A Personal Journey Toward Medical Missionary Work
Growing up in Brooklyn, I never considered myself someone who worked with his hands. I grew up playing basketball outside. I didn't grow up building things, fixing things, or learning a trade. As I got older, I began to realize there was something I had never developed: a craft with my hands. I knew how to preach. I knew how to teach the Bible. But over time, God began placing a different prayer in my heart: “Lord, teach me to use my hands for Your glory.”
That prayer became especially meaningful during seminary when I traveled to Zambia and Papua New Guinea and witnessed medical missionary work firsthand. I saw healthcare workers ministering to people's physical needs while evangelists proclaimed the gospel. It wasn't simply medicine alongside evangelism; I began to see a picture of the method of Jesus. Christ ministered to people, healed the sick, gained their confidence, and called them to follow Him. I saw how medical missionary work could prepare hearts for the preaching of the Word, and I watched God use that partnership as part of evangelistic efforts that resulted in thousands responding to the gospel. Something inside me began to change. I didn't want only to preach about the ministry of Jesus. I wanted to learn how to serve people with my hands as Jesus did.
A Two-Year Prayer
What followed was almost two years of prayer and searching.
I knew I felt called toward medical missionary work, but I didn't know what that calling was supposed to look like. I prayed about architecture. I considered medicine. I thought about nursing. I kept asking:
“Lord, what can I learn? What skill can I develop? How can You use my hands?”
I didn't have the answer.
Then one Sabbath, God began connecting pieces I could not have connected myself.
I had been invited to preach at a church. By God's grace, at the end of the message someone responded to the baptismal appeal. It was a high Sabbath, and I left simply grateful for what God had done.
After church, a family invited me to their home.
Around the table, they began asking about my missionary experiences in Papua New Guinea. As we talked, I discovered that several people there had also served in Papua New Guinea in medical work.
Eventually, I shared something I had barely told anyone other than my wife.
I believed God might be calling me to study something in healthcare.
The table became quiet.
I understood why. It isn't every day that you hear a pastor talking about potentially going back to school to study medicine.
Then one gentleman at the table looked at me and asked:
“Have you ever thought about dentistry?”
My immediate response was:
“Is there even a need?”
He chuckled.
That question would change the direction of my life.
He invited me to shadow him, learn about dentistry, and begin seeing what dental mission work actually looked like.
Suddenly, the prayer I had been praying—“Lord, use my hands”—started taking on a form I had never imagined.
From the Pulpit to the Dental Chair
Eventually that journey took me to the Philippines.
There, we spent two days participating in medical missionary work and then preached the Three Angels' Messages. We partnered with the local Mission/Union and three Bible workers who had been laboring with people on the ground.
By God's grace, we witnessed 110 baptisms.
That experience left a permanent impression on me.
The clinic wasn't separate from the gospel.
The Bible workers weren't separate from the clinic.
The preaching wasn't separate from compassionate ministry.
We were seeing what can happen when God's people work together—healthcare workers caring for physical needs, Bible workers developing relationships and studying Scripture with families, and evangelists publicly lifting up Jesus Christ.
It showed me again the beauty of Christ's method.
Care for people.
Love people.
Minister to their needs.
Gain their confidence.
Then invite them to follow Jesus.
There Is Something About Working With My Hands
Now I find myself in dental clinics doing things I never imagined growing up in Brooklyn.
Sometimes I'm simply cleaning and sterilizing instruments.
And strangely enough, I feel peace.
There is something about preparing those instruments knowing that they will be used to relieve someone's pain.
There is something beautiful about watching a filling restore a damaged tooth.
There is something fascinating about seeing a crown restore function.
And there is something powerful about watching an extraction relieve someone who has been living with pain.
Dentistry is detailed. It is precise. It is an art and a science. It requires you to develop patience, coordination, knowledge, and skill with your hands.
And I'm still learning.
I have a long way to go.
But sometimes while I'm working, I think back to that prayer:
“Lord, use my hands.”
Maybe this is part of His answer.
When Other People Don't Understand the Call
I also understand that some people may never understand this journey.
Why would someone in ministry become interested in dentistry?
Why learn a completely different profession?
Why go back to school?
Why change direction when you've already invested years preparing for something else?
I've learned something through this journey:
Sometimes people cannot understand the calling God has placed on your life because God did not give the calling to them.
That doesn't make them wrong.
And it doesn't mean we should ignore wise counsel.
But there comes a point when you have to walk prayerfully in the direction where you believe God is leading.
Abraham was called to leave without knowing exactly where he was going.
Peter was called to step out of a boat.
The disciples were called to leave familiar lives and follow Jesus.
Faith often begins before we have the complete map.
And that is where I am.
I Don't Know Exactly What Comes Next
I don't know exactly what the next several years will look like.
I don't know every school, every country, every clinic, or every opportunity God may open.
But I know He has been teaching me to move forward in faith.
Perhaps one day those hands will perform dental procedures in villages where people have gone years without access to care.
Perhaps those same hands will hold a Bible that evening while preaching the everlasting gospel.
Perhaps there will be mornings spent in a dental clinic and evenings spent preaching Jesus Christ.
Perhaps God will open doors I haven't even imagined yet.
I don't know.
But I am beginning to understand that ministry doesn't only happen behind a pulpit.
Sometimes ministry wears gloves.
Sometimes ministry cleans instruments.
Sometimes ministry holds a suction tip.
Sometimes ministry comforts someone who is afraid.
Sometimes ministry helps relieve pain.
And sometimes the hands that open the Scriptures in the evening can be the same hands God uses to serve someone in the clinic that morning.
So my prayer has become simple:
Lord, here are my hands.
Teach them.
Train them.
Strengthen them.
Keep them humble.
Let them comfort the hurting.
Let them serve people who cannot repay me.
Let them relieve suffering.
Let them open Your Word.
And wherever You send me, let everything these hands do point someone to Jesus.
I still don't know exactly where this journey ends.
But I know Who is leading it.
And for now, that's enough to keep moving forward in faith.
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