Missions – "Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God"

The Missionary “No”

The first missionary journey undertaken by the fledgling church had been a glorious success. At great personal cost, Paul and Barnabas heralded the good news to the Gentiles, and God saved many. The apostles had reported and reconnected with their sending church, ministering at Antioch again.

But Paul’s pastoral heart will never be settled in one location. His care for the churches in many cities stirs him to venture out again. The first time, the Holy Spirit had spoken to the church leaders to commission Paul and Barnabas. This time, Paul says, “Hey Barnabas, let’s go!” Both are equally valid means of initiating a missionary endeavor.

Barnabas determines to take John Mark, but Paul flatly denies the decision. This conflict between Paul and Barnabas may have seemed a missional hindrance, but it did result in two teams taking the gospel in two different directions. The narrative stays with Paul and Silas, commended to God’s grace again by the church, for their mission.

Off to a great start, they pick up Timothy in Lystra and make the rounds to deliver messages and encourage the churches. Paul’s evangelist heart is not content to return, however, before preaching Jesus to people who never heard His name. The team turns east, “to preach the word in Asia.”

But no. The way is shut. The Holy Spirit forbids them.

What? Isn’t God all about “Go”? What’s with the “No”?

They wanted to preach the gospel in a region that was steeped in idolatry, ignorant of the true God and the good news of Jesus. Buddhism, Hinduism, animism, shamanism – we know the spiritual darkness of Asia. Why did the Holy Spirit forbid Paul and his team from taking the light there?

The team turns to Mysia, and then tries to go preach in Bithynia, “but the Spirit suffered them not.”

What? Again? Doesn’t God want the gospel preached everywhere? Why does He keep saying “No” when the team moves toward the unreached?

They reach Troas and connect with Luke, seeking another place to preach. And in the night, Paul sees a vision. A man from Macedonia asks for help. The team’s enthusiasm has not waned from repeated “No.” They are ecstatic to be so called by the Lord and immediately journey west.

Why did God wait to give Paul the vision? He could have skipped the false starts by issuing the call back in Galatia. Why didn’t He immediately send His missionaries where He wanted them to go?

We could say, “Perhaps it was timing. God wanted them to reach Philippi on a certain day, so He delayed their arrival.” Okay. But they did hang out in Philippi for “certain days” before meeting Lydia at the river. The narrative doesn’t indicate that anything significant happened until then.

“Perhaps God was building their anticipation for the work He’d do.” Maybe.

“Perhaps God was testing their resolve for the ministry.” Could be.

“Perhaps God wanted to teach them to trust Him and walk in close communion with Him.” Also a possibility.

We might think of many answers. But ultimately? It’s all speculation. We can’t be certain why God said “No,” because He doesn’t say why.

So what’s the point of these reflections?

I think most people who have taken strides toward the unreached have been baffled by a missionary “No.” You tried something. You went somewhere. You prayed, you burned with desire to preach the gospel.

And God said, “No.”

And you say, “Ummmmm…is that a ‘No, not here?’ Or a ‘No, not yet?’ Am I missing something?”

Since God is all-powerful, and He wants His name praised in all the earth, why is so much of missions uphill both ways? Why does it seem so hard sometimes to just get to the place so we can preach the gospel there? (Sometimes I feel like Riley in the movie National Treasure, wishing for a clue that simply read, “This is where the treasure is. Go there, find it, and spend it wisely.”)

But I see this morning in Acts 16 that our missional wanderings are not a recent phenomenon. Paul wasn’t dependent on governments to grant visas. He wasn’t denied paperwork, or redirected by health issues, civil war, political unrest, or a pandemic. If God sovereignly spoke “NO” through the Holy Spirit but ultimately spoke “YES” through a midnight vision then, He can certainly direct with “yes” and “no” through the circumstances of our world now.

What do we do with that? I think we do the same thing Paul and his team did. Keep preaching the gospel, wherever we are. Keep talking with the Lord, rejoicing and resting in Him. Keep trusting that God is accomplishing His will in us and in His world. And keep trying to reach the unreached.

(How have you seen God work in your life through a missionary “no”? I’d be encouraged to hear whatever you’d like to share in comments below.)

Move No More

September 2019

Since I was a child, I knew exactly what I wanted to be: a missionary. When I went to college, though, I chose to major in education instead of missions, because that seemed practical. Always passionate about missions, I was excited to take the one missions class required for all majors. (Ironically, that’s the only class in which I ever forgot a project until the night before its due date, and the only class in which I failed a quiz.)

