For many of us, it’s a specific, grainy snapshot from a history book: a stoic figure in a starched collar, standing awkwardly next to a thatched hut, holding a leather-bound Bible in one hand and perhaps a pocket watch in the other. There’s often a pith helmet involved. The vibe is colonialism, conversion, and cultural superiority.
We have to let go of the idea that being a missionary is about changing people, and embrace the idea that it is about accompanying people. It is not a title of honor; it is a posture of humility.
The old model was additive: We bring Jesus. We bring medicine. We bring schools. We bring civilization.
And that, I think, is a mission worth keeping.
That core is still beautiful. It is the doctor who leaves a comfortable city practice to treat river blindness in a remote village. It is the teacher who learns a difficult language just to read stories to children who have never held a book. It is the engineer who digs wells not for a contract, but for the quiet joy of clean water.
Because of this, the word carries baggage. In many global south communities, "missionary" is still a slur, shorthand for religious imperialism.