The Night my Dad Cried

When I was seventeen, I was informed that our family would be moving back to Hawaii. My dad felt drawn back to the islands to start a new ministry there. A few months later, I said good-bye to my friends and boarded a plane. I had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, I was an adventurous soul and the prospect of something new appealed to me. On the other hand, I had lived in Gonzales, Louisisana, for about three years (longer than I'd ever lived anywhere before) and I would miss my friends alot.

After six months in Hawaii, things weren't going so well. Our fledgling church was struggling and my dad had to take a night custodial job. It was very traumatic and humiliating for him. A man wants to take care of the needs of his family. When something prohibits that, it is a personal disaster for him.

One night, I was laying on my mattress (which was on the floor) and I couldn't get to sleep. Suddenly, I heard voices. My dad and mom were talking. They didn't know that I could hear them. Dad began to question why the people that had promised us a year's support had not followed through with that promise. He questioned God's reasons for allowing it to happen and alot of other stuff that I can't remember. Then, he cried. I heard my mom consoling him. It was heartbreaking for me. I was still young, but I was no longer a child. I knew God and I understood the questions that he had asked. WHY????

That night brought to the foreground my own hidden doubts about the true existence of God. It had always been there, but that night I began an active pursuit to prove it to myself. This quest lasted for nearly four years, culminating in an epic event in my life (which will come later).

Meanwhile, these doubts that had been tucked neatly into my soul had finally risen to the surface. Many people will think that this was a bad thing. I don't. I believe that it was my destiny to hear that conversation. Why?? Because if I hadn't heard it...if I hadn't doubted...I would have never sought the answer with such fervor. I would have continued to live a nominal Chrisitan life with those doubts hidden away in the recesses of my heart. I would have never found God in such a magnificent manner.

My Story

My story is very complicated and involved. How do you begin to pinpoint the moment that your destiny kicks in? Is it really any one moment? I can't be sure about mine, but I can tell you the story of how I came to be a missionary.

It all started when I was eight years old. My parents were pastors of the First Southern Baptist Church of Ewa Beach, which was located on the island of Oahu. One Sunday afternoon, a missionary from Romania gave his testimony. He told a heartbreaking story that I will never forget. He was a young pastor with a wife, a small child, and a baby on the way. One day, he was suddenly arrested for preaching the gospel, which was against the law. He was thrown into prison for over twenty years. By a miraculous mistake, he was released from prison instead of executed. His wife and two grown children met him at the gate. Once he was free, he spent the rest of his life smuggling Bible's into Bulgaria. This man's name was Harlan Popov.

As I sat in the pew, I realized for the first time in my life that the world was not a very nice place. In that eight-year-old innocence, I made a vow that one day I would do something to help those people who were suffering in the world around me. And I did.

This vow ignited something inside of me which eventually led me to follow an exciting and worthwhile destiny. I hope those that read it, will find hope and inspiration from it. And, more than that, I hope that you will find your own path and have the courage to follow it.