I'm a missionary? | Mexico

"Gio, does this feel like real life to you?" I asked one of the interns as we were washing and putting away dishes.

He stopped and looked at me. "Yeah, this seems like normal life."

The Interns and Nanny

That brief moment stuck with me and has been something I have pondered over the past week. Is this what normal life looks like? I clean a large house, wash fruit and shop for over 30 people, hold crying children, cement anything imaginable, continuously wipe sweat off of my face, play with children in parks, go to the beach with kids, and tell others God's story. Is that normal?

I've never considered myself a missionary. I knew once I graduated college I would want to do mission work or go on a trip like The World Race. So yes, at some point in my life, I would love nothing more than the title of missionary. Well, what if I could have that title now? This summer I am called an "intern". I even have the label on the back of my Back2Back shirts. But what if I'm more than that. What if… I'm a missionary.

Cementing a front porch for a widow

The concept of internal devastation verses external devastation is one God has been revealing to me over the past year. In college there were few children in the streets, starving students, or water flooded homes. How was I suppose to do mission work in college? What was my place? I struggled with these questions for quite some time until I realized I was looking in the wrong places. I was looking for external problems when the greatest problems in college are internal. Once God showed me that, I began to see the devastation. Just like that, USC's campus become my mission field.

A college campus is not an easy field to maneuver through. It's filled with people and people are complicated. Once I left a conversation, how was I suppose to know if I impacted that person. Was that person any closer to knowing Christ because of me. Yes, I can answer for the 1000th time why I don't drink but does anyone even listen. It's not easy fixing internal devastation. I would rather gut a house, cement a floor, and paint a wall. That's not what I was called to though.

I was called to fix the brokenhearted. To heal internal wounds. To speak truth and bring light into this dark dark world. So yes, I am a missionary this month. I am also a missionary when I leave Cancun. I am a missionary in Greenville, in Columbia, and anywhere else I step foot.

You want to know a secret… you're a missionary too. You just have to find your mission field. It may not look like playing with children, talking to a friend in a dorm room, adopting three African children, or fixing homes in New Orleans. It may look like playing with your own children, bringing baked goods to a meeting, listening to a friend's heartbreaking story, or praying in public with strangers.

Being a missionary requires 3 things: having a mission field, having Truth to spread, and knowing that your work for God is important no matter where you are. Are you ready for the missionary life?