This past month was spent in Atlanta, Georgia – the first time that a month of World Race ministry has been in the US. Last fall as I was preparing to leave for four months and would talk to people about this anti-human trafficking trip, I would list off each of our four locations: “Cambodia, Thailand, India, Atlanta.” I got a lot of blank stares and requests to repeat myself on that last one. “You’re doing ministry in Atlanta?”; “There’s human trafficking in Atlanta?”; “You can be a missionary in Atlanta?”. Yes.
Over the past 30-ish days, living in the States under the authority and restrictions of a ministry team has been challenging, to say the least. Learning to submit to others instead of walking in my own freedom and independence, in a place where I am familiar and comfortable, is not easy. Dying to self instead of choosing to be a consumer after my own wants is not natural.
But I would argue that doing ministry on home turf is the best thing the World Race has ever done (are you reading, Allison?).
The World Race is designed as a mission trip that not only allows you to go out into the world and be the hands and feet of Jesus, but it also shapes your identity and calling, questions how you relate and respond to people, and calls you to surrender all that you have and all that you are to the will of God. And truly, when I travel overseas to hold orphans, speak Truth to prostitutes, build houses, etc., I start to feel like I am doing an adequate job of challenging myself in those areas of surrender, communication and the like. But that’s overseas-Cameron. Its much more challenging to ask me to do those things in my own country. To give up personal freedoms like walking around the city alone, meeting up with friends I haven’t seen in years, or making my own schedule instead of following the schedule of the team. But its not really about the rules anyway – its about cultivating a heart of submission and its about preferring others above self.
These are characteristics that are so often lacking in America, in the church, and in me.
In America, we so often think of mission work as something that needs to be done “out there.” Sure, we send groups to aid disaster relief in the South or help build houses in the mountains, but how often do we really consider what it looks like to live missionally in our own country, our own city, our own neighborhood? Does Christ call us solely to do a service project every other month and write a check to feed a child in a far-off country? Are we called to give only when our schedules or our wallets allow for it? Is ministry only to the homeless and needy, or is it also to our own families, roommates, friends, and neighbors?
A teammate of mine recently noted that “Hurt exists everywhere, as does love. And at the end of the day
that is the message we are called by Jesus to share with people: Love, in the midst of hurts.“
