A neon red shadow cast itself over the backdoor the tall, white collar worker walked through. Loosening his pale blue tie, he sat atop the stool. As he waited, he ran his fingers through his dark, curly hair, instantly sending his mind reeling.
He drifted back to a humid afternoon. In the distance, the drumming of an ancient cement mixer droned on. Inside, the dust of handmade bricks and the odor of wet cement filled the air. Below the soles of his boots, a shady scaffold made of bamboo and plywood. To his right, someone handed him a yellow, plastic, cooking oil bottle now full of wet cement which he poured into a makeshift form. To his left, a young woman trades empty bottles for full ones. As they wait for more cement, he runs his hand through his hair, shaking off the rogue cement, catches her gaze, and they both burst into laughter. As his order is slammed onto the counter, he's snapped back to reality. Pulling out his phone, he sends her a message as the nostalgia sets in.
As the two reminisce of the simplicity, gratitude, and love of another culture, a void is acknowledged. They are being choked out by the toxins of entitlement, pride, waste, and commotion. Two old souls trapped in young bodies, craving the fresh air of simplicity and service, itching to ride the winds that will carry them back. Both feel captive to the mundane. Both handle the captivity differently.
He suppresses the memories avoiding heartache. She consistently returns to the memories trying to relive her dream come true. Both trapped by the nostalgia. Neither one healthy.
If you ever embark on a short- term mission trip of any kind, you are bound to have your life altered in some way. You make memories. Your heart is rent in pieces. Your perspective shifts. Once you return home, you are left with a dilemma. Should you entirely ignore everything you experienced and go back to live as normal? Do you force yourself to never forget and carry the burden of that with you forever? Is there a happy medium?
I have experienced both extremes. I get myself into trouble when I attempt to suppress those experiences. It results in bitterness towards the people around me and to myself. Life revolves solely around what is least painful for me. But I also run into trouble when I focus solely on those past experiences. I remember how the lives of so many were changed and the joy we all felt. In constantly looking back, I end up missing the people right in front of me in need of help now.
It isn't the plane ticket, poverty level, or destination that makes the difference in people's lives. It is being fully present, observant, and willing to give our all to meet their needs.
The secret to success on a short-term mission trip is being present. The secret to success when we return from the trip is being present. Never ever forget what you experienced. Allow it to alter you for good. But don't remain in the past. Allow it to propel you to do something here and now that makes a difference. Allow it to draw you closer to Christ as you surrender the memories to Him, but also as you surrender the needs of those you meet in the present unto Him.
Nostalgia is a powerful thing. It can be a propellant or a prison. Choose wisely.
Be present.
