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Poem

Working as a missioner in a foreign land
involves a heart deeply rooted in human sacrifice;
there’s a global awareness of being a migrant
perceived to be a great challenge, filled with trials.

God and his people as a top priority,
generates that spontaneity to work tirelessly;
though difficulties may constantly dwell
in the conundrum of life as a missioner.

But with strong faith and determination,
it’s gonna be a triumph of expectation;
while experiences that shape us within
provide us with identity and optimism.

In the language of mysteries we profess,
there’s a gift of spiritual vision in our midst;
it’s how God makes us come to be his disciples
through relationships between faith and evidence.

At times our pride and self-love dominate us
in our encounter with people across cultures;
dubbed as a form of blindness that needs conversion
as we come to grips with issues in our mission.

Like those daffodils and others in the garden,
those small buds on the twigs that pop up earlier
it means that spring is just around the corner
same thing with our episodes that life brings each year.

But for some whose recurring themes of sacrifice,
pass through a gauntlet of missionary ideals;
with great spirit of loyalty to their religious journey
indeed, a battle cry, a gospel cry that sounds spiritual.

We remember Jesus’ encounter with the blind man 
with whom he tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam; 
just after he anoints his eyes with spittle and clay,
he heals him with a miracle of sight and blessing.

It’s our continuing hope and prayer this time
as we move along and believe in God’s command;
that he may gift us that healing in our journey
both physical and spiritual in our whole ministry.

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