(And I don’t mean missions trips.)
I grew up in a Christian subculture where leaving the church bubble was seen as dangerous: it opened you up to the risk of temptation from the outside world. Want to travel alone or go with friends? Unless it’s a missions trip, forget about it.
And while you may be hard pressed to hear someone say it out loud, there is a pervasive underlying idea in some Christian circles that travel is only justifiable if it’s under the guise of missions.
In a sincere effort to protect their youth, my church discouraged experiences that could prove “too tempting” or pose a lack of accountability. If public school was dangerous because it might introduce children to ideals that opposed the church, Europe was that much worse.
But missions trips? That was another story entirely. You were in a controlled environment with other Christians, with high expectations for conduct and constant supervision.
For some, sharing the gospel was exactly the excuse they needed to legitimize their desire for seeing the world. If you were doing work for the Kingdom, no one would accuse your travels as self-indulgent or as an excuse to backslide.
But in my experience, travel is anything but self-indulgent. “Vacationing” is one thing — it presupposes relaxation and comfort — but travel is another beast all together.
It’s one of the most inconvenient and humbling activities you could ever find yourself in. There are ways to travel luxuriously (pay heaps of money), but it’s not the same as real, experiential travel that finds you in the back of a bus in Turkey, sandwiched between an old woman and a sack of beans. The inconvenience of travel is the most incisive form of dying to self I know — it is the sacrifice of your comfort for the opportunity to love.
Getting over your needs/wants/comforts through travel is like having the proverbial scales fall from your eyes. Suddenly the world is a clearer, more beautiful place, where little problems are refreshingly inconsequential. It’s a miraculous feeling, stepping out of self-despotism to simply marvel at things outside of yourself.
Granted, travelling is risky. It opens you up to new ideas and ideologies, and forces you to reckon with realities you may never have known before. The environment is new, stimulating, and can inspire poor decisions. All of this is true.
Confronting new peoples and cultures that cause you to question your preconceived notions, however, should not be a fearful thing. Preconceived notions should be torn down, and replaced with informed and educated convictions. God can handle your doubt.
God can also handle the struggle, grief, and questioning born of coming face to face with the brokenness of this world. Better you weather that storm than avoid it completely and never grow in your love and empathy for others.
Ultimately, those experiences can culminate in a deeper knowledge and greater appreciation for the beauty and holiness of the Creator. The majesty and diversity with which He has fashioned this world is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Like planets aligning, the experience of travel causes the things of true importance to fall into their rightful place.
The truth is, all the dangers of travel can also be found the moment you set your foot outside the church lobby door. If the danger of temptation lies everywhere (even within the church itself), doesn’t the benefit of travelling outweigh the risk?
Photo (Flickr CC) by kokorowashinjin.