However, even if I had majored in missions, taken every class, and read every book, I sort of doubt that would have prepared me for one very difficult aspect of mission work.

You can study language learning, cultural adaptation, church planting strategy, discipleship philosophy, and biography, but I don’t know if that would prepare you for this part either.

You can find much instruction about entering a different culture well, about establishing and doing ministry.

But how do you leave?

How do you pour out your soul for one year or ten years or thirty years, tie your heart to other people’s, and then walk away?

— They had worked in China for one year that seemed in some ways like a decade. Constant police harassment, political unrest, recurring illnesses, and ministry frustrations abounded. Then their toddler was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy, and they left the life they had established to get answers and help for him. They didn’t know then that they wouldn’t be returning to that life.

— An Australian man and an American woman had met on their field in Central Asia. Working side by side, they decided to partner for life, and they got married. A few years later, her lupus necessitated access to quality healthcare. Tears rolled down her face as she explained, “I’ve seen quite a few people come and go in my time here. None left because they wanted to. I just never thought it would end like this for me.” They sold and gave away their belongings, packed up, and moved to Australia.

— His appearance, Gandalf-like, was one of both humor and wisdom. The lines on his face were in the right places, etched there by a lifetime of smiling. He passed around a picture of his family and recounted stories from their years of service.

A friend asked, “So what was it like for you guys when you left China?”

He paused thoughtfully.

“Well, there’s a difference from when you leave but you know you’re going back. You’re going to doctor’s appointments and shopping, and you’re excited about what you can do in the States, because, ‘Hey! We’re getting ready to go back!’ But when you leave…” He stopped talking, and his eyes filled with tears. “But when you get back to the States, and you realize, ‘We’re not going back,’ that’s just a very different and difficult thing.”

— They had moved to the jungle in their fifties. She’d had lupus for years, but she always found ways to love people with every bit of strength she had. They learned language, taught, translated, built both buildings and people. They started what became a very large medical ministry. But the jungle is a harsh place, and it will take its toll on even a healthy body. After eleven years of its afflictions, they said a month of tearful goodbyes in the bush and relocated to the capital, where they can continue ministry and access medical care as needed.

— A strange place had become home. They learned the language, built friendships, and taught the Word. They walked through personal and ministry joys and griefs, and they saw the birth of church where there had been none. Then ministry partnership disintegrated, and they chose the humbling road of grace to protect the unity of the fledgling church. That road led them to a different country, to start all over again.

— Their family seemed to be the perfect fit for their field. Their skill set and personality couldn’t have been more needed. They laid a foundation for a lifetime of fruitful service. Then tragedy struck, and for their family’s health they couldn’t stay. So they left, to go serve in a different field.

— He had prepared his entire life for one thing: preaching the gospel to Muslim people groups. God brought him a wife with the same vision, and they became a fabulous team. They moved to a closed country and thrived in ministry and family life. Then violence erupted, and they were forced to evacuate. Though they planned to return, painful circumstances grounded them in the States.

—
Every story (and not one is fictitious) has two things in common. One, they left because of circumstances beyond their control. Two, they were broken in the leaving.

Why? Why does God work this way? There are so many unreached fields, and so few willing to go labor in them. Why wouldn’t God intervene for those laborers to stay where they have given their hearts? Why do they have to move?

There is a level of fortitude required just to make it to an unreached field. Simply showing up and physically existing in those locations demonstrates persistence and passion. To press on through the adversity, to feel less of an alien and more of a neighbor, to find increasing fruitfulness in the field where God put you – that is nothing less than a miraculous work of grace. Why cut that short with another move?

September 2020

Perhaps there isn’t a clear, specific answer for the “why” question.

I’ve moved so many times I lost count. The last I remember was that it was sixteen moves by the age of sixteen. Military and missions make for a life of transitions. I was born into both, and choosing to follow Jesus for myself has included the latter.

Returning to the States last fall, I was clinging to the hope of settling somewhere. “Do I have a problem, that I can’t seem to land anywhere longer than a couple years? Commitment issues, maybe? Let me prove that I can put down roots, live somewhere long enough to become useful and really invest.”

