Morning sun sparkled on the snow covering the Chinese campus. From the fifth floor, my parents peered out of their frosty dorm window and gazed at the wonderful transformation. The black coal soot on the buildings, the grimy sidewalks, and their sooty window ledge all were temporarily clothed in diamonds from heaven. “Heaven. That is why we are here,” my mother said. Closing her Bible, she began to prepare breakfast on her tiny gas stove. Their whole house was that small room: a narrow, springy bed; a table; a few chairs; a bathtub; and, thankfully, a window. Oh, yes, and a radiator that hadn’t been turned on until late November—government orders. The concrete building was well chilled, and so were my parents. After breakfast, they hurried down their five flights of stairs—the elevator hadn’t worked in 10 years.

My mother and father went to China as English-teaching tentmakers in 1992. It was a huge leap of faith for them. They were 50 years old and very busy owners of a successful contracting business. Then one Sabbath a General Conference leader stood in their church’s pulpit and said, “China is ripe. Who will go?” My mom stood up for the call. That split-second decision, prompted by the Holy Spirit, uprooted their mid-life, Midwest middle-income world. There was no logical reason to pick up and move to China for 10 months. But Christian mission isn’t a logical enterprise.
The management of my dad’s business was a big concern. After much prayer, God gave them an idea. They would invite their dear friend Midion to run it while they were serving in China. The catch was that Midion lived on the other side of the world in Pohnpei, Micronesia! But Midion liked the idea and accepted. So it was that Midion, the Public Health Director for the Federated States of Micronesia, came 6,680 miles east to run the construction business, while my parents moved 6,940 miles west to teach English at a Chinese university!

Before he flew to the States, Midion nearly drowned on the open ocean in a storm. He swam for a whole night through the wind and waves, pulling his capsized boat. On the same exact day that Midion was fighting for his life, my dad accidentally started a fire on his business acreage. It got so big that the smoke could be seen 50 miles away. The details of both stories are frightening. It seemed that the devil had certain interest in preventing this unique missionary collaboration.

But the gates of hell couldn’t prevent my parents from landing on Chinese soil in September of 1992. What a shock to go from Midwest mundane to masses of walking, biking, driving people and colorful markets full of watermelons, green beans, pig snouts, chicken feet, sweet potatoes, spiny fruit and mollusks. It was unmistakable: they were on the opposite side of the planet!

Upon arriving at their post of service, my parents were given the distinguished title of “the foreign experts.” They taught English to various classes for eight hours a day. That’s a lot of talking and lots of hilarity as they led students in discussion and role-play skits.

Though living conditions were austere, they were welcomed liked diplomats by the university president (who surprised them at Christmas by asking them to sing Silent Night at a university banquet).

On this snowy day, a student stood up in class and asked my mother a very earnest question. “Mrs., I have a question for you. When you go to market and walk about in our city, who is the tall yellow-haired man who goes everywhere with you? He looks like tall American, not Chinese.” Others in the class said, “Yes, we have seen him, too. Who is that?”

My parents were in a city of several million black-haired Chinese, and my mother with her red hair, and my dad with his blond hair really stood out. My mom suggested that they must have seen my dad. But the students insisted it wasn’t him, it was a third person.

While trudging up the five flights of stairs to their dorm room, it suddenly dawned on my mother: “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them.” Angels were walking the markets of China with them!

My dear mother died this autumn after a six-year fight with cancer. We spent a wonderful summer together, and then just two weeks before I began my new position as AFM Tentmaker Coordinator, mom couldn’t hold on any longer and fell asleep until Christ comes. A precious, remarkable woman of faith.

What is the impact of an ESL tentmaker like my mother? Does tentmaking really have mission value? As a testimony of the power of the relationships Mom and Dad formed 22 years ago, two Chinese girls came to my mother’s funeral! Another former student visited my dad a month later. Letters of love, sorrow and faith keep pouring in from those who sat in their classes. Here is a brief excerpt from a letter my dad received from a former student who affectionately calls my mother Mom:

“I read First Thessalonians chapter four. This is the good news that we can see Mom again on that day. We need to work hard with His will and treasure our time to fulfill His work. I will try to help others as you and Mom has done for us, try to preach His Words to friends.
Fred said many times that you and Mom changed his life greatly. You and Mom opened a new world and a new life for us. You know I am always so happy that Jesus treat me so kindful.”

Love given liberally never dies. My mom gave it out in China and elsewhere around the globe. What more can we hope in life but to influence?

How can you extend your influence?

1) Whatever your career, be a light for Jesus. Others will note that angels walk with you. If you would like to get connected with others who are witnessing in the workplace, either globally or domestically, send me an e-mail, and I will help connect you. gotential@gmail.com

2) Consider surprising the devil: drop your career and go to some burdened people who don’t know Christ. Live among an unreached people group as you work in your chosen profession or as a teacher. Dwelling in Christ and talking about your faith, you will certainly have an eternal impact. Speak of Him, share His joy generously, and someday those seeds will sprout and produce a harvest. (If you go, please let me know!)

3) Support the tentmaker initiative. I am currently preaching and inviting men and women from around the world to be tentmakers. I am building an online tentmaker training and networking site as well. In order for this work to take flight, we need 20 new monthly supporters to partner with us at $50 a month.

Perhaps, as you read this, God is tickling your conscience with a prompting to join the greatest adventure of your life: “Why don’t you go to China?”

• Twitter