We’re not born knowing who our heroes are; we’re molded by the stories of those who inspire us, often instilling in us a desire to follow in their footsteps, wearing their capes, or stepping into their shoes. While I can’t be certain who your heroes were or how they influenced your life, I can say with confidence that each of us had our own heroes. For many millennials in American evangelical churches, including figures like Renee Bach and John Chau, our heroes were Christian missionaries—ordinary individuals who left their homes, embarked on overseas adventures, and passionately spread the message of Jesus.
These missionaries were our modern-day explorers, akin to the likes of the Apostle Paul, Francis of Assisi, David Livingstone, and Hudson Taylor, all of whom journeyed great distances, driven by the belief that they were fulfilling God’s calling to bring salvation to those who needed it most. The term “evangelical” may not directly imply evangelism, but both words share a common Greek root, “evangelion,” which translates to “gospel” or “good news.”
We eagerly devoured their biographies and absorbed their stories. Names like Amy Carmichael and Jim Elliot were household staples. (During my early teenage years, I even wore a sari to portray Carmichael in a church skit.) Growing up in the ’80s and ’90s, the era when colorful mass entertainment became intertwined with evangelical subculture, we found inspiration in movies, comic books, and cartoons that depicted the lives of these missionaries. At youth conferences, we were urged to be “radical” for Jesus, pledging our lives to go wherever God called us, ready to make figurative or literal sacrifices for the sake of the gospel. It was an intoxicating vision, one that ignited our imaginations.
Indeed, imagination played a crucial role in the formation of many aspiring missionaries’ origin stories. John Chau, the subject of the documentary “The Mission,” drew inspiration from figures like Jim Elliot, who tragically lost his life in 1956 along with several fellow missionaries while attempting to evangelize the Huaorani people in Ecuador. At the age of 26, Chau followed in Elliot’s footsteps, embarking on an illegal journey in 2018 to evangelize the isolated Sentinelese people on a remote Indian island. His story made global headlines when his lifeless body washed ashore.
“The Mission,” directed by Amanda McBaine and Jesse Moss, delves into Chau’s life and the broader missionary movement, examining how Western societies often romanticize and simultaneously belittle indigenous cultures. The film offers a balanced view, presenting perspectives from both staunch critics of missions and unwavering believers. It invites viewers to understand Chau’s mental framework, as well as that of his critics. The documentary scrutinizes the concept of “foreign missions,” which entails venturing far from home to share the teachings of Jesus—an integral part of modern evangelicalism, rooted in the movement’s origins during the height of European colonialism.
Christianity, at its core, is an evangelistic faith, with the spread of the “good news” being a fundamental practice since its inception. However, the film questions how modern missions often rely on creating fantasies in the minds of young individuals, elevating missionaries to celebrity status and emotionally appealing to them to join the cause.
While “The Mission” touches on the actual work of missionaries, its primary focus is on the culture that surrounds missionary promotion. It explores the dehumanizing language used to describe “unreached people groups” and the encouragement of idealism, which can sometimes masquerade as a divine calling. The documentary acknowledges the need for proponents of missions to grapple with the way missionary work has been portrayed and marketed to young people in recent decades.
This issue parallels the phenomenon that turned several students from the 1999 Columbine High School tragedy into “martyrs.” A cottage industry emerged, including books, movies, songs, and conferences, all aimed at fostering “radical” faith in young evangelical millennials who would stand firm in their beliefs, even in the face of opposition. “Savior Complex,” a three-episode HBO documentary series centered on Renee Bach, explores a similar narrative. Bach, a young Virginian who established a malnutrition rehabilitation center in Uganda, grappled with allegations of operating without medical training or proper registration. The series presents a less polished narrative than “The Mission” but offers crucial insights into the consequences of messianic fantasies.
Both documentaries highlight the belief held by individuals like Bach and Chau that they are the central figures in their heroic stories, appointed by a higher power to save others. This solipsistic impulse runs contrary to Christian teachings, where Jesus is the ultimate hero, and it contradicts the idea of being a genuinely selfless individual. True heroism lies in the unnoticed, unglamorous, and often thankless work that occurs away from the spotlight.
In conclusion, “The Mission” and “Savior Complex” deliver a valuable lesson for all, regardless of their stance on missionary work. They remind us that heroes we’ve heard of are merely people with well-crafted narratives on well-prepared platforms. The real heroes are the ones toiling in the shadows, far from the allure of heroic tales. Very few of us are truly prepared to undertake that challenging journey.