Carmichael’s Daughter

As a high-school English teacher, I had the opportunity of trying to convince young people that they should read books. In a world of endless pixellated entertainment, that is a daunting task. One particular day, I stood in front of my tenth-graders, introducing a biography book report project.

“You guys want to guess what kind of books I read most when I was a kid?” I’d taught that group in eighth and ninth grade too, so it was a more-than-fair question.

“Classics.” Nope.

“Language books.” Closer, but still no.

*Wordless stares*

I smiled. “Missionary biographies. And you know what? Funny thing – I always wanted to be a missionary. What you read will change your life, if you let it.”

I will always be grateful that my parents encouraged my brother and me to read, to read much, and to read well. I read all kinds of books, but I never lacked for the ones about Bible translators, pioneer church planters, jungle pilots, and other faithful servants of God. These valiant men and women, my heroes, shaped the person I was becoming. I admired them and aspired to be like them, devoted to the discipleship of the nations at any cost of cross-bearing.

Perhaps none had as profound an influence on my young heart as the Irish girl with a will of iron who declared the lordship of Jesus over India. This woman had the audacity to march straight into the bastions of evil, rescuing children from demon-possessed Hindu priests in their own temples.

Amy Carmichael. What a woman! I want to be THAT woman. Even today, I read books about her and by her, and I am still awed by her almost stoic sense of self-denial. Read these words of hers:

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified)
From all that dims Thy Calvary
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

What unflinching discipline! This woman had a soul of steel. The volume of her journaling, letters, poems, and reflections is replete with love for Jesus and commitment to obedience.

I read her words, and I am immediately convicted. I am ready to sacrifice for Jesus too, until people’s actions interfere with my plans. I am resolved to pick up my cross and die to self, until someone’s words wound my pride and I must rise in its defense. I rejoice to serve Christ with humility of mind, until people around me neither recognize nor respect my abilities.

Lay down my life to follow Jesus? Yes, I’ll go to the mission field. I’m willing to go to the hard places and risk everything for Him. But cleaning up someone else’s mess? That’s just too much to ask.

I love myself far too much.

Consider the mind of Christ in Philippians chapter two. None of us have been called to greater self-sacrifice than Jesus. He is God, and He humbled Himself to walk with men – men that said and did annoying things, tried to manipulate Him for their advantage, and actually rebuked Him to His face. Yet He esteemed them better than Himself (they weren’t – but He counted them so), and laid down His rights for them in both life and death.

That’s the standard. Who lives that way? Christians are commanded to. And when I read Amy Carmichael, I see a woman who did. I compare my life to hers, and I feel like a spiritual pip-squeak. I want to be like her, but how could I measure up to such sacrificial living? She chafed against the idea that Christians somehow have an option to choose which parts of Scripture should affect our lives. She was never content with partial obedience, right actions but selfish motives, or conformity to other people’s standard of “good enough.”

A few months ago, a thought dawned on me with great encouragement. Which words of Amy Carmichael pierce my soul with the greatest conviction? 

Her prayers.

Her words that produce tears of repentance and desire for such a Christlike mind – they are Carmichael’s prayers. Her prayers.

Why ask for deliverance if you have already conquered? My spiritual hero asked God to deliver her from fear, easy choices, and a love of self, because she was afraid, wanted to choose the easy option, and loved herself.

Why ask for something you already possess in sufficient supply? Carmichael asked God to give her untiring hope, unflinching faith, and undying passion, because she recognized a lack of these qualities in her life.

She didn’t just wrestle the powers of darkness at work in India. She agonized the darkness of sin in her own soul, and looked to Jesus for power to defeat it too.

Amy Carmichael was a great woman of God. Unquestionably. However, she wasn’t great because she had defeated in her youth the sins that I can’t seem to be rid of. She was great because she never stopped fighting them, satisfied with nothing less than victory.

So why the name “Carmichael’s Daughter” for a blog? I want to live as her daughter in the faith, and write about that here. I can follow my hero, in her legacy of following Jesus. I can pray the same prayers and weep the same tears and run to the same Savior. He saved me from my sin, and He is still saving me from my sin, and one day He will finish saving me from my sin. That is the story of every disciple of Jesus, Carmichael included.

Amy Carmichael has already tasted the sweetness of that final deliverance, for which she longed and prayed. One day I will too. May that hope inspire faithfulness until it is fulfilled, when I see Jesus too.