I laughed​—my friend did not strike me as a religious person. “What do you know about the Bible?” I asked. He was not quick to answer. Finally, he told me that his mother was one of Jehovah’s Witnesses; he had learned some things from her. Curious, I pressed him to tell me more.

Our conversation lasted far into the night. My friend told me that the Bible identifies Satan as the ruler of the world. (John 14:30) Perhaps you have known that all your life, but for me, the idea was both new and intriguing. I had always heard that a benevolent God was in charge of the world. But that didn’t tally with what I had seen in life. Although I was only 26 years old, I had seen a lot that troubled me.

My father had been a pilot in the United States Air Force. So as a youngster, I was keenly aware that nuclear war was a real possibility; the military had its finger on the trigger. The war in Vietnam overshadowed my college years in California. I joined student protests. Police with clubs chased us, and we ran, choking and half-blinded because of tear gas. It was a time of turmoil and rebellion. There were political assassinations, protests, and riots. Ideas and opinions swirled like leaves in a windstorm. It was all so confusing.

In 1970, I took a job on the north coast of Alaska and made a lot of money. Then I flew to London, bought a motorcycle, and rode south with no destination in mind. Months later, I reached Africa. Along the way, I met people who also wished they could get away​—break free somehow and run from the circumstances that enchained them.

So because of what I had seen and heard, the Bible’s teaching that an evil spirit creature was manipulating earth’s affairs  made sense to me. But where was God in all of this? I wanted to know.

In the months that followed, I found the answer. And over time, I also came to know and love many men and women who, under all sorts of circumstances, have proved faithful to the one true God.

When I returned to London, I contacted my friend’s mother, and she gave me a Bible. Later, when I went to Amsterdam, the Netherlands, a Witness saw me reading it under a streetlight, and he helped me to learn more. Next, I went to Dublin, Ireland, and found the branch office of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I knocked at the front door. That’s where I met Arthur Matthews, a wise, experienced brother. I asked for a Bible study, and he agreed to study with me.

I threw myself into my study, voraciously reading the books and the bound volumes that the Witnesses published. And, of course, I read the Bible itself. It was so exciting! At congregation meetings, I saw that even children knew the answers to questions that learned men had pondered for centuries: ‘Why is there evil? Who is God? What happens at death?’ I associated exclusively with the Witnesses. That was easy because I didn’t know anyone else in the entire country. They helped me come to love Jehovah and to want to do his will.

In 1972, I got baptized. A year later, I began to pioneer and joined a tiny congregation in Newry, Northern Ireland. I rented an isolated stone cottage on a mountainside. There were cows in the adjacent field, and I practiced my talks in front of them. They appeared to listen attentively while chewing their cud. They could offer no counsel, but they helped me with audience contact. In 1974, I was appointed as a special pioneer and was joined by Nigel Pitt, who became a lifelong friend.

“The Troubles” plagued Northern Ireland at that time. Some aptly labeled the North “the land of the bomb and the bullet.” Street fighting, sniper attacks, shootings, and car bombings were common. Political and religious issues were intertwined. However, both Protestants and Catholics  recognized that the Witnesses do not take sides in politics, so we were able to preach freely and safely. Householders often knew when and where there would be violence, and they would warn us so that we could keep clear of it.

Still, there were dangerous situations. One day, Denis Carrigan, also a pioneer, and I preached in a nearby town where there were no Witnesses and where we had been only once before. A woman accused us of being undercover British soldiers, perhaps because neither of us spoke with an Irish accent. The accusation frightened us. Just being friendly to soldiers could get you killed or kneecapped​—shot through the knee. As we stood outside, cold and alone and waiting for the bus, we saw a car pull up to the café where the woman had accused us. She came out and talked to the two men in the car, pointing at us excitedly. The men then slowly drove up to us and asked us a few questions about the bus schedule. When the bus arrived, they spoke to the driver. We couldn’t hear what they were saying. There were no other passengers, so we were convinced that arrangements were being made to deal with us outside of town. But that didn’t happen. As I stepped off the bus, I asked the driver: “Those lads back there, were they wondering about us?” He replied: “I know who you are, and I told them. Don’t you worry. You’re quite safe.”

In 1976 at a district assembly a in Dublin, I met Pauline Lomax, a special pioneer who was visiting from England. She was a spiritual, humble, and lovely sister. She and her brother, Ray, had known the truth all their life. A year later, Pauline and I were married and we continued special pioneering in Ballymena, Northern Ireland.

We were in circuit work for a time, serving our brothers in Belfast, Londonderry, and other hot spots. We were moved by the faith of our brothers and sisters who had abandoned deeply entrenched religious beliefs, prejudices, and hatreds to serve Jehovah. How he blessed and protected them!

