I Can't Believe I Get To Do This

I guided my pink bicycle through the bush, down the dusty red-earth trail into the valley. The sun was slipping low behind the coconut trees, casting long golden rays across the grassland. Women in vibrant kangas wrapped tightly around their waists and shoulders walked with rhythmic grace, children trailing behind them or perched on their hips. Clusters of plastic buckets—yellow, blue, and green—dotted the open field like scattered beads as families gathered around the community wells, filling their buckets for evening cooking and bathing. 

I had just left the mud-brick home of one of our new believers, where we’d been reading through the story of Jesus’ birth. A charcoal fire crackled in the corner, and the baby strapped to her back had finally drifted off to sleep as we spoke of hope and light. The joy of sharing God’s Word lingered in my heart, now mingling with the scene unfolding before me—one that had become beautifully familiar.

A peaceful sigh escaped my chest. I can’t believe I get to do this.

Remembering that scene still brings a smile to my face. Even fifteen years later, the moment remains vivid.

This weekend, we gathered as a national mission board in a modest guesthouse tucked into the bustle of Toronto—a diverse group made up of pastors, retirees, business owners, and our new director. We began informally, gathered in the living room, sharing stories and getting to know one another. By the next morning, the laptops were out and “business” had begun: financial statements, policy reviews, role discussions, and task delegation filled the agenda.

We ended our time together with Sunday morning worship, reflecting on Jesus’ words in John 10:27: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” We considered what it means to listen to God, to rest in our identity in Christ, and to faithfully follow where He leads—lessons that apply both personally and in our role as a leadership team.

My heart is full as I reflect on this team’s desire to love and follow the Lord, to care well for our members, and to see the unreached peoples of Africa hear the gospel.

All those years ago, I had no idea what a mission board even did. And now, as a part of this team, I find myself once again sighing with humble gratitude: I can’t believe I get to do this.

As we reflected on what it means to follow faithfully, one team member shared a quote from Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger—the pilot who famously landed US Airways Flight 1549 on the Hudson River in 2009 after both engines failed from a bird strike. He said, “For 40 years, I had been making deposits in my ability to take off, fly, and land aircraft. On that fateful day, I made a huge withdrawal from those deposits. And if I hadn’t made those deposits over all those years, I wouldn’t have been able to make that withdrawal and save those people’s lives.”

Our faithful following of the Lord is like that, isn’t it?

We’re called to make daily deposits in the way of faithfulness.

It looks like discipline, confession, prayer, fellowship, time spent reading, studying, and memorizing God’s Word. These are deposits into our relationship with God—not made to earn anything, but offered out of grace-filled dependence and a desperate longing for Him.

God has placed each of us exactly where we are—our work, roles, families, churches, and ministries. We know it is His design, simply because it is where we find ourselves today. With that confidence, and by His grace, we press on in each task and opportunity before us, seeking to make His name known. And so, for years I've personalized this prayer: That God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.” (2 Thessalonians 1:11–12)

Now, as I prepare for the next leg of my trip—more leadership and board meetings, this time in Kenya—I’m anticipating much to learn, the joy of reconnecting with old friends, and, undoubtedly, a bit of jet lag.

I’m reminded again that faithfulness is often found in the ordinary, in showing up, in saying yes to what’s in front of us. These are the quiet spaces where God forms us and uses us.

So, whether you’re in a season of pouring out or being filled, what might it look like to view your current place as part of God’s gracious invitation to join Him? Maybe, like me, you’ll find yourself pausing with quiet awe, saying, “I can’t believe I get to do this.”