Beyond the Mission Field: What Happens After the Trip Ends?

Coming home from a mission trip is always a strange mix of emotions. One moment, I’m grateful to sleep in my own bed and take a hot shower that doesn’t involve a bucket. But then my bed doesn’t feel like mine anymore, and suddenly, I’m missing the nights spent sleeping on the floor of a cold hut, praying for fruitful ministry the next day. The next moment, I’m sitting in my room, feeling completely out of place. It’s as though I’ve stepped into a world that stayed frozen in time, while I came back completely changed. My room, filled with things I once valued, now feels like a museum of the person I used to be.

Reverse culture shock is real. After weeks or months of living with little, suddenly I’m surrounded by abundance. My own home feels overwhelming. I remember coming back from a summer in Zambia and breaking down in my room, overwhelmed by how large and full it was. I felt a deep guilt, thinking of the people living in homes smaller than my room. “Why me? Why do I have this?” ran through my mind. The phrase “blessed to be a blessing” echoed, reminding me of a perspective I’d been taught: these blessings aren’t just for me; they’re tools for serving others. I felt a conviction—I don’t deserve this life unless I’m using it to glorify God. And yet, it’s hard to explain those feelings without sounding judgmental. The truth is, the simplicity of life on the mission field changes you. There’s a beauty in having less because it forces you to rely on God more. Coming back to a culture obsessed with “stuff” feels like fighting to hold on to what I learned. It’s easy to slip back into old habits, suddenly finding myself desiring unnecessary things again.

Then there’s the spiritual attack. It’s like the enemy knows you’ve just spent weeks pouring yourself out for God’s Kingdom and wants to extinguish that fire before it spreads. For me, it often looks like doubt: “Did anything I did even matter?” or “Was I really good enough to be there?” or even worse, “Did I make all that up?” Sometimes it’s exhaustion—a deep weariness that makes me pull back from prayer, community, and the very things I know I need. Post-trip spiritual attacks are no joke, and learning to prepare for them is vital.

One thing that helps me fight those doubts is staying connected to what God taught me during the trip. In Zambia, I journaled a lot—sometimes just quick bullet points of what I saw God do or how He stretched me. When doubts creep in, I go back to those moments because they remind me that it wasn’t about me in the first place. God moved, and He’ll keep moving—whether I’m in Zambia, my hometown, or anywhere else. Those memories are proof of His power and grace.

I’ve also learned that it’s okay to miss the mission field. For a long time, I felt guilty for wanting to go back so badly, like I wasn’t appreciating what God had for me here. I even struggled at university, knowing it was such a gift, yet still longing to return to Zambia. But I’ve realized that longing isn’t something to feel guilty about. It’s a good thing. It keeps my heart soft and reminds me that this world isn’t my home. At the same time, I’m learning to see the mission in the everyday—to recognize that studying hard is a way to serve the Lord, and that there are local communities in need of the same love and hope I brought overseas.

Community is also essential. I need people who understand what it’s like to come back changed and not fit the same mold anymore. Talking with my mission team or others who’ve had similar experiences helps keep me grounded. They remind me that it’s okay to struggle and that I’m not alone in this weird “after” space.

The transition home is tough, but it’s also where God continues to work. I’m learning that the mission doesn’t stop just because I’ve unpacked my suitcase. It shifts, maybe, but the calling remains: to love people, to serve well, and to glorify God in both the big and small moments. Whether I’m sitting in a village sharing the gospel or in a coffee shop listening to a friend, I’m still on mission.

So, what happens after the trip ends? A lot. Some days are messy, filled with doubts and frustrations. Other days are beautiful, full of reminders that God’s not done with me yet. And every day, there’s grace—grace to process, to grow, and to keep saying yes to whatever He calls me to next. I remember one week at GCU feeling a deep ache for the mission field. I asked the Lord to use me on my college campus. Suddenly, He began revealing things—showing me struggles people were silently carrying and giving me opportunities to intercede for them. It reminded me so much of Ngangula, where God burdened my heart for the local people’s pain so I could pray for them.

Mission isn’t just overseas; it’s here, too. The Holy Spirit is moving right here, right now. Let’s not miss it.