Drops of blood spattered the floor as spasms of coughing racked my body. “Soosing,” my mother whispered to me between my paroxysms, “You have to go to the white people. Your wife is dead, your daughter is dead, and now you’re dying of the same disease. They’re the only ones who can help.”

I knew she was right, so I moved down to the village of Mayba. Every morning for the next eight months, Rodney Bowes, an AFM student missionary, brought me tuberculosis medicine and sat and talked to me about God. One day, as he read aloud Paul’s words, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me . . .” (Gal. 2:20), I gave my heart to Jesus.

It has been many years since Rodney left. I am now a leader among the Alangan churches and have been helping John start the work among the Batangan. Jesus said the Kingdom of Heaven is like a tiny mustard seed that grows into a great tree. For me, it was an AFM student missionary who planted that seed. We have yet to see how big the tree will grow.

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