During my travels back, I jotted down the stories above. They seem to deflate the desire for stability. These folks gave every effort to stay, and they still had to move. So throughout this past year, I’ve mulled over questions of going and staying and leaving. I’ve reached the conclusion that…

…there is no conclusion, except to be faithful. And patient. And hope in the promises of God’s kingdom. And rest in the security of a Father’s care.

In all the coming and going, the settling and uprooting, the eager greetings and tearful goodbyes, God is doing a mysterious work of grace in the nations, and in His servants. The more we leave, the more we lean towards the promise of a kingdom where God Himself plants His people, and we “move no more” (2 Samuel 7:10).

If I move sixteen more times in the next sixteen years, I’m confident it will be so because that is most strategic for what God is doing in the world and in my heart. The kingdom’s advance exceeds the scope of my perspective, but Providence means confidence.

If we’re friends, you may need to remind me of this. Like circumstances, I am given to change…but this conclusion is worth clinging to.

One day, when our Father has fulfilled every promises to His people, we will move no more. Until then, may every transition move us closer to His heart, while we work and wait.

The World of the Word

April 18, 2019

Yesterday was precious. It was Bible presentation day in literacy class. Since we finished stage one and they know all the letters now, we give out Pidgin Bibles so they can start reading them. (It’s a great tradition to inherit from the literacy teachers who developed this program.)

We’ve been talking about it for, well, since the beginning of class. I expected it to be a special day. However, I did not anticipate the depth of emotion this day would bring.

Class began as usual. We took roll and prayed. Then, Noni and I stood on opposite sides of the podium to congratulate and shake hands with each student. They would walk by us, then Pastor would receive each one with excitement, presenting the New Testaments.

We called the first name. Amon. He walked forward, shook my hand, turned to Noni, shook her hand, and then stepped toward Pastor Ben. My eyes filled, and so did theirs. Pastor hugged him with vigor, and then handed him the Word. Amon sat down, clutching the Scriptures with both hands. Tears coursed down his face, and his shoulders shook with every silent sob.

The realization was overwhelming. Amon is a father, a husband, a deacon. Until now, he has never been able to read the words of God for himself. For his own discipleship, his family’s, and the church’s, this is a moment bursting with significance.

Next came Amon’s son, Leten. The contrast was striking. This little boy, today hugging his pastor around the waist, will grow up knowing how to read, with the Word in his hands.

By this point, half the class was no longer watching the proceedings. Faces were buried in folded arms. The usual shuffling and murmuring audio backdrop had ceased. The only sounds heard were high-pitched moans and muffled sobs.

We called one name after another. Young women, mothers, and grandmothers hugged my neck, weeping and smearing snot on my shoulder and in my hair. I didn’t mind.

Sober handshakes followed as Pastor gave each one a Bible, and they returned to their seats.

Timoti (affectionately dubbed “Pops”) and Satina are working through literacy class for their second time. Learning to read is unimaginably difficult for adults in a pre-literate society, yet their desire surmounts the struggles.

Satina didn’t respond the first time we called her name. She hid her face and wept. We kept going, to try again after a few others. The second time she heard her name, she stood and came forward slowly. I hope that reading is the same for her. In this second time through class, I pray she comes forward slowly and learns to read.

Since I was ten years old, reading biographies and translators’ stories, I have dreamed about a day when I could hand someone the Scriptures I helped to translate for them. This day felt like a small taste of what that may be like. Yes, this Bible was translated years ago by someone else, but these people in this class have never had access to it for themselves. Since learning to read, now they do. Teaching them to read opens the world of the Word for them.

Their tears flowed from tender hearts. Their pastor teaches the Word so faithfully, they have learned to long after it. And now they have it, outside the church gathering, in their hands and in their homes. (Yet another day is coming, when they will have it in their heart language…)

The chance to join in this work is a priceless gift.

What about you? Do you treasure God in His Word? The ability to read is a gift. May we revel in the Book, exploring with joy the world of the Word.

L – Satina holding her daughter, Klensi; R – Tesela

Nov. 24 P.S. – By God’s grace, Satina did learn to read.

Ziroda

September 2, 2019

I went walking again today, as I have every day for the past week. I have nodded, smiled, and “A salom”-ed a hundred people. I have paused to chat with whoever didn’t look preoccupied, and settled for smiles and a hand-over-heart greeting exchanged with others.

This evening, I met a girl who appeared about twelve. Her school uniform looked sharp. Two braids were accented by enormous lacy ruffles around the bottom of each. Her thumbs were tucked into her backpack straps as she puffed her way up the hill. She was smiling broadly before we were even close enough to speak.

