Apostleship, Missions, & a Questionable Meme

Lord, here I am. Send me!

"If your parents knew me when I was 20, they wouldn't have even let me in their house!"

"Oh yes they would've," my friend laughed.

"Yeah but they would've tried to anoint me with oil or something first."

We laughed. Her parents most certainly would've let me in and probably with free food.

She's one of my best friends and she's on the other side of the world, a missionary for the gospel of Jesus, not just for two weeks on a church trip to South America or something, but indefinitely, and in a part of the world that limits me to not being allowed to talk about her or where she is. Her parents lead and pastor a house church my husband and I attend every week. Our wedding day and the events leading up to it would have quite frankly collapsed without them. Their extensive planning, support, hospitality, and pastoring of the ceremony was the oil that kept the machine running. They love us and we love them dearly. I sent them several post cards.

I surprisingly had complete contentment when my friend was leaving. I kept thinking I should cry, but I was just too excited for her. The Holy Spirit had given me overwhelming peace that she was doing exactly what He had called her to do. And I just knew I would see her again many times in life and that she was only a video call away. And sure enough, from the slow, uneventful days to the days I was engaged and had a bachelorette party, bridal shower, prayed with my bridesmaids before my wedding ceremony, was walking down the aisle towards my groom, and even learning I was pregnant on my honeymoon to losing that same pregnancy weeks later, me or someone else always had her on Facetime or over the phone. From the insignificant days to the most memorable days of our lives, the most joyful days to the most grieved, she hasn't truly missed anything. Thank you, Jesus.

So while chatting away over a video call the other day catching up on text/voice memo/video updates we send one another amidst our busy schedules and time zones, she said, "Wait, wait, wait. What is this about missions? What are you talking about?"

I said, "Well I've felt this way for years, but you know how you can read the same things over and over again in the Bible, and one day you read something and the Holy Spirit just slaps you in the chest and you know God is talking to you?"

"Yeahyeahyeah."

"I started the book of Romans this week and I couldn't even get through the first 7 verses without having to put it down and pray."

"...Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith for the sake of His name among all the nations, including you who are called to belong to Jesus Christ,

To all those in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." (Romans 1:4-7)

There was so much clarity, not my own, but from Him. The Word doesn't say "Jesus, through whom we have received grace in order to get into Heaven." Though that is true, it says more deeply that we have received apostleship. In order to become obedient. To make Jesus known. To all nations.

"Who were the apostles?" I asked my husband when filling him in on this Spiritual chest slap.

"People who died," he said.

"Before that."

People who followed Jesus and were sent out into the world to make Him known. We didn't ask to be apostles. We weren't called to be apostles. Like grace, we have automatically received it according to the Word. And what do we do with the things God gives us? We steward them. We are called to be saints, not just for the saving of our own souls, but so others might know Jesus and have access to Heaven too.

Now, this wasn't news to me, but I had indeed been hit in the chest with conviction. How many times has someone told us about boldness in telling our friends, coworkers, and neighbors, about Jesus? Lots, right? But in reading these verses I was brought back to many seeds God had planted in my heart and mind in years past. Missions.

"When did all this start?" my friend asked excitedly.

"When I was 20 actually," I said. And we both knew I wasn't sold out for the Lord at 20. I had so many chains on me, so many idols. I wasn't free. I had one foot in the world and one foot in Church. And the world, at the time, made me feel much more seen, known, and loved than anyone in college ministries or the charismatic nondenominational churches did. I knew and loved Jesus as God, but not as Lord of my life (and yet still He never left me nor stopped pursuing me). Knowing who Jesus is and dying to the flesh and turning away from the things of this world to follow Him and seek righteousness are two very different things, I learned. To the world at that time, I didn't look or act like much of a Christian at all.

In Matthew 19, Jesus has an interesting conversation with a rich young man.

"A man came to Jesus and asked, 'Teacher, what good thing must I do to have eternal life?'" (Matthew 19:16)

After a little back and forth between Jesus and the man about some of the Ten Commandments and loving others the same as we love ourselves, the Word reads,

"Jesus answered, 'If you want to be perfect, then go and sell all that you own. Give the money to the poor, and you will have riches in heaven. Then come and follow me!' But when the young man heard Jesus tell him to give away his money, he was sad. He didn’t want to do this, because he was very rich. So he left." (Matthew 19: 21-22)

The rich young man did not want to give up the things of this broken world and follow Jesus. I wonder how many of us, in some way at some time, have felt the same.

Another seed in my memory was a sermon, or homily as it's called, at a Catholic church from my college days. If you've been to Catholic church or grew up going to one, you know it can get a little boring. There are certainly no fancy colorful lights, no exuberant people to laugh their way through the announcements, no band of highly talented singers and musicians, and only one time in my childhood upbringing did I hear about a man who raised his hands during the music though I've never actually seen it.

