I've only ever been on one mission trip.
The summer I turned 20 I went on a trip with my church's youth and college groups to the Kensington neighborhood in Philadelphia. There we partnered with Inner City Missions, founded by Pastor Frank Vega, who hosted groups like ours so that his vision for his community could become reality. We were there for a week. In that short time, he broadened my worldview and left a lasting impact on me. And no one has yet to top his biscuits and gravy.
There has been a lot of criticism of mission trips, especially short-term trips lately, and for good reason. Many end up being a vacation with some culture shock built in. I can't say my experience is much different, except for our host and the ministry we partnered with. We didn't go to any beaches though; the kids in the park had never even seen a lake. We slept in bunks on the third story of a building with no air conditioning in the August heat, and cleaned the church, hosted vacation Bible school in the park, some working on home construction projects while others shoveled trash off the sidewalks, and handed out hotdogs for dinner. During our free time we drank water-ice, were insulted by cheesesteak restaurant employees, climbed the Rocky steps, and visited South Street. It was a field trip with community service.
I hope that some of what we did was valuable to the community we were in. We came with less of a colonizing mentality and more of a desire to partner with Pastor Frank and the work he was doing. But I have the feeling that my life was more effected than anyone we came in contact with that week.
Other than this one week, one single week, I have not been involved in any communities very different from my own. I volunteer at a Youth For Christ community center that is in an area that has a different culture from my own, but it's really not that different. Or maybe I've become used to it.
What disturbs me about mission trips, even the best ones, is the assumptions and biases we have going into a community:
"How long have you been homeless?" I asked the man I had just handed a hotdog to as we stood in the park.
"I'm not homeless!" he responded, offended. "I have a place of my own!"
I assumed he was homeless. I assumed she was pregnant and unmarried. It hadn't occurred to me that the kids had never seen a lake, let alone an ocean. I thought the parents were detached and irresponsible instead of men and women raising scrappy independent kids equipped to survive the environment. I had no idea that leaving the city to find job opportunities elsewhere was impossible for some. And that not everyone was trying to leave their community. Some, like Frank Vega, were determined to stay and make it a good place for the people living there.
What I had assumed, or been taught, was partially dismantled by these interactions.
A good question to ask is, why are we so willing to go on a mission trip but won't invest in our own communities? Maybe you are. Maybe you're connecting with the people around you regardless of how different their backgrounds are cultures are from yours. But unfortunately, and despite what Christians seem to think and promote, it's not the norm.
I was affected by the ministry of Pastor Frank, and the only reason our efforts had any impact in his community were because I listened. Instead of taking my whitewashed doctrine to the people in a community I knew nothing about, I listened. I learned. The way we can effectively serve those around us is to hear them, listening to their perspective and respecting the position they are in. They are the community leaders, the eyes and ears, the ones who know better.
Pastor Frank Vega passed away in 2015. I’m so thankful for his life and what he taught me. I will “cope and adjust” as I go, and remember him every time I have biscuits and gravy.
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