We conversed with the precision of new English speakers, neglecting contractions and following classroom dialogues.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello,” she replied shyly.

“How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you.”

“My name is Lily. What is yours?”

“My name is Ziroda.”

“This hill is hard to walk, no?”

“Yes,” she laughed.

“Ziroda, it is very nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.”

Her dark eyes were bright. A bigger smile, then she turned to keep walking home.

I love children, everywhere. These kids here are so friendly. They will smile and talk with me anytime. I wonder what a neighborhood Bible club effort could look like here…

I surveyed the houses around me, thinking about the people who live in them. Then it hit me.

Ziroda has, most likely, never heard the gospel. She may know the name of Jesus, but only as a lesser prophet in a line of many prophets. Her family prays to a man they believe has received divine light, but they know nothing of the Man Who is divine Light.

If Ziroda dies tonight, she will probably be condemned to eternal wrath as judgment for her sins. She has heard nothing of Jesus’ absorbing that wrath, to offer sinners grace.

This town is filled with people like her. The mountains that surround us hide roads and paths to hundreds of villages, filled with people like her. Across the river to our south, the neighboring country is smitten by even deeper gospel poverty, due to the oppression of a terrorist regime.

This is unbearable. I am surrounded by people who have never heard the gospel.

“Yeah,” you might say, “there are people everywhere who need to hear the gospel.”

That’s not what I’m saying. I am surrounded by people who have never heard the gospel. And their ignorance is not due to indifference. They just live so far away from the outside world, nobody has ever brought the message to them. They’ve never had the chance to reject it. They don’t even know what it is.

What would it take for that to become unacceptable to us? What would it take for the American church at large to mobilize and utilize its lavish resources to DO something about this global gospel famine?

In America, anyone who wants to can hear the gospel, get a Bible, and find a Christian to talk to. There are too many places in the world where those possibilities do not exist.

That fact has gripped my heart for years. I’ve seen it and been overwhelmed by it before. Just a month ago, I lived in a South Pacific jungle filled with villages bereft of the gospel. Preparing to visit this Central Asian desert, I knew it was also one such place.

But tonight, my attention is arrested by one such face.

Ziroda.

“But when He saw the multitudes, He was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd. Then saith He unto His disciples, ‘The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that He will send forth laborers into His harvest.’”
Matthew 9:36-38

Lina

Her face was hard. In a culture of friendly openness, Lina seemed to wear a harsher expression than most women I’d met. I met her when we started literacy class. She was one of about thirty people who didn’t give their names in advance…they just came to the first day of class.

I wondered what her story was, but her Pidgin was limited and my Kamea doesn’t go beyond times of day and basic introductions.

We didn’t know that she and her sister argued often. Her sister insisted that Lina was going to hell, no matter what. After all, Lina isn’t married, and she has two children. Her sister’s words tore at her soul. “You are a wicked woman. You walk around down any road, and have anyone’s children. You can never go to Heaven.”

In literacy class, day after day, Lina heard something different. “We are, every one of us, sinners. We have only done what was wrong, and we all deserve the wrath of God in judgment. But Jesus only did what was right! So when He died, God didn’t ‘court’ Him for His own sin. He didn’t do any! God punished Jesus for OUR sins. And everyone who ‘hangs everything up’ on Jesus will be forgiven.”

“Jesus is the ‘namelman’ [middle man] between us and God! We are God’s enemies, as we break His law and follow our own ideas. Jesus did everything necessary to bring us back to God.”

“The grace of God is bigger than all our sin. The blood of Jesus is stronger than all our sin. He can clean us and give us His righteousness!”

Lina sat on the front row, day after day, shaking her head and clicking her tongue in amazement. Noni and I observed that God seemed to be working in her heart, and we prayed the more.

Monday, May 20th, Lina’s face was downcast. Gentle Noni asked her if she was alright.

“No. I have a hevi.”

“Let’s talk after class.”

During reading circle, Lina sat on my left, pressed against my shoulder. God, I love this woman. I want her to read, but I want her to know You.

As the last students sauntered out, Noni whispered, “I have a request. Pray for Lina. She has a question that I’ve never answered before. She wants to know if she can go to Heaven even though she has children and isn’t married. I think I’ll tell her about the woman Jesus talked to in John 4.”

