Missions won’t be easy. But when you look back, you won’t remember the hard parts the way you think.
You will remember the smell of dust and passionfruit on your hands. You’ll remember music pulsing through your bones and many, many handshakes.
There was a moment for me in Ethiopia, lying on my too-thin sleeping mat, feverish and exhausted. My stomach was empty and the heat was about 45°C (110°F). I was desperately hoping I’d get better with the knowledge that any sort of hospital was hours away across unpaved African roads.
While I was sick, I realized something…I was strangely happy. I had seen things that changed me forever:
I should have been miserable. Instead, I think I finally began to understand what Paul meant in Romans:
"Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
- Romans 5:3-5
When my team sat under the stars on New Year’s Eve, we were far from fireworks, champagne, and shouting. My family was eight time zones away, and my iPhone didn’t have battery, let alone internet. Still, I believe it was the most promising New Year’s I’ve ever experienced. Rather than making promises to do big things, we were living them.
When you do a DTS, you will miss people deeply. You will miss your family and your friends. You will miss the freedom to drive yourself around your hometown. You’ll miss your mom’s chocolate chip cookies. I won’t pretend like those things don’t exist. Yet, even when it’s the hardest, you will not have regrets.
I vividly remember driving out of that Ethiopian tribe, my belly filled with roasted corn and ramen noodles. My team was collectively drenched in sweat and dust. Our bus bumped along a dirt road while the driver danced to Hillsong Young & Free. Outside, the hills rolled on and the grass swayed in the wind.
We knew we might never see our tribal friends again.
The idea hurts your heart a little bit, but it doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth. It all feels strangely simple and right.
God’s bigness doesn’t leave you empty inside.
The more I see of God’s love, the more I realize I’ve barely scratched the surface. If His greatness peaked in the past, I don’t want in. But I’ve seen it and He keeps outdoing Himself. He’s bigger, wilder, and more full of grace than I ever imagined. And when you catch that, something inside you shifts.
You’ll want to love bigger, wider, deeper. You’ll want to give your heart away again and again, even knowing it’ll get broken a little each time.
But that’s what Jesus did.
Love led Him to the cross.
And honestly, following that kind of love, even when it tears you up, is the greatest reward.
When you leave DTS, you’ll feel as if you gave your heart to these people whom you’ve known for so short a time. Your heart might end up stretched wide across the world: a little piece still in Africa, another with your DTS friends, a piece in Germany, another at home.
That’s okay.
God is still good in all of those places.
He’s good when your heart is growing.
He’s good when you feel like you’re being pulled apart by love.
I want my love to keep stretching bigger, bigger, bigger. I want to be able to love people so much greater than I ever thought I could. It’s only possible when I look back at the love Jesus showed me. Love will not leave you unscathed. It’ll tear you up. But love led my Savior to his death, and following in His footsteps would be a great reward.
And in the end,
you won’t remember the hard parts.
You’ll remember that your heart got bigger.
And that Jesus was in every part of it.