Hungry for Connection

I am learning something that feels simple now, but took time to truly understand.

Having resources does not make you the solution.
Having money does not make you helpful.
Having ideas does not make you wise.

Without connection, all of it is just noise.

From the outside, a township can look like a problem to fix. But when you step closer, you quickly discover how impossible it is to truly understand what is needed without relationship. You do not know what has already been tried and failed. You do not know the quiet strength of people who have stayed, built, and sacrificed for generations. You do not know who wants to escape and who is fiercely committed to empowering the community from within.

And if you walk into Masiphumelele as someone from the outside, even with sincere intentions, it becomes clear that you are exactly that. An outsider.

There is a good chance you will not be trusted, even if you come with gifts. Maybe especially if you come with gifts. Too many people have arrived with big promises and temporary solutions, only to disappear when the work became complicated or unglamorous. Too much flash. Too little staying power. Too little honor for the momentum that already exists.

In some ways, the past has left people guarded. Hungry for connection, but cautious about it. Open roads blocked by old disappointments. That reality matters. And pretending it does not exist helps no one.

So something in me shifted.

My morning prayers have moved from provision to relationships.
My spreadsheets have moved from budgets to names, conversations, and stories.

It reminds me of what Chad taught me after the Altadena fires. How proximity matters more than programs. But this feels even more layered. More history. More nuance. And somehow, more holy.

Then God did what He loves to do. He spoke to me ...oddly, about volleyball.

I saw it clearly. Coaching. Team dinners. Building trust with parents. Helping kids grow. Maybe even quietly providing uniforms or equipment. Not to impress, but to belong.

So I chased every lead.
Until someone handed me a contact saved in their phone as “Henry Volleyball.”

I met Henry two days ago and in a few hours after writing this, I will attend my first practice.

Here’s the twist.

There is no high school volleyball team in Masiphumelele.

There is a league. All ages. Adults and teenagers playing side by side. A team representing Masi against neighboring communities. Eleven teams competing for playoffs. It is organized. It is serious. It is theirs.

At first, I struggled to understand the purpose. Where does impact live in something like this? But I knew this was still an inroad. A chance to show up. To serve. To love people face to face.

And that is when this question surfaced in my spirit.

Did I really move my whole life to coach rec volleyball?

The inner accusation is REAL

But here is the shift.

I did not come to Cape Town to coach a sport.
I came to love people, shape lives, and steward what God is building here.

Volleyball might just be the doorway.
And doorways rarely look like destinies.

God often starts with things that seem small and unimpressive, not because they are the end goal, but because they place you in proximity to the people He wants you with.

The question is not, “Is this big enough?”
The question is, “Is this positioned?”

Does this create relational access to serve?
Does this place me inside real lives?
Does it align with how God wired me?

If the answer is yes, then this is not a distraction. It is a seed.

And the difference between seed and distraction is not size.
It is direction.

So I am not walking in tonight deciding if this is my mission.
I am walking in asking, “Jesus, what are You doing here and how can I join you?”

My hope is that as I follow this hunger God placed in my heart and learn the nuances of His leading, it might encourage YOU to trust the hungers He has placed in your heart too. Different paths. Different callings. Same invitation.

Move slower.
Listen closer.
Let connection come before solutions.

And to remember that God promises to be a lamp unto our feet, not a spotlight into the future. We're gonna have to trust ...because that's the whole point.