We prayed together right then, and I left as Noni sat down beside Lina. Over the next two hours, I hoped and prayed and waited to hear how the conversation went.

At 1:40, I walked back to the school building for the afternoon class. Noni and Lina sat exactly where I had left them, hugging and weeping. Is this good or bad weeping?

Noni smiled through tears as I walked up. “God i kisim bek em!” I sat down and hugged and cried with them. Then Lina got up, wiping her face, and left.

“Noni, tell me the story! What happened?”

“I read her the story from John 4 about Jesus and the woman from Samaria, who had five husbands and then was with a man who wasn’t her husband. Lina listened and understood. Then I read to her from John 8, about the woman who was shamed before everyone and brought to Jesus so He could ‘court’ her [bring justice]. Jesus said, ‘Mi no kotim yu. Go, na no ken mekim sin gen.’ Lina told me, ‘I feel like Jesus is saying these words straight to me right now. What do I do?’

“I read her Romans 10:9-10, and told her to call out to Jesus. She replied, ‘I don’t know the first step of prayer.’

“I just told her it’s Jesus, and she knows Who He is and what He’s done. So call out to Him. And she did! I didn’t tell her what to pray, she just prayed and wept and asked Jesus to save her.

“Then she wondered again, still crying, ‘But can I really go to Heaven?’ So I showed her John 14:6, that Jesus is the road to the Father. She cried, ‘Mi painim Jisas bilong mi! I found my Jesus!’”

The next thing Lina told Noni was astounding. “Yesterday, you could have heard bad news about me. I was thinking that since nobody loves me, not even my family, I would kill myself and my children. But I didn’t. Now I know that God was giving me the chance to repent.”

Noni embraced her, mixing her tears with Lina’s, and replied, “Now you know that God loves you. And Jesus came to give you life.”

“The thief cometh not but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy; I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”
John 10:10

How grateful we are that the thief could not kill and destroy our dear friend! How precious is the Good Shepherd, Who gave His life to give us ours!

As I reflect on Lina’s conversion, I am overwhelmed by two things. One, I marvel at God’s grace to me. I am the Samaritan woman. I am the woman brought to Jesus in John 8. I am a sinner, just like Lina. And God saved me. The blood of Jesus cleansed me from all my sin. I am washed from my filth because Jesus claimed my condemnation as His own. I am pure and righteous, not because I have done pure and righteous things, but because Jesus did. God gave Him the wrath I earned, and now gives me the favor Jesus earned.

That will never get old.

Two, I marvel at the power of God’s plan for discipleship. That Monday afternoon didn’t just happen. For years, people have invested in Noni’s life. Sarah especially has spent much time discipling her. Last year, Chelsea started a Bible study to pull the youth girls of our church together to grow in the Word. Pastor Ben shepherds Noni (and all our youth) so well. His teaching of the Word and passion for evangelism and holiness is cultivating Biblical knowledge and sanctification. And behind Pastor, there are John and Matt and Andrew and others who invested much in his discipleship.

And we could go back further. Who discipled Sarah, and the Allens, and Andrew, and Chelsea? They have a part in Lina’s coming to faith too.

My part in the story is small, but it was still a part. I got to lift up the glory of Jesus in the gospel daily in literacy class, as others have magnified Him to me before.

And the Spirit of God, working through the Word of God in the mouths of the people of God, breathed new life into a dead soul here in the bush in PNG.

How many people did He use as His instruments? Who knows. It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that God is building His church. He is saving people, and in grace He calls us to be part of what He is doing!

How can you measure the impact of discipleship? It’s not possible. Eternity, and nothing else, will reveal the yields of spiritual investment.

Lina has two children. They will grow up with a mother who can read, and mother who knows Jesus. What will those children become?

There are other women in these communities who are shamed by sexual sin. Will Lina be able to reach them?

Noni’s soul is on fire. Lina was the first person she saw converted. How much will this encourage her to proclaim the gospel more and more to others?

And on and on it goes.

What are you spending your life for? Whether we’re preaching the gospel in a mountain village, or repairing engines, or selling cars, or telling small children the same basic facts of life forty-two times a day, if we are Christians, our life is about discipleship. “I long to faithfully follow Jesus all the days of my life. What can I do to help other people follow Jesus too?” That is the mission Jesus gave His church.

