I’ve wanted to go back to the Motherland ever since I found out my people had been enslaved and forced to come to America.
A few college friends and I would complain that we still hadn’t been given our 40 acres and mule and a mass exodus back to Africa was in order.
Of course, those were the high and mighty ideals of young college students who were still naive enough to think we could change the world.
The wiser we became the more we realized that a mass exodus was not only impossible, but implausible: No one would come.
As much as we wanted to return to our roots, the state of Africa was in such a manner that being in America was better.
Fast forward to January 2013.
My Pastor announced a missions trip to Africa…costing almost $3000. I just got a new job and I felt that this was the time and this was the place. The dream was finally going to be realized.
As I began to fundraise, and people got on board and excited about my trip, I realized the trip was going to do more for me than I ever could do for those Africans living in the city of East London, South Africa.
Sure, I took the mission of spreading the gospel to all the nations literally. This is one of the main reasons I wanted to go. To do my due diligence as a Christian; to at least one time travel far from home to bring the Good News of what Jesus has done for you, for them, for us.
After some time spent in reflection, I’ve realized that the trip would make the biggest impact on me.
I pray that God uses me in just the way He needs me there.
I pray that I’ve heeded His Word and call to go throughout the nations.
I pray that I’m changed and never the same.
I pray the Holy Spirit have His way in that place.
I pray that the love and light of Jesus Christ in us is so undeniable that they have to know Him.
Lord, let it be.