His n' Hers

I've been thinking a lot lately about glory.

Steve Saint is coming to my church on March 22. Saint's life story is the subject of a 2006 independent film titled End of the Spear. I have written a lot about it on my blog but I haven't label-linked it up yet. This is incredible for me. I have written many blog posts on the missionary stories and authorship of his family and fellow co-laborers. Out to my garage I went and dusted off those Elisabeth Elliott books. My how I love them.



















Steve and Ginny Saint


What one story stuck in my mind?

As the first missionary in Algiers, Lilias Trotter was often staggered by the immensity of the task of carrying the gospel across the desert wastes to the countless little villages hidden among the sandhills. After seven years she went to England, so exhausted she felt that she needed, "weeks for prayer, but at present I don't seem to have sense for concentration in prayer or anything else, and I am just vegetating, and writing up this journal...." The doctors said her nerves and heart were worn by the strain of the battle and by the climate. Added to these physical buffetings was the sense of evil and spiritual oppression.

A group of Sunday School leaders... visited her in 1907, asking to "see the work."

Then came the clue in the old saying, "Difficulty is the very atmosphere of miracle." She wrote, "We decided to show in all honesty, not what we had done, but what had not been done, and believe in God to use the very weakness of it all."

The day arrived..., and she showed them maps she had arranged around her courtyard, "with their woefully thin firing line of stations, and the still sadder record given by tiny red flags of places once visited, and left again to their darkness...". And the outcome? Before [the group] had returned home, they had raised enough money to support six missionaries for three years. God used "the very weakness of it all."

[1]

It was that story; the story of nothing. The story of serving Christ and having nothing to show for it. Christ had the greatest glory when she had the least notoriety or praise. What about my missions? Be honest "Sanc": are you attracted to your missions because you want His glory, or hers? Well, right now in my life I'm experiencing passion for doing a few ministries that bring attention to self. Going to Rwanda, presenting the gospel to all the Cubbies last Wednesday, picking up blogging again and so on. Somewhat up front, center. Hmm. Some missions require being highly visible. People need ministry in crowds as much as they do in the backward places. The strain of the public mission is, like Paul who tore his clothes in distress, being diligent to keep pointing to heaven in all things. Is a public ministry more strenuous... than an obscure one? I am thankful to have found in times passed that there is a lot of pleasure in having only Christ's attention in a place few notice as ministry. I also recall at this time how I adore Debi Pearl's Created to be His Helpmeet. My roommates groomed me from the first moments of consciousness in Christ, with this mindset.

Are the public ministries less sanctifying? Is it possible the obscure ministries are less sanctifying? I'm not really sure.

It is really hard to imagine finding a sort of ministry where the attention of humanity is nullified.

I've spent a lot of years of my life pressing on in service where I had no praise or attention. It may have energized me lately to put on the opposite type and see... how Christ provides. But as I write this, I look back on those "paths through suffering" days and think, "ahh." Those were kind of sweet, I miss that.

I thank you LORD, for your love and your rest. Help me have open hands to receive what You would give, and keep me squarely placed in Your own will and not my own.



[1] Elliott, Elisabeth. A Path Through Suffering. Regal Books, Ventura CA. 1990, pp.109-110, 113