Our travel day from South Africa to Malaysia was easily one of the longest and craziest stretch of travel I’ve ever experienced. In total, it took around 36 hours: a five-hour drive to the airport, a four-hour wait, a ten-hour flight to Singapore, a three-hour layover, a one-and-a-half-hour flight to Kuala Lumpur, and then a seven-hour drive to Sungai Petani. By the end of it, none of us knew what time it was, what day it was, or what our bodies were supposed to be doing. But the craziest part wasn’t even the travel, it was what happened before we ever got on the plane. When we got to the OR Tambo airport in South Africa, we learned that in order to fly into Malaysia, we had to show proof that we already had a flight booked out of Malaysia. Our next country is Guatemala, but our logistics team typically buys flights much closer to when we leave each country, not weeks ahead of time. Suddenly we were stuck. We weren’t allowed to check in, and the clock was ticking quickly. We only had one hour before boarding. Our logistics team worked unbelievably hard, and somehow, miraculously, they managed to get all our Guatemala flights booked in time for us to check in. And even then, once we had our boarding passes, we only had twenty minutes to get through security, get our passports stamped, and run across the airport. So we sprinted. All of us. Backpacks bouncing, people panting, water bottles flying out of side pockets. It felt dramatic enough to be a movie scene. When we finally arrived at our gate, sweaty and breathless, we learned that the flight had been delayed just a few minutes. We made it, literally and perfectly in God’s timing. It was a complete God moment, between the miracle of the flights getting booked in time and the fact that our sprint ended exactly when we needed it to.
Arriving in Malaysia felt like stepping into a whole new world. This country is layered with cultures: Malay, Chinese, Indian; and everything from the food to the clothing to the religious practices is different than anywhere I’ve been before. Our team had two possible ministry options for our time here: tutoring refugee students or helping at a bakery that employs people with Down Syndrome. I had been praying over those options a lot. Anyone who knows me knows that working with individuals with disabilities is my absolute dream. It’s something I’ve always felt deeply connected to, even though I never really thought of it as a global ministry opportunity outside of kids ministry. I told God I would go wherever He wanted me, but my heart definitely leaned toward the special needs ministry. When we were told that our team had been chosen to work at the bakery with individuals with Down Syndrome, I felt this huge rush of gratitude. It felt like a hug from God. It reminded me that He sees me, He knows the desires He placed in my heart, and He cares about them more than I realize. Some people were disappointed because they had their own hopes, and that was hard to see, but for me it was such a moment of reassurance. I know this ministry will challenge me and stretch me in ways I haven’t experienced before, but I also feel like God is pulling me deeper into learning how to love people well, especially when it looks different than what I’ve known at home. I can’t wait to start and see how God moves through it.
Spending my first Thanksgiving away from my family was harder than I expected. I missed all the usual things; laughter, specific foods, cousins running around, everyone packed into one house. There’s something about holidays that makes distance feel even more real. But in the middle of missing home, God kept showing me the family He’s building right here on the Race. We ate together, shared stories, prayed, and laughed, and even though it was different, it was beautiful in its own way. It made me realize that God doesn’t just give us family once, but He keeps building it around us as we follow Him.
This first week in Malaysia has already taught me so much about culture and what it means to love people cross-culturally. Malaysia requires a lot of awareness. There are cultural expectations around modesty, gestures, gender interactions, and respect that are completely different from what I’m used to. English is spoken widely in some areas, but not by everyone, so I’m learning to communicate with patience and more nonverbal cues than I ever have before. Religion here is woven into daily life; Islam is the majority, but there are Buddhist temples, Hindu shrines, and churches all throughout the city. Understanding how to share God’s love in a place where people hold so many different beliefs has stretched me. It has made me slow down, listen more, and be extra intentional about the way I communicate. One thing I’ve learned quickly is that respect matters deeply here. Small things like removing shoes before entering certain spaces, dressing modestly, speaking gently, communicate more love than I realized.
Representing Jesus cross-culturally has taught me to listen more than I speak, to observe before acting, and to be gentle with my assumptions. I’m learning that God works through humility, through small acts of kindness, through simple consistency. And I’m learning that love translates across cultures far more easily than language does. This week has stretched me, comforted me, challenged me, and reminded me that God is present in every new and unfamiliar space. If He carried us through 36 hours of travel madness just to bring us here, then I know He has something purposeful waiting in the days ahead.
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