I know every Christian doesn’t go to the mission field. But shouldn’t we all ask the question, as we are about the work of the mission? “Can I go to one of the places in the world where there are no disciples, and start making disciples there?”

If we go to Kazakhstan, we go there to make disciples; and if we stay in Kentucky, we stay there to make disciples.

Why wouldn’t we make discipleship the most important work of our lives? The kingdom of God is advancing. He commands us to engage in the only thing that will matter eternally. “Make disciples from every nation.” He will save and sanctify them. And He will use us in that process, as He uses others in our lives to do the same.

One day, an innumerable multitude of disciples will gather around God’s throne, redeemed from every family and language group in the world. May we live our lives today for the praise of God on that day, and into eternity beyond!

“And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.”
Matthew 28:18-20

“And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth.”
Revelation 5:9-10

Costly Obedience?

I sat across the table from him, crunching chips loaded with salsa. It was our bi-annual fajita lunch date. While teaching in Kentucky, I got to go see my family for Christmas and at some point during the summer. Dad and I always make it to Dos Chiles when I’m in Texas, for some awesome fajitas and even better conversation.

This time was a bit different. In four weeks I’d be getting on a plane to leave for a whole year in the jungle of Papua New Guinea. I didn’t think much of it. I’ve been overseas for school years before…but this time seemed different to him.

I’d just finished my EMT training. My plan had been to use that to serve in a creative access nation (we’d discussed that over fajitas the preceding Christmas). I’d talked with both my parents about working as an EMT in the Middle East for a year or two, with hopes of eventually being useful to some friends in their ministry in Central Asia. Then, some dear friends invited me to work with them in PNG for a year, and plans changed. (Are you dizzy yet? I still am…)

“So Dad…what do you think about all this? I mean, I’m committed for a year in PNG. We’ll see what happens with that. I could stay there longer, but I’d also love to help our friends in translation. There are so many things I want to do. And you know, Central Asia couldn’t get any more risky than my EMT-in-the-Middle-East idea…”

Dad nodded slowly. “Well,” (long pause), “I have to say I’m happier about your going to PNG than your last plan. I can’t say I wouldn’t have worried about your safety.” (My dad often communicates in either hyperbole or understatement.)

“But…well, you know…since you and your brother were born…your mom and I…we just…”

Eat more chips. He’ll finish the thought when he finds the words he wants.

“If there’s something you believe the Lord wants you to do, I would never want to say or even imply anything that would hinder you from doing that, whether that’s in the Middle East, or really, anywhere else.”

I forgot about the chips.

“There is nothing more important than obedience to the Lord’s leading. I’d sure love to have you closer to home, and know that you’re living somewhere that seems safer, but I’d rather you be doing what the Lord would have you do. That’s real safety. I trust the Lord.”

Wow. My dad fears God more than he fears harm to his children.

How many fathers would look at their daughters and say what he said? He would give his blessing to send me to work as an EMT in a dangerous place, because He trusts God to care for me…and because the risk of my disobeying God is more dangerous to him than the risk of my living in a volatile part of the world.

To fear God is to recognize that obedience is never actually risky. Obeying the command of Jesus to make disciples of all nations necessitates that Christians live among all nations. Some of those nations are vehemently opposed to His message, and they kill His messengers. But Jesus (sending forth His disciples as “sheep in the midst of wolves”) said this:

And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather, fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.
Matthew 10:16-28

I would rather obey His leading than risk correction for disobeying to maintain my idea of comfort or safety. And so would my parents.

It seems like this is a place where people expect to hear, “Now, of course, we have to act with wisdom and caution. Follow Jesus, but don’t be foolish.”

Of course – we must be wise. And how do we begin to grow in wisdom? Fear God.

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding.
Proverbs 9:10

I don’t know that the American church needs more caution. We are cautious enough, or perhaps just lazy and disobedient under a veneer of so-called caution.

What we need is an accurate view of our God, exalted above the heavens, the sovereign Ruler Whose favor is life and Whose displeasure is destruction. He liberates us from the bondage of self-protection, and propels us to proclaim His gospel fearlessly. Who or what can do us harm outside the purposes of Him Who reigns over all things? (Romans 8:28-39)

Do we fear God? If the cost of obedience seems too great, our view of God is too small.

Thanks, Dad, for the liberty and encouragement to go wherever He would lead. May fruit abound to your account from the life you both trained and freed me to live, following Jesus in the fear of God.

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.