Colombia: Why We Go

There’s a moment on every mission - after the endless packing and prepping, the airport bustle, the buzz of flight, the stress of customs — when all of it dissolves into something quieter. You look around and realize where you are: another country, another language, another life unfolding in front of you. And then it hits — this is not a trip. It’s a call.

For me, this always seems to be when I leave the airport in my host country, and walk out into the "real world" of a real nation. It's no longer a plan, a vision, an internet search. It's a place. Palm trees (maybe). Concrete (usually). In need (always).

The mission to Colombia was no different, other than that it was my first time serving in a medical mission. While I previously had no background in the medical field (out of respect to medical professionals the world over, I'll assume that my overnights as a CVS cashier do not count), this mission - providing medical services and treatments to impoverished communities - was extraordinarily fulfilling. Out there in the field, sweating through long days, sharing meals with strangers who quickly became brothers, faith became physical again. It wasn’t theory. It was touch, labor, and love.

Every mission has its lessons, but Colombia burned one truth into me: you can’t lead what you won’t live. You can't preach what you won't practice. If we talk about discipline, we must live disciplined. If we preach service, we must serve until it hurts. If we claim faith, it has to stretch beyond convenience. The world doesn’t need more talk about purpose — it needs men who embody it when nobody’s filming, when nobody’s clapping, when nobody’s watching but God.

I came home tired but awake — sharper, hungrier, and even less willing to waste time than before. The mission didn’t end when the plane landed; it only changed form. The work now is to carry that field-born fire into every corner of life — the courtroom, the boardroom, the gym, the home.

That’s what Men of Hebron is really about. Not aesthetics, not branding, not metrics. It’s about men rebuilding strength, leadership, and faith in a world that’s grown soft. It’s about remembering that to follow Christ is to move — to go where you’re sent, to do hard things with love, and to build something that lasts.

So why do we go? Because every time we step out, we become a little less of who we were and a little more of who we’re meant to be. And because somewhere out there, someone needs to see that faith still looks like courage.