Category Archives: Missionary Anecdotes

Spirit of the Rainforest

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rainforest.jpgJungle Mom recommended to me the book Spirit of the Rainforest: A Yanomamo Shaman’s Story by Mark Ritchie. If I understand correctly, the Yanomamo territory bordered the Yekwana Indians that the Vernoys worked with, and the Vernoys knew many Yanomamo and their ways and some of the people in this book.

This book is not for the faint of heart, however. It is not gratuitous, but it is very frank in its dealings with demonism, violence, and the treatment of women. It is told through the eyes of “Jungleman,” a powerful shaman. It is interesting to see things through his perspective (told by him to the author, who wrote them down and confirmed the incidents with others).

He tells first of all of the Yanomamo policy of revenge. Any incident calls for revenge from the family or village sinned against, which usually involves a raid on the offending village, clubbings, and capture and group rape of women. The extent of the raid can vary — in some cases two opposing warriors take turns clubbing each other over the head or across the chest. In more serious offenses every male is killed and the remaining women are assaulted multiple times and then carried off to become wives of the raiding village. If a captured woman tries to run away, she is beaten or killed. Children of the raided village are often brutally killed, occasionally captured.

Such raids did not satisfy the revenge, however: it sparked more revenge. Any remaining men or any relatives who lived in other villages were then expected to exact revenge on the raiding village. A war once begun never stopped. In between raids, villages were afraid to go out into their gardens or out to find food, always fearful of an ambush. Sometimes they broke up camp and wandered in the jungle looking for food. Sometimes mighty warriors woke up with nightmares, haunted by the cries of those that they killed. Yet they could never admit this: fierceness was the most valued characteristic in a Yanamamo male.

Gradually white nabas (their word for non-Yanomamo) began to appear in the jungle. They “talked like babies” but sometimes had useful things to trade. The Indians quickly learned, however, through hard trial and error, that all nabas were not the same. Some were interested in trading, some were interested in helping, but some were evil and interested in exploiting (they knew some earned money by taking and selling pictures of them [one even told them to take off their clothes so the pictures he took and sold would be more “authentic”] and stories about them, but there were others whose exploitation was much, much worse). There were a few, however, who said they were followers of the one the Yanomamo regarded as the great enemy spirit. They said the Indians misunderstood Him, that He loved them and had a better way to live. The Yanomamo were naturally suspicious, but they kept interacting with them because of the items they would trade or because of the medical help, and later because of the peace they exhibited. Jungleman and others’ spirits became troubled every time they were near the village where the nabas lived and begged the shamans not to ‘throw them away.”

To me there were several major benefits to this book. One was the fascinating look into Yanomamo culture. One was the immense power of the gospel to miraculously change lives in those who receive it. It was thrilling to read of those who came to believe and how they changed and grew and began to understand the ways in which they had been deceived.

Another major value of this book is the truth that these “primitive” peoples are not living happy lives frolicking in an idyllic Eden. I don’t know if you realize this, but there is a large and growing segment of the population who believes that such people should be left alone to Western influence all together and especially that Christians shouldn’t “force” the gospel on them or cause them to change their ways. Most Christians don’t “force” the gospel, however — they just offer it (and I wonder if the detractors would say the same about Muslim forced conversions).

The following is an interview between “Doesn’t Miss” (their name for the author), Keleewa, the missionary who interpreted, and a Yanomamo called Hairy on pages 180-183:

“The naba wants to know why you want to change the way you live out here in the jungle,” Keleewa said to Hairy after Doesn’tMiss talked.

Hairy was surprised at the question. “Because we’re miserable out here. We are miserable all the time. The people from Honey [predominantly Christian village] came here and made peace with us many seasons ago and their village keeps getting better. We want that for us. If it means throwing spirits away and getting new ones, we will do it. [This is not something said lightly. Many were under the impression that they would be killed if they tried to get rid of their spirits.] But we need someone to teach us these new ways.”

Hairy didn’t have spirits because he was not a shaman. But he followed everything the spirits told his shaman. I knew my spirits would be very irritated if Hairy quit following the spirits. No one who has killed as often and as long s Hairy could ever stop it…

Doesn’t Miss talked with Keleewa for a while. Keleewa paused and thought how to say what the naba said. Then he told Hairy, “He says there are many people in his land that don’t think that he, or any of us, should be here helping you at all. They say that you’re happy here and that we should leave you alone. He wants to know what an experienced killer like you would say to them.”

Hairy grew even more serious. “I say to you, please don’t listen to the people who say that. We need help so bad. We are so miserable here and out misery never stops. Night and day it goes on. Do those people think we don’t suffer when bugs bite us? If they think this is such a happy place out here in the jungle, why aren’t they moving here to enjoy this beautiful life with us?”

Doesn’t-Miss was quiet. Then he got out of his hammock and walked down the trail…When he was too far away to hear, Hairy said to Keleewa, “Is he stupid? Doesn’t he have eyes? Can’t he see these lean-tos we call houses? Can’t he see us roam the jungle every day, searching for food that isn’t here, so we can starve slower? Can’t he see that our village is almost gone, that this move we are making now is our last hope to stay alive?”

