If someone had told me that one of the most meaningful moments of my missionary life would involve a taxi ride to Rochdale, a confusing Urdu translation, and a deeply uncomfortable silence, I probably wouldn’t have believed them. But that’s often how God works.
It all started on an ordinary day in Manchester. We had planned to visit a family who had just arrived in the city. Nothing dramatic just a small gesture, an introduction, and above all, a chance to listen to their story.
The first obstacle
My first mistake was trusting technology too much. Wanting to truly connect, I opened Google Translate with a confidence I hadn’t earned, assuming the app would perfectly carry the warmth and hope I felt in that moment.
We got into the taxi, and I tried to explain to the driver that our destination was Rochdale. At least, that’s what I thought I was doing. The driver looked at me through the mirror with that expression that clearly says, “I’ll drive… but I have no idea why.”
After several wrong turns, uncertain walks, and hand gestures that looked more like street performance than communication, we finally found the house. By then, I had stopped trying to control the journey. Maybe that was part of the mission too, learning to trust God in the middle of confusion.
Lost in translation
When the door opened, everything shifted. We were welcomed with smiles, tea, and overwhelming kindness. Even though we couldn’t understand each other with words, love was already doing its own translating.
Then came the big moment. I wanted to say something meaningful, so I carefully typed: “God loves you and has a purpose for your lives.” I smiled and showed them the screen.
Total silence. They looked at each other, then back at me.
Later, I found out what Google had actually said: “A god is deeply in love with you and has mysterious plans you cannot escape.” Not exactly the evangelistic message I had in mind but strangely, it didn’t ruin the moment.
The real mission
Despite my mistake, something real happened. They began to share their story the weight of starting over in a foreign place, the loneliness, the uncertainty. Without perfect words, we still managed to connect.
There was no cinematic ending, no perfect prayer. Just a table, a conversation, and the quiet sense that God was there. I’ve come to believe that this is what mission is about not flawless speeches, but presence. Not perfect plans, but steps of faith.
We often think we need the right words to be part of what God is doing. But what’s really needed is willingness:
• A willingness to go.
• A willingness to feel uncomfortable.
• A willingness to love, even when we’re not sure how.
Jesus didn’t just speak to crowds; He sat at tables, walked with people, and shared meals. I’m beginning to understand that mission is often small listening, showing up, and trying again after getting it wrong. In the end, God doesn’t use our perfection. He uses our presence… even when it gets a little lost in translation.
Rev. Lucho Sánchez