✝️ Man on a Mission

👷 Steel Mill Encounters: Meeting a Man on a Mission

The roar of the steel mill was deafening, the kind of noise that made conversation nearly impossible unless you shouted. Sparks flew, the heat pressed against us, and most days felt like survival. That’s where I first met Roy. He wasn’t just another worker trying to punch the clock and make it through the day. There was something different about him.

Roy always carried himself with quiet confidence and unshakable joy, even when the job was grueling. His white beard framed a smile that never seemed to fade, no matter how long the shift or double-shift dragged on. And then there was that hat. Across the front of his hat, in bold letters, it read: Man on a Mission. At first, I thought it was just a catchy phrase, maybe a joke, or even a safety slogan. But as time went on, I discovered it was far more than that.

Back then, I wasn’t a Christian. My views of faith were shaped more by the traditions of my family than by any personal conviction. My grandfather had been a Nazarene pastor, and I grew up in the Free Methodist church. My parents were heavily involved in music ministry, faithfully serving each week. But while church life was familiar to me, I never heard much about missions. Occasionally a missionary would come through and share a story, but once the service ended, the subject rarely came up again at home.

So when I met Roy, I didn’t immediately think of him as a “missionary.” He was just a fellow steelworker with a warm smile. Yet something about the way he lived his faith challenged me. He didn’t carry himself like the stereotypical Christians I imagined—preachy, judgmental, or disconnected from real life. Instead, he was present. He listened. He encouraged. And little by little, in the middle of clanging steel and molten metal, I realized his life carried the fragrance of Christ. At the time, I brushed it off as nothing—but in hindsight, I can see God was already planting seeds through Roy that would one day grow into something far greater. 

🌍 Stories from the Nations: Faith in Motion

During our breaks, Roy often told stories—not the kind you forget in an afternoon. His words carried the weight of real places, real faces, and real moments with God. He spoke of the Maasai people in Kenya, their bright garments glowing in the African sun, describing the day he watched entire families walk forward to receive Christ. You could almost hear their songs of joy through his voice. Then he told of the long, weary drive from Ohio to Honduras, guiding a truck packed full of medical supplies for missionaries who were praying for help. He described the heat, the dust, and the exhaustion of the road, but his face would light up when he explained how those supplies saved lives and opened doors for the gospel.

Each account painted a vivid picture of a faith that moved. Christianity wasn’t a Sunday ritual or a polite nod to God—it was alive, active, and crossing borders to reach people everywhere. Roy’s stories gave me something no sermon had ever quite delivered: a vision of Christianity in motion.

And it wasn’t just his words. Roy embodied his message. His favorite hat—faded from years of wear—declared in bold letters: “Man on a Mission.” That wasn’t a slogan; it was his identity. He lived it, breathed it, and invited others into it.

For me, listening to Roy became more than casual conversation—it was an encounter with testimony. And testimony carries power. The more I listened, the more I began to wonder: maybe this Jesus he followed was real after all.

Then one day, Roy handed me a Bible. It wasn’t just a casual gift pulled off a shelf; it was personal, intentional, as though he sensed I needed it more than I realized at the time. I couldn’t have known then how much it would shape my future. But looking back, I can see it clearly: that Bible marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

Because of Roy—the “Man on a Mission”—and because of that Bible, my life would never be the same.

🙌 Father’s Day Surrender: An Altar That Changed Everything

That summer, curiosity turned into conviction. For years, Mom and Dad—both deeply involved in music ministry—invited me to church, and for years I turned them down. Sunday after Sunday, I’d find an excuse, always holding God at arm’s length. But that June, something was different. It was Father’s Day. For reasons I still can’t fully explain, I picked up the phone and told Mom, “I’ll come with you today—and afterward I’ll take us all out to dinner.” I thought I was doing them a favor. I had no idea God was about to change the course of my life.

Because my parents were in ministry, they always sat up front, and that morning I slid into the pew beside them. The music began, and before the preacher had spoken a single word, something powerful gripped me. The melodies were beautiful, but it wasn’t just the music. It was the weight of Mom’s lifelong prayers pressing in, and the undeniable conviction of the Holy Spirit. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand. Tears poured down my face, and right there in the pew I fell to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

The pastor noticed, the musicians noticed, probably the entire congregation noticed. But I didn’t see any of them. In that moment, it was just me and God—everything else faded away. The pastor stepped down from the platform and quietly invited me to the altar. There had been no sermon, no altar call, yet God was calling me Himself. I walked forward trembling, and as the worship team played softly, the pastor led me in a prayer of repentance. But truthfully, I had already surrendered back in the pew when I hit my knees.

When we finished praying, the pastor placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “God has big plans for you.” And he was right. From the steel mill and the “Man on a Mission,” to Mom’s prayers, to Bible college, to missions in Africa, Central and South America, and beyond—the Lord had only just begun. That Father’s Day was the turning point, the day everything changed. In that moment of surrender, I began to realize the truth of God’s promise: 📖 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11). 

✝️ The Greater Mission: Jesus About His Father’s Business

Roy may have been known as a true “Man on a Mission,” but even his passion and sacrifice were just a faint reflection of the One whose mission surpasses all others—Jesus Christ, the very Son of God. Unlike any earthly missionary, Jesus’ calling wasn’t something He discovered late in life. From the very beginning, He understood why He had come.

At only twelve years old, after being separated from His parents during Passover in Jerusalem, Jesus was found in the temple courts. He wasn’t lost—He was exactly where He intended to be. There He sat among the teachers of the Law, listening intently and asking probing questions—yet also giving answers that revealed such deep understanding, the scholars were left astonished. When Mary and Joseph, worried and bewildered, finally found Him, His words were both simple and profound: 📖“Did you not know that I must be about My Father’s business?” (Luke 2:49). Even as a child, His heart was already fixed on the mission that would define His entire life.

That mission never wavered. Throughout His ministry, Jesus carried Himself with a sense of divine purpose. He taught with authority that silenced critics, healed the sick with compassion, cast out demons with power, and forgave sinners with grace. Yet none of these mighty works distracted Him from the greater goal. Every miracle, every parable, and every step pointed toward the ultimate act of obedience—His death on the cross and His resurrection from the grave.

Luke captures this resolve with striking clarity: 📖 “As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51). He knew what awaited Him there: betrayal, suffering, crucifixion. Still, He pressed forward—not for comfort, not for recognition, not for safety—but for the joy of fulfilling His Father’s redemptive plan.

Jesus summarized His mission in one unforgettable sentence: 📖 “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). Those words remain the heartbeat of the Gospel. His business was His Father’s business, and that business was the salvation of souls. Every lesson taught, every healing touch, every drop of blood spilled on Calvary’s hill was bound to that greater mission.