I’m supposed to explain how I was called to the mission field. That’s sounds so… spiritual. Like there was supposed to be a clear moment when *BAM* I knew this was what God had in store for me. That would have been nice, and certainly less painful, but how often does it actually happen like that? In my case, it was a process, and a rather long one at that.
I went on my first mission trip with the church youth group when I was 15. Part of the reason I went was because it was the “Christian” thing to do. Don’t get me wrong; I definitely felt like that was what God wanted, but my reasons weren’t entirely pure. It was an adventure, and I wanted to be part of it. What I didn’t count on was the work God would do in my heart. I fell in love with the people and the work, and wanted to be part of something bigger.
More opportunities have arisen since then, and I’ve jumped at them. Each one has drawn me closer to God, and increased my passion for this kind of ministry. I can definitely be stubborn and wilful at times and am not always good with words. I, like many people, have a hard time verbally sharing my faith. St. Francis of Assisi said, “It is no use walking anywhere to preach, unless our walking is our preaching.” I have a desire to love people to Jesus. He has done so much for me, and I want to share that with the world.
Two friends of mine have done/are doing the Race, and I’ve been able to follow them on their journeys. It felt like something strong was tugging on my heart, so I spent a lot of time thinking and praying about the possibility of me doing the Race. Slowly, a feeling of peace worked its way inside of me, and somehow, I just knew that I needed to do this. So here I am, ready and willing to give all I’ve got to God.
Music artist Jeff Deyo says it better than I could:
