Why Go Overseas?

Has the international mission trip become irrelevant, unnecessary, perhaps even unseemly and immoral?

I know that some people wonder, either privately or not so privately, why it is that some Christians feel the urge to do good in faraway places when, as we all know very well, there are plenty of people in need in our own cities and neighborhoods.

I’m sure that some people feel this way about my current trip to Lebanon; I get it. After all, there is always a bit of tourism that goes on when I’m visiting another country, meaning that I am spending some time seeing beautiful historical sites, eating wonderful foods, and taking a break from the work I normally do. In that sense, it is a kind of vacation, or at least a respite from the usual list of things to do.

I confess that I love visiting different countries and encountering cultures which are foreign to me. It’s something which I thoroughly enjoy; I like trying to discover how to fit in, or at least how to tread lightly in a place that is not my natural home. 

And I understand that some people, particularly those who are my church members, might even feel that my overseas travel is distinctly not a part of my ministry at home. They might say that I am shirking my duties by spending time outside of my appointed office. 

I would respond to this complaint by arguing that this is part of my ministry; this is part of the whole call of God on the life of Wes Magruder. I haven’t come to Lebanon to engage in work that competes with or detracts from my church job. It’s one and the same work; the same gospel that compels me to proclaim the word on Sunday mornings and lead a congregation in north Oak Cliff also compels me to serve the displaced Syrian children of God.

Even so, there is still a practical question left when it comes to international mission work: does it make good sense for Americans to travel to a foreign country to do work which could just as well be done by others in that country?

This is certainly a legitimate question that must be answered honestly in every circumstance and context. It is true that a survey of American mission efforts over the last century might reveal a mixed bag in this regard; Americans have built and donated things that were irrelevant and unnecessary; Americans have gone into countries like imperialist invaders and bullied the residents around with arrogance and impatience; Americans have often been bad actors in other countries; Americans have also been guilty of doing work that benefitted their own egos and psyches rather than the people they ostensibly came to help. All of that is true.

But that doesn’t mean that Americans — or anyone else, for that matter — should stop their interest in international mission work. It means merely that we should do it better! 

We no longer have the luxury of sitting back and saying to ourselves that we should take care of our own poor and suffering first; we cannot afford to adopt an “America first” policy regarding the kingdom of God. This attitude may have been acceptable in the past, but our globe is infinitely smaller now, and a crisis in one small corner of the world will have repercussions elsewhere, whether we like it or not.

When I’m in Lebanon, or Greece, or Cameroon, I feel like I’m doing work for the only “place” that really matters — the entire planet. Because when we talk about “the kingdom of God,” that’s what we mean; God’s kingdom is that which God’s rule of shalom, love, and community encompasses. The kingdom of God is not limited to this planet (it includes the whole cosmos), but there is no part of this globe which falls outside of God’s reign.

If we really believe this, then we must act like it. As Christians, we can never subscribe to an “America first” mentality; nor must we succumb to an ideology which proclaims that our country is more divinely blessed than any other.

The world is full of diverse peoples, each of whom we are commanded to love as our neighbor, whether they love us back or not. And the only way to love our neighbors is to get to know them. 

In the end, that is the reason why I think international mission trips are urgent and necessary for the Christian. We have to get to know the real people who live in our world. It no longer suffices to send a little money here or there to address a need. We can’t fall back on our State Department or a large, impersonal non-profit organization to do our work for us. And we certainly cannot afford to let large media conglomerates tell us what the rest of the world is like, even if they have impressive video footage. 

No, I am convinced that the only true change in this world will take place when we all actively seek friendships with people around the world, when we nurture relationships with people who are not like us at all. You don’t have to leave America to do that, of course, but it certainly helps!

The world would actually be a safer place if we got out of our comfortable enclaves and opened our hearts to the world around us.

Thats why I’m here in Lebanon this week. Not simply to found a non-profit, which will do some great work. But to see my friends Ghaleb and Reyna Charif, and Tarek and Mouhar. Yesterday, I saw a woman who I met back in February; I didn’t remember her name, but she remembered mine and warmly greeted me back to her country. 

Today I met a young 23 year old woman named Shaza, who works as a facilitator for Save the Children. I watched as she led Syrian refugee children in playing Musical Chairs, Red Light/Green Light, and another game with a ball that looked like a cross between dodgeball and tag. She is the same age as my oldest daughter, and I thought of Rachel as I watched her.

All I could think was that I wished Rachel could meet Shaza. I think they would enjoy each other’s company. I think they could be friends.

But that’s what I always think. And that’s what I think about all the people of the world. We really could be friends if we just took the time to be with each other, even if only for a simple dinner. 

Truly, when you boil it all down, the international mission trip is worth it for that one simple event — the meal. That is where relationships begin; that is where God’s kingdom begins to peek through; that is where mission work hits its stride.

Creating Safe Spaces in Lebanon

I’m still dreaming about Lebanon.

But they are uncomfortable dreams … nightmares, almost.

My team and I learned a lot about what a real refugee crisis looks like when we visited Lebanon back in late February. Lebanon, a country of 4.5 million, now finds itself accommodating over 1.5 million Syrians. As you can imagine, this causes a severe strain on societal infrastructure.

For the most part, the Lebanese have responded with courage and good will, extending basic needs to Syrian refugees: shelter, food, healthcare, and basic education.

But we also discovered that there are a number of pressing needs which are going unmet. The trauma caused by the war in Syria has affected an entire generation of children, many of whom have lost a sense of hope for the future. 

