36 Hours

This morning I woke up in Sierra Leone, West Africa. I flew in with the No Boundaries International team late last night.

There’s something to be said about stepping onto the tarmac in Sierra Leone. Getting off that plane was like coming home. Immigration smelled like basic training reception – diesel, bodies, and industrial cleaners. It took a eternity to get through the line but only a moment at the booth. “Two index fingah. Two index fingah!” The mad behind the immigration desk scanned my fingerprints, inspected my passport, and sent me through.

Pastor Andrew met us at the airport with a small team of people to help us with our 26+ bags. We piled into a van that took us to the Sea Coach. We took a boat from the island where the airport was located to the mainland. From there, nine of us crammed into a van and another four into a Jeep to take us the rest of the way to the renthouse.

Despite the intimacy of four to a bench seat, the van was somehow less than stifling. In fact, the weather was rather beautiful when we arrived. It had rained before we landed, leaving the earth humid, but relitively cool.

After dropping out bags, we worshiped together and had a short briefing of what to expect the next day. A nice late breakfast at 9am before a heck of a lot of outreach. Fortunately, we all made it to bed relatively early at about 1 in the morning.

Much like New York, apparently Freetown doesn’t sleep. I crashed to the chorus of cars passing, horns honking, and dogs fighting. But today is a new day, with lots of plans, and God is all over it. We’re going to the jail in Lumley, the marketplace, and down by the beach, where women and girls have to sell themselves to eat.  And that’s just today. Wherever we go, we carry His light with us and God willing everyone we talk to will know they are loved. Lord, I cannot wait.

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