What am I doing here?

Staring at the screen of the monitor in front of me, the little airplane icon just crossed from the Atlantic Ocean to Guinea.

7 and a half hours left in our flight.

Guinea. Africa.

What am I doing here?

No seriously. I’m on a fifteen hour flight, a million miles from home, I have no idea what the local time is but my body tells me it 2:08 PM Pacific time.

And we just crossed over into Africa. God, what am I doing in Africa? An overweight white American headed to see things in Zimbabwe I can barely understand. Hunger. Poverty. Lack of education and resources. The list never seems to end. The more I think about it the more it becomes clear that I have no idea what I’m in for.

Culture and history are not on my side.

It’s moments like this when I just have to ask God… “What are you doing?”

I don’t get it. I want to get it. I’m not on vacation. I’m not on a mission trip. I’m not working. I’m in some sort of strange ether between it all.

If this isn’t a quest… Maybe even a pilgrimage (of sorts) than I don’t know what else one could be.

So, with that. I’ve got no choice but to press on. I couldn’t go home if I wanted to. I’ve got to see it out. I’ve got to see what I’m supposed to see and meet those who I’m supposed to meet.

In times like this I’m left only to embrace the situation with open palms. Yes, Lord. This is your trip and not mine. I’ve got no idea where I’m going, what I’m doing, I’ve got no power, no resources to bail me out, no connections, no social cues, no language. I’ve got a big pile of nothing on this one.

And yet… I an left with only this simple prayer. “What am I doing here?”

As a team, we are chased by the same question. “What are we here for, Lord? What do you want of us? What do you have to teach us?”

Join me in praying this prayer. In reality, we are all on this quest.