“Angie, You’re Going to the Nations”

A personal field note from my early years in Texas, before I ever imagined calling Africa home.

If you had told me in my twenties that I would someday leave Texas and spend my life serving God in Africa, I probably would have laughed.

Actually, someone did tell me.

And I thought he was nuts.

At that point in my life, becoming a missionary was not part of my plan.

I had worked hard to become a registered nurse. Because of my dyslexia, college took me seven years instead of four. I worked while I went to school and paid my way through.

I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to get married. I wanted children. And yes, somewhere in that picture was probably a house with a white picket fence.

Going to the nations wasn’t part of it.

Something Was Changing in Me

Around that time, though, something was happening in my relationship with God.

I was hungry.

I wanted to know Him more. I wanted more than simply going to church because that was what I had always done.

I began attending prayer meetings and spending time around people who challenged me to seek God in a deeper way.

One of those prayer meetings was held at Community Christian Fellowship in Lindale, Texas.

That building already held so many pieces of my life. It had once been part of the school I attended, and I had even worked there.

That evening, we were praying in a room that had once been one of my classrooms.

Looking back, there is something almost funny about that.

God was about to teach me something in a classroom one more time.

“You’re Going to Leave Texas”

Don Crum was praying for people that night.

I had known Don and his wife for years. By this time, they were serving as missionaries in Nigeria, and while they were home, Don was holding prayer meetings.

Then he prayed for me.

I don’t remember a long prayer. I don’t remember everything else that was said that night.

But I remember these words:

“Angie, you’re going to leave Texas and go to the nations.”

My reaction?

I thought he was nuts.

I was a nurse living near Lindale, about ten minutes from my parents, in my little house. I didn’t have a country on my heart or some great missions plan.

And I certainly wasn’t planning to leave Texas.

Put It on the Shelf

I told my mom what Don had said.

Growing up, my mom had taught me something that stayed with me. When someone gives you a word from God, a prophecy, or even a dream you believe might be from Him, you don’t have to make something happen.

My mom always told me:

“Put it on the shelf. If it is from God, when the time is right, it will come off the shelf.”

So that’s what I did.

I didn’t start looking for a missionary organization. I didn’t start planning an overseas move.

In fact, after a while, I pretty much forgot about it.

But God hadn’t.

Looking Back

I love looking back and seeing the things God was doing that I couldn’t see while I was living them.

That night in Lindale, I had no idea I would one day leave for Mozambique thinking I was going for one year—or that nearly 26 years later, I would still call it home.

All I had was a sentence I didn’t understand.

So I put it on the shelf and continued living my life.

I just didn’t know yet that God was already beginning to write a very different story.