I just returned from my second mission trip to Guatemala.
And I hope that these reflections won’t come across as cliché or emotionally charged reactions to short-term missions abroad.
Because the more I engage in missions, the more I realize what missions truly are.
I used to think the goal of overseas missions was to bring God to places of physical or spiritual poverty. But the kids and teachers in the Ixil region of Guatemala keep teaching me something different:
Missions isn’t about bringing God somewhere.
It’s about recognizing how fully present He already is.
Every time I go, I plan to bring my light, joy, and faith to share with these kids.
But somehow, I always come back carrying theirs.
It’s the strangest, most beautiful thing—something I think anyone who’s done missions overseas might understand.
When I’m with the students at Nicolás Christian School, I feel like I have everything I could ever need. There’s something sacred about being with people who aren’t glued to their phones, who are curious without judgment, kind without trying to be, and playful as if the world were already whole.
Many of these students live in shacks. Their families have walked through genocide. They face food insecurity, limited access to healthcare and education, and a lack of consistent electricity.
And yet—
They are some of the most joyful people I’ve ever met.
That reality always stops me in my tracks, especially when I compare it to what I see back home.
In the U.S., the youth I minister to live in comfort. They have everything they could ever want or need at their fingertips. But when we recently asked some 7th graders what they were struggling with, many of them wrote this:
“I constantly have thoughts of suicide.”
High schoolers tell me about their anxiety, stress, depression, and loneliness.
And while I do see beauty and resilience in them, I also see great, great brokenness.
Not because American youth are worse.
But because the pressure is relentless.
America is a pressure cooker.
We’re trained to chase after more: more wealth, more success, more followers, more status.
It’s exhausting. It never stops. And it’s never enough.
What’s ironic is that many of the kids in the Ixil region dream of coming to the United States.
Although as a visitor, I clearly see their joy and resilience, it’s obviously different for those who’ve lived there forever. Of course, the grass seems greener in America.
But I always pause and wonder:
If they came, would they really be happier?
Sure—there’d be cleaner streets, more technology, more convenience. It might be exciting for a little while.
But if they lived here, would they have more joy?
On the flip side, I have friends who want to leave the U.S. entirely—to become lifelong missionaries in impoverished places.
When I ask why, they say things like, “Because people overseas have real joy. It’s different there.”
But here’s the truth I’m starting to see:
The grass isn’t greener on the other side.
It’s just different.
America isn’t better than Guatemala.
And Guatemala isn’t better than America.
Joy isn’t about where you live.
I believe we can live in America with true joy—
Not because of the comforts and opportunities,
But because we can choose to live with Jesus.
And those in Guatemala can live with true joy as well.
I’ve seen it for myself.
Not because their lives are easy.
Not even close.
But because they, too, can choose to live every day with Jesus.
Perhaps the grass is always greenest when you truly live with God.
He is the common denominator everywhere.
So, to the kids in Guatemala dreaming of the U.S.
— I hope you know God is already with you.
And to my friends longing to go overseas to find joy
— I hope you know God is still here.
Yes, every place has its hardships.
Every culture has its own brokenness.
Some might seem starker than others.
Some might be more hidden in the shadows.
The grass might look greener somewhere else.
But no place, no country, no circumstance can give you what only Jesus can.
Because joy doesn’t come from where your feet are planted—
It comes from who your life is rooted in.
I don’t want to run toward what seems better.
I want to run toward Jesus.
And wherever I run with Him—
I’m confident of this:
That’s where the grass will always be green.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul… Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me… Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” —Psalm 23
Learn more about upcoming opportunities to be part of something bigger at Nicolás Fund For Education Mission Trips. Together, let’s run toward Jesus and find the greenest pastures wherever He leads.
