What about a Lifetime Commitment?

by Charles R. Taber

An interesting development has taken place on the missionary scene at some time during the past hundred years: the rise of the notion of a lifetime commitment associated with a particular geographical location.

An interesting development has taken place on the missionary scene at some time during the past hundred years: the rise of the notion of a lifetime commitment associated with a particular geographical location.

There seems to be no trace of such a notion in the New Testament. Some of the apostles moved very little: James, for instance, seems hardly to have left Jerusalem. Others, of which Paul was the extreme example, were incessantly on the move. Both James and Paul, as well as others who fell somewhere between these extremes, were familiar with the concept and practice of full-time, lifetime commitment to Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. But it would hardly have occurred to them that the degree of their dedication to him could in any way be correlated with how long they stayed in one place.

In the intervening centuries there have been missionaries of both kinds. Some, like William Carey or James Moffatt, were like James in that they tended to stay for years in the same area or even the same locality. Others, like David Livingstone and C.T. Studd, were either constantly on the move or else made several major moves in the course of their missionary careers. Again, these men were deeply committed to Jesus Christ; in obeying him, some stayed put, others roamed widely.

But at some time during the last few decades of the nineteenth century and the early decades of the twentieth, the notion grew and prevailed in missionary circles that a really dedicated missionary was one who went to a particular place and stayed there all his life. This lifetime commitment in geographical terms was usually associated with the notion of perpetual loyalty to a specific missionary agency, and often to a particular kind of work. But the geographical factor was clearly predominant. People who for any reason left the place where they began their careers were readily labeled quitters.

It is curious that this novel idea arose precisely during the period when it was commonly emphasized that geography did not make a missionary. It was a cliché of the period that crossing water did not make one a missionary. The logical corollary, that geography could not unmake a missionary, seems to have occurred to few.

Undoubtedly, some missionaries quit because they were spiritually defeated, when ideally they should have claimed the grace of God and stayed. But the facile assumption that all missionaries who discontinued their services were spiritual failures (an assumption implicit in most of the studies cited in a recent book by Bailey and Jackson *1) is altogether too simplistic.

It is not easy to determine empirically what factors led to the development of this concept, this shift in emphasis from loyalty to Jesus Christ to loyalty to place and organization-or rather, this simple equation between the two. But the purpose of this article is to suggest some of the reasons and mechanisms that may have been at work. It should be emphasized at the outset that mention of a factor does not condemn it. Some of the mechanisms seem to be inherently more worthy than others, but no doubt every one contains both good and bad aspects. Some of them arose primarily within the broad sending constituency, some more specifically from the sending agencies, and others from the individual missionary himself.

The great pressure from the broad Christian constituency may have been the result of a felt need to make of the foreign missionary the Protestant analog of the Roman Catholic saint. According to this mythology, which is still current but happily on the wane, the "foreign missionary" is a semi-supernatural being, capable of greater and more spectacular renunciations and sufferings than ordinary Christians.

Perhaps there was also a felt need, among Protestants, for a kind of psychological equivalent of the Roman Catholic vows of perpetual celibacy, poverty, and obedience (for many missionaries, especially single ladies, the analogy is too close to the truth to be missed). At any rate, missionaries could make these great sacrifices and bury themselves in some remote corner of the world. The home constituency could thrill at the tales of their lives and, by identifying with them, participate vicariously in their superabundant merit. The necessary investment was gratifyingly small: only the chosen few could go, but many could give a few dollars, and all could say, "God bless the missionaries." But naturally, this whole mythology collapses as soon as it is seen that missionaries are ordinary human beings, plain Christians subject like others to new guidance from God, perhaps even to reassignment to another field or to the homeland.

Evidence that this psychology is at work in homeland churches comes from the observation that it is missionaries to the most remote, most primitive places, those who suffer physically the most, who catch the imagination of Christians at home. Unfortunately, some boards actually exploit this purely romantic appeal to raise funds at the expense of other boards. It is also true that in some cases missionaries have felt compelled to apologize for living relatively ordinary, humdrum lives with the usual amenities of civilized life. Fortunately, this too is passing!

The pressures arising from the sending agencies were primarily economic. The training and orientation of a missionary to the point where he is a help rather than a hindrance on a specific field represents a very large investment of time and strength on his part, and of faith and funds on the part of the board. Orientation to a different culture and language is a much more costly and complex process than orientation to a new assignment within the same culture, as when a pastor moves from Florida to Oregon or from the pastorate to a ministry in denominational administration. It would seem economically foolish, after spending all that time and money, for the missionary to decide suddenly, perhaps after his first or second term, that God is calling him elsewhere.

It will be readily seen that the development of the mystique of a lifetime commitment to a place and to an organization would be gratifying to a board combating defections. Evidence is abundant that boards made this matter quite explicit in dealing with candidates and with missionaries on furlough. Nor can one blame them, of course, as their responsibility before God is to use wisely the very limited resources at their disposal.