Keleewa was slow to answer. He knew Hairy wouldn’t understand what he was about to say. “Most nabas think just like him,” Keleewa told Hairy, and shook his head because he knew he couldn’t explain why.

“Nobody’s that stupid,” Hairy snapped. “They must hate us. They think we’re animals.”

Later Hairy asked Keleewa what they had to do to get a white naba to come to their village and live with them and teach them about Yai Pada (God), offering to clear an airstrip. Kelweewa promised that if they cleared an airstrip someone would come. That day Hairy and his people began clearing the jungle, and Hairy “remembered the wife he had killed. ‘I don’t want to treat women like that any more,’ he thought. ‘I don’t want my children to be killers like me. I want them to follow the spirit of this man of peace. I want us all to be free of our past. I want to sleep again’” (p. 230).

Another time (page 202) an antro (Yanomamo word for the kind of naba who took pictures of them and wrote about them) scolded an Indian named Shortman:

“Don’t you ever speak to me in Spanish! You are a Yanomamo and will always be a Yanomamo. You have no business throwing away your true ways and trying to copy nabas with their clothes, watches, motors, and now even changing to Spanish! Don’t ever speak to me in Spanish again! You want to talk to me? Use Yanomamo.”

“What’s that in your lower lip there?” Shortman asked…

“That’s my wad of tobacco,” the antro answered.

“Where did you learn to chew tobacco that way?” asked Shortman.

“I learned it from your people.”

“You saw us chew tobacco that way and you tried it and you liked it. So you copied us, didn’t you?”

“That’s right,” the antro said, with some pride in his Indian ways.

Shortman shrugged. “If you can copy us,” he paused with a puzzled look, ”then we can copy you.”

Somehow the shamans could “see” when another person had spirits, and they had identified some of the evil nabas as having spirits that the nabas themselves didn’t know about. At one point when Shoefoot, leader of Honey village, came to America with the author, he “identified the signs and symbols of many of the spirits right here in our ‘civilized’ culture. He has no problem understanding the Columbine High School massacre or any other killing spree. The spirits of anger and hatred that own and drive a person are spirits he has known personally. He knows what it means to kill under the influence of something or someone. So when a student asks…”Why can’t you get rid of your spirits without converting to Christianity?’ his answer is simple. ‘I don’t know any other way to get rid of the spirits that are destroying us. And no other shaman does, either’” (p. 251).

As I said in another post months ago, these people deserve as much chance as anyone else has to hear the gospel and have the choice to change their ways.

November Christian Book Fair at Chrysalis
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Conditions for receiving strength

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From Climbing by Rosalind Goforth

It was while I had a large family of little children about me and mission work was pressing heavily upon me, while feeling burdened and that strength was insufficient, I sought to find in God’s Word whether there were any conditions to be fulfilled for the receiving of divine strength. The result of this study was a surprise and joy to me, and later a blessing and help to many to whom I passed it on, for every condition the weakest could fulfill!

Conditions of receiving strength

1. Weaknesses. II Cor. 12:9-10
2. No might. Isa. 40:29
3. Sitting still. Isa. 30:7
4. Waiting on God. Isa. 40:31
5. Quietness. Isa. 30:15
6. Confidence. Isa. 30:15
7. Joy in the Lord. Neh. 8:10
8. Poor. Isa. 25:4
9. Needy. Isa. 25:4
10 Dependence on Christ. Phil. 4:13

Deut. 31:6: Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.

Book Review: Sometimes I Prefer to Fuss

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It may look like book week for a few days here at Stray Thoughts. 🙂 I’ve finished three books in the last couple of weeks, but haven’t had time it discuss them yet.

Some years ago I read and enjoyed a book titled Sometimes I Prefer to Fuss by Verda Peet. When I tried to find a copy of it, though, I found it was out of print. I’ve kept an eye out for it ever since, and just recently discovered it in Amazon.com’s used books for just a few dollars.

The premise of the book can be found in the introduction:

The idea that missionaries are haloed saints, mature and perfected, above the sins of most mortals and so not needing much prayer, has done great disservice to the missionary cause. If you ever lived with missionaries you would know that their halos are askew. If I were to say that a missionary preaches the gospel, may (if female) put curlers in her hair, likes ice cream, travels a lot, longs for letters from home, can be thoughtless or domineering or depressed, perspires, has cakes that don’t always rise, never gets beyond the need of the Lord’s teaching, is concerned about her children’s upbringing and education and feels irritable in the heat, your first thought would be, “Sounds like a description of me.”

Exactly. James tells us Elijah was a man of like passions but we have trouble believing it. Our glamorization of missionaries blinds us to the need of down-to-earth prayer for down-to-earth details.

The title comes from the fact that God does send help when needed, even for “small” irritations like excessive heat and perspiration, and sticky clothes — but sometimes we prefer to “fuss” instead.

