Lessons from Costa Rica

There are moments in life when you don’t just see differently—you begin to feel differently. Our time serving in Costa Rica was one of those moments.

We arrived with plans, expectations, and a willingness to serve but what we encountered was something far deeper than any itinerary could hold. God had already gone before us—preparing hearts, orchestrating moments, and inviting us not just to do ministry, but to enter into His compassion.

Seeing What God Sees

It is one thing to read about need. It is another to stand in it.

We saw hunger—but we also saw dignity.
We saw lack—but we also saw generosity.
We saw hardship—but we also saw joy that didn’t make sense by worldly standards.

There were families with very little, yet their posture was not one of entitlement, but of gratitude. There was a humility that quietly preached louder than any sermon. It confronted something in us—our assumptions, our comforts, even our understanding of what it means to truly trust God.

Scripture came alive in ways that were no longer abstract. The call in the book of Isaiah 58 was no longer just something to study—it was something to step into: to feed, to clothe, to shelter, to stand in the gap.

And in those moments, it became clear: this is not charity—this is obedience.

Finding Christ in “The Least of These”

Jesus’ words in the Gospel of Matthew 25 carry weight—but they carry even more when you begin to live them:

When you feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, and care for the vulnerable—you are serving Him.

This truth changes everything.

Because suddenly, ministry is no longer about projects or programs. It becomes deeply personal. Every face matters. Every interaction is sacred. Every opportunity to serve is an encounter with Christ himself.

And if we’re honest, it also exposes how easy it is to overlook Him.

Not out of cruelty—but out of distraction, comfort, or convenience.

The Unexpected Teachers

We often think we go on mission trips to give.

But in many ways, we were the ones who received.

We were taught by people who had less materially, but often more spiritually—more dependence, more gratitude, more awareness of God’s daily provision. Their lives reflected a quiet surrender that many of us spend years trying to learn.

Their humility wasn’t weakness. It was strength rooted in trust.

And it left a question lingering in our hearts:

What would it look like to live with that same posture—right where we are?

The Mission Doesn’t End at the Airport

It would be easy to see a trip like this as a spiritual high. A meaningful experience that lives on as a memory.

But that misses the point.

The call of Christ was never limited to a location.

The same God who moved in Costa Rica is moving in your neighborhood.
The same compassion you felt there is needed here.
The same invitation to serve is present in your daily life.

You don’t have to cross an ocean to be a missionary.

You can be one in your own home.
Your workplace.
Your church.
Your community.

Because the truth is—there are “least of these” everywhere.

The overlooked.
The hurting.
The unseen.
The ones quietly carrying burdens no one else notices.

The mission field is not a place you go.
It’s a life you live.

A Call to Action

So what do we do with what we’ve seen? What we’ve felt?

We don’t let it stay in Costa Rica.

We carry it.

We allow it to reshape how we love—making mercy not optional, but foundational. We choose to see people differently. We become more interruptible, more available, more willing to step into discomfort for the sake of someone else.

We open our tables.
We open our schedules.
We open our hearts.

We live with intentional compassion.

Because the same Spirit that moved across borders is the same Spirit dwelling within us.

And He is still sending.

Let It Continue

What God started there is not finished.

Seeds were planted.
Hope was restored.
Lives were touched—ours included.

But the greater work is what happens next.

When we return home and choose to live differently.
When we refuse to go back unchanged.
When we let compassion become not just a moment—but a lifestyle.

May our homes reflect hospitality.
May our churches embody mercy.
May our lives point people to Jesus.

And may we never forget:

Sometimes the greatest mission field is the one right in front of us.

-Crystal Rapp