In my host country it isn’t considered rude not to finish all the food on your plate when visiting a friend’s home. But I usually do anyway. Especially when visiting my friend Adli, whose wife is an incredible cook.
One day at their table, I spooned another bite of papaya salad into my mouth and smiled broadly. The sweet fruit complemented the flavor of green curry still lingering on my tongue. “Aa-haan saep maak,” I said, which essentially means, “This menu is so tasty.”
Adli smiled. “You are getting good at speaking our language.”
I waved off the praise. Everyone I’d met since moving to the area years before had been incredibly kind. I wasn’t sure I could believe his compliment.
Did I really think I could relate to the people here? Would I ever reach the Muslims around me with the Gospel?
“It’s true,” Adli insisted. “Your pronunciation is much better now, and I’ve seen how your vocabulary has expanded. You’re probably 10% fluent.”
“Ten percent?” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. After two long years of intense study, had I really learned so little?
The disappointment I felt must have shown on my face because Adli’s expression quickly changed.
“No,” he said. “Ten is good. We have so much jargon and royal language that’s rarely used. Even a lot of locals don’t know it.”
I forced a smile, trying not to let my reaction dampen our evening, but the comment stuck with me. On my way home later, my thoughts spiraled.
Adli was right. After countless hours of hard work in the classroom and out, I’d barely made a dent in the language. Then there was the history, culture, and even the food I needed to learn. Did I really think I could relate to the people here? Would I ever reach the Muslims around me with the Gospel?
When I arrived home, I hurried to my desk and switched on a lamp. Scouring my calendar and notes, I searched for more opportunities to learn all the things I wanted to. I had dozens of goals, but how could I ever achieve them with so many limitations on my time and understanding?
I may feel insufficient, but God is all-sufficient. He can do anything.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stop stressing and swiped my devotional book by Charles Spurgeon from the nearby shelf.
As I did every evening, I flipped to the bookmarked page where I’d left off the night before. Spurgeon’s writings were always filled with biblical wisdom, but that night, his words seemed to be just for me.
Line after line, he explained how the Lord can do much with little. God always accomplishes His will exactly as He intends. He’s never hindered by the people He calls to the task. The Lord is calm, confident, and capable of doing amazing things with our humble offerings.
As I meditated on the timely reminder, my perspective shifted.
The Lord called me to be a Frontiers field worker in this country for a reason. I may feel insufficient, but God is all-sufficient. He can do anything, and because of that, I continue to believe that my meager service to Him will have a greater impact than I could ever imagine.
Pray:
- Praise the Lord that He is able to meet every need, solve every problem, and heal every hurt.
- Lift up Frontiers field workers struggling with discouragement, and ask God to bless their faithfulness with fruitfulness.
- Pray for more laborers who will go to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ with the Muslim world.
A Frontiers field worker discovers how the challenges of language learning can also create opportunities to share about Jesus.
This story is based on real events, drawn from firsthand experiences of the long-term workers involved. Names and places have been changed for security.