"A Different Approach to Global Mission"

Mission trips might mean something a little different in our church than in yours. When we travel to other countries we don't consider ourselves proselytizers. We form partnerships with Christian communities and stand in solidarity with them to deepen both our faith and theirs.

We have partnerships with congregations and/or seminaries in Cuba, Cameroon, Brazil and Bethlehem. Small groups from our church travel to each place every year.

We truly see these relationships as equal partnerships. We are not the big American church that's come to fix the small, poor church's problems. We are simply there to be with them. To pray with them. To worship with them. And to learn from them. And that makes all the difference.

Last week, the big biannual national Presbyterian convention took place in Minneapolis. The city swarmed with hundreds and hundreds of Presbyterians with name tags. At one of a number of luncheons held during the week, I gave a short speech on our approach to global mission work.

If you're interested, here it is:

As someone born and raised here in the Twin Cities, I would like to welcome all of you to Minnesota and its very varied weather. About the only thing you won't see this week is snow. And I can't even promise you that. Summer is the stormy season. Just ask the Lutherans.
Spring is allergy season in Minnesota. Which is why the tissue comes out at our church in Minneapolis. But that's not the only reason.
Spring is the time we say goodbye to the graduating high school seniors. And they say good bye to us. We have baptized them. nurtured them. Taught them. Loved them. Confirmed them. Then, in May many of them stand before us and deliver their so called, "senior sermons" during an entirely youth led service. That's when we get to see if any of it sticks. And it does. Gloriously. We weep for joy. And because we can't imagine our community without them as they head off for college. This spring's poignancy was for me enhanced by the fact my daughter, Sarah, was one of those seniors.
Sarah's sermon was short and to the point. A style of speaking to which I only aspire.
Just kidding. I'll keep this brief.
Sarah talked simply about love, the greatest commandment. And her gratitude for church experiences, which showed her God's love in action.
And it took me back to a small church in Matanzas, Cuba. She and I sitting on wooden pews, watching a small, wiry, man pacing, full of energy. Tim Hart Anderson translating almost as quickly as Carlos Pietra could talk. Sarah was about to learn something important. We all were. Even the grownups on the __ annual visit Verseilles Presbyterian, our partner church in Matanzas.
"What is the most important thing in your life?" Carlos asked us. We always start our visit with a joint Bible study with Verseilles members. We went around the sanctuary with our answers. Faith? Family? Justice? The Westminster travelers ventured. Then the Verseilles members...one right after the other...love. Love. Love. Love. Love. These were not idle words.
When my daughter and I had lunch in the beautiful home of Maria and Domingo, Maria said, "I prepared this for you with love." And I could see in her eyes that she meant it.
If in the beginning we believed we were travelling to Matanzas to take care of them, we learned otherwise quickly We and the Verseiles members cared for each other. And in because of that so I noticed our relationships within our own Westminster group changing.
We took better care of each other. We were gentler with each other. More caring. More loving. We were more open with our faith. It was as though the brave faith of the people of Matanzas, which had survived a communist revolution and the desperate special period, made us feel brave. Or safe, maybe. We wept...yes Presbyterians...talking about Christ. It was powerful.
And that kind of experience Comes back to the entire congregation. through sermons and testimonials. In our changed relationships with the people back home.
My daughter has been back to Matanzas twice since and goes again next week. She'll be with Cuban friends her age leading a vacation bible school for younger kids in the neighborhood, which I'm told brings all kinds of young vitality to the church. And noise. And new members. And our youth leaders get a living, breathing understanding of the gospel.
This is the power of a shared, equal partnership.
Do we , as a group, bring supplies? Medicine? Eye glasses? Absolutely. Do we, as a church, commit resources to the church and the Presbytery? Generosity with our resources is central to who we are as Christians, too.
But when individuals members of our church want to send money to their individual prayer partners in Matanzas, we explain that that would not be a partnership then. Not an equal one any way.
And I just bet...and I truly believe this...that if you asked someone at the Verseilles church what we brought with us when we came, they would say energy, companionship. And love.
The idea of an equal partnership is hard is hard for some to accept. #Especially when all of our partner churches struggle mightily with things like poverty, HIV/AIDS, political unrest, or violence. And yet, it is because their faith flourishes in these environments that they have so much to offer us. And it is because we see them as rich in spiritual resources that our partnerships are so enriching for us all.
Right now my 15 year old son is frantically studying Spanish. Even taking a summer course so he can speak it well enough to go to Cuba next summer. I don't want to tell him this yet, because I've frankly never seen him motivated to study anything...but where I'd really like to take him is to our partner church in Bethlehem. I was at Christmas Lutheran Church a year and a half ago.
What I'd like my boy to see in Bethlehem is that hope is alive in a place where it would be very easy to despair. And that is how you know Christ exist. Because hope does not disappoint. Expectations might. But hope does not.
I'd like him to see that faith is deeper sometimes when you have to work to hold on to it. That it's possible to literally pick up shattered pieces of the wreckage and make art from it. Beautiful art. And that is how you know that God exists.
And what possibly could my 15 year old boy offer Christians in an ancient land whose challenges he can only begin to imagine? Well...his very presence could tell them that, even in their dwindling numbers, they are not alone. That there are Christians, young and old, here who stand with them. Wish them well. More than that, pray for them. They know, too, that he becomes a voice for them here. A young voice. And trust me, a loud voice.
Plus, my son is kind of a goof ball. They'd probably get a kick out of him.
In one of my less proud mama moments as Sarah was preparing to make her first trip without me to Cuba I fretted that maybe she and the other Westminster youth maybe weren't going to "do" enough. Yeah, they were teaching vacation bible school in the morning but then there was a lot of just "being" with the kids their age from Matanzas.
I mean, like, what would she say in a college interview if they asked her what she did on her mission trip. Did she build anything? Did she feed anyone? Did she bring anything?
I understand now how she would answer the questions:
What did you build? Relationships.
Who did you feed? Each other.
What did you bring? Companionship. Hope. Love. of course love. the greatest commandment of all.