Serving in Sierra Leone: Lessons on Faith, Poverty, and Generosity by Kristin Bacher

Fifteen years ago, I was preparing to leave for Sierra Leone for a four-month internship with Word Made Flesh. Many different experiences and interests brought me to that point, but looking back now, I can honestly say it was one of the most impactful and life-altering decisions I have ever made. That decision to go on the servant team eventually led to five years of service with a beautiful community in Sierra Leone. I met my husband there, got married, and today I continue to remain connected to the work of Word Made Flesh by serving on the board. It is such an honor to support what the Word Made Flesh communities are doing around the world.

Word Made Flesh has such a rich theology informing its philosophy of mission, and one of our foundational tenets is this: you are going as a learner.

You are going as a learner

I know we are all lifelong learners, but you will really accelerate your learning so much simply by being in another culture. I learned many practical things in Sierra Leone. I learned how to wash clothes by hand, take bucket showers, barter and buy food in the market, navigate transportation systems, learn a new language, and appreciate very, very spicy food. But I also learned to expand and challenge my views of time, autonomy, efficiency, productivity, possessions, community, and family. The list could go on and on.

I think maybe my entire worldview was challenged and shifted. Even my faith was challenged by different people and a different culture.

But I think some of my biggest lessons in Sierra Leone came from my colleagues and from our friends living in poverty. They truly helped me discover God in the world.

Generosity

One of the biggest things that challenged me as a Westerner was the lifestyle of generosity my friends living in poverty practiced. I have always given from my excess, and honestly, I probably still do. But every day somebody gave to me from the widow’s mite, from the very little they had.

Most people were living with just enough for the day, yet they would share half their meal with me. Kids would split their candy with me. I had a bread vendor on my street who gave me free bread every day, even though his profit margins were so small. I had a friend who would give me fruit from her tiny margin of profit. People who did not even know me would generously and exuberantly bless me with free taxi rides or gifts.

It was so humbling to realize: I have so much, and they are so much more generous than I am. They taught me so much about what it means to live generously, and they revealed more of God’s heart of generosity.

Faith

I also learned a lot from their faith.

Here in the United States, we have savings accounts, excellent medical care, therapists, experts, and endless resources we can consult. I still remember the day I said, “I have a headache. I’m going to get some Tylenol,” and somebody looked at me and said, “Kristin, you need to pray first.”

Part of me laughed because I thought, No, Tylenol works. But another part of me realized something deeper: when everything else is stripped away and all you have is God, He becomes your first resource, your first go-to. I realized how much I depended on extra money in the bank or Western medicine, while the people around me depended fervently on God because He was all they had for many of their needs. 

 

Praying

They also taught me different methods of prayer. I had never prayed while clapping or while everyone prayed out loud at the same time.  Some of the different ways they related to God were beautiful, inspiring, and deeply challenging to my own way of life.  But what inspired me most was the belief behind those prayers.  They had seen God work miracles and they prayed believing it could happen again.

Forgiveness

I also learned a lot about forgiveness.

I have had a relatively easy life. I think especially about our WMF Sierra Leone administrator, Ansu, who had his arm amputated during the war. Hearing his story of radical forgiveness transformed me. The call of God on his life has been harder than mine because I have never had to forgive such a grievous wrong. Yet it was beautiful to witness the power of the gospel in his life.

 

I think about a young girl whose mother abused her, neglected her, and exposed her to exploitation and harm. I remember feeling angry for her. But she responded with grace. She loved and cared for her mother in ways a mother should care for a child, even though she herself was still just a child. Watching her graciously forgive someone who had caused so much pain was deeply convicting.

Embracing interruptions

I also learned to stop for people.

This one frustrated me sometimes because of my Western ideas about time and productivity. But in Sierra Leone, if somebody stops to talk, you stop. You greet them, even if it makes you late. Sometimes this created tension with staff members trying to stay on schedule, but it also revealed something beautiful: people are more important. There is something deeply sacred about stopping for people and greeting them, about communicating through your actions that another person matters more than efficiency.

Gratitude

I learned a lot about gratitude too.

The response to almost everything “How are you?” “How was your day?” “How did you sleep?” was “tell God Tenki.” which means “Thank God”.

People thanked God constantly.

At church services, someone would often stand up and publicly thank God simply because they had reached another birthday. At first, that practice felt unusual to me. But over time, I began to understand. In a place where medical care is limited and life can be fragile, every year and every day truly feels miraculous. People genuinely recognized life as a gift from God, and they lived with immense gratitude. 

Their prayers often began simply: “Thank You for another day.”

It became sobering for me to think about the verse, “To whom much has been given, much will be required” Luke 12:48. When I saw their level of gratitude for what little they had, it made me reflect deeply on my own gratitude for how much I had been given.

Going to hard places

Some of your learning will be fun, exciting, and adventurous. But other lessons will be painful. As you serve Jesus among the poorest of the poor, you will encounter people who have experienced unimaginable pain and loss. You will witness exploitation, injustice, trafficking, broken systems, and corruption. You may experience grief or the untimely death of a child or adult due to poverty.

And yet, this is also the call of God: to enter places of pain and suffering.

There is a quote by Henri Nouwen that I love:

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, and to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.”

At first glance, that does not sound exciting or adventurous. But there is something profoundly beautiful in it.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it for me.” Matthew 25:40

“He defended the cause of the poor and needy… Is that not what it means to know me?” Jeremiah 22:16

Do you see it?

The beauty is that as we enter broken and painful places, and as we live among the least of these, we discover God in the world because that is where He is. He is close to the brokenhearted. He is among the least of these. And by knowing and defending those living in poverty, we come to know God more deeply.

That is the beauty of entering these broken spaces: this is where we will meet and see God in a fuller way.

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