As a teenager, I went to the sandbox in the empty playground beside my church when I wanted to be alone. I dug my bare feet down deep, cooling them in the damp sand. “God, I would do anything for you,” I remember saying there one afternoon. “Anything?” I imagined God’s reply. “Anything,” I promised. “Would you become a missionary in a foreign land?” God tested me. “Giving up the lavish life of an actress that you dream about?” I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured myself a poor missionary living in a small, rural village somewhere on the other side of the world. In my imagination, I wore a
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