The Adventure of Waiting Well

From there, we stepped into the work. Before settling into the city, we spent a couple of days in the village, walking dusty roads, visiting homes, and giving our friend space to say “see you later” to people she has loved well. It was simple and meaningful, the kind of time that reminds you that what God builds in relationship doesn’t disappear with distance.

Everywhere we went, we heard it: “tubob.” Foreigner. It followed us down the roads, called out by kids and adults alike. If I had a dollar for every time, I’d be rich. If I had a dalasi, I’d still be working - the exchange rate is about 73 to 1! It was a constant reminder that we were outsiders. And yet, not entirely. Being family to Alison gave us an instant in.

It was a gift to step into the work we’ve been trained for, observing, taking notes, asking better questions, and learning to listen well. There’s a humility in that kind of posture, resisting the urge to fix or rush, and instead joining what God is already doing. And honestly, it’s a joy to step into a place and find you belong, not because of culture or language, but because of Christ.

It wasn’t without challenges. We said the wrong things, misunderstood at times, and felt the weight of cross-cultural communication, especially in indirect conversations. It’s a different kind of dependence, letting go of scripts and relying on the Spirit. Slow work, sometimes uncomfortable, but important.

And then there were glimpses of something more.

On Easter Sunday, we witnessed the baptism of a Muslim-background believer. I love baptisms. In those moments, it feels like heaven and earth are a little closer. It was a privilege to witness costly obedience and be reminded that the gospel is moving, even when we can’t always see it.

We also met a church planter doing steady, faithful work, training, sending, and multiplying what God has entrusted to him.

And yes…there were lions.

A walk I didn’t overthink beforehand, which is probably for the best. Somewhere along the way, I came face-to-face with a fear I hadn’t really named, and at the same time was completely undone by the beauty of God’s creation.

I’m deeply grateful for the unexpected way this season of waiting for surgery has unfolded. Lifting my eyes didn’t remove me from the mess, it placed me in it, but with a different perspective.

Somewhere between dusty roads, working with a new team, and unexpected moments of beauty, I stood close enough to see the strength and weight of a lion, and I couldn’t help but think of the One Scripture calls the Lion of Judah. Not distant. Not merely symbolic. Strong. Victorious. Fully able to do what I cannot.

In a season where I feel so very fragile, this trip reminded me that the One I’m looking to is not fragile at all.

He is steady. He is powerful. He is not wringing His hands over the world, or over my life. He is the Lion of Judah, and He is worthy of my trust.

It turns out, when you pray for “opportunity,” you don’t always get a neat, inspiring moment. Sometimes you get a plane ticket, long travel days, and a front-row seat to just how little control you actually have.

Our trip to The Gambia started that way. Deep exhaustion, a visa process that felt somewhere between a conversation and an interrogation (with a few unexpected “fees” mixed in), and the general disorientation of arriving after nearly 24 hours of travel. Then, almost immediately, a surprise: multiple ferry crossings that were shockingly smooth. If you know anything about West Africa, you know that’s not the norm. It felt like a small, unexpected kindness right at the start.