Pushing your Comfort Zone to Serve Through Mission Trips

Looking out the window of the airplane, I watched the coast come into view. After almost a day’s worth of travel, we were almost in Costa Rica.

Across the aisle my daughter and her friends digested the same image with nervous excitement. A new culture. Language barriers. Cold showers. Weird food. The thoughts guiding their conversations couldn’t possibly measure up to what God was preparing to do in and through them.

For many of them, this marked their first time out of the country and first time on a mission trip.  It was the opposite for me. I had taken so many mission trips that I’d lost count. This time, however, I would simply participate, not lead.

Reality settled in as the plane’s wheels dropped. A bowl of volcanoes surrounded us. The lush landscape and brightly-colored airport welcomed tourists from around the world while, at the same time, deceiving them from the country’s much harsher realities. We wouldn’t follow the usual course through the maze of vacation homes and resorts. Instead, we headed into areas most don’t see. 

Armed guards staffed our hotel. Vacant stares met us as we purchased snacks at the corner store. The warning not to leave our hotel after dark became all too real as night descended, bringing sounds of the unfamiliar. Why were we here? Nothing about this was comfortable. I would be lying if I denied moments of doubt and fear. Obedience—despite our emotions—to the place and space that God calls us is the fertile ground in which faith grows. So together, we prayed.  We worshiped. We read the Word with new eyes and hearts. And together, we resolved to declare the love of the One who sent us.

Navigating through a landfill to reach our destination proved the easy part. We aimed toward the center, toward a small church camp set up to meet the basic needs of the people living there. Living. In the landfill. Shocking, yes, but not uncommon for those existing in poverty. Here they turned discarded trash into precious resources.

The hard part came in observing the despair of young mothers, alongside their children who had not yet eaten despite the late hour of the day. The pressing part. The relief was palpable as we served rice and beans to hungry bellies. This daily feeding focused the church’s mission, meeting an immense need in this area.

Afterwards, we fed the real food to meet the real hunger. Words of the Gospel communicated in an immediately relevant way. The hungry, thirsty heart was the very reason we were there. Hope. Peace.  Love. As we spoke those words, they no longer seemed simple verses to the teens in our group. The Gospel brought the very lifeblood that renewed the hearts of the people served. Living water holds a new context when undrinkable water surrounds you. Joy despite circumstance becomes tangible when experienced in the light of those who have it as their only resource to give away. 

As we left, the teens could barely utter the words running through their minds. Tears came, and so did worship. Thankfulness. Understanding the message of the Gospel became so much more real in the absence of social media, abundant food, and the common conveniences we experience in the States. As a mother, there is no greater joy than to see your child understand God’s heart for the nations through their own eyes.

Though the Great Commission compels us to go, too many of us make up excuses as to why that may not be directed toward us personally. Yet, Scripture doesn’t make that same exception. Jesus doesn’t excuse us from His work because it’s inconvenient or because we don’t really want to follow His directive. In fact, those excuses should propel us even more. Faith steps in when we step out in fear and lack of understanding. I challenge you to listen intently to that still Voice which compels you to “go.”

When she’s not on a mission trip, Rachael Groll is busy mothering three daughters, pastoring children, and encouraging women. Connect with her at shehears.org.