In An Instant

           I recently attended a convention where there were many book sellers and Christian organizations represented.  I was already familiar with many of the groups, publishers and names.  But I was unprepared for the physical reaction that came over me when I encountered books or ministries that were linked to missions. 

            As I walked by tables representing missions organizations, my mind would go to certain passages about men and women who put themselves in harm’s way, all to speak the truth of the gospel.   I could not focus on anything else.   I walked by one table and picked up a biography of a persecuted pastor and the hair on my arms stood on end.  My heart raced and my mind came alive.  Why?  I have not walked in these people’s shoes.  But to me, hearing of missionaries and the plight of the persecuted church has always been like reading a spine tingling mystery novel.

            From my first recollection, the stories I loved the most were of missionaries.  They were heroes of the grandest nature.  I lay awake at night thinking about Amy Carmichael in India and Hudson Taylor in China.  I thought about wanting to have blue eyes but being denied them so that I could disguise myself as an Indian.  I thought Hudson Taylor’s long braid was fantastic!  I dreamt of deep dark jungles and carrying black leather Bibles to lost people.  I wanted to hear every missionary that came to our church, and if they came to our home for a meal or a visit, it was like meeting royalty. 

            I no longer romanticize mission work as I once did, but the love of sharing the gospel with those who would not otherwise know it, has always been alive in me.  It has shaped major decisions in my life. One such decision was taking a room opening on the missions/international floor of my freshman dorm in college.  I met and still know many brave women who escaped persecution, who would return to it again, or who lived among foreign people to give them the hope of the gospel. 

            Do you know what jewel was secretly being formed in my spirit as a result of this love of missions?  I have been able to hold onto this world with a lighter grip.

            Fashions and possessions do not charm me very much.  I do not have a preference for a certain race of people.  The more foreign, the better!  Giving to help the needy is a privilege.  Opening my home to all kinds of people is a blessing. Smelling like the poor makes me think of how Jesus must have smelled.

            This weekend conference made me pause and look back to see the pattern that God has woven in my life.  I want to say that I am still full of self and pride and the love of this life far too much.  But, I can see the blessings that have come from turning my gaze away from myself.

            So, out of all the books or things that I returned home with from the conference, there are two that stand out.  One, a vintage copy of missionary Helen Roseveare’s  Give Me This Mountain, and a hand embroidered bread basket liner made by a widow in Bangladesh.  I hope to meet both women one day and know all of their story. 

            I like to call these stories, “true stories”.  For, they are a part of what truly matters for all eternity.  That is why, as I stood by the table of missionary and pastor biographies, I trembled inside.  I was standing on holy ground.  In fact, if I would not have caused a scene, I would have knelt on the ground right there and prayed.  For amid all of the American affluence, there was such incredible sacrifice written on those pages.  The stories whispered to me as I stood there.  I needed to share this with the next generation.

            My children sat in our kitchen this past week in wide eyed wonder and with solemn faces as they listened to the story of Corrie Ten Boom.  They cannot get enough of her book, which has double significance for our family.  (My husband’s grandfather escaped the Holocaust of World War II.)  I think they are on their third listening in the past four days.  And tonight, I reminded them that they will sit and talk with Corrie and Peter Ten Boom one day.  We all became quiet, for our minds went to Eternity, in an instant.  That is what these stories do for me ~ they take me to Eternity.   ~Your Fellow Sojourner

"If Christ be God and died for me, then no sacrifice can be too great for me to make for him." ~ Helen Roseveare