But I remember the priest said at the end of the homily, at least seven years go, "I want you to go home and write down your mission statement in life. Why you're here. And then I want you to go open your Bible to today's reading. And if your mission statement doesn't match it, you need to rethink your mission statement."

I remember sitting in the pew, jolting awake in some way realizing I had daydreamed through the readings said earlier over the podium. I found out what they were and went home to turn to Matthew 28: 19-20.

"Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you." (Matthew 28: 19-20)

My mission statement, did in fact, not match the scripture at all.

Then there were other seeds, the feeling I had in my spirit every time I travelled abroad. Whether to Greece to study for a masters degree, or Sri Lanka to volunteer for a mental health organization, or England for a work trip. Or any of the countries stopped in between. This tugging, a nagging really, that I needed to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Meeting with others, loving them, and telling them who He is. Often I did, or tried to, and flew home daydreaming about missions.

Then there were my professors in grad school who inspired me. One in particular, appearing so high in age I dare to guess how old he might be, a few wispy white hairs barely holding on to the top of his head, who had started a counseling ministry in India many years ago, and every year still spent his summers overseas tending to the ministry.

"And last year," I told my friend over our call, "when I got baptized and was going through all that crazy revival, I just kept thinking to myself, This is not my life, it's His. I'm not here on earth to be happy and comfortable. I'm here to serve Him."

The world says this life is our own and we should make something of it, to go live your best life. But God often has different plans for our lives. Things happen that are out of our control. We are sometimes called to do things that don't make sense (at the time). We are called to release our white-knuckled grips on the things or people we want and think we need and surrender to Him instead. What He wants for our lives. What He knows we need. This denying of the self can be painful. On June 28, 2022, when the realization was intensifying that my life was entirely His and not my own, I wrote in my journal a prose poem of a prayer, "Transform my heart, Lord, to feel content amidst rainy summer days, amidst storms and stillness, amidst a life that is Yours and that I selfishly wish was mine." And answer that prayer, He did.

Though we are servants of God, that does not mean our joy and peace mean nothing to Him. On the contrary, in the Word Jesus Himself is called a servant many times, and heir of the Kingdom of God, and we are called to reign with Him in His royalty as co-heirs (Romans 8:17). And further, we are loved by Him more than we can scarcely imagine. Quite honestly, I still haven't fully wrapped my head around His love for me.

I asked Ryan, both when he was my boyfriend and my fiancé, if he would go somewhere else in the world if the Lord told him to. I braced myself for the answer every time. What if he said 'no'? Does that mean he's not my future husband? But he said yes. He's also a flight attendant with a passion for travel. In a way, I wasn't asking about something ridiculously far-fetched for him. As for me, in college I'd lived in Sri Lanka for a summer as a mental health professional. I'd pooped in a hole, I was familiar with sleeping beneath bug nets, going without air conditioning and toilet paper and hand soap and warm showers, I had dengue fever. 3rd world countries weren't even too far-fetched for me.

So when I told Ryan about my quiet time starting the book of Romans, he looked rather calm and attentive whereas I probably looked like this.

Immediately though, he was on board. Happy, peaceful, and ready to begin praying and letting God lead us in the way we will one day go, brainstorming for fun as if we ever have a clue when and where we will exactly be sent.

"I can't believe you're saying this right now. I need to take this in," my friend said over the phone. So much joy and laughter from miles and oceans away.

"We're apostles!" I said, a hand on my forehead, smiling, exhaling.

"Katie I can't tell you how many times I've talked to someone and thought that I needed you here. We all have different giftings. And this work needs your skillset. With the way you see people and the way you understand the world's brokenness."

I felt not boasted but humbled. That moment where you think, Who? Me? But really it's God. Putting pieces of Himself in all of us.

"I feel like it's so far away", I told her. When we will be sent, that is. Our lives as a married couple, as one, have only just begun as of several months ago. There are many time consuming things that we know God is calling us to right now with work, with family. My friend knows these details of our lives too.

"The timing is perfect," she said smiling.

So we wait on the Lord. We worship Him in all we do. We pray. We put our energy into the ministries He's called us to here, now. We use memes to help explain what the heck it looks like to read the Bible and hear God's voice. And we keep anointing oil on the top shelf in case any straggly lost 20-year olds try to come in (kidding).

¹ Scroll to the bottom for special footnote.

Katie Donohue Tona

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1. My husband suggested this post be called "My Husband's a Hunk". Naturally, that title has nothing to do with this post, but I have decided to honor him by adding it to these footnotes.

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