One time, I was sitting on my assigned bed in Rajahmundry, South of India, writing on my journal about the happenings of the previous days when my thoughts drifted back. Way, way past…

First, I remembered our flight from Kuala Lumpur to Chennai, how I wasn’t able to eat much anymore. I was wary of the food-- very hot and spicy, what with the strong aroma and all.

Next, there was this incident at a hotel (it was actually a restaurant, but people here call a restaurant, “hotel”) where I encountered the same strong aroma and that very strong minty taste I had tried to avoid. I ended chewing a half-spoonful. It nearly made me choke. 

And so during that night in the train ride going to Rajahmundry, in my quiet time with the Father, I almost begged Him to pull me out of India. I asked to be sent back to China instead. After all, I already knew some Chinese words and characters and I prefer their food way better, not to mention that I look like a Chinese local.

I really struggled with God. I told Him that I didn’t like India – I didn’t like the food and I felt a repulsion (forgive the word) towards its men because of preconceived ideas about them taking advantage of women.
But my Father was very patient with me. He said in His gentlest words, “I love the Indian people, too, and I want you to tell and show My love to them."

“Well, in that case my Lord, Your will be done,” I said. I repented, my tears falling.

Suddenly the jagged bed felt more like a hammock to me, swayed by my Heavenly Father singing me a lullaby.

There was also a time when I had to jump off of a slow-moving train because we left our presents from Manila. I had to go get it back.  Even in that unwise stunt I pulled, I knew the Shepherd of my soul steadied my feet, making me land safely on the platform.
Why was I in India in the first place?
It was around the year 2001 when I started praying using the verse in Matthew 9:37-38. I asked the Lord of the Harvest to send out more workers into His harvest field. That time, India came to mind.  So I prayed that He would send more missionaries to India. The suffering of its people seemed real in my mind. 

But then, a question came to me that I wasn’t ready to answer.  The Lord of the Harvest asked me, “Why don’t you go?” and without hesitation I said, “Please Lord, not me.  I’m actually asking You to send more missionaries… I am not even one of them.” After that, I believed the idea of going to India as a missionary was put aside, if not totally dumped somewhere in my mind.

But time went by fast and all along, God was actually putting the desire in my heart to be a missionary. I went to East Asia for a short-term mission trip and shortly after, I just found myself applying for a Missionary Training Program at ACM. That question God asked me five years ago came back to me. Finally, I said to Him: “Now, Lord I’m ready.”

And there I was, on that bed—in India!-- thanking God that I was finally there. It seemed as if I already have my “promised land.” I was only praying for it before and now I was there. “Lord, I’m here… now what?”

So far, He gave me opportunities to share the gospel to children through the story of Zaccheus, lead praise and worship which I didn’t think I was capable of doing, minister to a recovering accident victim, pray for the sick, lead a Bible study group. I was blessed to minister to my housemates in New Delhi because I was actually told (while singing I love You, Lord) to: “Feed My sheep.”

All throughout my stay in India, the great “I am” had revealed Himself to me in so many ways.  One of these was He being my Shepherd who comforted and guided me through His rod and staff when I had to travel without the guide to an unknown place to visit a family I never met. The other foreigner with me was so worried that we might miss the person picking us up, afraid that we might be lost.  But God was my Assurance and I, once again, felt that peace which transcends all understanding.

Now I am back here in the Philippines, waiting for my Father to take me to my next journey … until I set foot again to that “promised land.”
I know this isn’t the end of the story but only the beginning.  (Grace Pagatpatan)