I think it’s good to push ourselves out of our comfort zones from time to time. That is how I found myself as a den leader then scoutmaster for over 13 years. That is how I found myself on the board of directors for The Master’s School (the christian private school my boys attended.). That is how I found myself in Mexico two weeks ago.
Several months ago, our church in Colorado introduced us to some missionaries we support, and my pastor put out a call for volunteers for this year’s trip to Mexico. For some reason, it stuck with me. Two months later it was still on my mind and I mentioned it to a friend, who simply said, “I think you should go.”
And that was it. I was going.
I’m an introvert by nature. I’m the guy at the party who floats from person to person I already know, avoids those I don’t, and is usually the first to leave. This trip was with 16 people I didn’t know. To make things even more awkward, I physically missed two of the three team meetings before we left. The third was my first time meeting the whole team.
I knew I needed some social lubrication for this trip. When our flight was delayed by two hours, I saw my chance. A quick trip to an airport bar and suddenly, a late night of travel seemed a bit more manageable. We finally arrived in San Diego well after 1:00 a.m., where we were met by Craig, a missionary whose kindness was immediately apparent.
The Tijuana Brigada
The next morning, we were up at the crack of dawn to cross the border into Tijuana. Our first task was to unload a semi-truck and trailer to prepare for a “brigada,” or a medical fair, the next day. It was exhausting work, but we fell into a rhythm, a team working toward a common goal. We wrapped up by 1:00 p.m., closed our setup with a prayer, and headed out for some much-deserved shrimp and fish tacos. (Some of the more adventurous types had octopus. I’ve had octopus, I stuck to the shrimp.)
We made our way back across the border, some of us walking, others waiting hours in the van. But we were all buzzing from the day’s work. The next morning, we returned for the brigada.
That day, I saw God at work. We ministered to over 550 people. Over 100 chose to accept Jesus. And I watched as one woman, given a new pair of glasses, broke down in tears of pure joy. She could see clearly for the first time in a long time. It was awesome. Witnessing God’s love manifest in such a simple, yet life-changing way, still makes me verklempt.
No T.P., No Problem
After the brigada, we drove about six hours south to Nueva Odisea. Our hosts, Bukie and Teresa, gave us the lay of the land—or rather, the lay of the facilities. “There’s no running water,” they said. “You’ll have to use buckets to flush the toilets. And if you put toilet paper in, we have tongs for you to go ‘fishing’ for it.”
Yes, you read that right. I’d come a long way from the airport bar.
My assignment for the week was to help build a kitchen counter for a new ministry building in a migrant camp. Apparently, I had mentioned to Pastor Matthew that I had “started” woodworking as a hobby. He took that to mean I was a master carpenter. Thankfully, I had some help. Most of our days were structured around ministry and service: morning worship, a testimony from one of our hosts, and then our daily assignments. After just a couple of hours of work, we’d break for lunch.
But the most impactful part of the day was Vacation Bible School. We played with the local kids for about an hour, then settled in for a lesson and a craft. This repeated every day until the last one. On that day, we told the story of Jesus—from his birth to his death and resurrection. The kids were captivated, hanging on every word. They were so caught up in the story, as we all should be. After the skit, we invited them to tell their families to come back for a community dinner we were hosting.
The Privilege of a Smile
This trip brought me face-to-face with my own privilege. I watched children, with next to nothing, become overjoyed to receive a toothbrush. They were simply happy to have someone pay attention to them—to throw a ball, to blow bubbles, to hear us say a few words in broken Spanish. I saw young girls, effectively mothering their baby siblings while their parents were out in the fields working 12-hour days.
And yet, these kids, they were so full of joy.
This experience changed me. I grew closer to the 15 other people who gave up their time to serve in Mexico. We formed a bond that will last a lifetime. I saw God on display in the smiles of those children and in the tears of that woman. I found friendships that will last, and in doing so, I found a new sense of purpose.
So, maybe “zero to 100” wasn’t a bad way to start. But here’s the most important thing I learned: If you have an opportunity to go on a mission trip, you should go. But, you don’t have to go to another country to be a missionary. You can serve right where you are. You can be a missionary in your own town, your own community, your school, or your place of work. The mission isn’t just a destination; it’s a way of living.
