Week Seven — Grace at the Gate of History

Week Seven — Grace at the Gate of History

Time has a way of surprising us. At the beginning of my journey in Sierra Leone, the days felt heavy and slow, filled with the challenge of adjusting to a new rhythm. Yet now, in Week Seven, I find myself wondering how it all passed so quickly. The Mercy Ships field service is drawing to a close, and with it comes the reality of many goodbyes. Next year, the ship will serve in Ghana, which means even if I return, I will not see the day crew who became my friends here. My heart is full of gratitude for the chance to share Jesus with the people of Sierra Leone, but also heavy with the sadness of parting.

One Last Visit to the Orphanage

This week I also made one last visit to the orphanage. I brought shopping to bless them, but what blessed me most were the children themselves. Those little ones have a way of stealing your heart. The way they hug — oh my Lord, how can someone say goodbye to that?

Even though they are cared for with love, their needs are still far greater than what has been given to them. Saying goodbye was one of the hardest moments of my time here. Their faces, their laughter, their resilience will stay with me long after I leave.

Tasso Island — The Silent Shore

My final field trip took me deeper into Sierra Leone’s history. Before reaching Bunce Island, our boat passed Tasso Island, a quiet, unassuming place that carries a grief the world rarely speaks about.

According to our guide, this was the island where the bodies of enslaved Africans washed ashore after being thrown into the ocean. The currents of the Sierra Leone River carried them here, turning the island into an unmarked grave for those who never even made it onto the ships.

It struck me deeply that this truth isn’t written in textbooks or easily found online, yet it lives vividly in the memories of the people who grew up on these waters. Their history is not something you read — it is something they carry. Standing there, listening to him, I realized that the land and sea remember what the world has forgotten.

Bunce Island — Fortress of Sorrow

When we finally reached Bunce Island, the ruins stood silently against the sky — broken walls, rusted cannons, and the remains of barracoons where thousands of Africans were imprisoned before being shipped to the Americas.

Walking through the ruins, I felt the weight of history pressing down. This was not just a historical site. It was a wound. A scar. A place where families were torn apart, where hope was stolen, where human beings were reduced to property.

And yet, in the middle of all this, my guide spoke with a calmness that surprised me. I asked him the question that had been burning in my mind:

“How do you feel, knowing what white people did to your country, while giving tours to them?”

His answer stunned me:

“How can we move forward if we hold a grudge for something your great‑great‑grandparents did to my people, not to me? Holding on to anger won’t help us. My wish is that you continue to talk about this history, so the world does not forget.”

I was speechless. His words carried a wisdom that echoed through the ruins — a wisdom I have seen again and again in the streets of Sierra Leone. While many in the Western world still struggle with the legacy of slavery, here at the very gate where it began, people have chosen forgiveness. Not forgetfulness — but forgiveness.

It reminded me of a book he mentioned, Things Fall Apart, a story about how colonialism shattered African communities. He wasn’t quoting the plot; he was speaking about the deeper truth behind it: how a people can carry unimaginable pain yet still choose to move forward.

Amazing Grace on the Water

As we traveled between the islands, one song kept echoing in my mind that he earlier mentioned: Amazing Grace. John Newton lived and worked in this region during the height of the slave trade. The same waters that carried enslaved Africans toward the Americas also carried Newton toward the moment he realized how lost he was.

His hymn — “I once was lost, but now am found” — suddenly felt heavier, more real. It was born from this coastline, from this history, from this pain. And yet it became a song of hope sung around the world. That I did not know until this trip.

Only God can turn a place of suffering into a place where grace echoes through generations.

Christ, the Solid Rock

As the week came to an end, another song rose in my heart that our guide mentioned aswell: “On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.”

After walking through Bunce Island, after hearing the stories of Tasso Island, after listening to my guide speak with such forgiveness, I understood those words in a new way.

Empires rise and fall. Nations break and rebuild. History wounds and heals. But Christ remains the solid ground beneath every trembling step.

Maybe that’s why Sierra Leone feels so spiritually alive — because in a place where so much was taken, people learned to stand on the only foundation that cannot be shaken.

One Week Left

As I write these words, I realize I have only one week left in Sierra Leone. Just seven days to walk these streets, to hear the laughter of the day crew, to feel the hum of the ship, to watch the sun set over Freetown. Seven days before the goodbyes become final, before the ship sails, before this chapter closes.

It feels too short, and yet it feels complete. The friendships, the lessons, the history, the faith — they will travel with me. Sierra Leone has given me more than I could ever give back. And though I leave, I do not leave empty. I leave carrying grace, forgiveness, and the solid rock of Christ beneath my feet.

Closing Thought — Hope Rising

As I step into my final week, I hold on to the worship that has carried me — songs like Amazing Grace, Christ the Solid Rock I Stand, and the music rising from voices like the one in the video I listened to. It reminds me that even when history feels heavy, even when goodbyes feel too painful, worship lifts our eyes higher.

The music declares what my heart knows to be true: God is faithful. His grace is enough. His hope is alive in Sierra Leone.

1. So I leave not with despair, but with expectation. The same God who carried me through seven weeks here will carry these children, these friends, this nation, and me into what comes next.

And though my time here is ending, the song continues.