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.
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.
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.
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.”
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?
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.”
“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.”
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?
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
Child of God, words and music by Mike Harland, Mike Speck, Niles Borop.
Bill's poem and his life say it all.
ReplyDeleteVanilla, this is so true.
DeleteBecause Bill served with a small mission group and did not complete his college studies before he went to Africa, it seems that he was not long remembered in Christian circles. But God remembers and rewards His faithful.
It matters little--perhaps none at all what men may think. All that counts is Bill's Master's judgement.
ReplyDeletePerhaps it is time to write some anonymous letters of encouragement to those who labor in the Master's service.
This is so true, Secondary Roads. We need only to please God.
DeleteMaybe we could write some anonymous letters of encouragement but also send encouraging words to which we sign our names.
❤️
ReplyDelete