Missionaries In A Foreign Field

I'm not sure of all the meanings behind Coldplay's Viva La Vida's song, but the refrain goes like this: 

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing

Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

The preacher scared the daylights out of her. He spoke of the good and evil in the world, particularly overseas. He talked, no, he preached, about piano's playing themselves in the middle of the night, and how the witch doctor is alive and well. Her innocent mind could not comprehend a whole group of people in a far off land who had never heard of Jesus.  Her little heart broke when she watched the pictures slide across the white screen, of children her age with shoulder bones proturding and flies crawling alongside sad eyes.

The invitation was given; who feels the call of God on their hearts? She did. Who will say yes to giving or going? Was she too young to respond? What would standing up signify in her young life? She stood.

Many other times in her life, missionary stories would move her to action. A Child Evangelism Camp in Northwest Indiana, in the octagan house where she knew no one and met The Only One who could save her. There she learned how to lead a child to Christ and fell in love with story. 

Heading off to the big city to bible college where plaque after plaque lined row after row in Torrey-Grey Auditorium listing full-time harvest workers. The annual missions conference pricked her 20-something heart.

Reading the book "Mission Possible"  Marilyn Laszlo became her hero.

Another book, "School In The Clouds" about The Rift Valley Academy, planted a house parent seed. Someday may come sooner than she thinks.

Her own missions trip to the heart of Mexico City a long long time ago.

Then she became entangled in the things of this earth. Not all bad things, but tangled, nonetheless.

God still moves.

Her daughters rekindled a fire in her, as their hearts became sold out to Africa in March 2008.

And there "it" was again yesterday, when her friend prayed over her before following her own heart to Mexico.  Stirring.  Poking.  Jabbing.  Stabbing.

Heads up. Moving forward.  Give or go. 

Refreshed. Revived. Resolved. 

Take these shakles off my feet so I can dance.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,  fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

No comments: