here was almost no breeze. In the stillness it seemed that time was suspended, as indeed it was for Bill Wallace. Inside the garage where he sat, the shadows offered some relief from the brilliant sunshine which reached in from the opened doors to expose a partially dismantled Ford, a grimy but orderly workbench, an assortment of oil-smeared wrenches, and a small New Testament open on the bench.
The physician’s seventeen-year-old son, whose main claim to fame was his phenomenal mechanical skill, was working diligently when his moment of destiny seized him. The first assault slowed him; the second caused a mistake; the third stopped him.
Laying aside his wrench, he picked up his New Testament as if it could offer an answer for the demanding question that without warning had taken command of his consciousness. What should he do with his life? No, that was not quite accurate. He was not sure the question was so self-determinative. Better, what would God have him do with his life?
An intruder, had there been one (and anybody would have been one in the moment), would not, could not have realized that forces at work in this young man on this hot, still, uninspiring afternoon would forever decide his life’s course. Neither the place nor props, not even the slouching figure of the lean, sandy-haired youth, would have revealed it; but that is what was happening.
Can the “heavenly vision” be so mundane? Can God’s Holy Spirit grasp men and set them apart for special tasks in such ordinary circumstances? Well, it was, and he did; and it happened right there in that garage.
Apart from any previous reference to anything remotely like this, the young mechanic-to-be, trade school bound, decided that day, in that moment, in that place, that God was calling him to be a medical missionary in a place that He would some day reveal.