Wow, this is cheap! I thought as I started to fill my gas tank. Gasoline at rural stations is usually way more expensive than at the discount stations in town, but at $0.70 a litre this was a bargain.
Then, just as I finished filling the tank, I saw the little note taped to the pump. "Sorry, our old pump will not count beyond 99 cents per litre, so the price will be doubled in the store when you come in to pay." Whoops! At $1.40 per litre ($5.00 a gallon) that was a major unexpected expense.
Seventy-cent gas is not the only thing that looks attractive at first but in the end comes with a nasty surprise. A friend in high school had just enough money to buy a car he desperately wanted. It took all his income to cover the insurance, registration and fuel. Then the transmission went out. Whoops! Unexpected expense.
A young couple bought a house with a monthly mortgage payment that was less than the cost of the rent for their current apartment. They had enough income to cover the taxes, utilities, insurance, and yard and home maintenance. That fall the roof started to leak. Replacing the roof put them into debt for years. Whoops! Unexpected expense.
Missionaries are not exempt from this “Whoops!” scenario. I remember grinding along in low gear, four-wheel drive through sand, mud and thick bush on the last 70 kilometres of trail into the Canela village.
Suddenly a bearing broke and I saw the left rear wheel and axle sticking way out beyond the fender. The truck was loaded with food, supplies, equipment, and work papers. We couldn't leave it sit unguarded to be plundered by local farmers or cowboys that used the trail to walk or ride to their fields. As I left Jo to guard the truck and walked the six hours back to town, I thought, Hmm, they didn't tell me about this when they called for volunteers and I raised my hand at that missionary meeting. An unexpected whoops!
Then there were the times I had to treat two of my family for rabies with the dreaded daily injections into belly fat for thirty days. I'm sure no recruiter ever mentioned rabid dog bites. He mentioned tropical diseases, but I didn’t expect twenty years of regular on and off diarrhoea. The tears shed in mutual longing by parents in the village and their children in the boarding school, or their teenagers in college on another continent: Jo and I didn’t expect it to hurt so terribly.
The bumper sticker on our mini-motorhome reads My Boss is a Jewish Carpenter. To Him these costs of serving Him are not unexpected. Our Boss already knew what lay ahead for the Popjes family when Jo and I raised our hands at that missionary meeting. He knew about the coming mechanical problems, the rabid dogs, the loneliness, and the many trips to the outhouse.
To reach the rest of the world with His Good News, He still looks for raised hands, and for hearts that trust Him to take care of the unexpected costs – even $5.00 a gallon gasoline.
Readers who receive this via email, please email me your comments:
jack_popjes@wycliffe.ca
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