There can be few sights more majestic than seeing a flamboyance of flamingos in flight, soaring over Lake Turkana. During our time with the El Molo, we were encamped near the shore of the lake, and our daily commute to visit the villages of Layeni, Algas and Komote led us along the shore in many places. During these daily commutes, a wealth of shore birds were spotted. Flamingos, Roseate Spoonbills, Ibis (both white and iridescent), Saddle-Bill Storks, as well as a whole plethora of lesser wading birds. As an amateur ‘life-lister’ myself (though by no means avid) the birding along the shores of Lake Turkana was a wealth of species I had not yet seen. During our commute the second morning reaching out to Komote, I was reminded of the film “The Big Year”, starring Jack Black and Steve Martin. The film captures the antics of these two ‘life-listers’, as they set out to tick off as many species of birds as they can in a years span. The lengths that they go to in the movie are comical and staggering, rushing from one corner of the globe to the next, following migratory patterns and rumors of ‘rare birds’ to every point of the compass. Reflecting on this, I was reminded of an instance three years ago, when our team had returned from two weeks in Naaribi, back to the eco-camp we stay at when we are in Nairobi. On my outbound trip home, one night at dinner, we were joined at table by a tour group that had been in country on an extended birding expedition. That night, around the table they were sharing the photos they had been able to capture and recounting with vivid detail the species they had been able to spot. Seeing an in-road to the conversation, I casually produced a photo on my phone of me holding one such ‘rare bird’, a Northern White-Faced Scops Owl, which had become disoriented by the lights of our camp and flown into my hut. The response from the birders was interesting, dispassionate really, as their disappointment showed clearly on their faces that I had had such an intimate encounter with a species they had been unable to spot.
In a similar experience to the encounter with the birders a few years ago, I had a chance meeting with a researcher here at the Nairobi Eco-Camp who was in country studying the movements of rhinos in Maasai Mara Game Park. When I told him that I was a missionary serving here in Kenya, he wryly asked “you’re not one of those Instagram missionaries, are you?” His question struck me because it highlighted a phenomenon that seems to plague both birding and missions: the difference between those who want to capture the experience for social media and those who are willing to do the actual work. In Acts 1:8, Jesus didn’t call us to be Instagram missionaries or spiritual life-listers, ticking off ministry experiences from the comfort of our own contexts. He called us to “go” – to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. The beauty of this calling is that when we’re obedient to actually go where the people are, we encounter Kingdom moments that no amount of planning or pursuing could orchestrate. Like the owl that flew into my hut simply because I was living where owls naturally live, the most profound ministry encounters happen when we position ourselves faithfully in the places God has called us to serve.
If I were to describe this latest ministry expedition in birding terms, it would have to be called our own “big year” – not for species spotted, but for Kingdom encounters that could never have been orchestrated through human planning. Like the most dedicated birders who travel to remote corners of the earth hoping for rare sightings, we ventured into some of the most isolated places in Northern Kenya, but our “rare birds” were souls that had never heard the Gospel before. Reflecting on this latest ministry trip with Rev. David, we could only say that it was deeply impactful – impactful for the newly commissioned church in L’Moti, impactful for the fledgling congregation of Lependera, impactful for the people of the El Molo, impactful for the students of Nairibi and Lontolio, impactful for our time discipling Peter, and impactful for the emerging vision of scaling the Beehive model through mobilizing cross-cultural missionaries. On the shores of Lake Turkana, we witnessed first contact with the El Molo people – 540 individuals encountering Jesus for the very first time in their history. In the secret camps of the Moran warriors, we watched 60 young men trained to kill lay down their weapons to pray and receive Christ around a shared goat meal. On a desert soccer pitch, we saw teenagers from two different villages respond to altar calls, some receiving salvation, others asking for Holy Spirit empowerment to live transformed lives. We witnessed Peter LeKombe’s missionary calling birth as he trembled in a boat crossing waters he’d never seen, then confidently embrace a calling to reach unreached peoples. Our final Sunday brought perhaps the most beautiful “rare bird” moment of all – 22 villagers from Nairibi and Lontolio being baptized in the desert, publicly embracing their new identity in Christ where water is precious and the declaration is profound. What strikes me most about each of these encounters is how they required proximity and presence – the kind of intimate relationship that mirrors Christ’s own desire to dwell closely with each of us, not observing from a distance but stepping into our messy, beautiful humanity. Each of these encounters happened not because we chased them, but because we were faithfully present where God had called us to be.
