What's so hard about being a missionary in Norway?

Oh let me tell you.

I have been asked this a few times. Every time someone asks, I find it hard to put it to words on the spot. This season has grown me so much, and I am thankful for it, but here's the real deal. It is freaking hard sometimes.

And I have hesitated to write about it because I don't want to give an unbalanced, one-sided view of it. The nature of writing about what is "hard", however, does cause this content to lean more toward the negative, and so I hope that as you read this, you also remember that we actually chose this - no one made me live this way. Therefore, there is evident gold in the hardships. But I want to be transparent with you about the hardships. The truth is that it is not easy, but an easy life should not be the goal. All things valuable come with a price. Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also, and I am intent on storing my treasures in Heaven as much as I am able to with a heart of gladness. God wants a cheerful giver, not a reluctant act of laying down your life. If you do it reluctantly, then you do more harm then good to your emotional, mental and possibly physical health. God wants children, not slaves. But the more we fall in love with Him, the more we actually want to "sell everything to buy the field" (Matthew 13:44-46).

I have been beyond tested over and over again in the area of trusting God, and trusting in His goodness. I often find myself frustrated and reluctant to let go again. Somethings take a weekend of crying before I am able to surrender and let go of control, some things have taken 3 years.

It was early on in the journey, I think a few months into our first year, that I realized how completely uprooted I felt. No one knew me, I was baffled with immense culture shock, planning a wedding, working through some painful things that I didn't have the tools to navigate through, and felt completely and utterly isolated. I felt like I was losing my identity. I had just come from 3 years of Bible school, where I felt known, seen and celebrated by friends and leaders. Now no one knew who I was, and no one seemed to dare to find out. It felt almost paralyzing. I truly felt like a fish out of water, but that was only the start.

Then I began to lose my sense of significance. I sometimes felt like I even forgot who I was. I had this precious journal that I had recorded precious moments in, lists of dreams that I wanted to see come to pass, the process of meeting and falling in love with Felix, and a lot of identity discovery that I had worked through in there. The journal felt like my last "photo from home" - a last reminder of who I was, where I come from... that fact that I had a life before hand. Well that journal was stolen after our second year here, on what was one of the most painful and horrid holidays that we had ever experience. (So much so that we were relieved when the holiday was finally over). So gone was my last little treasure, and I was only half way through the unravelling that would continue until I really felt like I had lost myself.

But there's a good side to this. I have since learned that it is merely the person I thought I was that I lost. God has been revealing who I really am, and despite the painful process of shedding dead skin, it has become a marvelous journey of death and resurrection. but we are only talking about the hardships... so let's keep going.

I know the pandemic has been hard for everyone in some way. I know that for some of my closest friends, they have been walking through some of the hardest years of their lives. I am heartbroken at the thought of all they have gone through, and the fact that due to Corona, expenses, and timing, my closest friends and I haven't been able to see each other during these intense times. We have definitely had many a video call with tears as we do our best to comfort one another without the luxury of actually being together. I am so thankful for these friendships. The fact that we are still so close and have developed such a trust between us despite 1 - 2 years of not seeing each other testifies to that. But not having my people around me during this tumultuous time of undoing has maybe been one of the hardest parts of the journey. Your friends form a huge part of who you are. They add sparkle to your life in a unique way. I miss the luxury of living in the same country or city as my friends. I miss the luxury of going out for food and coffee with them. I miss experiencing what my idea of fun is.

I actually find it hard to have fun in Norway, just because of the culture difference, and weather conditions. I don't enjoy hiking steep mountains that much (especially when it's frightfully cold), or board games, or being indoors with candles while its depressively dark outside during winter. Coming from Australia, and a family that loves to party, I think I'm just used to a bit more hype and excitement in life. And a much more "out and about"life, with reasons to glam up more often. Aussies go out for breakfast with friends, meet out for coffee with friends, Norwegians do also, but the culture is much more focused on small exclusive groups meeting indoors.

Sure, Norwegians love the outdoors, but it's usually on a mountain or surrounded by nature. (They have gorgeous nature here). And they are used to the consistent rain and cold weather, whereas I am not.

What makes it painful is when there is no understanding offered from people, but more "you just need to..." an offer to help with my conformity to a culture that is not my own. This has for sure hurt me and led to many times of forgiveness for their misunderstanding of me.

I miss city beaches, walking barefoot, morning coffees and going out for fish and chips while a seagull awaits the leftovers. I miss buss drivers who say "hello" when you step on board, and strangers who greet me with a grateful smile as we pass one another on the foot path. Its hard to put into words unless you've experienced both cultures.

I miss friendly strangers.

It feels like here, people avoid each other. People seem a little less generous with their smiles and friendliness. Strangers would rather act as if they never saw each other, keeping their eyes to the phone or the floor. When you come to bring a Kingdom culture into an environment that has adopted some brutally cold habits, you really feel the weight of swimming against the tide.

We have seen a lot of transformation around us, however, it has been hard to be the ones pouring out and not necessarily being poured into in the same measure. This has of course, pushed us even deeper into gaining all our life source and joy source from Jesus, which has benefitted us greatly, matured our faith, and strengthened our hope, but it is hard. Sometimes I have harbored resentment in my heart toward the national culture of Norway, but as my neighbor has gently reminded me, "If you have resentment in your heart toward the people, then you are not a blessing to Norway." Ouch, that hurt so good!🤣😂. I have learnt that bitterness and resentment absolutely poison you and quench the fire within.

So over and over again, I forgive, release and let go of control, and choose rather, to let Jesus fill my heart instead. It's humbling, good for my soul, but very difficult at times.

