Seeing Through a Different Lens: What Malawi Taught Me

I saw bicycles doing what most would consider impossible.

Bicycle Taxi

They carried passengers uphill, one by one. They were stacked high with bags of produce, grass, groceries, cartons—sometimes piled six feet above the wheels. I even witnessed a couch being transported on a bicycle. Nothing seemed too heavy or impractical. People used what they had and, with determination, made it work.

What I saw was resilience in motion.

I saw businesswomen and businessmen travelling daily to open their shops - committed to providing for their families and serving their communities. I saw children helping their mothers carry loads of clothing to the river to wash.

I saw students learning in overcrowded classrooms, sitting on the floor with no desks, limited lighting, and little space - yet still eager to learn.

Overcrowded classrooms with students sitting on the floor - no desks

I saw homes with no furniture, only dirt floors and roofs that barely provided shelter. And yet, I was met again and again with warm smiles.

I saw people walking miles to reach a community borehole for clean water. Something as simple as an empty water bottle - often discarded without thought, where I come from - was valuable. It represented access, dignity, and life.

I saw poverty.

And I saw wealth.

I saw reflections of where I was born and what I once left behind in search of opportunity. Everything I’ve described could have been many places around the world - but it wasn’t. This was Malawi, where I experienced one of the most meaningful mission trips of my life.

Malawi is often described as one of the poorest countries in the world. But that depends on the lens you use. When I looked closely, what stood out most was gratitude - deep, genuine gratitude. I saw hope. I saw community. I saw friendship and family. And I felt a sense of fulfillment that left me eager to return.

As we travelled through busy streets in our guide’s van, life unfolded outside every window. Children ran alongside us, sometimes asking not for money, but for an empty water bottle - something they could use to carry clean water. Everywhere I looked reminded me of how much I take for granted each day.

In several villages, we were welcomed with song. As we arrived, voices rose in harmony, filling the air before we even stepped out of the vehicle. It was overwhelming at first - almost as if we were royalty - but the warmth and hospitality quickly made us feel at home. Once seated, the people watched with anticipation, hopeful for encouragement, partnership, or simply to be seen.

What a welcome! Villagers dancing and singing

We climbed a mountain and encountered a place of breathtaking beauty - flowing streams from waterfalls, winding trails, towering trees, and sweeping views that felt untouched. It was a reminder that even in places with limited resources, there is abundant beauty.

Mount Mulanje Waterfall

One of the most moving moments came from the teachers. As we presented them with their own personal gifts, their joy poured out freely. They expressed themselves with the same enthusiasm as the children they teach. In that moment, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. All I could do was thank God for allowing me to sit among such incredible people.

This journey opened my eyes and heart to what truly matters.

With compassion comes gratitude.

With gratitude comes love.

And with love comes a responsibility - to care, to serve, and to walk alongside others.

There is so much more I could share, but this is only part of the story. What I know for certain is this: the experience left a lasting imprint on my heart, and I cannot wait to see what God has in store on the next journey back.

Together, we can continue to bring hope, dignity, and opportunity to communities like these - one step, one partnership, and one act of compassion at a time.

Author: Minister, Andrew Stephenson