What's Your Favorite American Idol?

Let’s talk about idols, shall we? Living in the land of plenty (California), I find myself daily assaulted by my former favorite American idols. It’s true I am not living under the heavy weight of oppression like in Mexico, where the name of our town in Zapotec means “The Place of the Dead.” I’m enjoying a reprieve from that, but the opposite is equally dangerous.

Here in the shadow of Hollywood, the gods of safety, beauty, health, happiness, wealth, convenience and time management taunt me. No wonder people don’t push and shove to be the first to sign up to be foreign missionaries any more. I totally get it. They simply can’t bear the thought of sacrificing their “right” to have the American dream.

A missionary’s version of “American Idol” would look very different from Hollywood’s. Who would you nominate for the final contestants on your “show”? Which were the last ones to die in your own heart? Which ones cause you to struggle and stumble on the field? Which ones do you still think you have a right to keep?

Safety. Oh how I fussed fearfully over having to take my first-born child, a mere 4-month-old infant, on a dilapidated bus in Mexico during our “Jungle Camp” experience – WITHOUT A CARSEAT! That was only the beginning. Finally safety had to be crucified for the sake of the gospel. Now I snicker at America’s attempt at preventing ANY and EVERY possible accident, and suing someone when they fail.

Beauty. I should have saved that one for last, since honestly it’s not dead yet. Living in the state with the most cosmetic surgeries per capita (just a guess), let me say that a tummy tuck has never been so tempting.

Health. Having just come through a bout of lingering un-wellness, I understand people’s reticence to leave the land of minor emergency clinics and 911 to go where hepatitis, whooping cough (even for the vaccinated), typhoid, malaria, and amebic dysentery are realities, and good medical care might be an MAF flight away. I get it.

Happiness, wealth, convenience, time management. We basically want it all. We just want to be in charge. Being a missionary means putting God back on the throne daily. It means trusting him for finances. It means jiggling the pipes and praying the water fills the tanks and hoping for a shower without muddy tap water. It means inconvenience. It means your time is no longer your own. Most people can’t imagine giving up those idols.

Yes I totally get why the message of missions often falls on deaf ears. Way too many idols to tear down before people will commit to go. My prayer is that I will not succumb to worshiping the blessings instead of the Savior who blesses me with every good and perfect gift.

IRL*smashing the sacred stones.
Reading Exodus 34:12-15 in a whole new light: “Be careful not to make a treaty with those who live in the land where you are going, or they will be a snare among you. Break down their altars, smash their sacred stones and cut down their Asherah poles. Do not worship any other god, for the LORD, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God. Be careful not to make a treaty with those who live in the land; for when they prostitute themselves to their gods and sacrifice to them, they will invite you and you will eat their sacrifices.”