What motivated us to become missionaries, and what sustains us now?
With fear for sounding trite, the compelling command of the Great Commission had long convicted Kent and me to serve as missionaries. We were active in youth ministry before pastoring a church; short-term mission trips helped fan the flame of our desire to learn the ‘whys and wherefores’ of another culture, and we desired God to use us in unusual ways.
We each love to travel, but we like to travel in places and in ways that bring us closer to the local people to get a bird’s-eye view of what life is really like for them. We are interested in knowing fascinating aspects about a culture and learning pieces of their language. We have generally shunned the typical tourist spots and avoided cities whenever possible.
It was on a group backpacking trip that I first met Kent. His sense of humor attracted me, though my ribs got tired from laughing all the time. His ability to fix and do almost anything impressed me. He had had life experiences and had been to places I had not yet been. He loved the outdoors and had made several long-distance treks in England, the land of his forebears, a place I, too, had wished to go. Since he and I were the fast hikers in the group, we had plenty of time to chat as we sat and waited for the others.
Kent readily talked about God and enjoyed playing hymns on his harmonica. It was not long before I asked him if he had ever considered being a missionary—you know, the kind that goes to a foreign country, teaches the people, learns their ways and language. He said, “Yes, I have considered it. I have been fortunate to be inspired by real-life missionaries who came through our area and shared their stories in the young people’s division. Their stories and example have definitely created a desire in me to do likewise.”
“That’s interesting,” I said. “I have always loved reading missionary stories and see myself becoming one.”
And as the relationship continued to grow, I became more and more hopeful that this was ‘my guy.’
After several years of marriage, two young children, two dogs, and seven cats, we went to seminary where the Lord had undeniably directed us, seeing this as perhaps a step towards the mission field. During that time, Adventist Frontier Missions (AFM) was born, and so were our twins, making us a family of six.
We were excited to hear about AFM and thought it might be a possibility for us. But at the time, we had our hands full with four children under the age of 7 and had freshly entered the ministry. Kent felt he should have a few years of pastoral care experience before launching out into the great unknown.
So we pastored (well, Kent actually did) and loved it. We had many good years and saw ourselves putting down roots in a place that was certainly a different culture than where we had come from. We felt we could make a difference.
As time went on, we sensed a sinking into the status quo, a creeping dissatisfaction. We still loved our people and the area and had a passion for ministry, but something was changing . . . in us. As I remember it, one day Kent went grocery shopping with me (a rare occasion), and somehow we did not have any children with us. As we went up and down the aisles, we talked. The thought of foreign mission service came up again, and this time we thought, Why not? Now is as good a time as any to see if this is where the Lord is leading us.
We began researching, praying and talking to our children about the idea. It took a while for all four of the children to be fully on board, but we gave them time until the last one said, “Yes, I think it is what we are to do. I will miss my friends so much, but I think Jesus wants us to do this, and I am willing to go.” And with that, the application process began, and God kept His hand on us, propelling us forward against all odds.
After arriving in Palawan, we had many trials and heartbreaks. In retrospect, there were times that if there had been an airplane on the tarmac that we could have accessed, we would have gone home. But even though those times were harder than hard, neither Kent nor I are quitters, and God kept affirming us to keep moving ahead.
After three years when we took our first furlough, we were halfway through what we thought was the expected time to “plant a church” and hopefully a daughter church. We were increasingly concerned that even after another three years, there still would not be a strong enough church to withstand the prejudice many had against anything new. Therefore, we committed to staying however long the Lord had work for us to do here.
There are several sayings we think we have coined. First, “Life is Ministry. Ministry is Life.” Second, “If God called you to a task, He will be faithful to call you away from the task.”
Missionary life humbles us; it keeps us praying, crying, praising, hoping and fully expecting that one day there will be Palawano in heaven because we came . . . and for now . . . stayed.
