“The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.”
It was at that moment as the missionary speakers from Turkey wrapped up their sharing time that I knew I was being called to be one of God’s harvesters. I looked over at my mom with tears running down my face and told her, “God wants me to be a missionary.” I had heard this verse so many times. I had grown up in a pastor’s family of a small Christian & Missionary Alliance church in suburban Pennsylvania, where I learned all the Sunday School answers. Our church had always been intentional when it came to missions, and my favorite times in the church calendar were when missionaries came to speak. As a kid, I loved beating the African drums, hesitantly touching enormous snake skins, examining currency from around the world, and hearing the fantastic stories of what God was doing all around the world. I had heard this harvest verse so many times, but for some reason this time it sounded different. It felt personal. It was as if God was directly speaking this verse to me.