or “No sinners allowed” or “Money is all you need” or “Fill your life with noise and you never have to be alone.” They watch you and listen to you and come away thinking that “Christians do that/say that/think that” or “The Church believes that.”
Your life preaches a gospel–it just might not preach the Gospel. Take a look at your life today from an outsider’s perspective and ask yourself a few things: What do my choices tell people that I value most? If I had a catch phrase, what would it be? Do people hear Christ when they listen to me? If my life were the only Gospel people read, would they want him? If you’re a missionary, you’d better know for damn sure what gospel you’re preaching. I think a lot of us Christians are preaching the world with a little Jesus thrown in. Check yourself.
You’re already sent to all nations.
Most of you encounter people of different races and nationalities every day. You’re sent to all of them. Not just the ones who look like you. Not just the ones who speak your language. Not just the ones of your class or your creed. You’re sent to that cashier with the unpronounceable name, to the beggar with the pack of cigarettes, to the neighbor with the accent and “too many” kids. Jesus didn’t pick and choose. He came to Pharisees and Samaritans, to Marthas and Magdalenes, to the blind and the lame and the whole and the broken. You’re sent to everyone, too.
Oh, you might never leave small town Nebraska. You might never see someone who’s not from your home country. You, too, are sent to all nations. You’re sent to the poor and the rich, to atheists and fundamentalists, to saints and sinners. You don’t get to keep the Gospel to yourself. You have to live it–to love every person. Every person. Even the addict. Even the immigrant. Even the lazy. Even your father, no matter what he did. Even your teenager. Even when he calls you that. Every person.
And friend, you’re a missionary. You might primarily be called to preach with your actions, but sometimes you’ve got to use words. Sometimes you have to put a stop to that catty conversation at Thanksgiving dinner. Sometimes you have to offer to pray for someone who’ll sneer at the thought. Sometimes you have to go out on a limb and straight up preach the Gospel to a disbelieving audience. Because you’re a missionary. And God will do incredible things even through your weak words.
You’re already suffering.
I always figured what made missionaries so awesome was how they suffered. But it wasn’t the spectacular suffering that impressed me. Oh, don’t get me wrong–I love a good martyrdom story. And I know better than to think it’s easy; while I do want to be martyred, I’m hoping for a quick bullet to the head, not being skinned alive or having my fingers bitten off. That’s some incredible stuff. But heroic endurance in moments of terror is obviously a supernatural gift. I trust that God will provide. It’s the everyday that gets me. The dirt floors, the well out back, the heat, the terrifying bugs. That’s what makes a missionary’s life so hard. That’s what makes them such heroes: persevering through constant suffering without even the satisfaction of righteous anger. After all, who are you going to blame for the monsoons?
Okay, yeah, sometimes being a missionary looks like this.
You’re suffering like that, too. Oh, they might be #firstworldproblems. And they might not exactly be because of the Gospel. But if you’re serious about your faith, there are inconveniences you endure that you wouldn’t otherwise have to. Maybe it’s just missing some football because you’re going to Mass. Or not having enough money for a grand vacation because you have four children instead. Maybe it’s not getting enough sleep because you’re trying to prioritize prayer. Maybe you could look hotter if you showed more skin. There are sacrifices you make for the Gospel–Christ honors those just as much as he does the impressive poverty of the foreign missionary.
And if you’re doing it right, you’re probably being persecuted. You may not have scars from it–not physical ones, anyway–but you get nasty Facebook comments, rolled eyes, accusations of hypocrisy, and cooled friendships. When you speak truth, the world will retaliate. And when you do it well, Satan will do his best to discourage you. Maybe Butler won’t write about all you endured, but it gives glory to God all the same.
If you have the courage of your convictions, you might lose a job. Or a friend. Or a marriage. You might lose social standing, like Elizabeth Ann Seton and John Henry Newman. Or you might lose your life, like countless others in the annals of our Church. But you will gain the world.
Yes, I asked the guy at the coffee shop if I could take a picture of his tattoo. Yes, I asked him if he would be my best friend. Can we all stop being so judgey and start wondering if he has a girlfriend and if not who we should set him up with?
So stop hiding your lamp under a bushel basket. Stop waiting around until you can be a missionary, and go be one! Invite someone to Mass, pray before you eat, take your baby to a nursing home, make a holy hour, call someone who’s hurting, take a homeless man to lunch, do some street evangelization, share a Bible verse on Twitter, flip over the scandalous magazines in the grocery store, get a Christian tattoo that isn’t ugly or weird, start a Bible study at Starbucks, ask your brother why he stopped going to Church, tell your coworker about God, help at youth group, listen to your children, smile more, bake cookies for prisoners, offer to go door to door inviting people to church, help a little old lady across a street,11 tell people about the Saint of the day, call a friend out on unchristian behavior, go to confession yourself, listen to the Holy Spirit, pray, love, live for Christ.
When it comes down to it, life in the mission fields is made up of moments. Each moment might be ordinary but they can add up to an extraordinary life. You don’t have to do anything spectacular to be a missionary. You just have to remember that you already are and try to act like it.
Interesting side note: I’m pretty sure the very first talk I ever gave was on being a missionary. [↩]
In case you’re keeping track: I’m one Sacrament, one continent, and four babies behind on this plan. This may be why I’ve given up on planning. [↩]
That’s today! Well, to my mind it’s tomorrow. But that’s just because I should have written this weeks ago and instead I’m writing it at 2am. Win. [↩]
And then I went back and realized that that was actually what they asked me to do, so…great minds think alike? Anyway, I wasn’t being disingenuous here. Just had a bad memory and not enough time or inspiration to rewrite. [↩]
Before you start quoting Nostra Aetate at me, I’m talking about watered-down Christianity or secular humanism or materialism or other things that Christians might be preaching with their lives. [↩]
