When you’re an editor or a journalist, it’s easy to stand on the outside. It’s your job, in fact. You have to be objective. You have to be critical. You have to ask the hard questions. Earnestness is the enemy.
So here I am, in Sri Lanka as a guest of World Vision, a seasoned editor on a trip with writers. A journalist looking for the story while others await experiences. Standing on the outside, detached and cynical—my familiar posture has followed me across the world.
Which is why I can’t stop asking these questions—questions that persist as the result of six years of thinking hard about social justice, short-term missions trips, and charity as an editor for various publications dealing with these issues. They are questions that accompanied me here and dog my presence on the trip. Questions that all crystallize into one gut-punch “Should I be here?”
Am I just engaging in Christian tourism?
“Christian tourism” has become a vogue criticism of short-term missions trips in the past several years. And not without reason. Visiting a developing country—and the farther away the better, Mexico doesn’t cut it anymore—has become a bucket list item for many Christians. And much has been written about the good and the ugly of short-term missions. From stories of churches repainting buildings after the American youth team left—just so they could be ready to paint again when another team comes—to accounts of trips that cost $50,000 to build a school that would have cost local workers one quarter the amount and employed them to boot. The benefits are there too, of course. But often, they are more for the visitor than the receiver, unless Western churches are intentional about long-term partnerships and educated in sustainable development.
This is my fourth time in the developing world—every time I have gone as a journalist and so I have let myself off the hook for this question. I’m not a Christian tourist. I’m here to tell stories that will ultimately benefit. Right…?
Could this money have been better spent elsewhere?
This trip will gain sponsorships for children, and that is a very good thing. I can directly see the ROI for this trip—which has been true for most of the trips I’ve been on. I know why I went, and I know why the money was spent. But it’s still hard not to ask the question when I see the money exchange rates, and I know how far a dollar goes here. Is my presence worth the cost—worth what could not be done because I am here? A weighty question indeed, with implications of responsibility that make me shudder.
