Right Here, Right Now

Written by Abigail Johnson

As our plane took off on August 10, 2023, bound for West Africa, I waved goodbye to America with a heart so full I thought it might burst.

My parents and my boyfriend (now husband) sat beside me, but I knew that soon they would leave me in Togo for the next five months—and I would be alone.

One of my earliest desires was to be a missionary. Around the age of nine, I read "Kisses from Katie," the story of a young woman who left everything familiar to serve in Uganda, eventually adopting multiple daughters by the age of twenty. I remember feeling deeply inspired—her life radiated purpose in a way that echoed something profound within me.
Years later, during my junior year of high school, I went on college tours like many of my peers. But when I returned home, I told my parents, “College just isn’t for me.” I couldn’t shake the sense that I wasn’t made for the typical path. That same night, after talking it through with them, I decided I would go live with Pastor Francis and Benedict in Togo.

In the weeks leading up to my departure, people often asked, “What are you most excited
about?” My answer was always the same: “To experience the Lord in such an intimate way.”

That desire wasn’t wrong—but it carried hidden expectations.

Deep down, I believed that missionaries in developing countries experienced God more
personally than Christians in the Western world. I thought Jesus would somehow be closer to me in Africa—that He would love me more, need me more, there.

As He so often does, God didn’t take long to begin dismantling those beliefs.

When Expectations Fall Away
I arrived in Togo with plans to help start and run a new child development center at the Francis and Benedict House of Peace. By God’s grace, we were able to open the center—a space providing toys, stimulation, and education vital for children’s development.

But as time went on, it became clear that there were logistical challenges. Today, the center is beautifully run by Rebecca, the assistant at the House of Peace, who does a remarkable job.

During my time there, however, getting to the center was difficult. Pastor Francis was the only one who spoke English and could drive, and while he would have loved to be present constantly, his work for the Kingdom took him all over Togo and beyond.

That left me at the house many days each week—unable to communicate with the women there, and unable to leave on my own.
By my third week, discouragement began to settle in.
At first, I labeled it as loneliness. Normally, I might have turned to distractions—but without Wi-Fi, technology, or conversation, I was left with something unfamiliar: stillness.

Eventually, I found a small escape. I would climb a ladder to the roof and sit on top of a water tank—not the safest place, perhaps, but one that became sacred to me.

There, overlooking the streets of Togo, my soul began to wrestle with deeper questions:
What does it really mean to be loved by God?
What does it mean to be used by Him?

The Truth That Changes Everything
In that quiet place, God spoke simple truths into my heart—truths I had heard before, but never fully understood:
We are loved by God purely because of His grace.
We are used by God exactly where He has placed us—there is divine purpose in every breath we take.
There is nowhere on earth I could go to be closer to God. The fullness of His Spirit already lives within me.
There is no life more pleasing to Him than the one He has written for me.

A Shift in Perspective
I cannot overstate how impactful my time in Togo was. And I do not want to undervalue the vitality of missions. I witnessed miracles. I experienced profound moments. I saw the Kingdom of God at work in powerful ways through Francis, Benedict, and the women they serve.

But now, I can say something I didn’t expect:
I see those same things here.
Right here, right now, I am witnessing the hand of God.
Right here, right now, He is speaking, moving, and using me.

Right here, right now, He is present.

An Invitation
Can I encourage you?

If you have ever believed the lie that your life is less impactful for the Kingdom than a
missionary overseas—if you’ve ever felt that your faith is somehow less deep or meaningful because your circumstances look different—it’s time to reject that belief completely.

At Francis and Benedict, we have the incredible opportunity to partner with our brothers and sisters in West Africa—to equip and empower the work they are faithfully doing.
But we don’t do this from a place of lack, as though we are missing out on ministry.
We do it as active participants in the body of Christ—walking in ministry alongside them,
exactly where God has placed us.

I pray that you feel encouraged today.
That you would recognize the sacredness of your own life.
That you would see the nearness of God—not somewhere far away, but right here.
Right now.