What is a missionary?  That’s easy, a person who travels the length of the world to tell others about Jesus, right?  Yes, but to understand the true guts of a missionary, the spirit behind the action to “go and make disciples,” we need to understand something about blessings.  When a person my age looks at their life, they should evaluate it in light of their calling.  Since I’ve been a missionary for 42 years, what should have defined that calling? 

Ronald Rolheiser, in his book Sacred Fire, puts it this way: “A true missionary is someone who goes where he or she is not wanted but is needed, and leaves when he or she is wanted, but not needed.”  What do you notice about the heart behind this?  When I first read it, I pounded the table with excitement.  Rolheiser seems to be saying that when we arrive on the scene of our mission, we are strangers, aliens among ‘unwanting’ people.  We carry a message of hope, blessing and growth, and yet our audience is skeptical.  However, when it’s time to leave, something has changed so dramatically that it’s easy for missionaries to want to stay where they are, for the simple reason, they are now loved.  But he says, wanted but not needed.  Why is that?  Well, if we do our work the right way, we raise up others better suited.  That is the heart behind spiritual multiplication, and the underpinnings of what Jesus commanded us to do, to make disciples, who make disciples. 

But there’s an even deeper principle suggested here.  As we grow older, one sure-fire way of leaving a legacy is by blessing the younger men and women around us.  Too often we feel threatened by their zeal, new ideas, and interpret it as disrespect.  What can these wet-behind-the-ears whippersnappers teach us anyway?  Well, probably not that much, except if we don’t bless them, then we are robbing the next Gen by putting a cap on their growth as they get ready to assume our posts. 

When a cow gives birth, the tiny heifer lies on the ground, covered in afterbirth, a gooey glue-like substance.  The mother then licks the calf, until every inch of afterbirth is gone.  That’s when the calf springs to its feet and begins to walk.  Our job as we approach leading next Gen is to lick the afterbirth from their hearts, by blessing them, empowering them, lifting them to new posts that will stretch and fortify their belief in your belief in them.  All so that they can exclaim, “it’s great to be alive,” because they have heard through your love, and action, ‘behold my son, behold my daughter, in whom I am well pleased.’ 

Which brings us back to the missionary spirit.  Those we lead will never be able to lead us unless we can lead them toward a time when they will no longer need us. 

When was the last time you licked a little afterbirth off an inspiring and promising young leader?