HOSTAGE SITUATION
Before moving to Ukraine, I had to attend a mandatory month-long missionary training. Two weeks were about language acquisition, then the next three weeks were about cultural assimilation and just general life acquisition: how do you adapt, how do you survive, how do you thrive in this new culture, this new life you now have? It was awesome. I loved it! One month in the gorgeous mountains of Colorado surrounded by fellow missionaries (finally people who can totally relate to everything you’re going through!), all about to head out to countries all over the globe = yes please! It wasn’t always easy, though. We dealt with some tough stuff.
During this training we were put through a “real-life” simulation. Let's be honest, I was skeptical about it feeling real and not super fake and cheesy. Oh man, was I wrong! The trainers put us in groups and lined us up. We were then blindfolded, which automatically puts one in a vulnerable state. We had to grab the shoulders of the person in front us and blindly walked into a dark space, an area of the training complex we had never been. We were ordered to walk in complete silence. Once we entered into the darkness, it’s almost as if a switch was flipped. “Guns” were thrust into our backs and sides, ushering us forward, as orders were shouted in a language no one understood. It quickly became real, and emotions were high, as my group of 10 was thrust into a harsh, scary, life-threatening hostage situation.
The huge cardboard box we were all shoved in turned into a metal bunker in the middle of deep nowhere. The darkness was overwhelming; almost squelching our spirit. The voices outside the box were no longer our trainers and teachers but dangerous enemies who threatened our lives. When the "terrorists" demanded sacrifices, people I barely knew became family I loved and couldn't bear to see "die." As a group, we had to choose who would be sacrificed. Impossible. Those who volunteered, an older single woman and younger single guy, then had to choose their freedom, their life or their God. Shots were fired. My heart broke as I sat in the box crying holding the hands of my fellow missionaries.
It was intense...so very real. Much more real than I ever thought possible.
I'm not a foreign missionary anymore. I'm not in the field fighting for the lives and souls of the Ukrainians no matter the odds. I'm just a "normal" person living in America, working a "normal" job. There is no post-communist veil that hovers over the country keeping people from feeling vibrant hope and joy for the future. There are no terrorists around demanding a sacrifice, demanding I give up my friends, my life, my God.
This struck me as I sat in my office longing to be elsewhere. Sometimes, even though I'm in the "normal" world, I am put right in the middle of a hostage situation. I’m not shoved in a bunker, or held at gunpoint, but I do fight an enemy who is asking me to give up, to sacrifice my attitude or morals, or just my mood and work ethic. Every day I fight. Every day we are in a hostage situation. Some days are more hostile than others. We may not realize it, but we are there and we do fight. There are days I give in to the enemy. Instead of choosing Joy, choosing Light, choosing Excellence, I choose a bad mood, easily angered. I choose teasing the person who may be a little different, grumbling about the person who may be a little difficult. I choose laziness, waiting until the last minute to actually do my job.
I choose the enemy instead of the God who made the ultimate sacrifice in a hostage situation and chose me, and chooses me every day. God chose me to go to Ukraine; He chose me to move back to Arkansas; He chose me to move to Colorado then back again to Arkansas; He chose me to work in Financial Aid when I wanted to do anything but; He chose me to now work in the corporate world, something I never would have chosen. He chose my life instead of the life of His Son.
The least I can do is choose Him. Choose Him in my everyday hostage situations, my every day that the enemy tries to get me to choose him. I fight to choose; I fight to be a light in the darkness of this "normal," everyday life.