It was never my career goal to be a missionary. For a long time, I didn’t even want to be a Christian. 

I blame the past 40+ years on three people: Harry Woods, Bob Sawtell and Tom Burt. To my knowledge, only two of them even knew each other in passing. I seriously doubt if they met together and discussed how they would ruin my life, but sometimes it feels like they did.

As a young boy, I had the “privilege” of living around the corner from a retired missionary named Harry Woods. Harry and his wife were treacherous Christians. They did not preach. They did not cajole. Instead, they baked cookies and told wonderful stories about their years in the Orient.

Because of them, even before I became a Christian, I knew there were some missionaries who had lived their lives to the fullest.

* * *

Bob Sawtell told wonderful stories, but he also asked questions.

In November of 1973, I begged for rides and hitchhiked from Texas to Minnesota with the purpose of asking for Bob’s blessing to marry his daughter Susan. When I arrived at the Sawtell home, Bob met with me in his office. The roll-top desk, books on the shelves and leather sofa were all impressive to a long-haired college student.

When I announced the purpose of my visit, Bob began to ask his questions.

“Woody, what do you plan to do in life?”

“Well, I am going to drop out of college, marry Su and work while she finishes her last semester.”

I seem to remember that Bob swallowed hard at this point, but continued with his questions.

“What are you planning on doing after she finishes?”

“We plan to move back to Texas, and I will finish my last two semesters of study and Susan will work as a nurse.”

I believe Bob thought I was getting a good deal by having Su work two semesters for my one, but he did not allow himself to get distracted by details.

“After you both finish college what do you plan to do?”

Fortunately, Su and I had talked about this subject in one of our many long-distance phone calls between Texas and the land of 10,000 loons.

“We would both like to spend some time studying the Word of God in a Bible School or Seminary.”

“Well, Woody, what do you want to do with your life after that?”

I had no idea. I really think my career goal at this point in life was to wake up next to Susan in the same bed! I was tired of living on opposite sides of the United States.

At that critical moment, I looked over Bob’s shoulder at the filing cabinet behind him. On it were hanging several MISSIONARY PRAYER CARDS. I was desperate and an idea began to form in my mind.

I should explain at this point, in the two years I had dated Susan, I had engaged in the normal sparring conversations with my future father-in-law. I say “normal” because, as the father of three daughters, I now understand some of the feelings that surface when a young man begins to date your daughter. You really want the best for her and he, no matter who he is, is never the best.

Now, because of those hours of conversation, I knew Bob had great respect for missions and missionaries. With fear and trembling, I made my next strategic gambit.

“Dr. Sawtell, I think Susan and I would like to try cross-cultural ministry.”

Bob looked up and asked me if I was serious. Even though I could hear the saw as it cut through the floor below me, I responded affirmatively.

“That’s great, Woody! You have my blessing.”

Afterwards, I told Susan I had good news and bad news. The good news was that we could get married. The bad news was we were going to be missionaries.

Please note that Bob never asked me what we were going to do after we were missionaries. Some days I wish he had.

* * *

Tom Burt didn’t tell that many stories and asked less pointed questions than Bob, but he did listen.

Tom and I were roommates in Texas. We shared interests in aviation, music and a love for Jesus Christ. We also talked together at night as we were going to sleep.

It is natural for young men in college to share about their dreams. For those of us who survived the 60´s and became Christians in the early 70’s, it also seemed natural to talk about how we were going to change the world.

Tom listened to my dreams.

One night, Tom challenged me by responding to something I had said. After an evening’s discussion of the world’s evils and what should be done to change them, Tom asked me, “If you are serious, why don’t you really do it?”

For once in my life, I couldn’t think of a decent excuse.

Now, here we are forty eight  years later. It could have been worse. I could have lived around the corner from a friendly mortician instead of Rev. Woods. My future father-in-law could have had his daughter’s financial security be his primary interest. And my roommate could have kept quiet.

It could have been worse, but it wouldn’t have been as interesting.

• From God Save the Eggs! Outskirts Press, Inc. 2008