Missions Catalyst

Dear Readers,

How’s your tolerance for ambiguity today? Fairly high? Good. I have a practical mobilization question to ask and would love your input. Read all the way through, and you’ll find some helpful links to what others have to say, along with a poem of sorts to leave you with a laugh.

We recently shared a positive review of a devotional book honoring pioneering missionaries. Naturally, a thousand-word version of someone’s life story is bound to leave out a lot. The stories weren’t straight hagiographies, but they were hero stories, crafted to inspire.

Here’s the question: 

Should we exercise more caution when sharing stories of missionary heroes with the next generation? Could they sometimes do more harm than good? 

To be sure, generations of missionaries have learned from and been inspired by those who’ve gone before them, and particularly by reading their biographies. Mission history is full of such accounts, and that’s what keeps me telling them.

But do they also contribute to the tendency of some to put missionaries on pedestals that can’t support them? That makes it easier not to be one. Maybe you’ve told a missionary (or been told), “I could never do what you do.” Not what I want to hear as a mobilizer.

“I grew up on missionary biographies and wasn’t scarred for life,” wrote a friend. “But at least a vocal portion of the younger generations, especially, feel as if the heroic missionary model creates pressure on them to achieve spectacular, and unrealistic, exploits for God.”  

Similarly, Bible stories are sometimes retold in a way that focuses on David, Esther, or some other figure as the hero, rather than God. Then we may write ourselves in as the star, expecting God to use us in the same way. Maybe the key point is to tell the stories more carefully and make God gets any glory.

I’ve also seen pushback against books that aim to deconstruct or disillusion us of our heroes, and I don’t know if those are any better. And some memoir writers go to great lengths to highlight their own flaws and failures. Helpful or not?  

What do you think? Has the appeal and usefulness of “hero” stories waned? Could they be somewhat generational (e.g., more appealing to baby boomers than to millennials) or cultural (more attractive to Americans than, say, Australians or Germans)? 

Are you more for or against such stories? Can you offer guidelines for picking stories to tell or how to tell them? Let me know what you think.

Related to the question of missionary heroes, the latest edition of Catalyst Services’ Postings is the first in a two-part series addressing hidden missionary concerns: the struggles missionaries keep from those who see them as superheroes. It references and reflects on the results of an anonymous survey of missionaries, recommends two helpful books, and offers practical recommendations for missionaries and those who support them.

Read Honest Conversations, Part 1. Great stuff.

For a personal account of one Christian’s struggle to come to terms with the life and legacy of a ministry hero, read Laura Fabrycky’s What Do We Want from Dietrich Bonhoeffer? (Christianity Today). It’s both a fun and thought-provoking read.

As we discussed missionary hero stories over dinner, my husband said he didn’t think anyone would buy a book about a missionary family putting in four tedious years in training and two years traversing their country to raise support, then spending their first term slogging through language school while suffering from one illness after another and quickly coming home. Maybe not.

Trying to be helpful, he asked ChatGPT for a more balanced picture of missionary life. Here how AI sees it (lightly edited). Let me know if it makes you grin or cringe. Probably both?

A survival guide for the called, the curious, and the culturally confused

A is for airport – where all missionaries cry, say goodbye, and question their calling, often five times a year.

B is for bugs – in your bed, in your rice, in your ear, but mostly in the stories that will seem funny later.

C is for convert – the one person who actually came to Jesus during your first term and who is now your pastor.

D is for dysentery – because the Great Commission includes great bowel movements.

E is for evangelism – sometimes it’s street preaching… sometimes it’s eating weird food while waiting for someone to ask a spiritual question.

F is for fundraising – or is it sanctified begging?

G is for goat – you’ll eat it, pray over it, and once, you’ll ride it.

H is for hospitality – when someone gives you their only chicken, and you realize you’re eating dinner and their income.

I is for interpreter – because your attempt to say, “God loves you” came out as “Your pig is on fire.”

J is for jet lag – the spiritual gift of being awake at 3 a.m. for no reason.

K is for kid – the one who calls you “aunt” or “uncle” after four minutes of conversation and one piece of candy.

L is for luggage – the stuff that made it to Nairobi, but not to your village.

M is for mosquitoes – tiny missionaries of malaria. Anointed. Persistent. Demonic.

N is for nationals – the people who teach you that this was never about you.

O is for outreach – involving skits, puppets, and a donkey that wasn’t part of the plan.

P is for prayer letter – a monthly guilt trip in 500 words or less.

Q is for quarantine – because someone brought back something from the jungle.

R is for reentry – when you return home and cry in the cereal aisle because there are too many brands.

S is for supporters – people who send checks and ask if you’re “still doing that missionary thing.”

T is for team conflict – because iron sharpens iron, and sometimes stabs it.

U is for unreached – the people group you went to reach, only to find out your neighbor back home was one, too.

V is for visa – that magical document that determines if you’re on a mission or on vacation.

W is for water – if you can drink it without boiling it, blessing it, or fearing it, you’re not on the field.

X is for xenophile – you loved the culture until the third power outage.

Y is for yes – what you said to everything, until your immune system said no.

Z is for Zoom – how you now do missions, conferences, and spiritual warfare.