Those who have come home from a third world country (I hate that term but can’t think of a less verbose one to convey the thought) experience a range of emotions. I can’t claim to be an expert on the topic, having only done it once. When I see home-returning missionaries at our church, I find myself wondering how they regard life in the USA after they have lived where things are so different. When you come from a country where entire villages have no running water and, therefore, bathing is itself a luxury, how do you react to, say, our national preoccupation with NFL football? My wife is a pretty avid Steelers fan. When she got off the plane Sunday and heard the Steelers had lost their game that day, her comment was pretty telling, when she said, “Somehow football doesn’t seem all that important to me at the moment.”
Does the returning missionary feel compelled to decry the consumption that is so prevalent in our nation? Perhaps to ride high on the “I’m glad I’m not like those people” road? Or, when someone complains about lacking something, to think, “I’ve seen deprivation, and this is no deprivation.” I don’t think it is possible to make broad brush conclusions about what groups of people think. But for the believer, coming home to a culture of consumption after leaving a culture of deprivation might evoke a range of emotions such as sadness, bewilderment, hope for the arrival of “that day,” or a desire to tell the world about the One who can change hearts and provides for needs. The lost-ness of those who believe that consumption will secure happiness is much more evident to the returning person than it was to the one about to embark on a ministry trip.
Melisa saw the same thing among her African friends that I saw in India: people who had nothing. At least few material things. But, they also had something that you cannot buy: happiness. Someone said that those who know the Lord and have few things do not grieve over that they do not have, but they glory over what they know. Again, I am cautious about broad brush conclusions of that sort. And such conclusions should never be used as a reason for these who have not to help those who lack. But it is easy to see that though we have many more things in our possession here, we don’t necessarily have better people. Or happier people.
Melisa told me that the women in one of her teaching times said they liked hearing the story Jesus told of the widow who offered her two small coins, what the Bible indicated to be “all she had to live on.” (Luke 21:4) They said it made them feel better about giving what they could when it was time to make an offering. She said the people she met have a profound faith in God and an acute understanding that He is their only hope and provider. Of course, He is our only hope and provider too. I wish I did a better job of remembering that more often.
Sorting through the feelings and emotions that accompany the returning ministry trip traveler is a challenge, because we – at least most of us – are called to live here. Sorting through these feelings while attempting to overcome jet lag is even more daunting. Knowing that such things are whirring around the mind of your returning friend might make you sort through them for yourself.
For those who read this blog and have made and returned from such trips, your observations are welcome!
I think when we go on these trips, we ask God to break our hearts. And He does. But then we come back home. While it’s all fresh in our minds and in our hearts, we need to write down what we saw, how we felt, what God taught us, etc. And TALK about it – share with whoever will listen. One of the biggest challenges is to not lose it after we’ve integrated back into our U.S. lifestyles six months, a year, two years removed from our experiences. It’s too easy to forget when we get busy with “life” again. I have to ask God to keep the burden alive. Use visuals. I have a piece of pink cloth draped over my computer to remind me to pray for the Indian woman in the pink sari.
When Melisa feels “normal” again, I really would love to hear her stories and see her pictures.
Sorry, I forgot to put my name on the above.
Mary Bucy