In 1998, I visited my first foreign country, Peru. I was traveling with my Dad and a couple from church to visit some missionary friends and help run a program for their kids while they attended a conference. I listened to Rich Mullins Songs 1 on my portable CD player as we flew through the night from Dallas to Lima. I was so pumped to get my first stamp in my passport. My Dad always told me that he knew then and there that I'd caught the travel bug.
As we were waiting in baggage claim for our things, our host for our time in Lima joined us. He was a local pastor who also supported our missionary friends and would guide us around Lima until we caught our flight to the middle of the jungle a little later. My Dad asked him a few questions and inquired about how he got involved with his church and the missionaries
"I grew up in the church, but at a certain point I had to leave and go build my testimony."
I'd never forgotten that sentence and the multitude of stories it held. Especially when I walked away from the church and did everything I could to silence the still small voice that wouldn't ever leave me alone.