When I talk about my upcoming year in Philly through Mission Year, I’ve typically gotten three responses, each of which I plan to address in upcoming posts. One response is that people say is “it’s cool that you’re going to help people!” Another typical response is to be incredibly leery of the organization name “Mission Year” and what that means. The third response, which I want to talk about today, is calling Mission Year an “adventure.”
I’ve gotten this response in varying forms, whether it be
“I’m excited for you for this upcoming adventure!” or “That’ll be an adventure”
to even “Wow…what an adventure.” And part of me can’t disagree with the many
who say this! Living in Philadelphia for a year in entirely different
surroundings DOES sound like an adventure—it’s something entirely new. However,
I do have issues with the phrase “adventure” and its connotations. Below are a
few reasons why I have chosen to not call my upcoming Mission Year in Philly an
“adventure.”
1. “Mission Year is an adventure” really romanticizes the
year in my mind.
Honestly, this is a huge reason. When I hear “adventure” I
think of a safari scavenger going on one of those exciting explorations in the
jungle. I think of waterfalls and anticipation and adrenaline. I think of
standing on mountains and utopia and “We did it!”
If this is how I see the word “adventure” in my mind, then
it is NOT how I want to view Mission Year. Mission Year is not going to be all
sunshine and daisies…it is going to be DIFFICULT. Yes, there will be beautiful
moments where there is “utopia” or a feeling
of adventure, but if I call Mission Year an “adventure,” I’m dismissing that
there will be difficulties during the year—the conflict, the cultural
differences, the sheer difficulty of being in a different place, the reality
that I will be wrong many times this upcoming year.
I want to approach this year with as much stark reality as I
can, and so one reason I have chosen not to call Mission Year an adventure is
because it encourages looking at the year through rose-colored lenses—a
romanticizing of the reality.
2. “Mission Year is an adventure” implies that I will not be
continuing with what I learn, that I’m just "bouncing in and bouncing
out" of the year.
This is just not true. Although I may not be continuing what
I learn in the community in Philly, I ABSOLUTELY plan to take the lessons and
rhythms that are instilled in me throughout the year to wherever I am placed
beyond Mission Year. One reason that I applied for Mission Year is because I
really liked that I could have a year to simply learn and grow and be
disciplined in a field that I desire to enter. I liked that I would be invested
in by people who are already in community development and organizing, and
people who view the world Christ-centrically just as I do.
Mission Year, to me, kinda feels like grad school. One
doesn’t go into grad school and call it “an adventure.” One goes into grad
school to learn, to listen, and to grow. This is one of the many desires of my
heart as Mission Year approaches—to experimentally work through community
development and organizing through hands-on learning, to understand sustainable
rhythms to keep me from being burnt out in this work, to continue to place the
work I may be doing before the Lord for accountability and confirmation and to
be faithful and steward well what I am given.
3. “Mission Year is an adventure” I believe is disregarding the community I will be living in.
This may be the number one reason why I don’t call Mission
Year an adventure. As I’ve been approaching the year, I always try to envision
a community member standing next to me to hold me accountable to what I say.
The purpose of this is to be able to relay my perception of the Year to others
in a way that takes into account the community I’ll be living in (to the best
of my abilities). I think of myself sitting on the front porch of my house and
a child coming over to just exist, or maybe an adult just walking down the
street. They see that I’m new; they ask what I’m doing there. “I’m here on an
adventure for a year” I reply. I’m on an adventure in their community, on their home front. Just bouncing in, bouncing
out. Adventure gives “me-centric” connotations, connotations that I don’t
actually care about their lives and what’s going on. It gives the connotations
that I don’t want to listen, even for the time that I will be in the community,
that I’m in Philly simply for me and me alone.
That’s not okay with me. My heart’s yearnings are to listen
to the community, to hear stories, to open myself to new viewpoints if these
were to ever be offered. My heart’s yearnings are to just “be” in the community
that I am placed in—no expectations one way or the other. And in comparison to
the word “adventure,” this sounds relatively…well…normal.
Instead of adventure, I prefer to call Mission Year as a
journey. A journey takes into consideration that there will be ups as well as
downs. A journey also implies longevity, that my Mission Year is part of a larger
journey. A journey invites others to come along beside me if they
wish—community members that I will be living next to, my support networks from
Akron and Bowling Green and beyond. A journey has connotations of
interdependence and trial and vulnerability and the need for others to be a
part of my larger story in order to make it day-by-day. And THIS…this is how I
truly view Mission Year.
* * *
If you’d like to contribute to the financial expenses of my
Mission Year in
Philadelphia, please go to my fundraising page below!
