Week 6 — Broken Places, Burning Hearts

This week has been one of the most emotional and spiritually stretching weeks of my life. I walked into places where the need is overwhelming, where brokenness is visible, where human strength is not enough. And yet, in every place, I also saw Jesus—quietly, powerfully, faithfully moving.

Sierra Leone is thirsty. Sierra Leone is hungry. Sierra Leone is ready for Jesus.

And my heart has been undone in the best and hardest ways.

A Home Filled With Love and Vision

One of the places that touched me most deeply was an orphanage—a small, humble home where twelve children of different ages live together like a family. The moment I stepped inside, I felt the presence of Jesus. The couple who run this home radiate His love in everything they do. Their care is not just physical; it is spiritual, tender, and deeply sacrificial.

Life in Sierra Leone is hard. Water is scarce. Resources are limited. But these children looked well cared for and fed. The couple has done everything they can—they have managed to get water running directly from the wall into the house, installed solar panels for electricity, and created a safe place where these little ones can grow in dignity and hope.

Still, the needs are great. The building needs maintenance. The space is small. And as more children are abandoned across the country, the need to expand the property presses heavily on the heart. Listening to their dream of enlarging the home and building a school stirred something deep inside me.

I felt the ache of wanting to do more. The ache of seeing so much need. The ache of knowing I cannot fix everything.

But I also felt Jesus whisper, “Be faithful with what I’ve placed in your hands.” This home is a sanctuary. A testimony. A place where the love of Jesus is lived, not just spoken.

Seeing Beyond Sight

Another place that marked me deeply was the blind school in Freetown, led by a man who is blind himself. His leadership is a living testimony that true vision comes from the heart, not the eyes.

What amazed me most was how the children moved—confidently, independently, navigating rooms without assistance. Their senses had become their guides, and their courage was breathtaking. Their motto, “Disability is not inability,” was alive in every step they took.

One boy stunned us all. Give him any date—past or future—and within seconds he tells you the exact day of the week. Watching a blind child do that was a holy moment. A reminder that God places extraordinary gifts in unexpected places.

But what touched me most was their worship. Their voices rose in praise to Jesus with a purity that brought tears to my eyes. Their faith—simple, strong, unshaken—was a light brighter than sight itself.

In that place, I saw a different kind of vision. A vision that sees with the heart. A vision guided by faith. A vision filled with hope.

Where Brokenness Meets Compassion

The most painful place I visited this week was the children’s hospital. The moment I walked in, I felt the weight of brokenness. The conditions were difficult. The needs were overwhelming. Families were doing their best with what little they had, clinging to hope in circumstances that would crush many of us.

We brought food, drinks, diapers—small things, but things that matter. Things that bring dignity. Things that say, “You are seen.”

But nothing prepared me for the two disabled twins who had been abandoned by their parents and left at the hospital with no one to care for them. Seeing them lying there—beautiful, innocent babies with no arms around them—broke something inside me.

I felt powerless. I wanted to hold them. I wanted to take them home. I wanted to fix everything.

But all I could do was stand there with tears in my eyes and whisper, “Jesus, please.”

And even in that pain, I sensed His presence. Jesus was there—in the quiet, in the brokenness, in the longing. Sometimes the most powerful ministry is simply showing up and letting your heart break with His.

From Hospital Wards to Harvest Fields

But this week was not only about brokenness—it was also about revival. I saw Jesus moving through the hospital wards with a power that left me in awe.

One evening, a young patient who had recently given his life to Jesus was feeling discouraged. Nothing lifted his spirit—until I invited him to join me in sharing the Gospel with another boy in a different ward. His face lit up instantly.

We went together, and as he shared in Krio what Jesus had done in his life, another father came closer to listen. Soon, both boys and both fathers gave their hearts to Jesus.

Later, in another ward, a patient asked about Jesus, and his neighbor—an Imam—listened intently. After hearing the Gospel, the Imam allowed me to pray for him and asked for prayer to receive Jesus into his heart.

A seed was planted that day. A holy seed. A seed that will grow in God’s time.

The harvest is not coming. The harvest is here. This nation is hungry for truth. Thirsty for hope. Ready for Jesus.

Closing Thoughts

This week has left me both broken and burning. Broken by the sights I cannot forget—the abandoned twins at the hospital, the children longing for more space at the orphanage, the blind students singing with faith stronger than sight. And burning with a deeper fire for Jesus, because in every place of need, His presence was unmistakable.

I felt powerless at times, standing in front of needs I could not meet. Yet I was reminded that revival does not begin with my strength—it begins with His Spirit. Sierra Leone is thirsty and hungry for Jesus, and I believe He is already answering that cry.

The harvest is here. The question is not whether God is moving, but whether we will step into what He is doing. My prayer is that I will keep saying “yes,” even when the need feels overwhelming, even when my heart feels broken. Because where the need is great, His grace is greater.