By Anna McShane — Hank didn’t think he was a good teacher. He had, after all, spent his whole career as a scientist and engineer for NASA. He liked problem solving, intricate ideas, research, quiet rooms, and planning. He did not particularly like people. Teach college kids? Really?

But Hank’s wife Nancy loved to teach, and she wanted to share Asia with her husband. She’d taught there before they were married, and she knew he could do it, even if he thought he couldn’t. So Hank came to East Asia with a team of English teachers and taught a class of unsophisticated, but sharp, university students trying to improve their spoken English. He worked very hard, and despite all the failings he perceived, his class went quite well. Hank’s biggest frustration was that there were never any genuine spiritual conversations.

Lee was a 19 year old engineering student in Hank’s class. Lee was a farm boy, come from a distant province to the big city to study – a bright kid with minimal background, and a mind like a sponge. He latched onto Hank immediately and day after day they went out after class for a smoothie to talk engineering. Hank’s frustration built.

“We never get to anything of substance,” he said.
“Isn’t engineering substance?” I replied.
“Of course,” Hank answered, a little acidly, “But it’s not about the Lord.”
“So what?” I countered. “This takes time, Hank. Patience.”

Hank left East Asia having had no spiritual discussions, but all the next year Lee called him on Skype to improve his English … and to talk engineering. “We’re getting NOWHERE,” Hank would say in his emails to me.

The following spring we saw Lee on his campus. In fact, we saw him all the time — he practically lived with us. Weekend evenings he’d arrive with a group of friends for games, all carrying bags of food. We didn’t have many deep spiritual conversations, but as questions arose, we’d answer simply. That summer when we returned, minus Hank, Lee was slated to be a teaching assistant. For the next four weeks he shared life 24/7 with other godly, mature believers from several countries.

In the fall, Lee wrote Hank that he was going to a Bible study. “But is it sound?” Hank asked me on email. Who knew? It was a Bible study and Lee liked it. In the spring, when we returned to his campus, he took us to the study. That spring there were LOTS of spiritual discussions, but still no real movement toward belief.

When summer came, Lee was our teaching assistant once again. This time he spent a lot of time with our two TESOL interns from a Christian college. The other teaching assistant was a new believer, and the four students dug deeper into what it meant to be a follower of Jesus. Three years and counting.

That fall Lee came to the United States for a semester exchange. We picked him up at the airport and took him to his exchange university and settled him into his room. Within weeks he called to say that two of his suite mates led the worship band at a small church, and he went with them every Sunday. He was able to visit Hank (and talk engineering) as well as others of our English teaching team. He went to Florida over Christmas with a professor from his university and then came to us on New Year’s Eve for six days. We were in the throes of a reunion of all our children and grandchildren and he slept on a couch. He loved the bustle, the kids, the family interaction. At one point he mused, “I’ve been with Christian families and non-Christian families this fall. There’s a big difference.”

The last Sunday before he flew home, the message at church was on being a new creation in Christ. Late that night, he and my husband sat at the kitchen counter after the rest of the family was asleep, talking. My husband drew two circles and labeled them OLD and NEW, copying the visual from the morning message. “There are two sides, Lee,” he said. “Either you are in the family of God or you are not. Where are you?”

“I’m still over here,” he said, pointing to the circle marked OLD. We put him on a plane the next day with hugs, knowing that after almost four years, though he felt like a son, he still was not in God’s family.

Spring came, we went to East Asia again, and Lee was at our side from the day we arrived. One Sunday he went to church with us and the message was so very clear on joining the family of God. After the service we said, “Lee, we can’t do this for you but we’d love to have you in the family.”

He hugged us and said, “Someday I will be a Christian, but not right now.”

As graduation approached, Lee called to say he had two job offers for the next year, both with companies in Africa. Was this a good idea? We told him he was young, unattached, and it was a good way to see the world on someone else’s ticket. We prayed it would be Uganda, knowing that there were two older missionary women there that he’d already met who would pour into his life.

We had a few brief days together that summer between the time we arrived for summer program and his departure for Uganda. His last night he came by our hotel room to give us a last hug. “Mom, Dad,” he said, with tears in his eyes, “I can’t leave without telling you that I am now in the family.”

This year in Uganda he has grown at lightning speed. The two older women load him with books. Believing African friends discuss faith issues with him. An American pastor has a Friday night Bible study. He scours the internet for John Piper, and other good study sites. Before Christmas he wrote and said, “I thought I had to understand everything before I believed. Now I know that only by taking the step of faith to believe will I ever understand. Thank you to all my teachers for your patience with me.”