The Passion of Prayer

One of the things that seems to happen during mission trips is an increased intensity or increased burdened to pray for the lost. There are probably many explanations for this intense desire to pray, but I believe the primary reason is best described simply as God’s activity. It is true that the best way to pray for people is to pray for them as you are looking at them, walking in their neighborhoods, or listening to their voice. Some refer to this as “praying on site”. When you know something about that person, their circumstances, their spiritual journey, and their degree of receptivity, somehow your prayers become much more personal and crucial.
Our volunteer team had been assigned to a small mission church in eastern Venezuela. The pastor and his wife had made arrangements for us to visit in the neighborhoods during the day and participate in evangelistic services at night. One of the church members had taken off from work without pay to walk with us and escort us through the neighborhoods as we made those visits.
God was truly at work that week. We saw many people accept Christ as Savior. I remember a mother and 2 daughters who prayed to receive Christ. A pastor’s wife who had never had assurance of salvation also made a decision for Christ that week. As our teams continued to visit, 2 sisters living in different houses prayed to trust in Jesus at the same time and met in the street as they ran to share the good news with each other. I remember a 14-year-old girl who accepted Jesus and spent the rest of the day going door to door with us telling her friends and neighbors about her “new life”.
I remember another 14-year-old girl named, Nairovis. In fact, I will never forget her. She was a beautiful young lady who hung out at the church all week long with her twin sister. The pastor could only tell us that she and her sister had just started attending the church. It was obvious from the first time we met these girls that Nairovis was much more interested in the Gospel than her sister. She came to the worship services each night. We would see her during the day as we walked through the neighborhood.
I’m not sure why God gave me such a burden for her. Maybe it was because my daughter, Kelly, was also 14 at the time. I prayed for Nairovis all week long and fully expected her to make a decision for Christ each night of the revival when the invitation was extended. She never did. As we came to the last night of the revival, Nairovis was present in the service and it seemed that she was truly under conviction, but the service ended and she still had not made a public decision.
I left the church that night with a heavy heart. The next day we would be heading to the airport in the afternoon to begin our journey back to the United States. That night I could not sleep because of an incredible desire in my heart to see this young lady accept Christ. It was almost 3:00 AM when I woke up my roommate and asked him if he would join me in prayer for this young girl’s salvation.
One reason I am sharing this story is because, in all honesty, I had never had such a burden for one individual. I knew something of being burdened for “lost people”, but I had never been so profoundly impacted over the salvation of one specific person. I literally could not get this young lady’s need for Christ out of mind. In those moments, I understood for the first time the words of the Apostle Paul, “…that I have great sorrow and unceasing grief in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed, separated from Christ for the sake of my brethren…”. I understood that only the Holy Spirit could give that kind of burden, that kind of intense desire to see someone give their heart to Jesus.
The next morning I knew that I must talk with Nairovis one more time. I drove to the neighborhood where she lived, found her house, and knocked on the door. Her mother answered the door and I explained to her who I was and asked if I could speak with her daughter in the presence of her and her husband. She invited me into the living room and soon the entire family was present. I spoke to Nairovis as if she were the only person in the room and told her that I could not leave the city without giving her one more opportunity to trust in Christ. I asked her what was keeping her from making this decision. She looked up at me with hopeful eyes and said, “I do not feel I can make this decision without my parents’ permission.”
Immediately, I turned to her parents and explained the decision that Nairovis desired to make. It was an open invitation to explain the gospel to this family. After a few questions and a clear explanation of how a person prays to receive Christ, the father said, “This is an individual decision and if this is what she wants to do then she has my permission.”
I can still see the smile on her face and the light in her eyes as we knelt together in that home and, with her parents’ permission and in their presence, this 14 year old girl asked Jesus to forgive her of her sins and come into her life. Nairovis was the only member of her family who prayed that prayer that day.
I have thought about that family many times since that special day. I do not know why God gave me such a burden for one specific individual. All I know is that He prompted me to pray and He gave me a burden that could not be ignored or neglected. He would not let go of my heart until that young girl had one more opportunity to receive Christ. I regret to say that there have been few times in my life with I have prayed with that kind of passion.

GOD IS STILL GOD

Charlotte and I like to watch old movies. One of our favorites is a movie telling the story of Gladys Aylward. She was a missionary to China more than 65 years ago who was forced to flee when the Japanese invaded Yangcheng. With only one assistant, she led more than a hundred orphans over the mountains toward Free China.

There is also a book, The Hidden Price of Greatness, which tells the story of this courageous woman. The author writes, “During Gladys’ harrowing journey out of the war-torn Yangcheng…she grappled with despair as never before. After passing a sleepless night, she face the morning with no hope of reaching safety. A 13-year-old girl in the group reminded her of their much-loved story of Moses and the Israelites crossing the Red Sea.

“‘But I am not Moses,’ Gladys cried in desperation.

“‘Of course you aren’t,’ the girl said, ‘but Jehovah is still God!’”

Gladys and the orphans made it through to safety, proving once again that no matter how inadequate we feel, God is still God, and we can trust Him.