There’s a stark difference between those who want to observe ministry from the comfort of an air-conditioned safari vehicle and those willing to get their boots muddy in the actual mission fields where souls are won. The birders I encountered years ago had invested significant time and money in their expedition, equipped with expensive cameras and guided tours, yet they missed the intimate encounter that came to me simply because I was living where the birds naturally inhabit. Similarly, much of modern missions has become about short-term experiences designed for the comfort and inspiration of the participant rather than the long-term transformation of the reached. True Great Commission work requires us to step out of our comfortable vehicles and walk the dusty paths to Moran camps, endure leaky boats to isolated islands, sleep in desert camps where owls might fly through your door, and spend months building the trust necessary for genuine Gospel conversations. It means learning languages, understanding cultures, and investing years rather than weeks in the slow work of discipleship. The El Molo had been unreached not because no one knew about them, but because reaching them required crossing 200 kilometers of dangerous desert, navigating complex tribal protocols, and being willing to stay long enough to build genuine relationships. The Morans remained closed not because they were uninterested in spiritual things, but because authentic ministry to warriors requires the patience to wait for tragedy to open doors and the commitment to return again and again with goats and Biblical stories that speak to their warrior hearts.
The beautiful truth is that these “rare bird” Kingdom encounters are not reserved for a select few missionaries or ministry professionals – they are available to anyone willing to respond to Christ’s call to “go.” The harvest truly is plentiful, and the workers are few, not because God lacks people, but because so many are content to observe the Great Commission from a comfortable distance rather than participate in its fulfillment. Every community has its own version of the El Molo – people groups, neighborhoods, demographics that remain unreached not because they’re impossible to reach, but because reaching them requires stepping outside our normal routines and comfort zones. Every believer has access to their own “Moran moments” – opportunities to build authentic relationships with people who seem closed off or hostile to the Gospel, if we’re willing to invest the time and patience required for trust to develop. The soccer fields exist in every context – natural gathering places where authentic ministry can happen if we’re creative enough to meet people where they already are rather than expecting them to come to us. Within the context of this ‘plentiful harvest,’ we are leaving fruit rotting on the vine when we do not respond to the Great Commission. These divine appointments don’t require exotic locations or dramatic circumstances; they simply require availability, faithfulness, and a willingness to inconvenience ourselves for the sake of the Kingdom. God is already at work in your Jerusalem, your Judea, your Samaria, and your ends of the earth – the question is whether you’ll step out of the safari vehicle to join Him there.
The birders in “The Big Year” missed the profound joy of simply being present where birds naturally live, too focused on their frantic pursuit to appreciate the encounters that come through patient observation and faithful presence. In the same way, the most extraordinary Kingdom moments await those who choose proximity over pursuit, presence over programs, and faithfulness over fame. The owl that flew into my hut wasn’t the result of elaborate planning or expensive expeditions – it was the gift that comes to those willing to live where God has called them. Similarly, first contact with the El Molo, breakthrough moments with warrior Morans, altar calls on soccer fields, and desert baptisms aren’t reserved for professional missionaries or exotic locations – they’re the natural fruit of obedient hearts willing to go where the harvest is ready. As I finish writing this, I’m reminded that God’s best gifts often come to those who aren’t chasing them but are simply faithful to be where He has placed them. The question isn’t whether extraordinary Kingdom encounters are possible in your context – they absolutely are. The question is whether you’re willing to leave the comfortable safari vehicle, get your boots dusty on Kingdom ground, and position yourself where the “rare birds” of God’s grace naturally take flight. The harvest is plentiful, the workers are few, but the invitation remains open to anyone willing to go where the birds are.
P.S. As I write this blog about the difference between chasing experiences and faithful presence, I’m overhearing birders at the next table planning their complex pursuit of rare species across Kenya – the irony is not lost on me.
From one man He made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and He marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from any one of us. Acts 17:26-27