Short-term Missionary

I wrote this little poem after a church group trip to Honduras several months ago. There are those who are critical of these short trips, contending that they do little long-term good for the people they attempt to help. I can't argue how much they impact the visited, but I do know a little about the impact on the visitors. The effect on my life has been profound.

Short-term Missionary

We dutifully assemble from scattered flocks
every summer trickle to steady stream.
A single week to put feet to Faith
Winged migration South, early May until around Labor Day.

Wearing our matching day-glo t-shirts
printed with churchy slogans or perhaps
razor blade snippets of the Ancient Word.
We are coming to save you.

Giddy and obnoxiously loud in the airport.
Nervously departing the "First World" like the Conquistadors before us.
American dream packed along for the journey: Laptop, I-pod, Blackberry.
Useless trappings of our affluence on public display.

We will return redeemed or beyond absolution.
Unexpectedly transformed by the very ones
we pretentiously thought to help.
Repentance is, after all, a change in direction.

Salvation for and from ourselves.
Baptism in the smile of a Honduran child.