I’m thinking that there may be some of you who feel the weight of a “hundred orphans” on your shoulders, but in all of your desperation and feelings of inadequacy just remember that God is still God, and you can trust Him.

There are those who experience sleepless nights and face the morning with little hope and there are those who are awakened from a peaceful sleep to pray for those who are passing through sleepless nights. Wherever you find yourself in life today, please remember that God still God, and you can trust Him.

A CHANGED LIFE

I was a little nervous, but very excited about the opportunity to take some of our medical volunteers into a prison in Eastern Venezuela. I had seen prisons in other parts of the country and they were very depressing with living conditions that were more than just a little inhuman. I was concerned about how this experience might affect the 2 doctors and one dentist who were part of the volunteer team from the U.S. A Venezuelan Christian who lived in that city had received permission for us to visit the prisoners and offer them medical and dental services and the team knew that there would be divine appointments awaiting us. It was an open door that we felt we must walk through.
We were met at the entrance to the prison by a group of 6 men, all prisoners. These men were Christians. All of them had received Christ since being placed in this prison and you could see the excitement in their faces about meeting Christians from another country. They formed a circle around us and gave us instructions to stay inside their circle of protection as we walked across the courtyard and through several rooms where large groups of prisoners were housed. They walked us into a large cell and literally slammed the door closed behind us. We were definitely in prison. The cell door was locked and these men would stand by our side for protection and assistance, process and filter any patients that were seen by the medical volunteers, and enjoy the fellowship of being with other Christians.
It really was quite organized. These 6 men seemed to have the respect of the other prisoners and they kept things moving orderly and peacefully. The only prisoners allowed in the cell were those being attended to at that moment by the doctors and dentist. I was translating for the dentist and my assistant/protector was a prisoner named Alfredo. During the course of the day, I found myself becoming very attached to him. He was one of the kindest men I had ever met. His instructions to the other prisoners were given in such a gentle, caring tone that their harshness and hardness would be defused almost immediately.
Alfredo and I talked together almost constantly for the 8 hours we were in the prison. There was only one other translator in the cell with us so I was called upon at times to talk to some of the men who had spiritual questions. Alfredo never left my side. Our medical team did an incredible job that day of taking care of medical and dental needs and of sharing the love of the Lord. Many of the men wanted to hear their testimonies and why they would be willing to come into a Venezuelan prison. One of the men was so moved by the testimony of our American dentist who worked non-stop and never took a break that he prayed to receive Christ as his Savior. Our dentist pulled 69 teeth that day. 21 prisoners prayed and gave their hearts and lives to Jesus.
As the day ended and all the patients were seen, we had a wonderful prayer time with our 6 protectors who were now close brothers in Christ. We wept together knowing that we would probably not see each other again until heaven. Alfredo and I held on to each other for a long time as we prayed for each other. It was a very emotional good-bye.
It’s really not that unusual to meet a sweet-spirited, kind, gentle man. However, you might not expect to meet such a man in a Venezuelan prison. The last thing Alfredo said to me before the guards walked us out of that prison was, “I hope you remember my name.”
Before leaving, we met with the prison officials for coffee and to thank them for giving us permission to visit the prisoners. It dawned on me that I had no idea why Alfredo had been sent to prison. He never offered the information and I never asked him as we visited that day. I asked one of the guards if he could tell me about Alfredo. He told me that Alfredo had killed 7 men. He had killed 4 of those while in prison. The last one had been decapitated and his head had been placed on the guard’s desk. The guard continued by saying, “About two years ago, Alfredo became very religious and since then he has been a changed man.”
I’m thankful that the only Alfredo I know is the one who was radically changed by the power of God’s salvation…the kind, gentle, tenderhearted Alfredo.

· Pray for the Spirit to lead you to those who need Him most. Pray for the
brothers and sisters in Christ whom you will meet and encourage. Remember their names.

· “Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS

Like us, you probably have your own Christmas traditions and those certain things that really put you in the Christmas spirit. There are three things that really prepare me for Christmas: Charlotte's peppermint cake, my personal rendition of O Holy Night, and reading the following article written by a missionary pilot with the Wycliffe Bible Translators. He had flown medical supplies to an Indian tribe deep in the Amazon jungle where there had been an epidemic. He was scheduled to return to his wife and family on the evening of Dec. 23, but because of heavy rains and fog, he found himself stranded in that remote village.

He writes: "I slipped on my poncho and trudged through the Indian village, down to the river's edge. The plane was tied against the bank, rocking gently on the rain-splattered water. I crawled out on a pontoon and sat under the wing, feeling desperately sorry for myself. It was Christmas Eve and night was descending on the jungle. There was no way I could get back home.

"'Oh, God,' I moaned, 'I'm in the wrong place.' More than anything else I wanted to be home for Christmas. Instead, I sloshed my way back to my hut in the little village. I shared some yucca with a couple of Indian children and read them the Christmas story out of my Bible, doing my best to translate it so they could understand a few words of that precious event.

