I’m Kendra Holt, and this is how God has been enabling me to live deeply through a medical mission trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia last fall. 

“I had heard about the Ethiopia ACT medical mission trip for years. My sister-in-law Heather went on one of the early trips and came back saying, ‘You have got to go.’ In 2022 my husband Chase went on this same trip. I felt a slight tug in my heart, but we had 2 kids and our daughter was young. It was the right trip for him but not me. I did not feel like the Lord was releasing me to go yet. It stayed on my radar, but the timing was never right. Then, when Heather got back from Ethiopia in 2023, she texted me the 2024 dates. I was already thinking about it. So, when Heather asked me again, I told her, ‘I’m about 60% in.’ I would send her updates: ‘Okay, I’m praying about it and I’m now this percentage in.’ But I was still unsure. I carry a lot of fear and anxiety about travel and about leaving my family. But the Lord moved mountains in my heart at the 2024 CSPC mission conference. I was listening to [Ethiopia ACT founder] Andy Warren speak. I had heard his story before, sat across the dinner table from him. But this time, it was different. I had Chase on one side of me and Dr. Mike Green -who’d also served on the Ethiopia trips, and who I’d worked for as a nurse for five years- on the other. Andy was sharing about a medical suitcase, about how it had been passed down for years, carrying supplies that helped sustain people’s lives. And I just started crying. It hit me differently. I leaned over to Mike and said, ‘Okay, I’m 100% in. I’ll see you in Ethiopia.’ It was like God was saying, ‘Kendra, this is the push.’ I had heard the story before, but now it was changing something in me. I wasn’t just hearing about a good mission trip: I was seeing a sustainable, life-changing ministry. Ethiopia ACT wasn’t about dropping in, doing some good, and leaving. It was about long-term care, real follow-through, and people carrying their own medical charts, knowing they would continue to be served. And suddenly, I knew I had to be part of this.

Even after I committed, I struggled. I had so much fear. Fear of travel. Fear of leaving my kids. Fear of the unknown. I had fully committed, raised support, done everything I needed to do- but I was still terrified. And I hate flying. Oh, do I hate flying. It was a huge mental hurdle for me. My mother-in-law joked, ‘Well, you can’t take a slow boat to China,’ and she was right. Our trip started with our first flight being canceled. We were on the plane, ready to go, and ended up deplaning and waiting four more hours before we finally got a flight to D.C. This did not help with my fears- and that flight was not great, to say the least. I probably cried 80% of the time. When we landed, I thought, ‘That was only an hour and a half. How in the world am I going to survive 13 more hours to Ethiopia?’ I genuinely believed I might have to go home. We had to stay the night in D.C. since we had missed our connecting flight. That night at dinner Heather looked over at me and asked, ‘Are you okay?’ And I just broke. ‘I’m not okay,’ I told her. ‘I miss my kids. That flight was terrible. I don’t think I can do this.’ I have a history of panic attacks, and I felt like if I couldn’t get a grip on reality, one was going to happen right then. I started to cry. I really wasn’t sure I was going to make it to Ethiopia at all. Sometime before our next flight, Chase had gotten everyone to write me Scripture verses in a little notebook for me to read during our flight to Ethiopia. That 12-and-a-half-hour flight was 95% better than the short flight from Knoxville to D.C. Having the reassurance of the verses everyone had written down was just what I needed. If we hit turbulence or something of that nature, Chase would just slip the notebook to me. When I’m fearful, I’m not rational, so those notes reminded me of God’s truths of ‘whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think about such things.’ That is where my peace was found.

One woman I met in Ethiopia stands out in my mind: Inanu. I met her during a home visit alongside a caseworker from Ethiopia ACT. As we walked through one of the more impoverished areas of Addis Ababa, I was struck by the stark contrast between my life and the lives of the people there. When we got to Inanu’s home, I noticed how weary she seemed. Life had really pressed her down hard. Then, through a translator, I learned Inanu’s story. She had three children: a daughter and two sons. Her husband worked in security, a job that barely provided enough to scrape by. To help make ends meet, she spun cotton by hand and sold it to people who made clothes. But there was a lot more. Inanu’s husband was 15 or 20 years older than she was. He bullied her and emotionally abused her because her oldest son was not his. Both she and her oldest child were HIV-positive, and I could see the pain in her face as she talked about her life. I asked the translator, ‘Why does she stay?’ The answer: ‘Religion, and what other choice does she have?’ If Inanu left, she would have no way to care for her children. The odds of remarriage were slim, and without a husband, survival would be even harder. She was trapped. As I tried to absorb all this. A little boy kept running in and out of the home, poking at my face. His family apologized profusely, explaining that he’d never seen a white person before- he thought something was wrong with my skin and that’s why he was touching my face. I noticed the little boy wore a cross necklace, and inside Inanu’s home, I also saw beautiful depictions of Christ. Despite these people’s hardships, faith was central to their lives. I didn’t know how often Inanu was touched with kindness, but I reached for her hands, held them, and asked, ‘Can I pray for you?’ She nodded and tears filled her eyes. We bowed our heads. Two women from totally different continents, speaking totally different languages, yet here we were praying to the same God, deeply connected in that moment.

I came home from Ethiopia with more than just memories. The stark poverty I saw made me rethink the way I live. I thought about Inanu’s rent: $20 a month. What I could easily spend on coffee or a quick meal, that woman worried over constantly. It really put into perspective how much I have- and I still complain sometimes! My mind kept circling back to one word: stewardship. What was I doing with what I had been given? How much of my spending was truly necessary? How often did I indulge simply because I could? Was I instilling the values of service and compassion in my kids? The questions were uncomfortable, but I knew they were important. The trip had changed me in another way as well, one that hit even closer to home. The anxiety part had been huge. Leaving my young children behind, especially when both Chase & I were on the same trip, had been incredibly difficult. What if something happened? Who would take care of them? The fear had almost been paralyzing. But we entrusted our kids to loving grandparents and went anyway. Because I did not let my fear prevent me from what God was calling me to do, in Ethiopia I experienced something I never expected: peace. I just kept thinking, ‘Okay, Lord, you’re here. I hear you.’ Before we even left, I’d seen God’s hand in it all. Looking back at CSPC’s order of worship on September 22, the New Testament reading was from Matthew 28:16-20. ‘Go and make disciples of all nations… Surely I am with you always.’ I underlined those words, like God was speaking directly to me. And He was. The trip had been a step of faith, and in return, God was giving me a deeper trust in His presence, a reminder that He was with me no matter where I was in the world. I left Ethiopia with a renewed heart- not just for stewardship, but for faith. I’d walked through poverty and fear, met suffering face to face, and come away with a stronger trust that God was in it all. Inanu’s struggles, the touch of a child who had never seen skin like mine, the prayers lifted in a tiny, dimly lit home- none of it was outside His hands. I went to Ethiopia thinking I was going to serve. Instead, I have been changed.”