I’ve always wanted to be the guy in the orange shirt.
Or the blue shirt, depending on the organization.
I’ve always wanted to be the person on the ground, handing out water bottles to tsunami victims, shoveling rice to starving people and holding the hand of the orphan. I’ve always wanted to really “be” the hands and feet of Jesus to a hurting world, like,
literally, not just figuratively.
In the trenches. Hands dirty.
Swinging my own sword to fight injustice. Hugging with my own hands the forgotten children.
But, we’ve lived in Thailand now for nearly a year, and my husband and I both are coming to the humbling understanding that because we were born into the world as wealthy, educated Westerners,
we may never get to truly be the guy in the orange shirt.
Because, honestly, the nationals are more equipped to be the hands and feet of Jesus within their own cultures than I am, as a first-year-American-missionary. They speak the native language, live similar lifestyles, and possess the intrinsic knowledge which my Western mind will never fully grasp. The national local church is just naturally a better fit for the orange shirt.
And this is a hard pill for me to swallow.
Because suddenly my role is more behind-the-scenes and not-as-much frontlines. And this births a struggle because building websites in front of a computer screen doesn’t feel as inspired. Raising money by writing emails doesn’t seem as dramatic, and administering the finances sure doesn’t equate rescuing children in my mind. And yet these skills, unglamorous and sterile as they may seem, are some of the ones my husband and I can bring to the table.
And I read this last week about a battle the Israelites had on their way to the Promised Land {Exodus 17}. And it was Joshua who was in the trenches swinging the sword, but it was Moses who was on the hilltop with his arms raised, claiming victory for the battle below. And then there were two other men, little remembered I’m sure, Aaron and Hur, who literally helped Moses keep his arms above his head–both arms raised, for an entire day.
And this struck me, personally, because I think Matt and I came here assuming we were going to be Joshua, the guy in the orange shirt, the soldiers on the frontlines.
But the reality is that in many ways we are more needed as an Aaron or a Hur– doing the undramatic, quieter service of holding up the tired arm of a national.
And I think the reason this idea has bothered me over the past few months is because I came to Thailand with a bit of a Savior-complex. I flew over oceans because I was caught up in the assumption that I had the answers and abilities and funds those people needed.
But I was wrong.
And I wonder how much of my service has been motivated by selfish-ambition, wonder how much of my “loving the poor” has been wrapped up in a thirst for the dramatic.
And this is hard to admit– hard to admit that perhaps I have been serving with a bit of an agenda.
But, humbling as it may be to confess, I still think it’s true–
Because authentic love for the orphan doesn’t care about jobs or recognition or drama.
And genuine care for the least of these has no regard for pats-on-the-back
or the color of shirt it wears.
************************
Interested in reading more about Orphan Care? Visit IdeaCamp’s blog.
Thoughts on the role of the West in foreign missions/humanitarian aid? Do you suffer from “orange-shirt desire,” too? How important is it to mobilize nationals to help orphans within their own countries?
Final picture above is my husband Matt with the assistant-director of the Girls’ Home, Breanna’s House of Joy.



ALifeOverseas.com / LauraParkerBlog.com.








Destined Traveler.
Pingback: Tweets that mention the guy in the orange shirt | Laura Parker -- Topsy.com
Pingback: Quiet Heroes | Laura Parker
Pingback: on Self-Discovery | Laura Parker
Pingback: Objects in the Rear View
Pingback: When Missions Goes Hollywood
Pingback: On Living a Good Story {And Maybe Why You Shouldn’t Try So Hard}
Pingback: On This, the 5th Anniversary of My 29th Birthday
Pingback: The Guy in the Rice Field Never Read Wild at Heart {& Maybe He’s Happier}
Pingback: Favorite Posts of 2011
Pingback: 8 Reasons You Should Never Become a Missionary | Laura Parker