The Unlikely Missionary
I think its safe to say that if there was a list of ideal candidates for missions, my name would not be on it. 2 years ago I came back from India, and upon reflection asked God to please not send me as a missionary to any place where my hair did not do well. It was a serious request. As a teenager, I was less concerned about my hair and more concerned about why God let bugs on Noah’s ark in the first place. I was the kid who changed my pillowcase if an ant came within 2 inches of it, who refused to speak to my dad for 24 hours because he wouldn’t get up and kill the spider I found, and who to this day still sometimes goes to bed uttering the prayer, “Dear God, please don’t let any bugs crawl on me tonight.” In fact, just yesterday I almost had a heart attack when a spider came down right in front of my face while I was driving. I spent the next half hour in Trader Joes compulsively checking to see if it was on me while my whole body shook like I had just endured ...