Do Not Be Afraid

During Sunday morning worship, while the choir was singing with one of my favorite soloists, my mind traveled back many years to the late 1950’s. They sang, “Child of God; Do not be afraid; Child of God; Trust and obey; He will walk; With you in the way; Child of God; Do not be afraid.”

The words of the song caused me to think about what being afraid meant for me. I thought of our 24/7 vigil at the bedside of our baby son; of finding my husband unconscious; and about the middle of the night phone call telling us we should come because our daughter was not expected to live. In all of those circumstances, we placed our trust in God. But then, as the singing continued, a face from the distant past entered my consciousness.

The image in my mind was that of Bill McChesney. Bill and my husband, then a student at Marion College (now Indiana Wesleyan University), worked together at a local factory where many college students earned their tuition by clocking in for the night shift.

Bill had one goal. That goal was to be a missionary in Africa, and he constantly prepared to fulfill that goal. After contracting with Worldwide Evangelical Crusade, he sold all of his possessions. His car was a better car than the one we were driving so, when Bill quoted us a good price, we purchased the car.

Soon after the sale of his car, Bill was on his way to the Republic of Congo (now named Zaire) but, before he left, he wrote a poem titled, “My Choice.”

I want my breakfast served at “eight”, with ham and eggs upon the plate;
A well-broiled steak I’ll eat at “one”; and dine again when day is done.

I want an ultramodern home, and in each room a telephone;
Soft carpets, too, upon the floors, and pretty drapes to grace the doors.

A cozy place of lovely things, like easy chairs and innersprings,
And then I’ll get a small TV – of course, “I’m careful what I see.”

I want my wardrobe, too, to be of neatest, finest quality.
With latest style of suit and vest, why shouldn’t Christians have the best?

But then the Master I can hear, in no uncertain voice, so clear,
“I bid you come and follow Me, the lonely Man of Galilee.”

“Birds of the air have made their nest, and foxes in their holes find rest;
But I can offer you no bed; no place have I to lay My head.”

In shame I hung my head and cried. How could I spurn the Crucified?
Could I forget the way He went, the sleepless nights in prayer He spent?

For forty days without a bite, alone He fasted day and night;
Despised, rejected – on he went, and did not stop till veil He rent.

A man of sorrows and of grief, no earthly friend to bring relief -
“Smitten of God,” the prophet said – Mocked, beaten, bruised, His blood ran red.

If He be God and died for me, no sacrifice too great can be
For me, a mortal man, to make; I’ll do it all for Jesus’ sake.

Yes, I will tread the path He trod. No other way will please my God;
So, henceforth, this my choice shall be, my choice for all eternity.

In November of 1964, Bill was imprisoned and beaten to death by a tribal group. *

As I saw the image of Bill, I also remembered the haunting 2015 picture of the Coptic Christians kneeling on a Mediterranean coast where they were beheaded by God haters. I tried to envision my response to such horror. My hope is that I could echo Bill’s words: “If He be God and died for me, no sacrifice too great can be for me, a mortal man (woman), to make; I’ll do it all for Jesus’ sake.”

Then our pastor gave a hit-it-out-of-the-park sermon about gaining victory by confessing before God who we are (as did Jacob) and we went to Bible Study Class.

It was during class that I experienced disconnect. I heard about the small percentage of those in Christian ministry who manage to tough it out until retirement; about how much it hurts ministers when they receive anonymous letters; and how church members need to make people who are in ministry feel good. And I wondered about the commitment of those who cower and quit in the face of small obstacles and emotional hurts.

Just some Monday thoughts.

*Bill's story was told by Audine McChesney in the book, Through Congo Shadows, Story of the Life and Martyrdom of Bill McChesney in the Congo, 1968.

Child of God, words and music by Mike Harland, Mike Speck, Niles Borop.

Adages and Word Stuff

This morning I woke up thinking about my dad and some of the things he said to his kids. The one on my mind today was what he would say when, as a teenager, I dressed up to go someplace. If he thought I looked particularly nice he would say, “She looks like she just stepped out of a bandbox, but I wonder what the bandbox she just stepped out of looks like. 

This was Dad’s way of saying, “You look nice, but your room had better also look nice.

“Me” All Gussied Up

A No-No Room

I’ve often wondered where Dad came up with his expressions and have to assume he knew many things because he was so widely read. At any rate, my research provided the following information about the origin of the bandbox saying.

“The bands in question here are entirely unmusical. They were clerical bands -- the little square linen tippet worn around the neck by ministers, especially those of the Presbyterian faith. So the 'bandbox' was a box in which clergymen kept their vestments, which were invariably spotless and neatly pressed. And a person looking as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox was neat, spruce(d) and spotless." From "Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins" by William and Mary Morris (HarperCollins, New York, 1977, 1988).

Dad's use of idioms, metaphors, adages, parables, aphorisms, puns, analogies, and proverbs likely helped to boost the language score on my the college entrance examination.

I’m a forever grateful daughter!

ClipArt and Photo from MyCuteGaphics & PinToPin