Just One Friend
Paying the price in the global Great Commission
Being the son or daughter of a missionary brings great rewards. One learns new languages, travels and has a global worldview. These are gifts. At the same time, we need to remember that these kids pay a price for the decisions that the Lord has led their parents to make.
I was reminded of this a few years ago when I visited a family who lived in a Muslim-majority country. The family was clearly foreign because the local people were Asian, and these were fair-haired Canadians. This small family of four, father, mother, son and daughter, had lived in this country for a couple of years at the time I visited. The 12-year-old boy was eager to meet me, a visitor from “back home.” His younger sister, 7 years old, was also excited, waving to me eagerly as I approached their house after a long ride from the airport.
When I visit missionary families, I like to pay special attention to the kids. They are good indicators of how well the family is doing in their strange culture. In this case, the kids were thriving. The boy was enrolled in the local school where he had quickly learned the language and was participating in classes. The little girl was a joy to be around.
They were different than their local friends and they knew it. When they were out on the streets people would point them out. Their blonde hair made them stand out. People knew they were most likely Christians, and this further alienated them. So, even though they were well adjusted I knew it was not always easy for them. The first night I was there I learned just how hard it was.
The family lived in a small house. They asked me to sleep in the son’s bed, and he would spend the night on the couch. I protested that I would prefer the couch, but they insisted. That night I climbed up a little ladder and settled in. There I saw a note the boy had written, taped to the wall and only visible to him. At the top it said, “MY PRAYER,” all in large letters. Underneath was the simple prayer:
God, please give me just one friend who is like me.
With one little note, this boy reminded me of all the struggles, the difficulties and the sacrifices our missionaries make each day.
I had a hard time falling asleep that night. Instead, I prayed for this boy, his sister, and their parents. I prayed for the neighborhood in which the house stood. I lifted up the city and the country. I prayed for my own heart. But most of all, I prayed that God would send one friend to that little boy. Somebody with whom he could relate and share his life.
Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life.”
Mark 10:29-30