My story started in a Christian home here in California, and going to church, praying, and reading the Bible were part of our regular routine. At that time, our local church was only minorly involved with missions. While we supported several active indigenous ministries, we weren’t really a church that sent people out to the field. As a young girl, I remember going to VBS and hearing the story of Jesus. That’s when I first believed in Him. But then, the next year at VBS, I said the “salvation prayer” again (to make sure I had done it right the first time). But nobody ever really discipled me or taught me what it looks like to follow Jesus. I remember struggling from that point on up until my early twenties with the doubt in the back of my mind that I might not really be a Christian, even as I began to consider missions. Was I saved the first or second time I said the prayer? Could I lose my salvation? Did I mess up too much? I always had this fear. I wanted to know that I know that I know that I belong to Jesus.

Despite that doubt, I could see evidence of the Lord in my life throughout my high school years. There was a desire to pray, to know Him, and to read the Bible. I don’t think those things happen in normal human hearts apart from the Holy Spirit drawing you. 

As high school graduation was approaching, there was a lot of pressure to go to college. I decided I wasn’t going to do that. The cost seemed too high, and the payoff too little. 

“What am I going to do?” became a prevalent question in my life.

I had gone to a Christian summer camp the year before and loved it, so I decided it would be a cool experience to work at one of these camps. I started making applications and, thanks to connections in my local church, I finally got a job as a camp staffer after many denials.

My time at camp was a formative period for me in my faith. Being surrounded by staff who loved Jesus and actually liked to read their Bibles and pray for and with one another made a huge impact on me. I could tell that was where the Lord wanted me. It just felt right – the way God had orchestrated it showed me that He really does get involved in the lives of His people. 

While working there, I would regularly take long walks by myself to pray about my next steps. I would stare out into this dark, black, unknown of the future and tell God, “I will go anywhere you want me to go. I just need you to show me where.” Around this time, I decided I did not want to be a lukewarm Christian – I didn’t want to play the cultural Christian game. Jesus said to His followers that there is a cross to bear and sacrifices that need to be made. That there is a cost to being His disciple. And I wanted to pay that cost. I wanted to be the crazy, hardcore, radical Christian. Logically, I decided that meant I had to go be a missionary to some remote village because (obviously) that’s what hardcore Christians do. 

After all, I saw no good reason for me not to get involved in missions. I was young and healthy. I had time, freedom, and few commitments. There was just one problem: my church had never really sent out missionaries, and I had no idea how to start the process.

Doing a Google search for missions agencies was extremely overwhelming. Instead, I narrowed it down by looking into the agencies my church supported. Eventually, I found one I really liked. And despite not meeting their minimum age requirements by a year, I applied and they decided to accept me as a full-time member of their team. In retrospect, I think it was “crazy” for them to accept an eighteen-year-old with no experience. Yet, once again, I could see this was where God was sovereignly leading me.

But the challenges to becoming a missionary didn’t stop there. Unfortunately, at the time I was accepted, there was no opportunity for me to receive the training I needed to launch into cross-cultural ministry through my missions agency. 

So they sent me home to wait for those doors to open. 

Later that Fall, the doors opened. I received a call from a fellow staff. She said: “I don’t know why we didn’t think of this before, but there’s an organization that provides missionary training for young adults we think would be perfect for you. It’s called Cafe 1040.” I had never heard of them before, but with one day left before the application deadline and only three months to raise the funds for their program, I agreed to go. Thankfully, I was not on my own for that season. A Cafe 1040 mentor lovingly and graciously guided and coached me so that I was able to raise all the financial support needed and land on the ground in South Asia that following Spring. 

During the early weeks of Cafe 1040’s program, the other girls and I faced one of the most difficult challenges in that context: how to befriend locals. It seemed like no matter how much we wanted it or how hard we tried, we couldn’t form meaningful relationships with local women. What were we doing wrong? Then it struck us – we hadn’t prayed for God’s help to do God’s work. So we did, and quickly after, the Lord led us into a relationship with a young woman. Then another. And another. Before long, our friendships with locals became our favorite thing about being in South Asia. And those relationships remain to this day.

After my experience with Cafe 1040, I was sent to Eastern Africa for two years through my missions agency. And that same challenge from South Asia presented itself again. Relationships were hard to find. But I had seen the Lord provide relationships before, so we prayed about it and trusted Him to be faithful. He was. Again.

But unfortunately, that was not the main difficulty I faced in East Africa. The lack of capacity due to the low number of missionaries serving in the region made our work extremely difficult. That rapidly led to burnout and broken relationships. 

It was hard. 

I’m glad I was obedient and followed the Lord to serve in East Africa. But that did not keep me from falling into the temptation of being discouraged. After returning home I was confused and hurt by the experience, to an extent. I wondered, was it all worth it? I didn’t see anyone put their faith in Jesus. Those I did share the Gospel with, especially the many children that came to my porch to hear about Jesus, would likely forget all I had told them.

But I am trusting the Lord.

What we do unto the Lord is not in vain. Scripture says God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, and that includes even our failures and shortcomings. Even if I never get to serve again as an overseas missionary, I know now, from my experience with Cafe 1040 and East Africa, that our God is passionate for all nations and is moving in ways we can’t even imagine.

Though I may not see the fruit I want to see in others and in myself, my gaze has shifted from my own shortcomings to the amazing power of God. I came to see that my efforts are only a drop in the ocean of the many ways He is drawing people to Himself from all nations. This is His story we are in!