I had lived in Ireland for ten years. Then in 1981 we were invited to attend the 72nd class of Gilead. After graduating, we were assigned to Sierra Leone, West Africa.

We lived in a missionary home with 11 wonderful people. We shared one kitchen, three toilets, two showers, one telephone, one washing machine, and one dryer. Electricity outages were frequent and unpredictable. Rats invaded the roof space, and cobras slithered into the basement.

Though living conditions were not ideal, the ministry was a joy. People respected the Bible and listened attentively. Many studied and accepted the truth. The locals addressed me as “Mister Robert.” Pauline was “Missus Robert.” After a while, though, as work at the branch office took more of my time and I was out in the field ministry less, people began calling Pauline “Missus Pauline.” I became “Mister Pauline.” Pauline liked that!

 Many of the brothers were poor, but Jehovah always cared for their needs, sometimes in remarkable ways. (Matt. 6:33) I remember one sister who had only enough money to buy food for that day for herself and her children, but she gave it all to a sick brother who lacked the money to buy malaria medication. Later that day, a woman came unexpectedly to the sister and paid her to style her hair. There were many situations like that.

We were in Sierra Leone for nine years. Then we were transferred to Bethel in Nigeria. We were now in a large branch office. I was doing the same type of office work that I had done in Sierra Leone, but for Pauline, it was a big change and a difficult one. She had been spending 130 hours every month in the ministry, and she had productive Bible studies. Now she was assigned to the sewing room, where she spent her days repairing damaged clothing. It took a while to adjust, but she came to realize that others deeply appreciated the work she was doing, and she concentrated on taking opportunities to encourage fellow Bethelites.

The Nigerian culture was new to us, and we had much to learn. On one occasion, a brother came to my office to introduce a sister who had just been accepted to Bethel. As I reached out to shake her hand, she prostrated herself at my feet. I was stunned! Two scriptures flashed through my mind: Acts 10:25, 26 and Revelation 19:10. I wondered, ‘Should I tell her not to do that?’ At the same time, I realized that she had been accepted to Bethel; she knew what the Bible teaches.

Awkwardly, I muddled through the rest of the introduction and then did some research. I learned that the sister had acted in accord with a traditional custom that at the time was still practiced in some parts of the country. Men would prostrate themselves in the same way. It was a way of showing respect. It was not worship; there are Scriptural precedents. (1 Sam. 24:8) I was glad that I had not, in my ignorance, said anything that might embarrass my sister.

 We met many Nigerians who had shown remarkable faithfulness over the years. Consider Isaiah Adagbona. b He learned the truth as a young man, but then he was diagnosed with leprosy. He was sent to a leper colony where he was the only Witness. Despite opposition, he helped more than 30 lepers to accept the truth and established a congregation at the colony.

In 1996 we were assigned to the Kenya branch. This was my first time back in the country since my visit mentioned at the outset. We lived at Bethel. And among the visitors to the property were vervet monkeys. They would “mug” the sisters who carried fruit. One day, a sister at Bethel had left her window open. When she came home, she found a family of monkeys enjoying the food they found in her room. She screamed and ran out the door. The monkeys shrieked and jumped out the window.

Pauline and I joined a Swahili congregation. After a short time, I was assigned to conduct the Congregation Book Study (now called Congregation Bible Study). However, my grasp of the language was still at the level of an infant. I would study the material in advance, so I was able to read the questions. But if the comments from the audience varied even slightly from what was written, I did not understand them. It was so awkward! I felt sorry for the brothers and sisters. I was impressed that they calmly accepted the arrangement with patience and humility.

We were in Kenya for less than a year. Then in 1997 we were invited to Bethel in Brooklyn, New York. Now we were in a country where there was material prosperity, which can bring its own problems. (Prov. 30:8, 9) But even in such a country, spirituality abounds. Our brothers use their time and assets, not to enrich themselves, but to support the good work of Jehovah’s organization.

Over the years, we have seen the faith of our fellow Witnesses in a variety of circumstances. In Ireland, faith amid civil strife. In Africa, faith amid poverty and isolation. In the United States, faith amid prosperity. How joyful Jehovah must be as he looks down and sees people who show their love for him in all sorts of situations!

The years have flown by​—“more quickly than a weaver’s shuttle.” (Job 7:6) We now work with others at world headquarters in Warwick, New York, and we have the joy of continuing to serve with people who truly love one another. We are happy, contented, and delighted to do what we can to support our King, Christ Jesus, who will soon reward his countless faithful ones.​—Matt. 25:34.