Someone said to me a few months ago, “Why don’t you just take the money you’re spending on your flight to Africa and send it to needy people there instead? I bet you would help others a lot more that way.”
If I hadn’t already asked myself that question half a dozen times, I might have been offended.
The truth is: I don’t really have a good response to that question/accusation because I’ve wrestled with the idea of this trip from the minute I decided to go. The defensive part of me thinks that it’s a lot easier and less complicated to throw money at people than to spend time engaging with them. It would definitely be easier to send a check to Africa than to book a flight, get vaccinated, travel 70+ hours there and back, make childcare arrangements for my absence, and deal with the emotional hardship of being away from my husband and son for two weeks.
And yet…
If everyone wrote checks and nobody showed up, would that really be better?
Shouldn’t someone show up once in a while?
I’m not so disillusioned or proud that I believe I’m the perfect person to show up. I am most certainly not. I don’t believe I’m going to make some huge impact or difference during a two-week stay; that is not the goal or expectation.
But maybe when we do it this way, the hard way, when we commit to the journey and venture to another corner of the world to give of ourselves and whatever ordinary talents we may have, maybe we give more than just money. Maybe there is value in our time and energy and encouragement. Maybe when we do it this way, the hard way, we make an investment in the stories, words that will live on well past the trip and well past the money. And subsequently, when we leave our cozy homes, our hot running water, our endless supply of electricity and our supportive families, maybe we become more dependent on each other and on God and on the very simple things that we actually need to survive.
Maybe our perspective changes. Maybe our gratitude changes. Maybe our life changes.
Maybe it’s okay to want those things?
Maybe we need people to write checks and maybe we need people to show up. Maybe we need both. Maybe God decides which one you are and calls you to give or calls you to go.
And maybe it’s okay to do the work and raise the money and go to Africa with the honest intention of both helping others and nourishing your own heart. God gave us this big, beautiful world that is full of people in physical, emotional, and spiritual need. He gave us land and ocean and the means to get across them and most importantly of all, He gave us each other. When I was 17 and 22 and now 27, He gave me a desire, a stirring in the heart, to travel someplace far and different and love on His people (and take a break from loving myself so much).
It took me ten years to listen, ten years to say it out loud, and ten years to seek an opportunity to make it happen, but here we are. We’re leaving for Africa tomorrow with suitcases full of film, notebooks, crayons, glue sticks, neon jump ropes and soccer balls. Our plan is loose and flexible and open for God to work, just how I always imagined it. We’ll host portrait day and decorate journals and lead devotionals and play soccer and read books and spend time with a small group of wonderful women and children.
This trip isn’t about me, or about Ashley, or about Hannah, or about any one person or group. It’s not about being brave or showing up or who wrote a check or who questioned the motives. It’s about all of us, together, making a commitment to the journey—the voyage to step outside of ourselves in an effort to see more of God’s creation, encourage more of God’s people, and experience more of God’s love.
At least, that’s the story I hope to tell when all is said and done.
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Thank you to everyone who donated money, instax film, Amazon gift cards, and encouraging e-mails and cards. I am in awe of your generosity, cheerful giving, and overwhelming support. Every smile I witness on this trip is because of you and your kindness. A special thanks to you, Mom and Dad, for your large financial contribution and week of childcare. I really couldn’t do this without you. Brett, thank you for being a rock star dad, a prayerful husband, and my biggest supporter yet. I love you more than words can say.
For more information about Amani Liberia, click here. Your prayers for safety are appreciated!