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Why our church trip to Scandinavia wasn’t a mission trip — and why that’s OK
A Lutheran pastor reflects on how a group trip to Scandinavia — with no devotions, no mission work and no agenda — became one of the most spiritual experiences of her life.
By Rev. Katy McCallum Sachse | FāVS News Columnist
The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News.
I recently returned from an overseas trip with 40 members of my congregation. Given that this was such a large group of Christians, you might assume we had been on a pilgrimage: following the footsteps of Paul or Martin Luther or ancient Celtic Christianity. Or perhaps we were building houses for those in need, digging wells for clean water, or other tasks frequently referred to as “missionary work.” Were we, perhaps, knocking on doors giving out Bibles? Or handing out tracts on street corners?
None of these. We visited Scandinavia. Just because.
As a Lutheran group, many of us have roots in Nordic countries. My own maternal grandparents emigrated from Sweden in the 1920s, and the majority of travelers in our group had similar stories. Beginning in the mid-1800s through the early 1920s, nearly three million people left Sweden, Norway, Denmark and Finland for North America, largely seeking economic well-being. It’s no surprise that so many of us share this history.
When people heard we were traveling together as a church, they would often ask if it was a “religious” trip. I struggled to answer this, since what makes something “religious” to one person is very different for another.
On the surface, we weren’t overtly spiritual: We didn’t have daily devotions or mealtime prayers or Bible readings connected to our itinerary. We did gather in Oslo for one worship service, but apart from this, we looked and acted like any other group wandering the roads of Scandinavia.
And yet, I found it a profoundly spiritual experience. Why? I’m glad you asked.
We were fortunate to travel a long distance, to a beautiful, economically-strong and safe place. We had a stellar tour guide with us, and the daily arrangements were handled without much effort on our part. All of this is a profound privilege, and I am not unaware of how such comfort makes travel easier.
But travel is never truly comfortable
At the same time, all travel causes discomfort. Things go wrong; people get lost; trains run late; airline seats are cramped. You can’t read the menu and sometimes you order something that turns out to be unrelated to what you imagined on your plate.
You are not, on this type of group tour, in charge of your own time. You cannot simply wander off on your own without immediate and negative impact to others. Above all, you have exited all your comfort zones. Even on the best day, that’s hard.
And yet it is these aspects of travel — any kind of travel, including a visit to an unfamiliar grocery store across town — that make it a spiritual practice. For isn’t life such as this?
Things go wrong; people get lost; you find yourself disoriented in your own existence. What you imagined does not happen. Things change without your permission. People seem to be saying things that make no sense to you. Your comfort zones disappear. This is hard.
But we had one another. We had a guide, who knew the way and could help us find the next steps. We learned to laugh when things weren’t what we expected (Norwegian hotel workers on strike? OK!) and to taste what was on our plate (brown cheese ice cream? OK!).
We tried different seats on the bus and discovered that a new perspective can really lift your spirits. We marveled at the Nordic commitment to the environment while also agreeing that Americans make better Kleenex. We found out that one of the greatest naval failures of all time (look up “Vasa ship, Sweden”) has come with generations of insight and learning.
Finding the sacred in the unexpected
We marveled at the beauty of the fjords and noticed how the waters and mountains of Norway echoed the waters and mountains of our Pacific Northwest home. We tried to be patient with one another when days were long and our brains were full.
Perhaps it’s no wonder that so many spiritual leaders like a good road trip. Some of my favorite Jesus stories take place as he travels from one place to another, crossing borders and shepherding the tired pilgrims.
To move beyond what we know, to choose discomfort on purpose, can open us up to the divine. To the beauty of this world. To the joy of one another. Even — and I cannot believe I am saying this — to the goodness of brown cheese ice cream.
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