Valda Long was born on the opposite side of the county from me, and she was two generations ahead of me.  Since Hardee County was only about 50 miles wide, our upbringings were not that different.  We both grew up in rural, historic Southern Baptist churches, where the gospel was preached, the old hymns were sung, and most of the congregation knew that one day they would be buried across the road in the church cemetery.  We both grew up hearing about missionaries in the far corners of the world.  A sermon on the Great Commission (“Go ye therefore, making disciples of all peoples…”) was an annual event.  And we both grew up in a culture where every service station had three bathrooms: “Men,” “Women,” and “Colored.” 

Valda left Hardee County to become a surgical scrub nurse for another Hardee Countian, Dr. Leffie Carlton, in Tampa.  I don’t know all the details, but sometime in the 1950s, God began to speak to her.  Though she was not married, she had a secure job doing important work.  God was calling her to leave what she knew, to leave the comfort of the United States, to be a missionary. 

Most people don’t realize that when God calls you, you can say “No.”  I have known many people God called, and they said, “No.”  Most of them can’t get past the leap of faith required to trust God to take care of them in a strange environment.  There are fears of financial sacrifice.  “No” is easier to talk yourself into than “Yes.” 

Valda said, “Yes.”  She did additional training and was assigned to serve in a Hospital in Nigeria.  To point out the obvious, most Nigerians are black.  She overcame Southern prejudices and served there for twenty-six years.  When she came home on furlough, she would speak at local churches, and we would all dig a little deeper to give to the missions offering.  I remember hearing her as a child and asking Mama for a quarter so I could give something.   

The local mission circles of the church would tear up sheets and roll bandages to send to her, packing them in 55-gallon drums.  Budgets and supplies were tight in those days, and it was one tangible thing the ladies of the church could do. 

Much later, when I was in college, one of my professors served as the President of the Nigerian Baptist Theological Seminary.  He knew Valda and described her as a “true Christian servant.”  I should have taken the time to ask more.  What I gathered from his words was she was the kind of person who got things done in the name of Jesus. 

Valda retired in 1982, coming home for the last time.  She moved back to New Zion, the community of her birth.  Two years later, she passed away. 

You will not find a monument to Valda in Hardee County or in Nigeria.  When I Googled her name, there were few internet traces.  She did not serve to be honored; she served because she said “Yes” to Jesus. 

I believe God created every person for a purpose.  Valda’s purpose was to go to Nigeria, be a nurse, and tell people about Jesus.  When I received my calling on the other side of the county, my purpose was to be a pastor and help as many people as possible take their next step toward Jesus.  I know a man whose purpose is to coach baseball and mentor boys, most of whom do not have fathers in their homes.  I know a woman whose purpose is to sew quilts for newborn babies to show the love of Jesus.  I have a friend whose purpose is to build bridges over racial divides in the name of Jesus.   One of my best friends was a man who kept his business going because he knew his employees depended on their jobs.  He was providing jobs in the name of Jesus. 

Your mission field may not be Nigeria; it may not even be working for a church.  But you have a purpose and a place.  God made you for a reason.  When you live out your purpose, in ways small and large, you bring the Kingdom of God near to people who need the hope and peace of Jesus. 

When you hear the call of God, answer “Yes.”  Someone, somewhere in this world, needs you to say “Yes” to your call, to your purpose.