Growing up, I prayed myself to sleep countless nights. Tucked under my double wedding ring quilt, I would tell God my hurts and my hopes until somewhere in the conversation I drifted off to sleep.
I don’t remember the details of those prayers, but there’s one part I prayed over and over that I remember clearly. With all the sincerity of an 8-year old and then tween girl and later teen, I’d tell God I would follow Him anywhere. Anywhere you want to send me God. Just please don’t make me be a missionary.
I actually loved missionaries. I loved reading their stories on the pages of my GA booklet. I loved when they visited our church and Sunday night service was an update from the field along with a slideshow of the people and places where they lived. I loved giving my coins at Vacation Bible School and touring the booths at the missions conference.
I will follow you anywhere, Jesus. Except.