We try to change lives and it changes our lives

One of the hardest lessons I keep learning is that you never really know the impact of your obedience in the moment. You also don’t get to control how that impact shows up. If you need a certain reaction to validate that what you did mattered, you are setting yourself up for disappointment, or worse, for disobedience disguised as discernment.

Whit and I recently had the chance to put together grocery packages for 35 families in Masiphumelele. The food itself mattered, but one of the most meaningful parts of the entire process happened long before a single bag was handed out.

We connected with Nolitha, a social worker in Masi. She helped us secure a location to distribute the groceries, but more than that, she personally contacted each of the 35 families to come pick them up. These weren’t random recipients. Each family was selected with care and insight based on real need.

On the day of distribution, Whit was very sick, so I ended up there alone with Nolitha. She was disappointed that Whit couldn’t be present and insisted that every family who received groceries take a photo. Not for social media, not for donors, just so Whit could see the faces of the people who came through.

Family after family arrived. Smiles. Thank yous. A photo. It was beautiful and moving in a quiet way.

Then one woman walked in who didn’t seem to know why she was there.

As a social worker, Nolitha’s access to families often comes through their children. In this case, she had contacted a boy named Mathieu and told him when and where to bring his mom. He did exactly that, but he forgot to explain why.

So this mother arrived at the social worker’s office thinking she was there for a conversation. She greeted us politely, chatted with Nolitha, and then reached the moment where she realized she was being handed two bags of groceries.

Her knees buckled.

She started weeping. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just the kind of cry that escapes before you can stop it. It lasted only a few seconds before she pulled herself together, regained her composure, and kept saying thank you. Over and over.

She looked at the bags and asked again and again, “These are mine?”

That moment undid all of us.

Of course, that reaction is what you secretly hope for when you give. It feels like confirmation. Like proof that what you did mattered.

But here’s the part that stayed with me even more.

Every family who received groceries that day was chosen using similar criteria. They were all in roughly the same position. The difference was not the need. The difference was preparation.

Most of the families knew why they were coming. They had time to emotionally brace themselves. Their gratitude was real, but expressed in a more guarded, socially appropriate way.

If that one child hadn’t under explained the situation to his mom, and if Whit hadn’t been sick, causing Nolitha to insist on those photos, I never would have seen what that moment looked like when the realization hit without warning.

And that’s the point.

That knee buckle moment didn’t belong uniquely to her. It just happened to be visible. The others were likely just as relieved, just as grateful, just as desperate for provision. I just didn’t get to see it expressed the same way.

I am deeply grateful that I did get to witness it once. I pray it stays seared into my memory. Seriously - please God let me NEVER forget how that felt. But I don’t want to depend on moments like that.

Sometimes obedience is met with tears. Sometimes with a polite thank you. Sometimes with silence. Sometimes with no face to attach to it at all.

So this is my plan - I’m choosing to assign that one raw, unfiltered reaction as the image I carry for every act of obedience God nudges me toward. When I plant seeds I don’t get to watch grow. When I contend for breakthrough I may never see arrive. When generosity feels unnoticed or even unappreciated.

That feeling I experienced in that room is not dependent on seeing it again. It’s available every time I trust that obedience matters, even if the reaction doesn’t tell the full story.

I know that so many people who read this blog are people with generous hearts, so if you're one who sows faithfully but rarely gets to see the harvest, let this be your reminder. The impact is often deeper than what you’re allowed to witness. There are knees buckling with gratitude whether you get to see them or not.

P.S. If you get the urge to buckle some knees, we've got Nolitha on our team now. Every contribution helps our team stop for the one that God puts in front of us!!