About four years into our ministry in Mexico, I contracted a severe double case of hepatitis and was flown home to Michigan for care and the hopes of recovery. While lying on my bed in a weakened state, my stepfather visited me and from the foot of the bed pointed his finger saying, “I told you this was foolhardy; now look where it has gotten you. Forget this missionary foolishness. I can get you further training to bring you up to speed for a position in the corporation. You will be able to make in a few days what you probably make now in a month.”
At first, I thought, maybe he was right. I am only twenty-seven, have a young wife and two small children, and my health is potentially ruined. But then my heart was quickened as I thought of all those in Mexico whom we saw transformed through saving faith in Jesus Christ. I responded to him, “No, Dad, the corporation would never be able to pay me equal to what I am receiving as a missionary.”
“What!” he responded with great astonishment. “Son, how much do they pay you?!” “Dad,” I replied, “All the money that the corporation could pay me would never fill us with as much joy and satisfaction as we receive in seeing these people’s lives change.”
“O, but son,” he retorted, “I get a lot of satisfaction in laying down those initial lines on a drafting board and then seeing my creation going down Interstate 75 as a shining example of what I can do through a multi-billion-dollar automotive corporation.” I quickly became unimpressed.