Why I Chose to Become a Missionary - My Vision from God

There are several important reasons why my wife and I will be shortly beginning careers as missionaries, but they all come down to one: God gave me a supernatural vision. This is the story of that vision, told in complete detail.

Let me first give a disclaimer. If you don't believe supernatural experiences to be possible, if you simply believe the Christian version of religion is inaccurate, or if you're disgusted with the idea of missions, then you probably won't like what I'm going to write. You may be repulsed, intrigued, fascinated, or thankful; but this is exactly what's happened. I've never completely set my experience down in writing before, but I haven't forgotten a single detail of it. It has been the second most important and vivid experience in my entire life, equal with the first (my initial experience of God's saving grace).

It was the summer of 1999, sometime in June. I was 15, about to turn 16. It had been about a year since I first encountered God in a real and effective way. I went to the church camp in southwest Missouri that I'd gone to for as long as I can remember. The church camp was technically non-denominational, but almost all the churches that attended it were part of the "Independent Church of Christ" denomination - a very conservative group that allowed music (unlike the traditional Church of Christ) but emphasized water baptism and frowned upon anything that "charismatic" churches call "Gifts of the Spirit".

It was a pretty normal church camp of somewhere between 200-400 high school kids, lasting just a week - dormitories, lots of recreational activities, and lots of chapel services and Bible studies. By then, I was more accurately non-denominational myself: I felt that something beneficial could be learned or experienced in almost the whole range of Christian denominations, Catholic, conservative Protestant, evangelical, or charismatic, and I often visited a variety of these denominational churches in addition to the conservative charismatic church that I was regularly attending. I didn't completely agree with every aspect of this church camp's denominational influences, but I knew there were plenty of good things about it nonetheless.

Well, about the middle of the camp week, I was in the afternoon/evening chapel service, sitting about halfway back in the building. The speaker was someone from one of the churches, probably a youth pastor, no one famous. I don't remember what he spoke about. Following the message, they gave an altar call about rededication or first-time commitments, just like they always did (much like they happen in Baptist churches, if anyone can relate to that). They played music for a while and if you wanted to respond, they asked that you come to the front of the chapel - the altar area, though there was no actual altar representation. The musicians weren't fantastic, but they weren't bad either, playing what was normal conservative Christian music at the time.

Since I was neither a first-time commitment nor in need of rededication, I initially thought it had nothing to do with me. However, shortly after the altar call began, I felt a very strong desire to know just what it was that God wanted me to do with my life. This wasn't a recurring desire. I hadn't thought of it much at all before then (after all, I was only 15 and didn't think much about the distant future). As a matter of fact, earlier in the week at one of the small-group Bible studies, they went around asking everyone what they wanted to do for a career. Thinking on the spot, I said I really didn't know but it'd be cool if I could serve God somehow in ministry, like a youth pastor or something. I didn't think at all about it again afterwards until that moment when it seemed as if I was impressed from the outside, out of nowhere, with this strong desire to know.

It was an incredibly strong desire, focused solely on knowing what God wanted me to do with my life; I couldn't ignore it. So, standing there in front of my pew, I said my private prayer, "God, show me what it is you want me to do with my life, and make it obvious so that I can't doubt it. And you say that whatever we ask in Jesus' name will be given to us, so I ask this in Jesus' name."

It was a pretty simple prayer, but it was full of all the faith I could muster as a 15-year-old. I fully expected God to answer it and soon, so I waited. I didn't know how he'd answer it and I wasn't even concerned with what the answer would be, but since I specifically asked for it to be "obvious," I knew that's what I was waiting for. I believed all the stories in the Bible, so I knew it could be just some incredibly strong sense of purpose in my mind, several other people telling me that God was telling each of them the same thing about my purpose, or even an audible voice or vision. But I didn't know what exactly, so I just waited expectantly.

Well, I started to sense that I should go up for the altar call. I initially ignored it since the altar call was for first-time commitments and rededications, but the feeling persisted. So, I asked God, "Do you really want me to go up for the altar call?" I felt that he really did, so up I went.

At the altar call, there were already quite a few kids standing around, sitting, or kneeling, and many of them were talking to camp counselors. I found an open spot near the middle and knelt down by myself, worshipping God, still expectant. Most of my worship wasn't with words, but it was kind of a positive emotional and thought projection similar to the way any person would consider someone they passionately loved.

I was worshipping God for a while and at one point I pictured myself kneeling at his feet, with my arms wrapped around them in love and joy. I remember that I was silently weeping with joy. But, it was just a visualization and didn't seem particularly real to me. Around this same time, I said, "I surrender." Again, they were simple words but they carried so much more meaning than they would initially seem. Through those words I was telling God that I was entirely giving up all claim on everything that had ever been in my life, was in my life, or ever would be in my life. I consider those two words at that time to be the most powerful and meaningful that I've ever uttered before or since.

After I said, "I surrender", Jesus reached down, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. This was not just a visualization. I was standing there before Jesus. This was as real as anything ever has been, more real even. At this moment I could see, feel, and sense Jesus and the surrounding environment more than I had ever sensed reality before. But just because I was sensing it more doesn't mean I wasn't also sensing it the way I regularly would. It would be kind of like if a regular person could see the normal range of visible light, but also see the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums. That person would see more than regular people do, but they wouldn't also stop seeing what regular people do. The sensations of this vision were like that; I could see and feel as I regularly did, but I could also see and feel beyond what I knew to be regular. The overall impression was of something far more real than my previously and since-experienced reality.

