There is a nice pleasant word that describes the feeling most missionaries face…CULTURE SHOCK!  I am certain of one thing…Moldova is not like the country where I was raised!

There are some days when I really am unsure of my feelings toward my country of calling.  I love the countryside, the people, and the opportunity for ministry.  I love the food, the culture, and the challenge.  I love the variety and differences in the culture.

But I hate the language barrier, the potholes, and the lack of cheddar cheese. I would give my left arm for a Chicago-style deep dish pizza, 10 minutes of smooth US interstate, and a polite salesperson.   Double-stuffed Oreos, Doritos, and a 28 ounce Grade A Montana prime rib would be worth their weight in gold!

I would also love to have ears to hear and understand 10 minutes of Russian conversation.  It would be a joy to know what I am actually buying at the grocery store.  AND I would really love to be able to tell the policeman that he is crazy (in his language) and to quit trying to rip me off for 50 lei on some trumped-up speeding violation.

I know God has called us here.  I know we will eventually learn the language(s).  And I know that I will someday be able to function above the kindergarten-level of existence I feel I currently possess.  And to be totally honest, we are not doing as bad as I may sound!  I just want you to realize that there are some unique stresses on missionaries.  On a missions trip, you will go home in two weeks.  In two weeks, this is still my home.

And so I love it…and hate it…and love it.

And I remember a Christ who had it all.  The Creator of the universe, inhaling dust and dirt, a bloody umbilical cord still attached, being born to this world of struggle.  He ate the food of this world, slept on lumpy beds (or no bed at all), had to move aside for some out-of-control camel drivers.  Of course, Jesus was also eventually ridiculed, persecuted, and killed.

And even he knelt in a garden one evening and said, “Not my will, but yours.”  He struggled with that decision, to the point of sweating blood.

So whether I love it or hate it, tonight I simply want to say, “Not my will, but yours.”  And I will love this country…lousy cheese and all!

Your missionaries to Moldova (and loving 99% it,

Andy Raatz