Mrs. Peet and her husband were missionaries in Thailand for about thirty years. Her book is an honest and often funny look at missionary life, but its lessons of faith are applicable to anyone.

There are so many places I marked in the book — I wish I could share them all. One thing that came up often was the need for wisdom in so many areas and the possibility of misunderstandings. For instance, even the simplest living arrangements of Americans can seem extravagant in jungle or tribal areas. One missionary who wanted to live as much like the people as possible did without a refrigerator, then overheard two of the nationals commenting that she did not get one because she was stingy. Another family who saved some of their best “goodies” from home to serve a visiting VIP heard that he later spread the word that the missionaries “lived too well.” So often they would like to just give the people material things they need, and they often do, but they don’t want to foster dependence on the missionary instead of the Lord.

Satan throws innumerable obstacles to keep people from believing or to stifle them when they do believe. The missionaries have to learn patience with a new believer’s struggling to “walk” in a faith totally foreign to anything he knows — just as a child stumbles and falls, so will a new believer until he matures. Practices that seem obviously wrong to Westerners with a heritage of a Judeo-Christian background, like premarital sex and using and selling opium, can take a while for a new believer from a different background to recognize as wrong. Then a new believer, or even one just showing an interest in Christianity, can face ridicule, ostracism, and persecution. There are thorny questions about what old practices are wrong, what a new believer should do when the demon priest declares an area or a day “taboo.” The consequences of violating a taboo are very real, but the believers can eventually learn to trust in God for protection.

With all the disappointment and heartache of those who “trusted” the Lord for the wrong reasons (like healing from a sickness when the demon rituals didn’t help) or those who did believe but fell away due to family pressure, there are also gems who have endured the refining fires to shine like diamonds. One believing lady, Celia, had a husband who was a professing Christian but not living very actively for the Lord. One day he showed up in their home with a second wife and moved her in, a common practice in their culture, but one that he should have known better than to practice as a believer. As a missionary lady came to comfort and encourage her through the Word, Celia said, “I thought I could never cook for her (the second wife) but I remembered “love your enemies,” and because of these words I overcame, and I cook and call her to eat.” I was convicted at my lack of “overcoming” minor trials by comparison.

Another quote that stood out to me was, “The trial of our faith is not to point out how faulty it is but to prove how trustworthy He is. I had always pictured God testing me to show how little I believed, but He has a more positive purpose — to increase my capacity to enjoy His faithfulness.”

Another “lesson” was to trust the sovereignty of God to work even through fallible leaders. There was an elected field council as well as a superintendent who were good men, but human like everyone else, whose temperament, background, training, quirks, and pet theories may effect their decisions. When they make a decisions that seems wrong or unfair, there is temptation to blame them. “If we see ourselves in the hands of men, we can expect to be miserable, but if we know ourselves to be in God’s hands, subject to His decisions, we can go on in peace.”

There is so much more — grace through trials and how the Lord uses them, dealing with fear, care of children, etc. This book is a good “peek” into the under-the-surface, real everyday lives of missionaries, but it is also an example of how the Lord uses “all things” to work together for good and to grow His children in grace and knowledge of Him.

The melting point

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The following is from Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur by Frank Houghton.

When the children of Dohnavur were really difficult, Amma [Amy)] sometimes told them of a day when she sorely grieved her mother.

I had been very willful and, as you know, the will of a child can be like steel. My mother did not know what to do with me, for I would not give in, and was not at all sorry. So at last she set me upon a green ottoman which was at the foot of the bed, and, perhaps to give me time to think, she said. “I am going out now.” Then she put on her bonnet.

And as she tied the ribbons of her bonnet I watched her hands moving in the dressing-table looking-glass. The table was across the corner of the room opposite the ottoman, so that when she stood with her back to me I could see her reflected in the mirror. And then I found myself looking not at her hands tying on the bonnet, but at her face.

Suddenly something melted inside me. In one moment I was in her arms, soft and sorry and wanting to be good. It was the look on her face, such a grieved look, that was too much for me.

And often since then I have thought that if when we sin we could see the face of the Saviour as in a mirror, we should never have the heart to grieve Him again.

It’s the little things

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Sometimes it seems easier to trust the Lord for the big trials of life rather than the little things.

When a major crisis comes my way, I realize it’s too big for me. I’m acutely aware of my need for God’s grace and strength. I feel myself sinking, like Peter, and cry out for help almost instinctively.

But when I encounter some smaller provocation — when someone interrupts what I am doing; when I’m trying to wrap up computer time or I’m just logging in for something real quick and my computer decides to run extremely slowly or “time out” on the connections I am trying to make; when I am running late to an appointment and hit every red light along the way; when another driver cuts me off; when I am in a hurry at the grocery store and find the shortest check-out line only to have the customer in front of me encounter some time-consuming problem; when I give dinner a quick stir and slosh red sauce over the side of the pan and onto the stove, the floor, and/or myself — then too often I react with simmering impatience, carnal anger, unloving harshness.

Amy Carmichael once wrote:

The hardest thing is to keep cheerful (and loving) under little things that come from uncongenial surroundings, the very insignificance of which adds to their power to annoy, because they must be wrestled with, and overcome, as in the case of larger hurts. Some disagreeable habit in one to whom we may owe respect and duty, and which is a constant irritation or our sense of the fitness of things, may demand of us a greater moral force to keep the spirit serene than an absolute wrong committed against us. (1)

“Well, I was provoked.”

Love…is not easily provoked. I Corinthians 13:5

“I’m only human.”

Yes. That’s the problem, not an excuse. With the exception of One, all humans have a sinful nature. Our natural reaction is likely to be a selfish one. As Christians we’re called to have a supernatural reaction.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. Galatians 5:22-23.

Even on the highway or in a check-out line.

Thank God there is forgiveness with Him, His mercies are new every morning, and if we confess our sin, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sin and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness(I John 1:9).

But how can I get the victory over wrong reactions to little provocations and react in a right manner the next time?

  • I think first of all by not excusing it, but recognizing it as sin and confessing it to Him.
  • Plus I think a careful evaluation of using my time better is a good practical solution to some situations, such as stopping whatever I am doing soon enough to leave early enough for an appointment so that a few red lights (which really don’t last as long as they seem to) will not cause me to be late (or agitated).
  • Then relinquishing control of my life and time and schedule into the Lord’s hands will help me to handle interruptions better. Have you ever studied the life of Christ with an eye toward how much He was interrupted? It’s enlightening. Even when He was interrupted during prayer or on his way to perform a miracle, He never reacted harshly or impatiently.
  • I need to relinquish the “I” factor as well. Some of the agitation I experience is simply my thwarted desire for things to go my way. I mentioned in an earlier post that another of Amy Carmichael’s experiences that helped me was when she felt the “I” “rising hotly” in her toward one who was unfair and dominating, and she realized that that moment was a chance to die to self. “See in this which seems to stir up all you most wish were not stirred up — see in it a chance to die to self in every form. Accept it as just that – a chance to die.”
  • Remembering that my testimony before others is at stake helps as well. “That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world” (Philippians 2:25). I sometimes think of Satan standing before God and accusing that Job only served God because God blessed him, but let Satan take away Job’s blessings, and he would curse God. I envision him saying of me, “Yes, she acts like a nice Christian at church, but let me trip her up here and there and see how she reacts.” We not only forget that we are a testimony to others in our homes and at check-out lines, but we forget that our testimonies are as far-reaching as heaven. Rosalind Goforth was a missionary wife to China during years in which the Chinese were quite suspicious of and disdainful toward “foreign devils.” To try to alleviate those feelings and establish relationships with the Chinese, the Goforths would allow crowds of the curious into their home to look around and to talk with them. This resulted in some agitation and disruption as well as theft of some of their belongings, but over all they felt it was worth it. Of one particular day, Rosalind writes:

The day had been an unusually strenuous one, and I was really very tired. Toward evening, a crowd of women burst through the living room door and came trooping in before I had time to meet them outside. One woman set herself out to make things unpleasant. She was rough and repulsive and– well, just indescribably filthy. I paid no attention to her except to treat her as courteously as the rest. But when she put both hands to her nose, saying loudly, “Oh, these foreign devils, the smell of their home is unbearable!”, my temper rose in a flash and, turning on her with anger, I said, “How dare you speak like that? Leave the room!” The crowd, sensing a “storm,” fled. I heard one say, “That foreign devil woman has a temper just like ours!”

Now, I had not noticed that the door of my husband’s study was ajar, not did I know that he was inside, until, as the last woman disappeared, the door opened and he came forward, looking solemn and stern. “Rose, how could you so forget yourself?” he said. “Do you realize that just one such incident may undo months of self-sacrificing, loving service?”

“But Jonathan” I returned, “you don’t know how she — ”

But he interrupted. “Yes, I do; I heard all. You certainly had reason to be annoyed; but were you justified, with all that is hanging in the balance and God’s grace to keep you patient?”

As he turned to re-enter his study, he said, “All I can say is I am disappointed!”

Oh, how that last word cut me! I deserved it, yes, but, oh, I did so want to reach up to the high ideals he had. A tempestuous time followed alone in our inner room with my Lord. as I look back now, it was all just one farther step up the rocky hillside of life — just climbing! (2)

  • The verses mentioned above in Galatians 5 say that gentleness, long-suffering, self-control, etc., are all a part of the fruit of the Spirit. Maintaining time in the Word so He can speak to me through it, yielding to His control throughout the day, memorizing verses in the areas I am having trouble with, sending out a quick prayer for help when I feel that agitation and frustration building up will all help in gaining the victory.

Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:16.

___________
(1) Houghton, Frank. Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur. (Fort Washington, PA: Christian Literature Crusade, 1983), 86-87.

(2) Goforth, Rosalind. Climbing. (USA: Bethel Publishing), 45-46.

One Candle To Burn

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Our church family has known “Grandma Washer” for several years. One of her sons and daughters-in-law goes to our church, and one grandson was our youth pastor for five years; another is our youth pastor now. She has spoken to our ladies’ group and youth group. Even before meeting her, I had heard wonderful things about the ministry Dal and Kay Washer has had in Togo, West Africa for many years.

one-candle-lg.jpgOne saying Dal is known for is, “I have but one candle of life to burn and would rather burn it out where people are dying in darkness than in a land which is flooded with light.” (I had thought that was his saying, but it was a quote from John Keith Falconer.) So when I saw Kay’s daughter-in-law at church with a stack of books with the title One Candle To Burn, I immediately went to her and asked if Kay had written a book. And she had! I bought one on the spot.

It has been pure joy to read. It begins with Dallas and Kay’s childhood and call to the ministry, how the Lord led them together (she at first thought her sister was just right for him), a year of learning the language and Muslim customs in Algiers, then ministry first in Niger and then in Togo. There are many stories of open doors of ministry, people turning from darkness to light, and answers to prayer such as provision of land and finding a source of water for land for a hospital during the last attempt to drill for it. Compassion for the blind, who could only provide for themselves by begging, led Kay to take courses in Braille during one family vacation, then to teaching a few blind boys how to read, then eventually to the establishment of blind school where students get a regular academic education plus learn certain crafts or skills. She was surprised to be honored with the civilian medal of honor by Togo’s President Eyadema. You get some idea of where the Washer adventurousness comes from when you read of Kay lying on her stomach strapped to the floor of a small plane with the door removed so she could film the maiden voyage of boat used as a floating mission station.

When people asked about her children’s safety and exposure to disease, she told them about an lawn mower accident resulting in the loss of toes of one of her sons — in America.

My heart was especially touched by the chapters dealing with Dallas’s death and later Kay’s serious fall which resulted in a broken arm and two broken bones in her leg and the long, complicated recovery period. At first she chafed under what felt like imprisonment, but later came to accept that this was God’s will for her at the time and to allow Him to work in and through her for a different kind of ministry.

There are many remarkable stories tracing God’s hand at work, laced with good humor and touching moments and lessons learned — all the more remarkable because the events are true. Love for God, for family, and for the people of Africa shines throughout.

I don’t want to tell too many of the details, because I don’t want to take away from the discovery and enjoyment of the book, and I hope you’ll read it for yourself. I am so glad to see this book. As much as I love the missionary classics, I believe it is incredibly important for missionaries of our time to record what the Lord has done. The same God who worked through Hudson Taylor and Amy Carmichael is still at work today!

New book about Dallas and Kay Washer

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For those of you who are familiar with Dallas and Kay Washer and their missionary work in Togo, Africa, I just found out tonight that there is a new book hot off the press by Kay about their lives called One Candle to Burn. The title comes from the saying by John Keith Falconer which Dal had inscribed on the flyleaf of his Bible, “I have but one candle of life to burn, and would rather burn it out where people are dying in darkness than in a land which is flooded with light.”

Dallas passed away many years ago. They had always thought that he would be the one to wrote a book, but when the Lord took him home, Kay knew that she needed to be the one to tell their story. I never met Dal, but he is almost legend around these parts. 🙂 Kay has spoken to our ladies at church a couple of times, I think. I always enjoy hearing her and I am so glad to see this book. As much as I love the missionary classics, I believe it is incredibly important for missionaries of our time to record what the Lord has done. The same God who worked through Hudson Taylor and Amy Carmichael is still at work today!

The book is published by ABWE. I was blessed to get a copy tonight because some of their family members go to our church and had some with them. 🙂

Afraid? Of What?

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I’m not sure why, but it has been on my heart for weeks to post a poem about not being afraid of death. I hope that’s not an indication that I or anyone I know is going to die soon! 🙂 I have to admit I have struggled with this, even in the years since becoming a Christian and being assured of where I would go. The way I heard it explained one time was that when it comes to die, God will give us the grace to do so. We don’t have the grace to do so now because it isn’t time yet. So I trust that when it is time, the grace for it will be there. Plus the biggest reluctance about death would be leaving family, not seeing kids grow up and grandkids. I know if anything happened to me the Lord would take care of them — it’s just that I want to be here to be a part of their lives. I think probably every parent feels that way.

This morning this poem and this post came to mind again, and then in my Daily Light devotional book, the morning reading for today was all about death and heaven.

Hmmm!

So, here is the poem I mentioned. It really ministered to my heart. According to one source, it was written by a missionary named E.H. Hamilton after he heard that his friend and colleague, Jack Vinson, had been martyred and had fearlessly told his captors that if they killed him, he would go straight to God.

Afraid? Of what?
To feel the spirit’s glad release?
To pass from pain to perfect peace,
The strife and strain of life to cease?
Afraid? Of that?

Afraid? Of what?
Afraid to see the Saviour’s face,
To hear His welcome, and to trace,
The glory gleam from wounds of grace,
Afraid? Of that?

Afraid? Of what?
A flash – a crash – a pierced heart;
Brief darkness – Light – O Heaven’s art!
A wound of His a counterpart!
Afraid? Of that?

Afraid? Of what?
To enter into Heaven’s rest,
And yet to serve the Master blessed?
From service good to service best?
Afraid? Of that?

Afraid? Of what?
To do by death what life could not –
Baptize with blood a stony plot,
Till souls shall blossom from the spot?
Afraid? Of that?

“If you knew what God knows about death,” wrote George MacDonald, “you would clap your listless hands.”

Let me stress, though, that only those who have trusted Christ as Savior and Lord can have that assurance and confidence. If you have not yet done so, would you do so today? You can read more about it here.

Missionaries’ letters to mothers

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I have mentioned here many times the impact that reading missionary biographies has had on my life. Some of the tenderest letters I have ever read were from missionaries to their parents either after having answered the call to the field or after having left for the field. As a Christian parents, we want what the Lord wants for our children, yet our humanness would want our children close by. In honor of Mother’s Day, I wanted to include a few excerpts of these letters honoring parents.

Jim Elliot:

From his journal: “We left our moorings at the Outer Harbor Dock, San Pedro, California, at 2:06 p.m. today. Mom and Dad stood together watching at the pier side. As we slipped away Psalm 60:12 came to mind, and I called back, ‘Through our God we shall do valiantly.’ They wept some. I do not understand how God has made me. I didn’t even feel like weeping, and don’t, even now. Joy, sheer joy, and thanksgiving fill and encompass me.”

From his first letter to his parents after leaving: “I surely praised God for the way you both took my going. It is true that I know very little about how you feel at seeing me leave. All I understand is that it must be very keen, deep, and closely linked with all that this life involves for you. I pray for you whenever you come to mind, asking the ‘help that is from God’ for you both. You are as well a constant source of praise for all that you have given of yourselves for my sake. The will of God is always a bigger thing than we bargain for, but we must believe that whatever it involves, it is good, acceptable, and perfect.”

Hudson Taylor:

From his biography, The Growth of a Soul, by Dr. and Mrs. Howard Taylor: In the light of present privations [his mother] saw with painful clearness all that life in China might bring. And he was her only son.

Ah, that shrinking of mother-hearts! God only who made us fully understands. “He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all,” how shall He not fathom the depth of even that anguish. Yes, He has borne it too. God Himself suffered most for a sinning, sorrowing world, and He does not forget. He knows all it costs to give up home and loved ones and go alone to earth’s dark places to lay down life itself, it may be, in seeking souls for whom the Saviour died. And He knows too the sacrifice of those who cannot go, but send their dearest…and with bleeding, thankful hearts look up into His face…saying truly, “I have nothing too precious for Jesus.”

[Hudson] did not blame this mother that for a moment she seemed to waver. It is only “through the Eternal Spirit” such sacrifices can ever be unreservedly offered. And for the passing hesitation we may well be thankful, seeing it called forth the following, that might not otherwise have been written:

Do not let anything unsettle you, dear Mother. Missionary work is indeed the noblest mortals can engage in… We certainly cannot be insensible to the ties of nature, but should we not rejoice when we have anything we can give up for the Saviour? You would be far more unsettled if I were to turn away from this work, and if the Lord were to withdraw His restraining grace and I fell into sin in consequence, would you not? It is all of His mercy that I am preserved from many of the pitfalls that ensnare other young men.

As to my health, I think I never was so well and hearty in my life. [He then goes into great detail about his eating habits.] I am enlarging on these trifles, thought they are not worth writing about, because I know they will interest you and perhaps help you to feel more settled about me…

Continue to pray for me, dear Mother. Though comfortable as regards temporal matters, and happy and thankful, I feel I need your prayers…Oh Mother, I cannot tell you, I cannot describe how I long to be a missionary; to carry the Glad Tidings to poor, perishing sinners; to spend and be spent for Him who died for me. I feel as if for this I could give up everything, every idol, however dear.

Think, Mother, of twelve millions — a number so great that it is impossible to realise it — yes, twelve million souls in China, every year, passing without God and without hope into eternity. Oh, what need for earnestness in the Church and in individual believers!

Oh, it is a noble, an honourable calling! I feel my utter unworthiness and unfitness for it. I want more of the Divine life, more of the Spirit of God to make me a faithful servant and witness. Oh for more grace, love, faith, zeal, holiness!…

I must conclude. Would you not give up all for Jesus who died for you? Yes, Mother, I know you would. God be with you and comfort you.

Amy Carmichael:

Amy Carmichael’s father had passed away, and Amy, as the oldest child, was a help to her mother in many ways. She had also become something of an “adopted” daughter to a friend of the family, Robert Wilson, also affectionately know as “Fatherie” or “theD.O.M.” (Dear Old Man). These two factors made her hesitate, at first, in accepting the call to the mission field. It must be remembered also that in that day both the communication and travel situations would make mother and daughter feel even farther away (in fact, if I remember correctly, once Amy got to India she never returned home, though her mother did visit her there.)

She wrote to her mother:

My Precious Mother,

Have you given your child unreservedly to the Lord for whatever He wills?…

Oh may He strengthen you to say “Yes” to Him if He asks something which costs.

Darling Mother, for a long time as you know the thought of those dying in the dark — 50,000 of them every day, while we at home live in the midst of blazing light — has been very present with me, and the longing to go to them, and tell them of Jesus, has been strong upon me. ..

But home claims seemed to say “Stay”, and I thought it was His Will; it was perhaps til yesterday. I can’t explain it, but lately the need seems to have come closer, and I wrote down a few days ago…why I am not going.

1. Your need of me, my Mother.
2. The great loneliness it would mean to my dear second Father.
3. The thought that by staying I might make it easier for others to go if He called.
4. My not being strong.

But in His sight are these four things worth staying from those poor heathen for? You have given me three-quarters up as it is. My dear old Fatherie is the Lord’s wholly, he would not let me kept out just for him. The other two things surely I could trust about. Still, they seemed to say “Stay”.

Yesterday suddenly the impulse came to have a good talk with my dear Fatherie…and after it I went to my own room and just asked the Lord what it all meant, what did He wish me to do, and, Mother, as clearly as I ever heard you speak, I heard Him say,

“GO YE.”

I never heard it just so plainly before.; I cannot be mistaken, for I know He spoke. He says “Go”, I cannot stay.

Mother, I feel as if I had been stabbing someone I loved. It is Friday now, I could not finish this yesterday, and through all the keen sharp pain which has come since Wednesday, the certainty that it was His voice…has never wavered; though all my heart has shrunk from what it means…the certainty is there…nothing but that sure word, His word, could make it possible to do it, for until he spoke, and I answered, “Yes, Lord”, I never knew what it would cost.

These are the verses He gave me…”If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.” “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it, and whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall find it.” “He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me.”

“To obey is better than sacrifice.”

Many difficulties have risen in my mind, they seem very great, the “crooked places” seem very crooked, but it seems to me that all He asks is that we should take the one step He shows us, and in simplest, most practical trust leave all results to Him.

Mother, I know that very few of our friends will think I am right. Those who don’t know the Shepherd’s Voice themselves will be quite sure I am very wrong and mistaken, but He has said, “Walk before Me, and be thou perfect.” He knows, and He won’t let me disnonour Him by making a mistake and following my own fancy instead of Him. If it is so, He will show it to me, but if it is His Will, I must do it.

There isn’t much of gladness in this letter, I’m afraid, but I don’t feel anything except sore at the pain this must bring to my loved ones.

Good-bye, my Mother. May He come very near to you and strengthen and comfort you.

Your Own Amy

P.S. Some of these things may cross your mind as they have mine.

What about leaving my God-given Father who does seem to need me a little? Cannot I trust Him to care for him? If He tells me to leave him, He won’t let him suffer. Clara Bradshaw met Hudson Taylor once, and he prayed, “Show this child of thine what blessing she is keeping from her own father” — by staying when He had called her.

If I stayed, might I not keep those dearest to me from God’s richest blessing? But this is a very hard bit to think of, I can hardly face it steadily yet.

“Health” you will think of. He won’t let that hinder if He has said, “Go”. Then as to the money — I don’t see clearly, but I believe He will show us about that. If He does not, I will take it that that means “stay”, for He could not mean me to let you suffer wrongly. But I think soon the boys will be able to help.

Forgive me for the length of this post, but I can’t leave out the response of Amy’s mother:

My Own Precious Child,

He Who hath led will lead
All through the wilderness,
He Who hath fed will surely feed…
He Who hath heard thy cry
Will never close His ear,
He Who hath marked Thy faintest sigh
Will not forget thy tear.
He loveth always, faileth never,
So rest on Him today — for ever.

Yes, dearest Amy, He has lent you to me all these years. He only knows what a strength, comfort and joy you have been to me. In sorrow He made you my staff and solace, in loneliness my more than child companion, and in gladness my bright and merry-hearted sympathizer. So, darling, when He asks you now to go away from within my reach, can I say nay? No, no, Amy, He is yours — you are His — to take you where He pleases and to use you as He pleases. I can trust you to Him, and I do — and I thank Him for letting you hear His voice as you have done. I shall not speak of your dear loving letter or my feelings. How weak we are. But He knows our frame, and remembers. “Go ye” — my heart echoes. “Oh send forth Thy light and Thy truth, let them lead me — let them bring me into Thy holy hill and to Thy tabernacles”, met my eye as I opened my Bible — do you see what the holy hill and tabernacles meant to me in this connection? I never saw it before — and then in the next page comes, “Therefore God has blessed thee for ever.” All day He has helped me, and my heart unfailingly says, “Go ye.” He only knows what this means and will mean to me — to you — to us all. I dare not think — but His grace is sufficient, Amy. Let us keep our eye on Him — and then no wave will swamp us — and He will bear us up in His arms. Oh, isn’t is strange we are not more cheerfully willing followers — to think of His wonderful everlasting love to us, and how little He ever asks in return. Amy, darling, today I got a moment’s glimpse of it all, and how small this life seemed. When we are dying, how very little will it seem that He has asked us to give up for Him. So, my precious Child, I give you back into His loving arms, saying from the depths of my being, “Take her, dear Lord — Thou wilt take the most loving care of her, use her in Thy service and for Thy glory now and where Thou pleasest, for Christ’s sake. Amen.”