What about the individual missionary? One may think of several aspects of this part of the problem. First, perhaps, is the fact that for someone who has once experienced culture shock and the pain of intensive language learning, the process will seem profoundly distasteful and even threatening. No longer moved by the naive enthusiasm and optimism of the beginner, the veteran will naturally shrink from going through such an ordeal again. The reluctance to face disorientation a second time may be either conscious or unconscious, but it can hardly be doubted that it contributed to the mystique of the lifetime commitment.

It may be felt that this factor is inoperative for those who leave the mission field to return to their homeland. But in proportion as one is immersed in the alien culture and atmosphere, reorientation to one’s native culture after prolonged absence can be quite traumatic. Evidence of this comes from the common feeling among missionaries on furlough that everything is going to the dogs; and from the reluctance of veteran missionaries to retire. Of course, there are other reasons for these feelings; but a kind of "detribalization" is certainly involved.

Closely related to the issue of culture shock is the fact that everyone, as he gets older, tends to become less flexible and less able to adapt to a new situation. One easily puts down emotional roots and fords the prospect of familiar things reassuring and the view of unfamiliar things disquieting. Routine readily becomes a supporting crutch which carries one over the minor bumps of life.

Also a part of the same family of motivations is the fact that moving to a new place, especially a pioneer field or a new type of work, is much harder than continuing a work already established. The writer has heard some older missionaries explicitly refuse assignment to a new area, on the grounds that they had their share of suffering earlier in their careers, and that it was the turn of newer missionaries.

There is a great psychological satisfaction in being able to say, "I started this work and brought it to its present prosperous level." The Pauline notion that "I planted, Apollos watered, and God gave the increase" is a difficult one to accept emotionally. It is much easier to build one’s secure little empire, to warn off poachers, and to establish a "monument to the founding father."

Finally, there is the feeling of importance derived from the increasing dependence of national Christians upon one’s own person. One becomes psychologically dependent upon their dependence; it bolsters the ego and provides visible justification for one’s continued existence and presence, which is absent from a new situation, and especially in the homeland. After an initial period of being lionized, the returned missionary is often deflated at becoming an ordinary human being again, whose existence is really vital to no one else. The trouble is that by the very fact of his prolonged presence in a particular place, the missionary tends to develop an "indispensability complex," which stifles and frustrates indigenous leadership and retards the normal maturation of the church.

In other words, the status quo offers to the missionary emotional security, the satisfaction of his ego, and relatively greater physical convenience, while the prospect of moving elsewhere, even back to the homeland, promises insecurity, challenges the ego, and possibly threatens one’s physical comfort. It is no wonder that missionaries so readily fell into line with the popular image of themselves as people dedicated for life to a particular place and role, and too often lapped up and believed the flattery of fawning home constituencies. The fact that one can understand how these motivations operate, of course, in no way detracts from the very grave dangers for missionary, church, and home constituency inherent in such a view of the missionary vocation.

Similarly, even the economic argument, which on the face of it is the most valid one, can lend itself to a dangerous inflexibility in missionary strategy. And of course, the effect of this view on the home constituency is very bad, in that it excuses non-missionaries from taking their own Christian vocation seriously.

In short, this view of the missionary vocation inevitably retards the development of the indigenous church, since anything that tends to make the missionary a permanent rather than a temporary feature on the scene automatically under mines the autonomy of the church. By a sort of analog of Parkinson’s law, the longer a missionary stays in one place beyond the optimum point, the more the reins fall into his hands and the less local leadership will emerge.

This view also makes invidious and unbiblical comparisons between foreign missionaries and other Christian workers.

Finally, in the missionary’s mind there is a subtle shift of primary allegiance. From being committed to Jesus Christ, he becomes committed to circumstances, even to the status quo. The New Testament calls any such shift of allegiance "idolatry."

What is the solution? Obviously, it is not for all missionaries to jump around from place to place at whim, or to serve for short terms only. There are some things which can be done only by persons familiar with the situation, and there are some things which can be done by newcomers and short-termers. I suggest the following points as a place to start.

1. Recognize that the length of time one stays in a given place is a matter of practical considerations of tactics and strategy, not of spirituality. This will free missionaries who cannot stay from unfair onus, and tend to remove missionaries from their pedestal.

2. Discriminate intelligently between the kinds of jobs that need to be done and the kinds of people who can and should do them.

3. Recruit flexibly in light of the jobs that need doing.

4. Be ready, even at great financial cost, to reassign personnel to meet new strategic needs, wherever they may arise.

Endnote
1. Helen C. Jackson A Study of Missionary Motivation, Training, and Withdrawal. Bailey and Herbert drawal 1953-1962 (New York: Missionary Research Library, 1965). It should be said that the authors do not accept this position.

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