When a Christian Mission Trip to Liberia Becomes a Wake-Up Call
Everywhere we went, people lined the streets.
Some laughing. Some begging. Some sleeping in metal shacks.
Some needed food. Some needed shelter. Some just needed a friend.
One boy had lost both of his parents. I remember looking at his face and thinking, over and over, “Who sees him? Who loves him?” I was one person, surrounded by hundreds of needs. And the need felt so great that it almost swallowed me.
This was not just a Christian mission trip to Liberia. It became one of those Christian missions stories that gets under your skin and refuses to leave. It changed how I see comfort, calling, and what it really means to be one of God’s Kingdom Laborers in a world full of unreached people groups.
In the middle of the noise, the dust, and the heartache, God pressed three things into my heart.
WHO WILL GO?
Who’s willing to leave what’s comfortable and familiar? To step away from, even if it’s only for a couple of weeks, family, rhythms, friends, food, your couch?
On this mission trip, our days started early and ended late. We crammed nine people into a Land Cruiser, drove seven or eight hours over bumpy dirt roads, slept three or four hours a night in a village, and ate bush meat and spicy potato-leaf stew.
Hello, bathrooms.
We sweated through our clothes while we slept. We bounced over roads that made us all nauseous. We stared at giant spiders in the ceiling that sounded like pop rocks when they moved. One of our team was severely burned from boiling hot water…
It was not comfortable. At all.
But here is what surprised me: right in the middle of all that discomfort, God was already moving.
One night, during an outreach, a Muslim girl wandered in. She had never heard the name of Jesus in this way. No one had ever explained the Gospel to her. No one had ever told her that there is a God who sees her, loves her, and died for her.
That night, she heard the message. And she said “yes” to Jesus.
The next day, she was baptized. Immediately, she began sharing the Gospel with other Muslims in her community. She became a living example of how to share the Good News with Muslims before she had even been a Christian for twenty-four hours.
This is what Christian missions stories are really about. Not us as heroes, but God already at work in unreached people groups, waiting for someone to show up, open their mouth, and say His name.
It felt like God was whispering, again and again, “I am already working, but I need someone to go. Who will go?”
And that question did not stay in Liberia. It followed me home.
Who will go? Who will leave comfort? Who will step into the unknown so that someone else can hear?
What if the answer is supposed to be you?
MORE KINGDOM LABORERS, NOT JUST MORE CHURCHGOERS
One of the villages we visited had four churches. All Christian. All active. On paper, that might sound like a success story. Plenty of activity. Plenty of services.
But right next to those churches, there was a Muslim tribe that was completely unreached. No Bibles. No believers. No one sharing the Gospel with them. No one crossing the invisible line between “us” and “them.”
Four churches, and still an unreached people group right next door.
That picture hit me hard. This Christian mission trip to Liberia became more than another one of those missionary stories from Africa. It became a mirror.
Because here is the truth: the world does not just need more churchgoers. It needs more Kingdom Laborers.
It needs people who see work, school, sports, neighborhoods, and even social media as a mission field. It needs people who are willing to share Jesus, not just attend a service. It needs people who understand that they are God’s Plan A for the people around them.
Jesus said in Matthew 9 that the harvest is plentiful, but the Laborers are few. Not the church attenders. The Laborers. (Want to understand the full weight of what Jesus meant? Start with the harvest.)
So let me ask you directly:
Where has God placed you? Who is the “unreached tribe” right next to you? Who lives across the street, sits in your office, walks past you at the gym, but has never really heard about Jesus?
You might not be called to get on a plane and join missions in Liberia. But you are called to be one of God’s Kingdom Laborers in the place where you already live. Your story may never be listed among famous Christian missions stories, but it matters just as much in heaven.
The world does not just need more churches. It needs more people willing to live like everyday missionaries. It needs you.
COUNT THE COST, THEN GO ANYWAY
I will not sugarcoat it. This was one of the hardest trips I have ever been on.
Discomfort. Tiny beds. Pop rock spiders. Sickness. Hunger. Long, bumpy drives. Little to no sleep. Constant sweat. Sickness. Aching feet. Missing my wife and 15th-month-old baby at home. Moments of deep sadness when I saw more need than I could ever meet.
But here is what I keep coming back to: every uncomfortable moment mattered.
It mattered because people met Jesus. It mattered because some in that tribe heard the Gospel for the first time. It mattered because a Muslim girl walked into an outreach as a stranger and walked out as a daughter of the King. It mattered because more people in those villages became Kingdom Laborers among their own people.
Christian missions stories are often told with the happy ending highlighted. We talk about the miracles and the smiles, and we should. But we also need to talk about the cost.
Jesus never hid the cost of following Him. He told us to take up our cross. To lose our lives in order to find them. To go to all nations, even when it is hard. Real missions in Liberia, or anywhere among unreached people groups, will always include discomfort.
So we have to ask, honestly: are we willing to count the cost?
Are we willing to be tired, misunderstood, stretched, or even scared, if it means someone hears the name of Jesus for the first time? Are we willing to leave comfort so someone else can find hope?
This is what it means to move from comfort to calling. This is what it means to go from churchgoer to Kingdom Laborer.
You might never face giant spiders or impossibly bumpy dirt roads. But you might face awkward conversations, rejection, or feeling out of place when you talk about faith. That is still part of the cost.
The question is not, “Will it cost me?” The question is, “Is Jesus worth it?”
YOU ARE GOD’S PLAN A
As I think back on that Christian mission trip to Liberia, I cannot shake this simple idea:
Who is going to go? Who will cross the room, the street, or the ocean? Who will leave comfort, step into calling, and trust that God is already at work?
The answer is not “someone out there.” The answer is “Kingdom Laborers.” The answer might be you.
You are not too small, too busy, or too broken for God to use you. You are not a backup plan. You are God’s Plan A for the people in your circle.
So let me leave you with a few simple questions:
- Where is God asking you to go, even if it is uncomfortable?
- Who is the “unreached tribe” near you that no one is really talking to?
- What is one step you can take this week to share Jesus with someone, clearly and kindly?
From comfort to calling. From churchgoer to Kingdom Laborer. From “someone should do something” to “here I am, send me.”
Maybe the next to go is you.
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