Model of missions: hero or hiryō

“Poop!”¹ my colleague blurted out when I asked our team to describe 肥料 (hiryō, fertilizer). We were at our annual training event at the base of Mt. Bandai in beautiful Fukushima, discussing the differences between being a hero and hiryō as missionaries. The comparison is a convergence of what I have learned about mission work over the last two decades and my love for 親父ギャグ (dad jokes). Images related to the word “hero” come to mind quickly, but few people think much about fertilizer unless they are gardeners or farmers. When I was in Boy Scouts, we had a fundraiser selling various types of fertilizer. I remember driving around with my dad in his truck and unloading fifty-pound bags of some mysterious substance to our friends and neighbors, which I didn’t understand but that they were willing to buy.

Patrick Fung described the second general director of the China Inland Mission, D. E. Hoste, in this way: “He lived to be forgotten in order that Christ may be remembered.”² As I look at Scripture and reflect on my understanding of church history, I am drawn to this quote. I believe the ministry of cross-cultural workers is central to the expansion of the kingdom of God yet it is primarily a call to give our lives, work really hard, and be forgotten in the process. A call not to be a hero but hiryō. This is not an unfortunate reality but good missiology.

Hero

When I first came to Japan in 2005, I believed the rural area where I was living would change because of my presence. God had called me to this unreached country. I had experience in ministry, and I believed that God would do something new because I was there. In short, I viewed myself as a hero in the story of what God was doing in Okuchi.

In my experience, most of us would adamantly deny viewing ourselves as heroes in the story of what God is doing in Japan and in our local contexts. We say, with sincerity, that we are here to serve. At the same time, we struggle when we don’t get credit for our contribution or if our ministry is less fruitful than others. I remember once I shared a ministry idea with our ministry partner. A few days later in a meeting, he shared the idea without giving me credit. The group loved it and decided to give it a try—and it went well. I am ashamed to say that I was more upset about not getting credit than I was excited about the fruit we saw in our ministry. I was more interested in being recognized for the good idea than God being honored and the kingdom advancing through this idea. I wanted to be the hero.

Sometimes Japanese churches can hold hero-like expectations of a missionary. They may be convinced that a missionary can overcome certain problems that they can’t solve themselves. I understand the reasoning behind this thinking, but the dangers of this often-subconscious belief are obvious. It’s not helpful to think of missionaries as heroes.

History also serves up heroes. Following World War II, many missionaries came to Japan and did amazing work. I am humbled by these men and women of faith and perseverance, and we see their legacies continuing today. I have been encouraged by the stories of the Kaylors in Kyushu and the Meekos in Tohoku. But there is also an (often unvoiced) expectation that missionaries today will have the same capacity, gifting, and fruit as the postwar generation. It is also significant that the individuals who are most often remembered are those who had the most spectacular or broadest-reaching impact. The majority of the postwar generation have been (appropriately) forgotten. There is an expectation that we will imitate the few who God used to do exceptional things instead of the thousands who lived faithful and fruitful lives and were forgotten.

Hiryō

When used correctly, fertilizer provides nutrition and strengthens a crop that is already growing. The right amount at the right time can help multiply what is already growing. Fertilizer can do little on its own. If we expand the metaphor a little further, we can see how the seed of the gospel is good, the field doesn’t belong to the missionaries, and when everything else goes well, missionaries disappear in the process. When a field bears a lot of good fruit, the fertilizer is forgotten by most people, except for the farmer. As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 3:5–9, the participants are insignificant; God makes things grow.

So why do I think hiryō/fertilizer is a helpful metaphor? Other than the weak play on words, I think it provides a picture of how the missionary can bring value without becoming too central in the process. Fertilizer applied at the proper time helps the plant grow healthier and bear more fruit. Too much or the wrong timing can actually harm the plant. There are also three helpful built-in assumptions with this metaphor. There is an assumption that somebody else is responsible for the field, that a plant or crop is already bearing fruit in that field, and finally, that missionaries are a type of fertilizer helpful in Japan. The chart below provides a simple comparison of the two approaches to mission:

Table 1 – Qualities of a Hero and Hiryō

From idea to practice

No metaphor is perfect, but I really like this one. I believe in the value of missionaries working cross-culturally to help reach communities where Christ is unknown. In some circles I have also observed momentum toward viewing missionaries as heroes, and in other circles, as unnecessary. We need to avoid both traps. Missionaries are not the ultimate answer—we would all agree that Christ and the gospel are. There is also a tremendous need for missionaries in Japan, where well over 99% of the population is not actively following Jesus.

I love how the image of fertilizer fights both of these traps. As missionaries, we are not central but add nutrition to the soil for the gospel to bear fruit. In the right amount and with the right timing, we can be both significant and forgotten in the process. In ministry, we have the perfect seed. The gospel is sufficient. We are ministering in the country of Japan, where there are specific needs and challenges. How do we orient our lives in such a way that the soil is enriched and Christ is remembered? Is my ultimate desire to be the hero of the story, or am I ready to embrace a strategy in which I am likely to be forgotten, underappreciated, yet pleasing to our Father in heaven?

1. I’ve always wanted to start an article with the word poop (smile).
2. Patrick Fung. Live to be Forgotten, OMF International, 2008, Forward, Kindle.
Illustrations: Vecteezy.com