So there I was standing before Jesus, him facing me. He was shining vibrantly, almost blindingly. It didn't hurt my eyes at all, but it was like I could visibly see the essence of who he was and that essence far outshone the physical space he occupied and overshadowed the physical features of his form. I remember briefly looking into his shining face and I saw all the regular features: eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, nothing particularly distinctive, maybe just because who he was far outshined what he looked like. From what I could tell of his physical form, he was probably a good head taller than me, but of course his shining essence made him seem so much larger and taller. Still, I didn't feel particularly miniscule in his presence, maybe just because it was him who lifted me to my feet. I was simply awed and amazed.

Soon after he lifted me to my feet, he put his right arm out to his side, even with the horizon. My eyes followed the movement to the left and I saw that we were standing in this huge endless field, stretching in every direction. The field was made up of fairly tall grasses, maybe knee-high, but of no particular type that I could recognize. It was also vibrantly colored, but again, not a color from our normal spectrum, so I can't even describe it.

He didn't really hold his arm out for long; it was more of a fluid movement. It just felt like I had plenty of time to take it all in. When he raised his right arm, he waved it out behind him all the way around, swiveling his torso. I followed the motion of his hand with my eyes and saw that where it ended there was the outline of a shape there. The shape was kind of like a bean on its side, with the indented side on the bottom but with the top side mostly flat instead of rounded.

In the middle of this shape was written the word "Madagascar". The strange thing is, the letters weren't in English script, but I understood them nonetheless. I don't remember recognizing any particular features of the script that the word was written in, but the meaning was very distinct: "Madagascar." And with that, the vision was over. It probably didn't last too long, though I felt like I had plenty of time to take it all in as it was happening.

I was back at the altar call, still kneeling down, still silently weeping with joy; apparently I was actually shaking or vibrating a little bit (so said a kid next to me). I immediately asked God (with no visualizations present or anything like that), "Do you really want me to go to Madagascar?" and "You want me to go to Madagascar?" I was incredibly surprised that this might be what God wanted for me. I assumed that it was a missionary calling but had never once considered it before. I was under the impression that missionaries were like the prophets of the Old Testament or like Paul from the New Testament. Those guys definitely didn't sound like me.

But, God seemed to strongly confirm it. Even more strongly than I earlier felt that he wanted me to know what he wanted me to do with my life, he seemed to be strongly impressing me now with a simple, "Yes." There were no audible voices or anything like that, but even the confirmation of how I understood the vision, the feeling of a simple positive response from God, seemed to be almost as strong as the vision itself.

The fervor and intensity of the vision experience slowly subsided. I asked the kid next to me if they'd seen that I was actually there the whole time. I really thought I might've disappeared and been somewhere else while the vision happened. But I'd been right there, kneeling, even shaking or vibrating a little - it was a vision, not a transportation or anything.

One of the camp counselors finally made their way to me and asked what I had come up for. I told them what had happened. I don't remember how they responded, but they wanted me to share it with everyone, just like the people with new commitments and rededications always stand in front and share their "decisions" with everyone.

I told everyone briefly about the vision, even in a church camp where they don't doctrinally believe in the possibility of modern visions. The vision experience was still lingering pretty strongly and I think I might've still had the occasional tear run from my eye. I know I couldn't stop smiling this huge grin; it actually started to hurt after a while, but I just couldn't stop - I was so happy. One guy bunking near me told me afterwards that as I stood up there my face seemed to be "shining", like an angel might or something, at least that it looked very different and otherworldly. I think he was the only one who told me that, but it did remind me of the Old Testament story when Moses comes down from the mountain where he received the law from God and his face was supposedly shining so much from his direct communication with God that the people wanted him to put a veil over his face. (Exodus 34)

When I received the vision, I knew nothing about Madagascar. I figured it was a place, but I thought the name sounded like it might be in Eastern Europe somewhere, maybe one of those former USSR countries. Later that evening, a girl came up to tell me she knew something about Madagascar. I asked her to draw the shape in the air for me and it was the exact same as the shape in my vision. This girl knew that Madagascar was an island, but she thought it was near India somewhere (it's really off the southeast coast of Africa). Still, it was more than I knew at the time and I was excited to learn anything about it. Whether it was different from my original preconceptions or not, I asked God what he wanted me to do with my life and I was excited about it and prepared to do it.

And that was it. Since then, I've done a lot of research about Madagascar and visited for a few months in the summer of 2002. I got a degree in Missions and in French (one of the two national languages of Madagascar). My wife and I are preparing to move long-term to Madagascar by the end of 2008, almost 10 years after I received the vision.

In my studies, my personal and spiritual development, and life experiences, I've realized that there's nothing I'd rather do. I loved my trip to Madagascar and I love Malagasy people, even as different as it all is from anything I've ever experienced before. I don't think there's anything about an American lifestyle that would content me. God's given me a vision and placed a passion in my heart and I fully intend to follow through with it, in whatever fashion and for however long he desires. I'm still just getting started with it all.