I am not a savior.
There is only one, and his name is Jesus.
I struggle a lot with control and the need for it. Ask my family or my closest friends, and they will tell you. I like to be in control. I like to think that if I have a certain amount of power and control, that I can dictate outcomes. How silly of me, really.
Historically, missions in Africa from people in the West (wealthy, white, typically male but with a fair share of women), have gone horribly wrong. I think a part of this failure has to do with power and control. White missionaries come in thinking they have all the power and control. They think that it is through their hard work, dedication, and faith that they can save Africa. (From what they are saving it from is another question altogether). That mentality shows us that white people think they have the power to save. Plot twist, the continent of Africa has the largest population of Christians (again, this can be disputed on what “Christian” means in this context, but still).
Power dynamics are everywhere, but I have felt them especially as a white woman living in Africa. Not only do I have people from the West saying “how amazing of you saving those poor black people!”, but I also hear it from Zambians themselves saying they need us to do things for them. I’ve had Zambians say that their prayers aren’t good enough, so they ask me to pray instead. I’ve had them ask for money for food, school fees, transport, instead of looking to God as their provider. I’ve had them push us towards the front of the church towards a seat of honor, while other new members get left in the back.
When we think we can save Africans, Africans think we can save them too. I don’t want to be anyone’s savior. I’m not perfect. I fail. I’m easily angered and lack grace and patience. But you know who doesn’t? Jesus. That’s why he is savior and I am not.
There are a lot of elements and factors going on here, and this is just a short blog. Many intelligent people have done more research into race and power dynamics specifically in the field of missions in Africa, and I don’t claim to be one of them. What I do know and can write about are my own experiences. I’m working on humbling myself enough to know and act like I am not the savior. When I leave, God still works. Before I came, God was working. I have a lot of privilege and power, and I’m trying my best to acknowledge that, and have it lead me to a place of humility at the feet of Jesus.
Africa doesn’t need another savior. They already have Jesus.