ast September, when I accepted an invitation from Justus Devadas, president of Spicer College in India, to be a guest of the college for the commencement exercises and speak to the graduates, I had no inkling of what lay ahead. Work on the new Adventist World took me to Korea just the week before I was to leave for India, and as I contemplated more nights in cramped airplane seats I asked myself: "Why am I doing this?" The Lord had a surprising--and wonderful--answer.

From first to last I was smothered in love and kindness. It started with the arrival in Mumbai at 1:30 a.m. Boxter Kharbteng, one of my students from the 12 years when I taught at Spicer and now vice president for academic affairs, was there to greet me. We talked animatedly all the way during the three-hour car trip to Pune--across the coastal plain, up the Western Ghats, and along the cool stretch of the Deccan plateau.

The last time I made the journey, it took five tortuous, hazardous, hours. Now a new six-lane expressway roars up and over to Pune. No bullock carts. No bicycles. Unbelievable.

I sensed it as soon as I got off the plane--the air of excitement. The immigration officers, dressed in collars and ties, actually smile and greet you. In the baggage area you see ATMs and ads for cell phones. And everyone around you has their cell phone out and is talking at once.

India has changed, is changing. After long years marked by grinding poverty, a new prosperity is bringing vigor to the economy, transforming the infrastructure.

The Seventh-day Adventist Church also has changed, is changing. Noelene and I came to the Southern Asia Division in 1960--newly married, ready to conquer the world. At that time the division encompassed India, Pakistan, Ceylon, and Burma. In all that vast population, Adventists numbered only about 20,000 members. The progress of the work was deadly slow: a malaise gripped the attitudes of the workers, and rarely was a non-Christian baptized.

Today the Southern Asia Division, now just India, Nepal, Bhutan, and Maldives has more than 800,000 members. India used to be called the Gibraltar for evangelism; the rock has cracked.

Spicer College has changed, is changing. New buildings have sprung up, and, after many years of talking, a church building is rising from the farm soil. Designed to seat 2,000 people, it should be completed by year's end.

We came to Spicer College in 1963. We were dreamers all--M. E. Cherian, the young new president; K. J. Moses and Bill Johnsson (we two became known as the "Young Turks"); and other young faculty members. We dreamed of a college that would be Adventist and excellent, one that would command recognition because of the quality of its education. We dreamed and worked, worked hard.

Today Spicer is on the cusp of a future bright with hope. A bill before the Maharashtra legislative assembly when passed will confer university status. Spicer Memorial College will become Spicer Adventist University.

I felt it as I stood before the graduates for the baccalaureate address, then again the next morning as they stepped up to receive undergraduate and graduate degrees--the air of excitement. These young men and women looked so fine--clean-cut and clear-eyed--and they listened with such attentiveness. The whole weekend of appointments was marked by dignity and decorum--the way commencement exercises used to be in the United States. The senior class had worked hard and creatively to enhance the occasion. For their class gift they chose flowers: bouquets of red and yellow roses, Shasta daisies, and carnations.

The weekend was packed with activities, beginning Thursday evening. Events started late, ran long. No one looked at their watches. Speeches. Flowers--and more flowers. Food--and more food. Celebration. Affirmation. Appreciation. Love.

Sunday evening Boxter again accompanied me to Mumbai for the early-morning flight out. Which meant he sacrificed two nights' sleep.

Sentimental journey. For me, a New Testament-like experience, the sort of effusion of grace and love that Paul wrote about in his second letter to the Corinthians.

In all the outpouring of love, I heard voices from the past. Some, way back in Australia when we received the call to Southern Asia, said: "Don't go! You'll be forgotten. . . . There'll be no job for you when you come back. . . ."

Unbelievable! What we would have missed!

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William G. Johnsson is editor of the Adventist Review.