Stranded in Yangon. Photo: Columban Jehoon Augustine Lee
At the end of February, after finishing my vacation in Korea, I took a flight back to Myanmar, eager to return to my mission place, Myitkyina. But the drone attack at the Myitkyina airport changed everything. The airspace was completely closed, my pre-booked ticket to Myitkyina was suspended, and I suddenly found myself stranded at the CBCM in Yangon.
At first, I kept telling myself, ‘The airport will open in a few days.’ But as the weeks passed, that expectation turned into disappointment, which soon became frustration and anger. It was a painful, repeating cycle. My mind was overwhelmed with heavy questions: ‘Are the members back in Myitkyina okay?
A new member is supposed to be assigned here from Korea - should he come now and face this situation with us, or should I tell him to wait in Korea until things get better?’ These endless thoughts consumed me, and the reality of being a coordinator who couldn't coordinate anything on the ground weighed on me even harder.
This prolonged uncertainty didn't just cause mental stress; it showed up physically. My chest felt constantly tight, my short temper grew, and I spent many restless nights tossing and turning. It was a clear signal from my body that fear and helplessness were taking over.
In the middle of this dark time, having Eamon, our MMU member, stranded with me in Yangon was a blessing. His presence gave me a profound sense of stability. We decided not to let our minds get lost in a chaotic future we couldn't control. Even in that unstable situation, we built our own daily routines, supported each other, and kept bringing our focus back to the 'here and now.' We practised noticing the tension in our bodies, letting the waves of anger pass without fighting them, and finding grounding right where we were.
This experience made me rethink what the "missionary spirit" really means. In the past, the traditional missionary spirit meant staying in your mission field no matter what, serving until the very end, and even dying there. But times have changed, and we must change too. Today, the real missionary spirit requires an open heart that can face reality as it is. To be honest, even when a task is completely out of my hands, I often find myself lingering and unable to let go, keeping it on my mind under the excuse of "missionary responsibility." But when everything was blocked, I had to learn a tough practical lesson: sometimes, the real mission is knowing when to stop, step back, and let go.
Columban Fr. Jehoon Augustine Lee speaking at seminar on 'Trauma-Informed Care' in Myitkyina Diocese. Photo: facebook/Columban Missionaries in Myanmar
The Holy Spirit works even when we are forced to stand still. I realise that our Society is currently going through this exact same discernment - learning to let go and adapt to our changing reality.
Through this, I learned that even when our plans are blocked, our mission doesn't stop; it simply changes form. It was a time of practising the 'groundedness' I always talk about. Based on this experience, my hope is that our team will not be divided by hard times, but that we will continue to share, reflect, respect, and hold space for one another as we discern our path together.
Fortunately, the airspace to Myitkyina reopened in April, and I made it back safely. Arriving here brought joy, so it almost made me forget the hardships of the past two months, but the lessons, the practical wisdom, and the presence of the Holy Spirit from that experience are things I want to carry with me always.
Columban Fr Jehoon Augustine Lee lives and works in Myanmar.
Related links
- Read more from the current Columban eBulletin
