a reflection on twelve years in Pakistan

When I was a child, I thought of missionaries as super-spiritual, going places I'd never dare go, with more courage than I'd ever have. That's just one reason I love this beautiful poem by my friend Jenny, a missionary in Pakistan.*

A Reflection on Twelve years in Pakistan

Striving, surviving, thriving -
yet not quite the outward-bound,
ever-moving, onwards and upwards
imagined adventure.

Rather, each year taken on
its own flavour, layer upon layer
and nothing remains constant,
only the unsettling uncertainty
of what tomorrow could be.

I’ve felt
none of the perfectionism,
none of the spiritual giantism,
that I mistakenly expected.

It’s been slow – oh, so slow -
to come to pass
and yet has passed too soon,
with some gain; not without pain.

Much is veiled and dimly lit,
the secret workings of the Spirit,
who alone has been faithfully
persevering, pruning, working
in this barren soil, his toil.

His wondrous grace and tender mercy
never ceases.
And this brings peace, his peace alone,
so we continue striving, keep surviving
and be sure of His work thriving.

* I've added a few paragraph breaks for ease of online reading - apologies, friend!