In 2014, the Ebola virus marched through Liberia with a 50 percent fatality rate. When an American missionary became sick and returned to the States for treatment, one pundit called the doctor’s actions “idiotic” and “Christian narcissism.” Why couldn’t he just stay in America rather than “slink off” to “disease ridden-cesspools” of the “Third World,” she mourned.
It seems this commentator’s logic wasn’t driven by the fear of spreading the deadly disease to America. Rather, she questioned this missionary for leaving America in the first place. She considered his work narcissistic because she assumed he was motivated by a desire to be heroic.
I suppose some missionaries may be stupid or self-absorbed. But that’s not why we move overseas and serve in dangerous places. Instead, missionaries are willing to face the risk and reality of sickness—and even death—because we believe the gospel brings true life.
Embracing Risk
As I write this, my face is swollen to twice its normal size. I’m feverish with the mumps. Dull pain turns sharp when I move my jaw. Since arriving in Liberia in January 2022, I’ve had malaria twice; I’ve never felt so weak. If our lives are offered as a living sacrifice, the sickbed is an altar where we feel like we’re being poured out as an offering (Rom. 12:1; Phil. 2:17).
The sickbed is an altar where we feel like we’re being poured out as an offering.
The missionary call is to embrace risk. Paul knew this well. In Galatians 4:13, he speaks of his “illness” (NIV) or “bodily ailment” (ESV) as the catalyst for preaching the gospel in Galatia. Many believe Paul’s thorn in the flesh was an illness, possibly malaria (2 Cor. 12:7).
Even if that wasn’t the case, sickness showcases human weakness. And when the missionary’s weakness is on display, Paul believed, the glory and power of God’s persevering grace shines. Over the sickbed Jesus pronounces, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).
In my sickness, I’m a living contradiction to the prosperity gospel proclaimed here in Liberia. I once heard the pastor of the church next to our house say over the loudspeakers, “Anyone who serves God in ministry can expect wholeness and health in this life.” That’s not been my experience. But I also believe a different gospel. However, I wonder if the Americans who tell me that “the safest place to be is in the will of God” mean the same thing as that prosperity preacher.
Sick Kids
One of the most painful realities for missionaries with children is that you’re not only embracing risk for yourself; you’re allowing the same for your kids. In the post-COVID world, some seem to think the highest value in life is keeping your family healthy and not spreading illness. But the missionary life requires suspending such an ethic for the sake of Christ.
In one church plant our family was involved in, we knew at least two members who had hepatitis C. Every week we had a fellowship meal after church where sharing food is common. And every week we tried to tactfully avoid the community’s shared cups, all the while praying for our children’s protection.
Few things make you question your missionary call like exposing your children to suffering. Some of our friend’s children recently had a bout with cholera. Other missionary friends asked for prayer as their son was throwing up blood from a stomach infection. When I hold my own feverish child, I wonder if it’s worth it. I hear the well-meaning comments from some back home: “I can’t believe you’ll take your children there.” My heart fills with anxiety, doubt, and fear.
Few things make you question your missionary call like exposing your children to suffering.
Once, when we were serving as missionaries in a small Mongolian town, our 3-year-old daughter’s oxygen levels dropped. We made an emergency trip to the capital, Ulaanbaatar. As we drove hours through the frozen steppes, my heart ached. I can take the sacrifice. But when your children are on the altar, you wonder about your sanity. My choice to be here caused this. What if God doesn’t hear our prayers? Am I stupid for coming here?
Grace and Glory
In those moments, God does hear our prayers. He hears us every time we’re sick. His grace is with us in weakness. This doesn’t mean we’re invincible in this life as the prosperity gospel proclaims. But it does mean sickness and disease can’t ultimately destroy us. In fact, we believe the Lord uses every ailment as an instrument for our good and his glory (Rom. 8:28–39).
The missionary’s embrace of sickness accepts physical suffering as an instrumental (not intrinsic) good. Suffering, including sickness, produces character and Christlikeness in us (Rom. 5:3–4). This is true not only for the missionary but for every disciple of Christ. At home or on the mission field, illnesses provide a unique opportunity to trust God’s promises and to be content in difficult circumstances.
A day is coming when sickness will be no more because sin will be no more. On that day, Jesus will wipe away every tear and eradicate every disease for those who follow him (Rev. 21:4, 27). Today, we see Jesus by faith as he sustains us through our anxiety and affliction. But then, we will see him with our eyes. Sickness will forever melt away in the presence of the resurrected King of glory.
Instruments of Healing
Given the danger of diseases around the globe, it’s no wonder some consider the missionary life idiotic and narcissistic. If the gospel isn’t true, Christian missionaries are indeed to be pitied. If Jesus hasn’t risen from the dead and if he won’t wipe away illness forever, we’re on a fool’s errand.
But if Christ is raised, preaching the forgiveness of sins in his name is the instrument of bringing healing, wholeness, and true prosperity to the world. Though missionaries are aware of pride in our hearts and the desire for approval, narcissism isn’t the driving factor for our mission. Our aim is to please God and to glorify Christ among the nations so they too will find life.
