I grew up in a missions oriented home. When I was thirteen, my dad took us out of school for three months to journey to India and Pakistan where he worked with a couple missionary doctors he knew. My brother, sister and I knew them too. We had grown up praying nightly for their families.
Those three months of seeing other cultures—not just the tourist sights, but the way real people lived (cooking over dried-cow-dung fires), the way missionaries adapted to simple living (don’t shoo the frog out of the bathroom; he eats the mosquitoes), the different ways Christians of other cultures worshipped the same God I loved (with their shoes off)—changed my life. In the end I spent my adult life, not in India or Pakistan, but nevertheless in cross-cultural ministry.
