Hi, my name is Luke Arthur. I am a missionary soon to be launching into the Philippines as an EMT, Pilot, and Media Professional. When people ask me when I decided I wanted to become a missionary, I have to stop and think for a moment. There was a moment when I turned and started consciously towards this mission in the Philippines, but really, God has been working much longer than that. To get the whole story, we'll have to start much earlier on.
I was born on March 7th, 2004, to an amazing and godly mother and father in the small town of Berrien Springs, Michigan. I was the youngest of four children. For my first four years, I lived here and built a foundation of character that would guide the rest of my childhood.
At four years old, my family moved to Arkansas. My brother had entered a boarding school in Amity, and my father took a teaching position at this same school. It was a small Adventist self-supporting institution called Ouachita Hills Academy and College (OHA or OHC). I would live here with my family for the next nine years, and this would hold many crucial moments that led me to where I am today.
It was at Ouachita Hills that I made four friendships early on that would mold both my character and interest in aviation. Each of these friends carried a love for aviation to one degree or another. Perhaps it was the closeness of our friend group that fostered this common interest more than a true love or calling to it in each of us, but I know for me, that was not the case. For me, aviation was a part of me. I honestly don't remember when I first decided I wanted to be a pilot.
Even at a young age, I was firm that aviation was in my future. I remember when I was about four years old, someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I proudly answered, "I'm going to be a pirate!" Of course, they were a little shocked, and my mother had to explain that I had mispronounced "pilot."
At the age of eleven, one of my close friends, (a couple years older than me) took his first flight lesson, and all of a sudden the idea of me becoming a pilot took on an actual sense of possibility. I called his flight instructor, and a few weeks later I found myself on my first flight lesson.
I found myself completely absorbed in everything my instructor told me, from the way the pitot tube worked, right down to how to read the magnetic compass. But when we took to the air, I was lost in my own world. suddenly I found myself completely awe-inspired as the ground flowed away underneath us.
Up to this point I had never set foot in an airplane, and this experience truly fulfilled my wildest dreams.
.jpg)
In 2017, at the age of 14, my family moved back to Berrien Springs, Michigan, and my flight training came to a halt for a couple of years. I spent time at the local airport, hanging out with pilots, and whenever possible, hitching free rides. However, the cost seemed prohibitive, and I considered that my flight training would have to wait until I could gather more money.
Around this time, I got a job working at a local Adventist media company. With this new addition to my schedule, once again, the thought of my flight training slipped under the rug. However, this situation wouldn't last long.
At the age of 16, another friend of mine and I were once again talking about career choices. They mentioned an interest in flight nursing on the medical helicopters that perform lifesaving missions all around the United States. This sparked the idea of becoming a helicopter pilot in my head, and within a week, I had contacted a local helicopter flight school and scheduled my first lesson.
Over the course of the next year, I would take a one-hour lesson and work for a week to pay for the next lesson, and then fly another hour, and so the pattern continued. My weekend flight lessons became the highlights that I eagerly anticipated.
Finally, a little over a year after starting my helicopter training, the time for my check ride and my long-awaited Private Pilot Certificate (PPL) arrived.
Bringing the timeline up to this year, a tragedy occurred in the Philippines. A helicopter went missing, and several close friends of mine were directly affected. I witnessed the story unfold from an insider's perspective and felt a fraction of the pain associated with the unanswered questions.
I began to contemplate how God could use me in the Philippines. Could I step up to the plate where the devil seemed to have won a victory? People I trusted around me began to suggest that this might be a place where God was calling me.
Initially, I dismissed these thoughts and feelings, considering them to be the result of overactive minds in the aftermath of the tragedy. However, God continued to speak to me.
One morning, shortly after waking up, a friend from Texas texted me out of the blue. He asked, 'Are you busy today? I want to come see you!' It was completely unexpected. Of course, I made time, and he flew up to Michigan seemingly just to meet me. (Later, he mentioned that he couldn't explain what compelled him to make the trip.)
As we talked, God began to reveal instances where He had guided each of us, affirming our prayers and impressions separately. Remarkably, these moments of prayer and affirmation coincided exactly.
It finally dawned on me that I needed to take God seriously. Over the next few weeks, I prayed specifically about His call on my heart for mission service. On April 7th, 2023, I made the decision to answer God's call.
).png){kind=spacer}
