a missionary in your own community - what is the white saviour complex???

I spent my eighteenth birthday in the City of Joy, Kolkata, in the midst of incomprehensible contrast. The bright pink and blue and yellow paint was covered in layers of dust, faded from the heat. Unfinished footpaths were punctuated with piles of bricks and dust dumped on the street corners. The bruised and swollen sidewalks were lined with an army of sleeping skinny bodies. Some of them were insulated with a layer of cardboard, others without. Murky water gushed out from faucets in the gutters at certain times during the day, where mothers could be seen rubbing their children down with soap, brushing their teeth, and collecting water for drinking. Walking down the main street, children ran up to us and clutched at our arms, our bags, our legs. Naked and scrawny, they leapt at any sign of affection we offered. A smile. A hand.

Everything was beautiful and none of it was home. We sat on the rooftop after the sun went down, the air hugging our skin. The processions of Hindu celebrations paraded past the Gateway building way into the night, drum beats getting mixed up with car horns and shouts in the native language of Bangla. A few steps down the road from our front doorstep lay the red-light district, Sonagachi.

We were only there for three weeks, a little under a month. Our objective was to contribute towards renovations on the Gateway building while we were there. A mismatched ensemble of teenagers straight out of high school, artists, builders, mothers, computer technicians, accountants, and scientists, most of us had never worked on a construction site in our lives, but we were WILLING. God doesn’t call the qualified – he qualifies the called. Right?

Months after I returned from India, I found myself with a team of young missionaries in Indonesia. Instead of manual labour, this time around we were to spend three months preaching, sharing testimonies, and running children’s ministry. I can remember the vague frustration I felt surrounding ‘children’s ministry.’ I loved the teaching. I loved spending time with the children. What I hated was the question. It was the same question every time we walked out the door of a different school, kindergarten, church, or orphanage – ‘WHEN ARE YOU COMING BACK?’

Unlike places such as Papua New Guinea, in nations like Indonesia it is difficult to get up on a box in the middle of a market and simply start preaching. Mission in Indonesia has to be RELATIONAL and INTENTIONAL, something that local Christians have been facilitating since before I was a twinkle in me mum’s eye. These locals that we had the opportunity to partner with are the true missionaries to their own communities. We were just passing through.

When I went to Indonesia I was not educated. I knew nothing about the history, culture, or customs of a nation I was bold enough to assume God would use me to preach to. Don’t get me wrong, we are called to be BOLD in the name of Christ, and I strongly believe in the restorative power of God’s GRACE! However, we are not called to be ARROGANT in the name of Christ.

I don’t want to go so far as to say there is no place for short-term mission trips. It has been over a year since my time in South-East Asia. I have witnessed the transformative power of the gospel and both physical, spiritual, and emotional healing on mission trips. I experienced an UNREAL amount of spiritual growth, challenge, and development of my faith during my time in India with Long Bay Baptist and my two-and-a-half-month outreach with Youth with a Mission. Personally, I wouldn’t trade what I have gained from these opportunities for the world, and YWAM is a beautiful, Christ-centred, and servant-hearted organisation. I have freaking loved going on mission trips.

But I do want to take the chance to question and challenge our short-term mission trips, the fields we find ourselves serving in, and the photos we post on Instagram. Oh, the INSTAGRAM PHOTOS. I’m going to get a bunch of resources together about the realities of something called the ‘White Saviour Complex’ that so many of us slip into when posting selfies of us ‘loving on’ orphans in developing nations. The people that we are ministering to aren’t objects of poverty for us to preach a sermon to, take photos with, and then never see again. I HAVE to believe that there is more to missions than that. There is MORE. I know we can do missions better.

I haven’t exactly come to a conclusion on this, but I’ll have more posts coming, and I’d love to open up the comments for discussion. The final question that I want to leave you guys with is this: How can we be better missionaries to our OWN communities first?