THE JOURNEY BEGINS

I've wondered many times over the last few months just when our journey to Beirut began. 

Was it last summer when Ardyth confided in Larry, "I'm praying, Pastor, you will go work in the Middle East"?  He assured her he had already taught intensives at Middle East University and probably would be going back. "No, I'm praying you will stay there."  He never mentioned it to me though.

Was it the day Lori was leaving one of Tanner's last violin lessons before they left for Beirut themselves and I spontaneously hugged her and for no reason at all reassured her,  "We don't need to say goodbye; our paths will cross again."  

Or was it long before that?

I've heard about the day when Larry and his dad stood on opposite sides of the coffee table as Larry announced  he was going to be baptized.   Papap advised Larry he'd certainly have to change some things in his life.  And, as a hint of the different journeys they were on, Papap  warned that their relationship would never be the same either.    For three months he didn't speak to Larry.  It was the first step on an unusual journey for an ordinary but incredibly focused 12-year-old.  Because he didn't just want to be baptized.  When I met him at Blue Mountain Academy a few years later, I often felt embarrassed for him.  He carried around a Bible case.  He felt he had been called to the ministry.

I clearly remember another day nearly as long ago.  I've thought about it for years, wondering what it meant.   

I had been drafted to walk in a mission pageant at the Takoma Park Church.  It was a youth  conference, I was 14, and they needed help.  So I marched up to the choir loft with all the other costumes of the world, uncomfortably conspicuous in my mother's dazzling Mexican dancing dress.  I was part of the backdrop.  But when Theodore Carcich, his long arms flying over his head dramatically, made an impassioned appeal for young people to dedicate themselves to serve anywhere in the world God needed, I felt called.   I don't remember even a twinge of self-consciousness as I stood, alone.  I only remember I was willing to follow wherever God led me, even to "the ends of the earth!"  It was a decision more significant to me than my baptism.  Even up until a few months ago, I had resigned myself to the fact that my mission field was Berrien Springs, the nest of Adventist comfort.

The journey Larry and I are on has deep roots; God always starts at the beginning and patiently, persistently moves towards His plan.  We don't know all that awaits us in Beyrouth, but we know it is God's place and purpose for us.  We are willing for the journey.  We invite you to join us!   None of us will ever be the same again.