When I landed in Bogotá, I didn’t expect my understanding of missions to be completely undone. But Colombia wasn’t just another stop on my missionary journey — it became a mirror, a refining fire, and a classroom where God confronted everything I thought I knew about the Great Commission.

Yes, we are called to go. Yes, we are called to preach. But if we only bring words and leave behind no discipleship, no tools, no support, and no love in action — we may leave people more confused than changed. What I encountered in Colombia wrecked me. It’s where I learned Revelation #1: that the Gospel must have hands and feet. That it’s not really compassion if it doesn’t walk into the dark, stay long enough to understand, and do something.

Spiritual Hunger in a Place of Physical Need

Coming from America — where we’re rich in resources but starving spiritually — I was struck by how Colombia often felt like the opposite. I met people clinging to Jesus with pure, desperate faith… yet still struggling to eat, find shelter, or access clean water. And I had to ask myself: What does it mean to bring the Gospel here?

I realized the Great Commission has been misunderstood in some circles. It’s not just a race to share the Gospel in as many corners of the earth as possible. If we preach to the Himalayas but don’t leave a Bible, don’t teach them how to pray, don’t walk with them as they grow — we risk leaving people with passion but no foundation. And I’ve seen what happens in places like Papua New Guinea, for example, where a lack of the ability to read the Bible has allowed witchcraft to come in. 

A Night in Prostitute Ministry

One of the hardest nights of my life was doing ministry among prostitutes in Bogotá. When one woman looked me in the eyes and said, “I pray too. I just want to get out of this,” I realized that maybe the only tool I really had in my tool belt was to pray for her, but I couldn’t help her. This led me down a path of deep spiritual wrestling. And it raised a question I’m still grappling with: Is prayer supposed to be enough? If I’m questioning that, am I lacking faith? Or is it possible that God wants to use me in practical ways to help — not just pray?

Another woman told me that she was here to pay for her child’s cancer treatment. Another had fled Venezuela and had no legal work options. What do you say to someone whose suffering you’ve never experienced?

In that moment, I cried out to God, “I don’t understand — but I trust You. Teach me.” Maybe that’s what missions is really about: not having answers, but holding space for holy questions.

Missions Is Action

Colombia made me confront a slightly off mindset I hadn’t even realized I carried: that missions was mostly about evangelism. But Jesus didn’t just preach — He fed the 5,000. He healed. He delivered. He stayed.

I began to see the fullness of the Great Commission: not just telling people about Jesus, but showing them what the Kingdom looks like. Partnering with ministries like Rescue ONG, I watched local believers run workshops to teach sewing, hairdressing, and business — not as charity, but as dignity-restoring discipleship.

I asked myself: What do I bring? I can’t sew. I’m not a doctor. I don’t have a business degree. Am I even equipped to be a missionary?

But then I remembered: it’s not about being the hero. It’s about being the hands and feet. The ones who stay. Who love. Who serve. Who empower.

But wait! Also-

Just when I thought God had settled the issue for me — that the real mission is long-term, practical, incarnational love — He showed me something else entirely:

Revelation #2: Short-term missions still matter — immensely. Not just for them, but for you. Missions purifies you. It doesn’t just reach the lost — it sanctifies the saved.

I went to Colombia to serve, to help, to “do something for others.” But I left realizing the greatest work God did was in me. And it wasn’t glamorous. It was humbling. Painful. Clarifying.

Like Isaiah in the temple, the more I saw the holiness of God — the closer I got to His heart for the poor, the hurting, the oppressed — the more I saw my own spiritual poverty. My pride. My limitations. My need for refining.

Short-term missions might not always change the nations — but they can change the missionary. If you let it, the Great Commission becomes a fire that burns away self-reliance, shallow faith, and spiritual apathy. And maybe — maybe — that refining process is one of the ways Jesus is preparing His Bride.

That’s the Bride He’s returning for. And looking around at the state of the global Church — at the compromise, division, apathy, and confusion — it’s clear: He can’t return yet. Not like this.

But when we go — whether across the ocean or across the street — and we let the brokenness we see press us into God… something happens. We’re stripped. We’re purified. And the Bride becomes just a little more radiant.

So maybe missions isn’t only about going to the ends of the earth to fulfill a task — maybe it’s about preparing the Bride. Maybe every outreach, every act of obedience, every time we sit with someone who’s hurting and realize our own helplessness — maybe that’s what brings us closer to readiness.

Not just that they would know Him — but that we would be like Him.

The Tension

So here’s the tension I still wrestle with:
Long-term, practical, incarnational ministry is essential.
But short-term missions, even with all their imperfections, are still deeply biblical and spiritually formative.

These two revelations feel like they’re at odds in my earthly logic. One calls me to stay. The other affirms the value of going. One critiques the limitations of temporary visits. The other shows how powerful those very visits can be — for the missionary’s heart, for the Church’s preparation, for the sanctification of the Bride.

But maybe in heavenly logic, they don’t conflict at all.

Maybe both are true — fully true. Maybe one isn’t better than the other, just different aspects of the same calling. Maybe both long-term and short-term missions are vital expressions of Jesus’ heart.

A Word About Rescue ONG

Working with Rescue ONG changed me. This is a ministry run by Colombians, serving Colombians. They don’t just preach — they build, empower, and disciple. They work hand in hand with the local church. And they’re doing the work I believe Jesus would be doing if He were physically in Bogotá today.

To the staff of Rescue ONG: I honor you. I see Jesus in your consistency, in your courage, in your faithfulness.

A Final Question for the Church

What does it really mean to fulfill the Great Commission?

Jesus didn’t say, “Go make converts.” He said, “Go make disciples.” That takes time, relationship, and presence. Jesus knew what each person needed. He didn’t use the same script on every heart.

But also — short-term missions plants seeds, brings encouragement, and, wow — it purifies YOU, Bride.

Closing Thought

Maybe missions isn’t only about how many people we can reach, but also how deeply we love the ones God puts in front of us.

Maybe it’s not just a race to finish the task, but a refining fire that prepares the Bride.

And maybe, just maybe, the way we bring the Kingdom isn’t by doing something for people —
but by becoming someone with them.