By ROBERTA ADAIR

I grew up loving stories about how God called people, especially into missions or other “professional Christian” careers. Often these stories involved some mystical experience – a line-in-the-sand moment that served as a turning point in people’s lives. Of course, the more dramatic and exciting the story, the better. 

I am still inspired by many of these stories, broadening as I got older to include how people in a wide variety of vocations discovered their purpose or calling. But more recently, I find myself drawn to and admiring the “boring” ones.

Recently in a small group, a woman shared, “I was on an airplane reading a brochure from a missions agency and found out that Japan was less than one percent Christian. This surprised me and broke my heart. Now I’m preparing to come to Japan to work with a Japanese church. I want to help them reach out to their community and to remind them that they’re not alone – they might feel lonely, but they’re not alone.” She is an older, soft-spoken woman who talked without the slightest hint of dramatic flair, yet as she spoke, tears came to my eyes. I was so moved by her compelling and quiet obedience.

Another friend then said, “As a timid little girl, I was so thankful for the knowledge that I was seen and loved by my Heavenly Father. When I heard that millions of people hadn’t heard about Him, I said to Jesus, ‘If you need someone to go and tell them, even though it scares me, I know you’ll be with me, and so I am willing.’ I sensed His pleasure and affirmation, and I’ve held onto that these last 45 years.”

These stories are so sweet and so, well, not the stories that grabbed me as a child. “My father was kidnapped by guerrilla warriors and then…” “As I watched a man dying on the side of the road, I heard God say to me…” “Someone I didn’t know came up to my table at Denny’s and told me God wanted me to go to (name of country), and I knew it was the Holy Spirit speaking to me.”

Some of my personal calling is simple. Some of it is dramatic. Some of it, well, I’m still trying to understand what was the Holy Spirit and what was me looking really hard for His will (or a good story). I can be quite cynical and judgmental toward my younger self, but I also see my sincerity in seeking God’s will and asking Him, “Lord, here am I. Show me what You want from me. I want to go where You want me to go, do what You want me to do, and be who You want me to be.” 

Here are some snapshots of my calling. 

#1. Initial Exposure and Calling

When I was a kid, missions conferences at my church were more exciting than Christmas. The week included a Parade of Nations, flags all over the sanctuary, and a packed schedule with extra gatherings, activities, and potlucks. Our church sang songs at these conferences like May I Be a Shining Light to the Nations and Will You Be the One? that I found compelling, inspiring, and moving. I remember soaking up stories of God working around the world, teachings from scripture about God’s love for people from all nations, and the overall festive atmosphere.

And at some point, perhaps when I was around seven or eight years old, I wrote on a commitment card that I would give a small portion ($1) from my monthly allowance toward missions and that I was willing to be a missionary. I was caught up in the excitement, genuinely burdened for the lost around the world, and…perhaps also a bit interested in being chosen and special and sent. Perhaps I was caught up in the emotional intensity of the week. Perhaps I loved the idea of going on an exotic adventure with God. And perhaps God genuinely was inviting – calling – me into missions at this young age.

#2. Calling Confirmed

Fast forward to me as a college student. I spent a couple of years in high school enjoying throwing out phrases like, “Missions is neocolonialism! It is cultural imperialism!” (While this is sometimes true, it is also true that I liked sounding smarter than I was.)

 At that point in my life, I was no longer pursuing missions but was instead interested in joining the Peace Corps and/or working with vulnerable populations in the US. I also really wanted to know what God wanted me to do with my life and fasted for the first time. While fasting, my mom invited me to go with her to three evening meetings of a missions conference at the church where I grew up but hadn’t attended in several years. Each evening, one of the visiting missionaries spoke on the same passage I had read that morning in my quiet time, and this got my attention.

 On the third day, the missionaries joined the leadership team of my campus fellowship for an afternoon. I sat by a feisty white-haired retired missionary and talked with her about my plans to be a Peace Corps volunteer and then get a master’s and then “maybe, probably pursue missions.”

She looked me in the eye and said, “Roberta, I don’t claim to know God’s will for your life, but if God has given you an interest and calling in missions, pursue that and don’t put it off.” And while I normally would have responded defensively, with, “Who are you to talk to me like this? You don’t know me at all,” I had been fasting and earnestly seeking God’s will for my future. Nearly twenty years later, I still consider this as one of my line-in-the-sand moments, leading me to change course and apply to be a missionary with my church’s denomination.

 #3. Calling Redirected

Fast forward a few more years to after I had completed three wonderful, stretching, and formational years as a missionary apprentice in Kosovo. I was back in the US to fulfill an educational requirement for my agency by getting a master’s degree in intercultural studies and fully intended to go back to the Balkans.

And then I fell in love. On the first day of new student orientation, I met an interesting fellow who was very committed to going back to Japan, where he had lived for four years. One of our professors often repeated the phrase, “Hold it lightly,” while holding his hands out, palms up – almost like a mantra. Hold your theological sticking points lightly. Hold your views on non-essentials lightly. When Robert and I started dating a few months after meeting, we agreed to try to hold our preferred countries and agencies lightly.

But we didn’t. We took turns trying to convince the other why our previous country of service had more need or our agency was a better fit. We were falling in love, but this elephant in the room was starting to squeeze out the fun in our relationship. We agreed not to talk about countries or agencies or the future for a full month (March 2010) and instead ask God to settle it for us.

