The Honest Truth

I guess I should have felt nothing but encouraged when, after landing here on my first day, Principal Yu told me: “We discussed, and you are much more handsome than your picture. We were worried you would be very fat. But, in fact, you are very cute.”

In a save-face culture, the honest truth is seen as a compliment. Very often, the Koreans do not tell me—or each other, for that matter—how they really feel. If a situation or conversation might make either of us feel ashamed or embarrassed, everyone just makes nice or plays dumb. If I ask a question, and they tell me, “I don’t know,” it may actually mean: “I know, but I will not tell you in fear of things becoming awkward.” Some days, it feels like I am a character in the Truman Show.

Beside the language gap, this kind of culture can also create communication issues. For instance, when planning a dinner, everyone will say “yes” to your invitation. They may have no intention of coming. They just don’t want to make you feel bad, or they don’t want to appear unwilling. Never mind that I walk two miles to get groceries, then slave over a meal for an hour, only to eat dinner alone that night.

Though my second week here, in the middle of a snow storm, Young Gwang volunteered to drive me to my then-home. I had told him it was unnecessary, as it was only a few blocks away. He insisted, so I got in his car. After we started down the street, he looked at me and said: “This is my first time of driving in snow! I am a beginner driver.” Sometimes, you just don’t want to hear the truth…

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At times, it is hard for me to share the whole truth about life overseas. I don’t want to seem unappreciative. After all, many people feel that traveling the globe and experiencing new cultures is “the adventure of a lifetime!” Moreover, I am here as a missionary. To “complain” may come across as a lapse in faith—or as blatant sin.

A support network can also mistake total honesty to mean, “You have forgotten that God has a plan and that we love you!” This misunderstanding has happened both in my time overseas and my time back in the States. I want to assure you—I do not seek to blame. If I do know two things that are without-a-doubt true, they would be: 1.) the Triune God is real and 2.) I am immeasurably loved by Him and the people He put in my life.

But, being loved does not exempt me from days of discouragement, loneliness, and heart ache. In fact, the reason why I would share my struggles aloud (whether in person, via phone, via email, or even this blog) is meant to be a compliment. It is meant to say: I trust that you love me, care for me, and will pray for me—to the God who sees and responds to my tears. It’s an acknowledgment that I am not truly alone in this journey.

I remember when Stephen Smith (who runs the amazing ministry called The Potter’s Inn) came to lead the spiritual retreat for our team in China. He began by speaking on Paul’s example in 2 Corinthians 1:1-11, where even the great Apostle doesn’t want the saints to “be ignorant of his afflictions in Asia.” Steve then went on to share a quote from Amy Carmichael, a gifted writer and missionary to India, who wrote in her book Things as They Are: “Be careful with the truth.” I have never forgotten that.

Here is some of the honest truth about leaving your home country. Culture shock can feel like losing a loved one. It carries a weight of grief and a sense of identity crisis. You recognize that you are losing a cultural frame of reference. You no longer have a firm definition of “home.” As a Christian, this can be a good thing—to find your identity more in Christ and embrace your citizenship in heaven. But it is still a process of “dying to self,” and it frankly feels like death. I often refer back to a prayer in my journal, when I wrote: “Lord, when I don’t know who I am or where I belong, remind me, O God, that you are the Great I Am, and that I belong to You.”

You also have to change or abandon aspects of personality to “fit in” your new host country and to make friends. Sarcasm is largely lost on Asians. In fact, some people groups do not even have a word for that concept—to “jokingly say what you don’t mean to communicate what you really mean.” They think: Huh?

My mom was spot on when she wrote to me: “It's got to be a bummer when no one will talk to you or you can't read a grocery label. Conforming to a new culture means you have to act differently than you normally would—they might not ‘get’ your dry wit!”

It may be a surprise to some that I have encountered prejudice and racism in my travels. I don’t just mean against others—I mean, against me. I have been spit on, yelled at, and cursed repeatedly. I had a man throw a beer bottle at my feet, telling me to “go home.” I have forgiven, but I haven’t forgotten. I have a whole new empathy for minorities and immigrants, because I am one now. I know what it’s like to be “boxed in” by stereotypes and never given a fair chance to make a clean first impression. I am always having to overcome preconceived notions about my American beliefs and practices. I am certain that my future views on immigration will be colored by my own experience.

Steve Smith also compared the missionary life to the opening line in A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness.” Indeed, you have to learn that, in your heart, there is room enough to feel a paradox of emotions. Some days you feel like this: “I hate this place. The people are getting on my nerves. The food is terrible. The culture is confusing. The language is hard. I could honestly stay here forever!” That last statement comes by the grace of God. I am often surprised with joy that even in pain and confusion there is still a wellspring of faith, hope, and love.

When you travel for the purpose of helping others, you also see the immense amount of need that exists in the world. You carry with you a sacred sorrow. You want to develop a passion that turns into a plan of action. However, it can sometimes paralyze you. You think to yourself: “Where will I begin? And how will I get it done?” I have come to peace with loving one person at a time, however imperfectly. But you still struggle with the feeling of “more, more…I must do more.” I try to take that to God in prayer.

This past week was full of shattered expectations. Nothing went “according to plan.” It was a week of hurt feelings, of misunderstandings, of culture clash, of messy emotions, of unfulfilled longings, of spiritual battles. I felt lonely. I share this as a compliment to you, my dear friends. Would you just “sit with me” for a while in this? Because I know we all look forward to better days, to answered prayers, to perfect freedom in Him, to glorified union with Him—together. Until then, let’s be careful with the truth.