According to Dr Mohammad K Hamza, a neuropsychologist with the Syrian-American Medical Society (SAMS), Syria's children of war have experienced more than just post-traumatic stress. He has coined a new term for the amount of emotional trauma that he is seeing in children — “human devastation syndrome.”

A study released by Save the Children last month, based on over 450 interviews with adults and children in Syria, showed that “toxic stress is wreaking havoc on children.” Half of the children interviewed said they never or rarely feel safe at school, and 40% said they don’t feel safe outside t heir own homes. Another 78% of children “feel grief or extreme sadness some or all of the time.”

In our brief visit, we encountered some of these children. One of them has become an emblem of the Syrian conflict to me. I met Pheros in his family’s tent in Marj, near the Syrian border. He was a hollow-eyed 19 year old, with no hint of hope. He didn’t go to school, didn’t work, didn’t have any spark of interest in anything. All he wanted to do, we finally got him to admit, was to return to Syria and fight alongside the rebels.

It may be too late to reach Pheros. He may eventually slip back across the border and join a rebel group. Maybe he’ll join an Islamist group. Or become a suicide bomber. 

Those of us who met Pheros have been dreaming about him ever since. We have been praying about what to do to prevent an entire generation of kids like Pheros from growing up without hope. 

As a result of this interaction, our team is working to put together an NGO called Safe Spaces, which will focus on the psychosocial health of women and children refugees in Lebanon. We plan to partner with some NGOs already on the ground in Lebanon, but provide training for their workers to identify trauma in women and children and equip them with some coping skills and strategies.

We plan to begin in the city of Saida/Sidon, which is south of Beirut on the coast. We want to partner with Al Reaaya, a Lebanese-based NGO that provides relief and developmental support to orphans and widows affected by the war. The first Safe Spaces will be housed in a new school, which we also hope to help finance and build.

Our dream is for this to be a replicable model, which can be expanded into other regions of Lebanon, and work closely with municipalities and school systems.

Don’t get alarmed — I’m not thinking of moving to Lebanon myself! Instead, I believe that I can help leverage the expertise, influence, and resource of the United Methodist Church in America to make a difference. I would also like to facilitate some short-term mission trips to Lebanon in the coming years. In fact, we are currently planning a return trip to Lebanon during the third week of September 2017. The Bishop has already expressed interest in going, as well as the pastor of a very large United Methodist Church in the Dallas area.

I would love for some of y’all to go on that trip, but if you can’t, there are other ways that you can become involved with Safe Spaces. In particular, I am looking for psychotherapists trained in the field of PTSD and children. If you know someone who fits this criteria, please forward their information to me. 

Even if you don’t know someone, there are things you can do to help support this initiative. Let me know; we’ll find a role you can play

To Welcome Like the Lebanese

It’s not like I had a lifelong dream to visit Lebanon. To be honest, I’d never given it a thought. Beirut is just not one of those vacation spots that pops up on most people’s bucket list.

I didn’t plan our Lebanon trip because of a desire to vacation, however. Instead, my colleagues and I wanted to travel to the front line of the Syrian refugee crisis, and see what is going on.

And Lebanon is on the front line. In fact, it shares a long border with Syria, and for the last five years, has borne the brunt of much of the civil war’s fallout. It has received the second-most number of refugees from the conflict — over 1.5 million people.

That number sounds abstractly high by itself, but when you consider the fact that the country of Lebanon only had a population of 4 million before the war, then you can see how all-consuming the crisis has become for the Lebanese.

Everywhere we went, we heard how difficult the Syrian crisis has been on the hosting community. We found municipalities which are overwhelmed by water, electricity, and sewage needs. We discovered overcrowded schools and hospitals. And we heard ordinary citizens worry about the future.

Despite all that, the Lebanese are doing their best to serve the needs of their Syrian neighbors. We met a number of highly committed and dedicated Lebanese men and women who were spending large amounts of time to care for the refugees amongst them. We saw multiple NGOs (non-governmental organizations) at work in the country, providing family planning assistance, health care, education, vocational training, and more. 

Our team started calling these Lebanese folks we met, our “heroes.” They are doing their best to serve where they are needed. They are Christian — Maronite, Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant. They are Muslim — Sunni and Shiite. They are Druze, atheist, Buddhist, and agnostic.

I sense that what unites them is a shared sense of vulnerability. In other words, the Lebanese people are intimately acquainted with suffering. They know what it is like to be displaced.

The Lebanese have vivid memories of two major disasters — the civil war of 1975-1990, and the Israel bombing of 2006. Both events displaced large numbers of Lebanese people, destroyed infrastructure, and destabilized civil society.

But the people of Lebanon received generous help from other peoples, survived the conflict, drew together, and forged a path forward for a hopeful future. There are lots of challenges still, to be sure, but the point is that the Lebanese know what it is like to be in need. They know what it’s like to have to rely on aid, on the kindness of others.

So when the Syrian people are in need, the Lebanese have resolved to receive them with open arms. They share, not only a common border, but a common future.

The same kind of logic is at work in the Torah. Time and time again, God’s law demands that the Israelites care for the alien and stranger. This is not an abstract rule; it is rooted in empathy. “You shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt" (Lev. 19:34).

The Israelites are to welcome the stranger in need because they have known what it is like to be a stranger in need.

And now let’s turn the spotlight on our own nation. Shouldn’t this country of immigrants, this motley collection of persecuted and battered refugees, which has found refuge in these amber waves of grain and purple mountains’ majesty, also open its doors to those who are now persecuted and battered? We share a common story of suffering and hope, a narrative of displacement and rebirth.

Why are we afraid of those who should remind us of ourselves? Why is the Statue of Liberty so dark these days?