It's quite a challenge to write of lasting impressions of Cameroon because I am unable to gaze into the future and identify those experiences that will linger in my mind five or 10 years from now.

Surely I'll always remember the congregational music: the choruses with drums and shakers; the joyous singing, clapping, and dancing. The work of the Spirit, as witnessed in steady numerical growth and inner spiritual strengthening.

I'll always remember the beautiful children, their big eyes and bright smiles. Their excitement over a small sticker or homemade Sunday school leaflet. The ability of even the three-year-olds to know all the words of the choruses and to sing with all their hearts. Their respect for adults and authority, waiting patiently for the grown-ups to get their food before they are served.

Of course, I'll remember the palm-thatch churches, the chairs of honor, the warmth of the people, their respect and hospitality. The crowing roosters and singing birds. The dust and mud, torrential rains, power outages. Our dear neighbors, Norb and Margaret Meier, and our German Shepherd, Czecho.

There will always be a soft spot in my heart for the seminary students: their sincerity, eagerness to learn, voices raised in praise. Their respect and love for us and our respect and love for them. Their smiling faces, but also their personal struggles and individual problems.

Oh, yes, I'll remember the walks in the lush tropical paradise, the flowers and trees, the year-round abundance of fruit, the hand dug fields, the women bent over their short hoes with babies tied to their backs. Men, women, and children carrying everything on their heads from a chainsaw to a sewing machine to a typewriter. I'll have stories to tell about the customs and the food, the post office and telephone service, the roads and bridges--or lack thereof.

On the other hand, I'll also remember the pain of separation and the extreme longing for loved ones back home. I won't be able to forget the severe poverty I've witnessed, the disease and death and suffering, with few or no medical facilities. I'll remember the intense struggle between good and evil, the stark contrast between heathen traditions and biblical Christianity. The volatility of the crowds. The fierce challenges, agonizing heartaches, daily setbacks of two building programs. And the corruption--everywhere. Greed and corruption. And bribery. And greed. . . .

Before I left for this African sabbatical, several seasoned veterans told me the experience would be "life-changing" and would make me a "different person." Which of these memories has had the greatest impact in shaping my perspective?