Redeeming "Missionaries"

A few times I have taken issue with the name “Mission Year,” mostly the “mission” part of it. I’m usually a little uncomfortable being called a missionary. The term can mean different things to different people, but to most people it brings up images of white people in a tribal village in Africa trying to rack up conversion points. That association is painful for me, and it’s one I risk every time I tell someone that I’m in a program called Mission Year.

Although the Africa picture may be a little extreme, I know some of my friends imagine me going door to door in the streets of Philly telling people how they can get a ticket out of hell. No doubt, some of my new neighbors have experienced something like that in the past. One day this week as I was walking in my neighborhood with part of my team, we met a woman on her porch who immediately questioned our presence on her street. (We stick out, if you can imagine.) We were working on creating a map of our neighborhood, one of our orientation activities. As we explained more about what we are doing, including the use of the name of our program, she gave us a sincere and stern warning. Leaning forward in her chair, her eyes widening, she said, “Don’t sell God.” Her tone made it clear that she’d seen the salesmen type of missionaries around before. And they probably looked similar to my team.

Thanking her for the advice, we continued to explain that our intention was to learn how to better love God by loving people, specifically our new neighbors in southwest Philly. Her face brightened up and she sat back in her chair. Our clarification put her at ease and opened up a conversation that lasted about 20 minutes before we headed home for lunch.

Later in the week our pastor spoke at an orientation event. He hosted a MY team last year, too, and when he asked them how he could improve their time at his church, they expressed their discomfort at being referred to as missionaries, similar to my own discomfort. They wanted to dissociate themselves from centuries of colonialism and white ethnocentrism. Understanding their points, he told them that actually it was good for them to be called missionaries precisely because of the history and weight of the term. Especially in a church with many new believers, it was important for him to have “missionaries” that redefined the old term through a lifestyle of love. He sees the only way to rid society of the salesman-evangelist stereotype is to live an alternative “missionary” lifestyle: “If you are the only missionaries my church members encounter, then they have a great understanding of what it means to be a missionary!”

Christians in my generation like to shirk words that have been tainted with the abuse and sin of generations past. The glaring example is distaste for even the label “Christian.” But as my pastor wisely pointed out, rather than change the terminology, we need to redeem it. We have to own the sins of Christians past and live lives of love, which includes cultural sensitivity and ensuring the dignity of our neighbors. (Maybe later I’ll write more about what that looks like for us.)

The mission of Jesus was redemption, and I am excited to redeem the missionary life during my year in Philly. I’m sure my team and I will screw up somehow, but hopefully our neighbors will know our love for them and extend grace to the missionaries on their block this year.