In honor of Memorial Day, here is a family story from WW II: When my dad was a boy, his family immigrated from southern China to the Philippines. My grandfather was led to preach the gospel and plant a church in Quezon City on Luzon Island. Shortly afterward, World War II broke out, and the Philippines were ultimately invaded by the Japanese. An airstrip was hidden near their house, and every day my dad and his younger siblings would watch the planes take off in the morning. They could gauge the state of the war by how many took off and how many returned. It was a difficult and dangerous time, to say the least. Meanwhile a top Chinese nationalist spy had been sent to the Philippines to gather information for the Allies. The Japanese knew he was there, so he was a hunted man in daily fear of capture and death. Somehow he knew about my grandfather. (But being a spy, he would know these things.) This man was not a Christian, but whenever...