The phrase “mental model” is often used to refer to the particular frameworks that shape the way we individually process the world around us. There tends to be a number of different mental models that we each use and together they tend to form our worldview. As we consider “movement” and “mission,” it’s important to recognize that we process these concepts and there resulting actions through the lens of the various mental models we have (whether we have the self-awareness to identify them or not).
One of these inherent mental models that I as an American was bombarded with in Kenya is the encompassing filter that colonialism is, whether people realize it or not. The legacy that colonialism left in the eastern African region was readily visible during my time there and we saw the implications and direct results of this legacy time and again:
- One of the first teams my sending organization sent into Kenya were surprised when, after praying for someone, they were without fail asked the question, “You prayed for me now what are you going to give?” Colonial mission structures were about handouts and dependency in exchange for listening to the outsider and replacing local cultural norms with outside cultural norms.
- One of the other missionaries I came to know well started interacting with us in part because the local peoples in the churches his denomination had started in Kenya refused to baptize people themselves. Instead, they required (white) missionaries to be there to do it for them, every time.
- When we told local peoples we were mission workers, they more often than not asked us where are church, school and hospital were because “that’s what missionaries did.” The colonial way involved moving into the country, buying a large tract of land, setting up a school, clinic and church behind walls and require peoples attendance at church in exchange for schooling and medical care.
- In Nairobi we lived in a gated neighborhood comprised of a mix of locals and foreigners. Without fail the guards at the gate always let foreign white friends in without questioning them. Our Kenyan friends though were constantly hassled. My closest friend, who stayed with us monthly, was once forced to sit in the pouring rain for 30 minutes before they let him (and this is someone who had been and stayed at our place a countless number of times).
- Any time I would go to a locally lead event, I would always be given a seat of authority and preference whether it was called for or not (this included events I wasn’t asked to speak at or attend).
I could share many more examples but they all follow a similar script and can be summed up in any combination of the following:
- Colonial (and mostly white) privilege that preferences and deferred to outside voices whenever possible.
- Expectations that colonial structures were necessary and needed to meet local needs.
- An understanding that the leading role in and work of ministry was carried by colonial voices above all others.
This colonial legacy that was constantly present all around us was something, to put it lightly, that I wanted no part of. In fact I would go as far as to say it’s done more against than Kingdom of God rather than for it. Sure - God can and does work through anything; unfortunately though colonial systems, structures and mindsets are hollow shells of what the kingdom actually is. Let’s revisit some of the above stories:
- Those people that were prayed for weren’t actually interested in the prayer or knowing Jesus - they just wanted to know what sort of stuff they could get out of this foreign team that’s shown up.
- Those churches that required white missionaries to do they baptism have seen little to no expansion of the kingdom. Why would they? The congregants don’t see themselves as responsible for it. Faith isn’t their own but someone else’s from far away.
- Those old-school compounds with schools and clinics and churches don’t last forever. They come and go and sometimes quickly and leave in their wake hurt, neglect and communities left broken because key support structures cease to exist (and weren’t ever established in a way that indigenous leaders could take ownership).
- And individuals are left angry or confused or frustrated as they experience people with less wisdom, less experience, less authority and no reason to be preferenced, elevated over them time and again.
So this has all left me thinking: what does it mean to decolonize the missions and ministry work we are involved in? It’s not an easy thing to ask let alone do because colonial systems and structures are so systemic to what is done naturally. For the most part we can’t see it or understand it’s harm because it’s an ingrained mental model more than an intentional outward expression. It’s also difficult because in a sense, asking the question means being ready to throw the playbook out and start afresh as we address our own cultural baggage and junk.
This is one of the reasons I’ve shifted from viewing myself as a missionary to viewing myself as a catalyst. Catalysts are, from a scientific perspective, chemicals or elements that speed up and facilitate chemical reactions but they remain external to the reaction. As I’ve processed decolonizing what I do for the past decade I’ve realized I want to be like this to: I want to be this external element that recognizes his place is to serve, resource and facilitate the work God is doing rather than owning, enforcing, domineering or controlling it. It’s a calling to recognize my externality (which isn’t going to easily change) rather than feeding colonial systems that cause the “important work” to revolve solely around outsiders.
It’s one thing to identify this and wrestle with it internally but it’s also important to embody it. I’ve found that there are a few key practices that are necessary for catalytic work to decolonize mission work. I will add- I’m writing from my own experience and journey rather than anything else. In brief these practices are to:
- Intentionally choose to learn from indigenous voices and leaders.
- Elevate the local and indigenous voices around me.
- Acknowledge the power structures I’m tied up in and let them go.
- Encourage solutions to come internally rather than externally from voices like my own.
I plan to write specifically about each of these in the coming emails. They aren’t necessarily comfortable or easy for many people but I think, beyond being a start, they are vital to healthy engagement as an outsider in movement and mission work.