Until recently, the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me in the missonary context was:
There is nothing imperialistic about the way you do mission.
And then last week a wonderful Colombian Christian leader introduced me to someone else as follows:
This is Fiona. She is a missionary to Colombia. She is Colombian to her bones.
Even if I don’t like unripe mango with salt and lemon.
And can’t eat the head of a fried fish (it’s the eyes that freak me out).
I’m chuffed.
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