I don’t know what I was expecting (other than the obvious – that Robert would realize he was to come with me). What I got: bombarded with the word, image, and idea of surrender/release/letting go. I remember almost walking out of church when the pastor began a sermon series on surrender. And turning off songs on the radio. These themes came up in conversations with friends that had nothing to do with Robert or missions. It was daily and kind of ridiculous. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was clear.

At the end of the month, when I read David’s words, “I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing,” I bawled. This was another line-in-the-sand moment for me – an act of obedience and worship – and it hurt a lot. I sensed God asking (gently, loudly, clearly) to release my agency and my country of preference to Him as an act of worship and trust. (This was not a matter of me fulfilling a role of submitting to my husband but of us following God together, and I personally know plenty of people for whom the story happened the other direction.)

Robert had his own journey that month. Although his calling didn’t change, he sensed a need to reorient his priorities. He articulated it later as, “Under God, Roberta/family first.” This was important for me to see as I didn’t want to compete with Japan or view it as his mistress. I knew I couldn’t compete with 125 million people or with a place and people that he had an eight-year relationship with when we had dated for only a few.

#4. Calling Reconfirmed

Out of obedience and with very weak faith, I applied to be a missionary with Robert with a new-to-me agency. Then we went on a required vision trip. I tried so hard to be open and to have a curious, hopeful, and adventurous attitude, but my first impressions were rough. I was disoriented and insecure in our marriage. Robert’s voice, posture, and humor were different in Japan. I started wondering, “Who is this guy?” He didn’t translate much for me, and I felt out of place. I had travelled before, but Japan felt extremely other in a way I hadn’t experienced.

I remember feeling overwhelmed, wondering if we misunderstood God’s call. This was Your call for him, but how can this be Your call for us? I thought we needed to reevaluate and reconsider, so I was relieved about our mission-required meeting with a professional counselor during the retreat.

While we were meeting with the counselor on March 11, 2011, at 2:46 pm, we experienced six minutes of shaking during the 9.0 earthquake. It was terrifying. My memories are both blurry and clear – the tall cedar trees swaying overhead as the snow gently fell and watching the news on a TV in the lobby shoulder to shoulder with people I didn’t know.

I remember feeling confused, thinking, “What is happening? How many people are impacted? Why won’t anyone explain to me what is going on in English?” And I remember feeling terrified, wondering if it was the end of the world. It was very quiet as we watched horrible scenes of destruction. I heard some intakes of breath and someone praying quietly, “God, God, God!” Then a Japanese woman standing behind me to my left let out a scream, and her legs gave out.

That moment, I am ashamed to say, was the moment my heart broke for Japanese people. I am terrified, and she is terrified – Japanese people are not robots. They are people made in the image of God who mostly don’t know whom to call on when they are overwhelmed. I remember praying, “God, I am sorry for my lack of compassion for these people, for seeing them as too other.”

The next day, my now-teammate stood in the front of a chapel at the retreat center and read Psalm 46 to us. As he read, I felt the Lord speaking to me, inviting me, wooing me, calling me.

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountain fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging (1-3).

I was relieved that the earthquake and tsunami imagery was paired with the reminder of who God is.

God is within her (which I understood to mean the church), she will not fall; God will help her at break of day (5).

Earlier, our newly-appointed field director stood up in front of our mission and said, “The church in Japan is small, but the love of God is great.” I felt a whisper, a nudge – that it was a privilege to stand and partner with the Japanese church in this moment – and the promise that God would help “her.”

Come and see what the Lord has done (8)

Before this, I was gritting my teeth and obeying God as my master. I was trying to be willing to go, but I felt more like a servant being commanded to do so. When I heard this verse, I felt a gentle tug: “Come, Roberta. I want you to come and see – to join me in what I am doing!”

Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth (10).

I wish I could say, “and then we lived happily ever after.” Nope. Still newlyweds, we volunteered for a hard, disorienting summer in a traumatized community. After that summer, we decided to stay, and I struggled for years with culture shock. I am now in my twelfth year in Japan and fifteenth year as a career missionary, plodding away, trying to be one who values a long obedience in the same direction. I am trying to be one who stays yet keeps my hands open – not clenched around a place or a person or even my calling but clinging only to God.

When I meet missionaries with special or dramatic callings, I’m both a little cautious and see myself in them. I wonder if they, like me, needed something dramatic and several line-in-the-sand moments because our faith is weak and not because we are strong or special. I need my stories because, without them, I probably would have been out of here years ago.

God uses Scripture, people, experiences, nature, giftings, burdens, circumstances, and nudges from the Holy Spirit to send us on our divine assignments. Yet it is important for us to hold even these with an open hand. While God always calls us to Himself, He may redirect us to different people and places throughout our lifetime. Our job is to listen – and then obey His call.

Originally from Pennsylvania (USA), ROBERTA ADAIR lived in Kosovo for three years before getting married and moving to northern Japan in 2012. She and her husband partner with a Japanese church and have four young and energetic boys. She enjoys hiking, camping, and having friends over for average and boisterous meals. 

This article by Roberta Adair is reposted with permission and was originally published by A Life Overseas on April 3, 2025: https://www.alifeoverseas.com/author/roberta_adair/