Compassion Tourism

I was really struck the other day by a phrase my colleague Mike used in one of our meetings.

Compassion tourism.

It's a lot of things, but it's partly the idea that so many of our "compassion ministries" or "urban ministries" look like day-long field trips to some exotic place. You know, like loading up your SUV with a group of friends and going and seeing the Amish. "Ooh, look how these people live! We should buy stuff from them! And take pictures! They're so not like us! That was fun!" I think it's a natural reaction to want to explore that which is "other" to our experience, and it's normal to be intrigued.

But.

The problem is when our work as the Church stops at compassion tourism; when loading into our cars, driving to the "bad part of town," doing some sort of service, taking some pictures with the cute kids, and then going right back to our regularly-scheduled programming is enough for us to get our fix, check that box, what have you. Don't get me wrong. As someone who works in full-time "urban ministry," these acts of service can very, very much be a blessing to those of us who are laboring day in and day out in these areas. But it sure can also be frustrating as car after car pulls in, pulls out and totally misses the whole point.

The point is that transformation- of communities, of us- doesn't happen at a drive-thru. Relationships aren't built in a quick two hours a year. And as long as you're "just visiting," you'll never fully see what could be. How often do we allow our hands to get dirty in the complications of poverty and injustice? Do we really take the time to start the messy process of relationship building, rather than just stuff giving or policy creating? Do we dedicate time in prayer, every day, for those organizations that do? I am the first to proclaim that not everyone can devote their life to this sort of work...and expectations of anything close to that are highly problematic. I also recognize the incredible importance of having those "in the trenches" help to educate those who aren't. But here's something everyone who professes Christ can and must do: love God and love others. Compassion tourism isn't sacrificial love.

Too often our "loving people" (very much like our "loving God") has to fit within our time frames, our ideas and our social or political convictions. If it can't be accomplished in a day of service or doesn't jive well with what we think about the world, we're probably too busy, too important, too...something to do it. But that's not the life we're called to live. That's not what Jesus taught, and it's certainly not a picture of the thriving church.

Maybe the problem is that we know, deep down inside, that it's not going to be easy or comfortable work. (Should this surprise us? I hope not.) Really, truly loving God and therefore loving our neighbors is dangerous work. It will have implications for every single second of your day. It will mean looking at the world in a different way. It will mean looking at our finances in a different way. It will mean looking at each other in a different way. And yet ultimately, it will make us better worshippers of Him.

I am hopeful for a day when the Church universal will again live out its calling in the world. When we, the Church-especially the Western church which seems to lag behind its counterparts- will no longer be bound by comfort, blinded by fear and drunk on our own selfish and, yes, sometimes petty needs. There are already bright spots: I can tell stories of lives transformed, of devoted prayers, of community restoration. And yet...

The road is long. Just as a living faith is an act-filled process, so loving our neighbors is as well. Let's start by putting away our cameras. Getting out of our cars. Putting down our stopwatches.

Let's go inside and sit for a while.