Saying Yes to Going - Joyce's Calling


For as long as I can remember, I wanted God to send me to Africa.  I wanted God to send me to Africa so much that I grew up thinking that every single Christian wanted to go to Africa, but that God did not want everyone to go.  I was worried that I wouldn’t be one of the ‘lucky’ ones whom God would send.


After I became a Christian, I went on a few short term mission trips.  I had grown up in a relatively privileged background in Hong Kong.  Seeing how the majority of the world actually lives in developing countries humbled me greatly.  When I was seventeen, I won a scholarship to a sixth form college of 360 students from over 80 countries.  Many of my schoolmates came from developing countries.  The needs of the world ceased to be just statistics.  Suddenly the war refugees and the starving children were no longer just images on the television.  They had become families and loved ones of my new friends from all across the world.  Although this school was not a Christian school, it was a very idealistic school that actively encouraged students to choose the road less travelled and make a difference in this world.


When it came to time to choose my university course, I heard that lots of missionaries had their visas denied to their mission fields.  Even those with teaching, engineering and architecture qualifications had their visas denied.  The one profession that all the countries seem to always welcome was Medicine.  So I decided to become a doctor, hoping that the qualification will be a passport to many countries.


When I was a fourth year medical student, I had four months where I could do an elective anywhere in the world.  I decided to go to Africa for 2 months to ‘test out my calling’ and then to Hong Kong hoping to meet a nice Chinese boy.  When I arrived in Africa, I became very miserable as I found life too hard.  I was totally overwhelmed by the needs and the difficulties.  I felt too spiritually immature and too weak in character.   In fact, I wrote seven reasons why I should and could never be a missionary in my journal.  Then after much soul searching and battling with God, on a beach, I finally surrendered and accepted the call of God on my life.  I wrote on my journey in a fresh new page, ‘Lose your life’.


The next day, I met Henri, who I knew on the day I met him that God had prepared him as a husband for me, and that we would serve Him together in Africa one day.