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Have you heard the expression “Boots on the Ground?” Well our Live Dead Missionaries are the boots on the Silk Road. Here we’d like to take a moment and allow one of them to share a snapshot of their life with you. Some names and details have been changed, but this is a true story from this colorful, vibrant, and sometimes surprising region.

What is going on? Tremors, emotions threatening to erupt like a volcano, a sudden dizziness. In my mind I begin a one-sided conversation as I look at those around me.

“Why can you not obey the simplest rules of the road? Not looking at me doesn’t make you innocent of running that red light three seconds after it changed. Walking up to the counter and simply saying “Excuse me” doesn’t negate the fact that you stepped in front of five waiting people. Why do you feel I am abandoning you as my friend unless you see me five times a week? Why do you need to know my daily schedule, my income, how much I paid for everything?”

The tremors, bubbling lava, and turning world continue. Is this culture shock? Why does it feel like frustration, anger, and, dare I confess, distaste?

Something, Someone, is talking to me, tapping on my heart’s door. I open it. It is Holy Spirit. He invites me to come and take a look at myself from the outside. I exit my own heart and turn around to look. It’s impressive. My heart is a tall, strong, steel structure, which seems to be stretching toward the sky and both horizons at the same time. And then my gaze sees etched words in the steel. I pause. “Pride and Personal Preference”.

As soon as I read the words, Holy Spirit whispers. “It’s time for deconstruction. This building must come down.”

I backtrack. “But Lord, it isn’t arrogance. It’s that I love the way I have always lived before. Obeying most of the rules of the road. Being mostly courteous of others. It causes the world to run better!”

The Spirit whispers again. “Turn around.”

As I turn around I am suddenly back on top of the hill near my house. The hill which on a clear day gives the best possible view of my city of multiple millions of people. The skyscrapers, the car-filled roads, the endless rows of apartment buildings, and the minarets which fill the landscape like dandelions in a spring yard.

“You will be unable to listen to them, love them, pray for them, hear my words for them, or share my glory with them if your pride and personal preferences remain in place.”

Holy Spirit’s voice isn’t pointed or stern. It’s as if he is speaking while he looks around with me.

I nod.

“Bring it down, my Lord. Raise yourself up. Waste no time in this deconstruction.”

You see, if I just get over culture shock, I will remain unchanged.

I want Holy Spirit to start and continue his glorious deconstruction so that Jesus’ humility can be raised. This is a work that is not done by signing my name to a list of values or a team agreement. It is not completed by the most sincere willingness to die for Christ. No classroom or meeting has the ability. It happens in the moment, on the street, when by Holy Spirit’s voice I submit to his work. This death can only take place here and now. And it must. The building of pride and personal preference must be gloriously deconstructed.

This is living dead in my city.

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