For dear Mr. Wilson I feel so much, perhaps more than for myself, but God has his happiness in His keeping. He cannot and will not make a mistake. All other points are minor and must wait — the one thought has been enough today. One step is all that I am equal to — all else will be clear. “The Lord is mt Shepherd, I shall not want.” “Goodness and mercy shall follow me” — and those who trust — “all the days of my life”, and we shall all gather from the north, south, east and west in His home above, and will cast our crowns at His feet, saying “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honour and glory and blessing.” Til then may we each one be found faithful.

Ever my darling child’s loving Mother.

For days, it seems to me now, the Lord has been preparing the way, Amy, for your letter.

From Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur by Frank Houghton

You can read more about Amy Carmichael’s mother here.

One of my favorite people

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from_cannibalism_small.jpgSeveral weeks ago at our ladies’ meeting one of my favorite people in all the world spoke to us. Margaret Stringer was a missionary to Indonesia (then known as Irian Jaya, now West Papua) for over 40 years. She’s been “retired” from the field for the last 2-3 years, but she stays more active than a lot of people half her age. When she retired she thought she would never have an opportunity to go back, but she was able to go for several weeks last November and December. She showed some video footage (24 minutes condensed from 5 hours) while she told us what was going on, interspersed with some history here and there of the people.I tell you — seeing footage of former cannibals and headhunters now singing hymns, hearing about the most powerful and feared witch doctor in the area who became a believer and whose son is now the head of the church — that just does something to your heart. The same God who performed miracles in lives in Bible times, who worked through Hudson Taylor and Amy Carmichael and other well-known missionaries in centuries past, is still the same God today and still has the same power to change lives.

Margaret and her co-worker were the last of what was a pretty good-sized mission station, with a doctor and his wife, and I think other missionary couples and three single ladies, if I remember correctly. There are some missionaries who go to work in one church in another country for life, and there are others who go to various places and start works, then “work themselves out of a job” by training the new believers to take over their own church — there’s a place for both types. But Margaret’s village was the latter type. I appreciated the way she endeavored to help them not to be too dependent on her. When they asked her to name the church, for instance, she told them they should name it.

She told us about one man who, during this visit, said something like, “When you left us, I was very sad for a long time. But you told us you were leaving God here, and He helped me. So when you leave this time, I will be sad, but not for as long a time, because God is here with me.” She said that’s not exactly how she put it to him, it it was so neat he got the concept that God was still there and didn’t leave when she did, and he could depend on Him.

I was amazed at her fearlessness. In one piece of footage, she was getting out of a boat to see one of the villages she used to work in, and one man took her hand and began leading her away. Her friend said, “Where are you going?” She said, “I don’t know!” As people came to greet her and hug her, the man would stop for a few minutes, and then take her hand and lead her away again. Finally he led her to his house, where he had prepared lunch for them.

Margaret can tell tales about harrowing, scary experiences that have us all in stitches laughing.

Some years ago before she retired, I asked her if she had ever considered writing a book, and she said yes, she was thinking about it. She’s had such interesting life experiences that she tells in such an engaging way, and the Lord’s hand has been so obviously in her life, I really feel these stories need to be shared.

Her first book is out now, titled From Cannibalism to Christianity. She had several copies with her that night, so I got one for myself plus two to give away to my mother-in-law and one friend who couldn’t come.

This book tells the story of one particular village, from first contact to the establishment of a full-fledged church. There are hilarious moments as well as frightening ones. But what joy there is in seeing the light of understanding dawn after repeated sharing of the gospel. I don’t remember if Margaret said this in the book, but I know I heard her say while speaking to us that there were moments when she thought, “This isn’t going to make sense to them.” Imagine sharing the Word of God with someone who doesn’t know anything about it and doesn’t know who God is. Yet they did share God’s Word by faith, and the Holy Spirit gave understanding and conviction.

Secularists don’t have to worry about the people’s culture being infringed on. The people still have their own traditions and culture. But they also have hope and life. As I said in an earlier post, I don’t know why anyone, even the most unchristian person on the planet, would have any objection to helping people get rid of traditions like cannibalism and killing a twin baby.

I asked Margaret’s cousin (I believe that’s who it was — either a cousin or a sister-in-law) who came with her if Margaret was writing any more books. She said Margaret had some in mind but had a hard time getting still enough to write with all the invitations to speak. I hope she keeps having opportunities to speak, but I hope some time she can find a way to keep writing, too. I would love to read her life story some time.