Our Lord's Day was a wonderful one of precious time in God's Word and in serving and in fellowship. Some were not able to be with us because of snow and ice. We missed them.
During the afternoon service God directed our pastor to share accounts of missionaries and Christians who are now being persecuted and imprisoned for the sake of the Lord Jesus. I cannot with words express how the Lord used it in my own heart.
This morning I was listening to a message on-line which simply added to the burden the Lord laid on my heart yesterday. The speaker mentioned a sermon,
Love With Shoes On, by Darrell Champlin, missionary to Africa. I googled the title. For the second "kitchen sermon", Msn. Champlin gave account of his wife, Ruth's, family who were missionaries to Africa. They trekked 1000 miles into Africa after getting off the boat. Mrs. Champlin's mother died of malaria on the field when Ruth was 8 years old. It was now her father and five children. Now over 3 years into the ministry, there had been yet no converts. After watching them lay Ruth's mother to rest in a hollowed out log (because they had no wood for a casket) and hearing the testimony of this missionary family, the first five young men came to be saved because they saw that the Gospel message was "good for dying." For the next 10 years, this missionary and his five children, traveled by foot and bicycle, never having a home, but traveling from village to village giving the Gospel to the lost people of Africa. It was account after account of things which were suffered, eventually death, but unswerving resolve to continue on, loving the Lord through each infirmity. The Champlins and their family went to Africa, continuing to reach the people in these villages for Jesus Christ. It was through many trials, tears and prayers that they left Africa and went to South America as missionaries, midst terrific trials there also.
For many months now I have envisioned (this is nothing more than a figure in my head, please take it only as such) many crosses sunk into the ground along the steep bank in front of our church building. On them, the blurred bodies of church members, hanging there, dying for the Truth of the Gospel. Will I, do I, love the Lord that much?
What kind of love do I have for the Lord Jesus? all-out, agape love? or for me, has my Lord (as He did for Peter) had to change the question to "brotherly fondness, warm affection"? For the great salvation He has given me, for His shed blood on the cross to ransom my soul, may I make the constant choice to LOVE Him with true, agape love.
Please pray for the unsaved ones here in our "Jerusalem". As I called Mom this morning we talked about a poor, elderly, widowed neighbor named Pauline. While Mom and I talked we prayed for her over the phone. Lord willing, late this morning or early afternoon we will go to visit her. Please pray for her salvation and for the ministry of the Lord's lighthouse here in our little village. This is where the Lord has us. This is our mission field! Do I love the Lord, with shoes on? or simply with words?
