I was 14 years old, with tears streaming out of eyes I’d forced shut. The video I was trying to block out was stirring me up inside, like a blender whose lid was about to pop off. I had been innocently standing there in my World Changers t shirt and frizzy hair (thank you, South Carolina). Some of you may have been there, too. After our worship time, a powerful video was shown, exposing the world for what it really is. Lost. Hopeless. There were faces on that video that seemed to be ripping my heart out. The music had an intense tribal rhythm that was vibrating my bones. Completely losing my composure was not part of my plan for the evening so there I stood, eyes squeezed shut, trying to push those faces out of my mind and dam the emotional torrent.

And then it happened.

Everything went quiet and blurry, like I’d just dunked my head under water. Then the faces came back, but this time there were more. They were flashing so quickly, just mobs and crowds of people, all with searching, hopeful, pleading eyes. Brown eyes. Brown skin. Some smiling, some dejected. Then out of the muted quiet came a Voice. Not like a voice that travels through your ears into your mind. This Voice had no physical source and penetrated my soul and stole my breath. Suddenly it seemed to scream and whisper simultaneously, “Will you go?”

Yes. “Yes.”

“Then I heard the voice of The Lord saying: Who should I send? Who will go for us? I said: Here I am. Send me.”