My work in Africa never quite went like I saw it going in my head. (Like, ever.)

When we led the weekly children’s story time, I didn’t expect kids to pee on the floor and eat the crayons. Teaching Muslims the Bible, I hoped I would have one crystal-clear convert. I expected I’d spend more time discipling Ugandans, when the bulk of my time was spent discipling/homeschooling my own children (and let’s face it, surviving in Africa). 

In real life, I did a lot of grocery shopping and food preparation and water filtration and boiling milk. I killed a lot of vermin and yelled at a lot of others. I took naps and cut out school activities and hung a lot of laundry. 

Percentage-wise, a minuscule portion of my service to God was heroic, if you can even call it that. Most of it was mundane. Some of it smelled weird. Sometimes my attitude smelled worse.

I so badly wanted—had given up so much—to Make a Difference.

God has grown me exponentially in understanding the peculiar heroism the Church places on global workers. He’s taught me no role in the Church is unimportant—and in fact, that He’s endowed great beauty to my unsung tasks. I think of Jesus spending one of nine sentences on the cross to entrust the care of His mother to John. I think of Him washing feet, eating meals, walking a lot. (Come to think of it, those last three resembled my global worker life quite a bit.)

Part of my own desire to life a “big life for God” was the emphasis on my own life being valuable. I’ve been guilty of, in a sense, using God for my own fulfillment more than I love Him for Himself.

Andree Seu Peterson’s quote anchors my thoughts: “I figure if the King tells you to conquer the hinterlands one day and tells you to shoe his horse the next day, you should do both without slacking. He is the King.” 

If we land on the field feeling that in some sense we’ve arrived (or perhaps will, after Making a Difference), we will–like the biblical Jacob—always wake up with Leah. Our work was never intended to form our sense of worth and fulfillment.

God is.