The Amazing Faithfulness of God

As I sit at my computer to express what's on my heart, I am filled with excitement and amazed at the potential level of communication blogging offers.

Today my thoughts turn to the faithfulness of the God who knew my name before the foundation of the world, chose a great plan for me, called me into that plan, allowed me to develop to the point where I feel like an enthusiastic participant in that plan, and has seen that plan through just like Philippians 1:6 states. He has been my rear guard going behind me, nudging in the right direction, sometimes giving a little shove when fear overtakes me, picking up the pieces that I call fallout as I stumble because of the actions I decide to take, thus cleaning up the path as I journey along, and then he bolsters the plan with grace and mercy to show me it is all of Him to give Himself glory. You know, it's all about the glory--His glory, not ours. He must have glory, and He will not share that glory with anyone. Isaiah 42:8. Oh! how I pray He also receives pleasure as well from what He has wrought through this broken vessel. Lord. you are so worthy of the praise and adoration I am offering to you right now.

This plan, by the way, I would never have chosen because it included Africa, which as I grew up, was considered the end of the earth by my contemporaries. But the very thing I ran from until my mid thirties--becoming a missionary--was the absolute best vocation, most fulfilling occupation, and noblest objective ever dumped in my lap.

The Congo defining point rushed into our lives in 1977 in the form of a fire which devoured our 85-year old farmhouse located in the sleepy little town of Hesperia, MI, 25 miles north of Muskegon. The oil slick flames melted brass, exploded our furnace, and burst every window, leveling our home to the ground in just 20 minutes, while the two fire departments argued over whose district was responsible for handling this emergency. Its wrath driven by 40-mile-an- hour winds consumed 14 years of married life memories, irreplaceable 16 mm. film depicting ministry in Africa, and baptisms of the Bayanzi people, which heralded this tribe's awakening from 1947 to 1953. This incredible work was carried on by my husband's father and mother, Dr. and Mrs. Laban Herbert Smith, who are both buried in African soil.

Jim was a music evangelist at the time and from California he called our sister-in-law to be told that everything we owned but our car was destroyed on that cold November evening due to a leak in our oil space heater. He fell to his knees in the telephone booth and thanked God that he was returning to the ashes of his home rather than to 4 funerals. He asked me what I thought we should do. I took the pragmatic approach. It was obvious that we should take what insurance money we had and build another house on our 10-acre plot of ground. Then I made the mistake of asking him what He felt we should do. To my horror, he replied, "I think the Lord is calling us to Congo." Gasp, gasp. Plug ears. Deny what I am hearing. Fight nausea.

But as the next week passsed, my thoughts, my subconscious, and my whole being were filled with the question, "Where will we count the most?" An area that had been occupied by 20 missionary families in the sixties now claimed no one to minister to them. No one to carry on the dream of Dr. Smith who so wanted a center for Biblical training. No one to help them with their medical neeeds. No one to evangelize the hundreds of surrounding villages with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. No one to bring hope and take them from where they were to where they could be in spiritual leadership and insight.

There were plenty of music evangelists in America. We really wouldn't be missed. What would I say to the Lord when I stood before Him and He asked me why I didn't obey His pivotal call that would forever change me inside out? How would it feel when he reviewed for me the many, many blessings and riches I would have missed out on because I chose to go my own way? Because I couldn't trust Him enough to take care of my family in the bush of Congo? How was it that I chose to settle for His second best? Would I tell him there were too many bugs? No malls? Too hot? Too homesick? Too sandy in the bush so my high heels would not do there, and I loved pretty clothes. The missionaries that stood out in my mind from my limited exposure were dowdy dressers. Too far from my children's grandparents and relatives? Too little mobility due to sandy or mud "paths" in the bush instead of paved roads. Or would it be that I felt I was never cut out to be a missionary? After all, I never walked the aisle at church as a teenager committing my life to foreign service. I ran in the opposite direction. I couldn't get far enough away from the thought of going to Africa to share the Gospel. And so how could I qualify? I wasn't worthy and just plain did not want to go. Therefore, how could God use someone who gave Him the cold shoulder and recoiled at His invitation?

Obviously, the Lord was not threatened in the least by my kicking and screaming which had just begun, by the way. His noteworthy ability in that day and this still stands to straighten out the crooked paths before me, to break down gates of bronze and cut through bars of iron and to give me the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places. Isaiah 45:2,3. Why? "So that you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel who summons you by name." More than anything, way beyond taking the Gospel to a foreign land, he orchestrates a life for all of us that, if surrendered to, causes us to know Him at a deeper level. He desires more than anything else that we run after Him, that we seek His face, that we count Him as our vital necessity. That is our occupation as He planned it.

Much of my running was due to fear. He worked everything out and His touch on my fearful heart will be shared in another blog. Now 30 years later, I celebrate Congo all the time. It was and continues to be life changing. A big part of my heart is anchored to its people. What if I had continued to refuse His beckoning? Where would I be today? Where would my family be? Where would my marriage to my wonderful Jim be?

Stand with me in amazement today at God's faithfulness in your life. Remember that Christ died for us while we were yet enemies. We didn't pursue Him; He pursued us. He continues to chase after us, to hound us for our own good. Part of His faithfulness is described in Ps 32:7. "You are a hiding place for me; You, Lord preserve me from trouble, You surround me with songs and SHOUTS OF DELIVERANCE." Furthermore, "the steps of a man who is in Christ Jesus are directed and established by the Lord when He delights in his way, and He busies Himself with our every step." Talk about faithfulness. No one begins to compare with you, Lord. My heart cries out to you, Father, with praise and adoration. If we don't praise you, the rocks will cry out. So accept my adoration as penned by John in Rev. 5:12, "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive all the power, riches, wisdom, might, honor, and glory, splendor, and blessing."