Mattress Guilt

I've read LOTS of books about missions. Missionary biographies to be specific- I was 13 and digging my way through Jim Elliots Journals during homeroom. I ate the stuff up. These missionaries were so SOLD OUT for Jesus, so radical, so EXTREME. Their lives were infinitely more interesting and exciting than my own and they lived with so much purpose and passion.

Now that I'm actually on the missions field though, I find myself wishing they wrote a few chapters that could maybe actually relate to me... like how high does highlighting my hair fall on the missionary vanity scale? Or- Do my frequent fantasies about shopping sprees at Target indicate that I should be spending more some time with Jesus? And- Exactly how much guilt should I feel over buying a new mattress when my friends have none?

I've begun to resign myself to the fact that the life of a missionary is a life of hypocricy. As much as I want to live among the poor and live like the poor... no matter how hard I try, I am incapable of being poor. Even if I lived in a cardboard box and ate only one meal a day of rice and beans- as long as I am still a white American, with family and friends who love and support me, I will have infinitely more than my neighbors could ever dream of having. Everywhere I go people will still assume (and in a sense, correctly) that I'm rich. I will never be one of them, I will never really fit in here.

And not just because of my "connections" but because of my mentality. Even without my laptop, itunes giftcards, or highlights, my attitude would give me away. I'm still helplessly materialistic, overly driven, independant and proud. I can only find solace in the fact that Jesus died for me too, and as far as I understand it, he wants me here.

And as I lay awake at night flinching between comfort and guilt on my new mattress, I'll continue to pray for him to make me less...