I have honestly been to numerous dinner invitations where everyone silently ate at the table without any conversation, any question asking, or eye contact. It is the most uncomfortable thing. In my culture that communicates that the hosts don't really feel comfortable around me, arent that excited that I am there, and don't care about my experience as a guest in their house. I have learnt to limit my exposure to such dinners, because it hurts and feels uncomfortable to be a guest that people don't seem excited to host. Sometime I will just volunteer myself to create a warm atmosphere and start good conversations for the hosts, but I realized that doing this all the time was not good for my heart. It just furthered the lie that "I'm not welcome, not wanted, not worth it." Or that I am "expected" to be the "entertainment" for the socially awkward humans around the table. So I have had to learn how to protect my heart in that way. But it has honestly been so painful at times.

Missionaries are typically seen in economically poorer nations, trusting God for financial provision or deliverance from harsh persecution. In our situation as missionaries, we find ourselves surrounded by a poverty of the soul and heart. The people around us are financially wealthy, and we have come into the nation poor (the first two years we were had ZERO income, never fundraised or told people about our need, but God always provided).

This poverty of the heart is why people can seem so greedy with their smiles and encouraging words. Some people here live in such emptiness of heart, such poverty of the soul, that they have little to give. And I am just as human as those around me, and desire love and encouragement as well. This need is of course not bad, but I have to learn to lean into God the father to meet it in this season, so that I actually have more love to give to those around me. But the bottom line here, is that one of the painful hardship of being missionaries in Norway is battling with a sense of loneliness and not belonging. Each year becomes increasingly less lonely, as we continue to build relationships with others, but there is still this sense of being the "outsider"that lends to this overall emotion of loneliness at times. I haven't seen my own family since Christmas of 2019, and as we approach another Christmas this 2021, I face a painful reality that it will be another year without being with my own sister, brother in law and parents. I watch Norwegians gather with their families for Christmas and their national holiday all the while my heart aches because I haven't seen my own flesh and blood for nearly two years. Not having family around us can also encourage a sense of not being "grounded" or not "belonging". Seeing others gather with their families at Christmas or national holidays, baby showers and weddings, Sunday mornings and public holidays... it can be really painful at times, having no family to go to. We have acquired family here in Norway though, which has been SUCH a blessing - mothers, fathers, friends and spiritual children, but still... I miss my own family. I haven't lived in my own country for six and a half years, (including 3 years Bible school) and if I went back, I don't know if I would feel at home. I have often felt displaced. I've been looking for home, but I wonder if I'll ever find it on this planet. I don't really feel Australian anymore, or Italian... I don't think I can identify in my heart as belonging to a certain nation or culture anymore.

I work in a ministry school where we invest a whole year into the lives of our students as they pursue intimacy with God, freedom, healing, vision, and are equipped for the call of God on their lives. At the end of the year, we wave goodbye as they move along toward their futures, and then we repeat the whole thing all over again. It is incredibly rewarding work, and an honor to love one person at a time into their potential and into knowing God, but after some years, time becomes a bit of a blur. We do it all again. We love people and we say goodbye to them. Some we never hear from again. We pour out our lives and then we come home to our small apartment tired and go to sleep early so that we can rise early to a pitch-black dark winter morning. Sometimes in winter we don't even see the sun because its 5 hours of glory happen while we are inside the building at work. The sun is up from 10am until 2 pm. We are lucky if it snows, because the snow brightens everything up. Otherwise it's raining. In buckets.

I honestly believe that I am going to weep the day that I go to church in an English speaking country and finally understand EVERYTHING, even the announcements. To actually feel part of a church community, because I understand. Thankfully, our school is an international one and so I am still able to teach and minister each week, as well as listen to some teaching here and there.

Then there are the internal struggles, like the struggle with the question of "What am I doing with my life?" or "Did God really say...?"

We have given up our future.

We have given up control.

We don't have a career ladder that we are trying to climb and we don't have any goals for "success".

There is no kind of "emergency back up" fund of any kind.

We can't buy a house to start a family in.

These things can make me anxious at times.

And then occasionally the lies from the accuser saying that I am"not a good missionary" because of my need to protect my energy and emotions by saying no often and staying home, where it feels safer. But I know these tricks of the enemy, and they don't get to me so often anymore

We live as aliens in a foreign country and without many of the regular comforts that most people have. And we know we are making some impact here in the hearts of the students and people in this city, but the main reason we stay is not only because we feel that this is where God placed us (until now), but also it is to allow God to refine us.

God has taken care of us.

But it has still been hard.

It still has been uncomfortable. foreign. cold. isolating.

And I didn't mention all of the internal processing that this deluge of internal pressure causes to float to the surface of my heart, be it fear of the future, lack of trust in God, how I see myself, forgiveness etc.

It's hard. It's cold. It's dark.

But God has taken care of us.

And I could talk about the practical things - like trying to get a Norwegian identification number so that we can have a doctor, purchase things online, or access Vipps (The Norwegian cash app). Thankfully we haven't needed a doctor, except for the time I jammed and broke my finger in a door one Sunday morning... I still get shivers when I think about that.

So there you have it - the tough side of being a missionary in Norway. Have I wanted to quit? Absolutely, more times than I can count. Last year I was very close to actually finishing up in Norway. I know we won't be here forever, but I know that the lessons we are learning here are forming our character into the image of Christ.

How much longer will we be here? I don't know.

What's next? I don't know. When is "next"? I don't know.

But I am thankful for the past 3.5 years, even with all the emotional breakdowns, unravelling, loss of a sense of identity, poorer financial situation loneliness asa separation from family and friends. I love who I am today, the woman that God is building within me. I have built some amazing relationships here, and many I know will be for the long run.