"That night, under my mosquito net, I had a visitation from God -- something like those shepherds must have had on the hills of Bethlehem. There were no angels, and no bright light, but as I lay there in my hammock, desperately homesick, I felt I heard God say: 'My son, this is what Christmas is all about. Jesus left heaven and on Christmas morning He woke up in the 'wrong place'-- a stable in Bethlehem. Christmas means leaving home, not going home. My only begotten Son did not come home for Christmas--He left His home to be with you.'

"I opened my eyes. Overhead, through the mosquito net, I could see the brown palm-thatch leaves which formed the ceiling of the lean-to. Beneath me was the hard-packed dirt floor. All around was the sound of gently falling rain.

"But out there in the darkness, were men, and women, boys and girls, tiny babies--all part of this Indian tribe. I was there, away from home on Christmas Eve, because Jesus left His home on Christmas Eve. I was there because He said, 'As the Father hath sent Me, even so, send I you.' That night I realized Christmas is God's ultimate missionary outreach."

Merry Christmas!! May we seize every opportunity to be examples of the true meaning and message of Christmas.

Those Who Are Waiting

I never dreamed God would lead us to a part of town like this one to start a new church. This was the poorest poor area I had ever seen. An area of about 10 square city blocks housed close to 10,000 people and “housed” would be a very inappropriate word. These were not houses; they were shelters. Most were made of scrap pieces of wood, but some had a wall or two of concrete block. The families would literally build these houses one block at a time. Those who had settled in the neighborhood when the land first became “available” even had a thin layer of cement for a floor. Most of the floors were just packed dirt.
Poverty has a distinct smell and this neighborhood was saturated with that smell. When this number of people invade a piece of property and begin to build their houses, they do so knowing it will be years before the government can provide electricity, water, and sewage facilities. It had already been years…years of raw sewage, flooded paths, drinking water caught in a barrel, and “borrowed” electricity. My wife used to say that even the dirt was dirtier in this part of town. These folks were poor and hopeless.
If we had known how dangerous this part of town was before we met the people who lived there, we might have never considered starting a church there. But once we met some of them, especially, "Maria" (not her real name), we knew what God was asking us to do.
"Maria" lived with her husband and 3 children in this neighborhood. They operated a little store out of their house. They sold rice, bananas, black beans, eggs, coffee, cookies, and the only cold soft drinks in the neighborhood. They had the only concrete block house on their street.
During the week, "Maria" worked as a maid across town in a very nice neighborhood. She worked in the house right next door to ours. We first met her a few days after we moved into our house and heard her singing Christian songs while she stood outside doing laundry. She told us that she had accepted Christ while living in her native Colombia. She also told us that she had been praying for 2 years that someone would come and start a church in her neighborhood.
It was raining the day 3 local church members and I tried to follow the directions "Maria" had given us to her house. We found the neighborhood. There were no streets, just dirt paths that had been turned into mud with the downpour. We stopped several times and asked where the Christian lady lived who had a grocery store in her home. As it turned out, she was the only known Christian in the neighborhood so we soon found our way.
We met her husband and children. We drank coffee under the mango tree. We were shown a piece of property just across the street that was for sale and within weeks we were meeting on that property with a small group of folks from the neighborhood who were interested in studying the Bible. "Maria's" two-year prayer had been answered.
But that really is just the beginning of the story. About 3 times a week, I would go to that neighborhood and just walk up and down those dirt paths. Walking, praying, inviting people to our Sunday Bible study, and looking for divine appointments was pretty much the church planting strategy. It took several weeks of walking but before long the people knew who we were and why we were there. There were about 8 people who were bringing their own chairs, sitting under the shade tree, and listening to the Bible stories each Sunday.
There was one street that I would always walk. Each time I walked by a certain house on that street, she would be washing clothes. She would always stop what she was doing long enough to smile and wave. One day she was waiting for me at the fence in front of her dirt floor house. I could tell that she had finally found the courage to stop me and there was obviously a reason she wanted to talk with me. She introduced herself and began to tell me a story.
Almost a year ago, she had awakened from her sleep and walked outside hoping for a cool breeze in the hot, tropical night. As she looked up into the moonlight, she saw something written in the sky. She described it as being written in the stars. She could see it very clearly and read exactly what it spelled out in Spanish, “Jesus Saves”. She ran inside to wake up her husband, grabbed him by the arm and rushed him outside to show him the sign in the sky. Her husband could not see it even though it was still very visible to her.
As she told me that story, she said, “I have been waiting for someone to come who could explain to me what that message means. Do you know what it means?” In the next few minutes I explained to her the wonderful message of God’s salvation and in that moment, as she stood on one side of the fence and I stood on the other, she prayed and invited Jesus to save her. She was the first person to pray to receive Christ in that newly established church. After that day, the smell of poverty stirs up emotions within me that remind me of the importance of taking the Gospel everywhere and anywhere.
She will be in heaven because "Maria" prayed for a church. She will be in heaven because God wrote her a message and placed in the sky. She will be in heaven because Jesus saves. She will be in heaven because God sent someone to a person who was waiting to be told how to be saved. There are many who are waiting to be told.

* Ask God for divine appointments. To be led to those who have questions and who have a story.

· “How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher?” (Romans 10:14)