Some background first. Prior, in chapter 12, Wendell tells of going a days journey to the most distant Negrito head-hunting tribal village, that as far as the team knew, this was the first time outsiders had ever contacted them. Once there, the interpreter called out and voices responded, with the chief coming out, speaking briefly with the interpreter, before returning into the village.
Our team remained waiting at the edge of the jungle, poised for a hasty retreat. I was exhausted from the arduous trek, and when it appeared nothing was happening soon, I lay down on some soft grass and drifted off to sleep.
“Mr. Wendell, you preach now,” Bayani said, gently shaking me a wake. The sun had dropped below the horizon and the sky was alive in a spectacular display of color. A fire had been built in the clearing before the village. The translator was talking to the crowd and the natives were listening attentively. I made my way to stand with him, and scanned the faces of these precious people. I felt the Spirit of God rise up within me. He was here! A shiver ran through my body and tears filled my eyes as His presence began to overwhelm me. He loves them so much! Now it was my job to reveal that love to them.
And I did. On into the night I shared. I explained who God is and how He loves us. I talked of His power over evil, eternal life, and how Jesus brings God and man back together through His death and resurrection. As the fire was dying down, I ended with a challenge for them to welcome this invisible God who loves them so much into their lives. Unsure of the outcome, I left the interpreters to bring things to a close. There was an excitement among the team, but I was exhausted, so i found a quiet place where I could pray and turn what I felt were my weak and inadequate efforts over to God’s power and for His glory.
It wouldn’t be until many days later when leaving the Philippines that I would learn what really happened that night, how God’s love and grace had touched an entire village of 180 people who had opened their hearts to God. The village chief invited the team to freely return and teach his village all about this invisible God.
Personally, I’m intrigued by how Wendel honesty captures the essence of our daily struggles of obedience to our Master, amid the assaulting distractions launched by our avowed soul’s enemy, within our spirit, soul, & body, heart, mind, & will, and especially in our imaginations working overtime, as Wendell shares in this two post account. Wendell was sick several days prior this event and the bug literally followed him several weeks during the trip home to FL. Currently, Loretta & I are reading the book thru out loud to each other most mornings, ready to begin ch 17 today, titled “When God Leads.”
Ch 13 GOD’S STRENGTH IN WEAKNESS… Part One
God, I know you called me here to share the gospel of your kingdom. You did not bring me here to lie around and feel sorry for myself. Please God give me strength!” Then, I remembered the promise, “I can do this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13 NLT)
Our trek took about one hour and we finally arrived at a small cluster of bamboo and thatch huts in a rough clearing punctuated with numerous tree stumps, piles of dead branches, and scattered garden plots of corn stalks and weeds. Another house, though small, was built of stronger wood construction, and stood in the center of the village.
Around eight that evening, several dozen people carrying flashlights and smoky lanterns emerged in small groups from the surrounding jungle and made their way to the central house. There was an air of anticipation as people wiggled into whatever space they could find. A few had Bibles and I realized that most of the people present seemed to be Christians. What a contrast this gathering was compared to some of the other meetings where I had been uncertain of leaving with my head on my shoulders.
“We are so happy to have the world’s youngest evangelist with us. He has come all the way from America to teach us the Bible!” the host teasingly announced.
As the people laugh good naturedly, I could feel my face turning red. Innocent as the introduction was, like a fiery dart, it tore into some very tender heart wounds that had only recently begun to heal. Though I was now twenty-three, I still had the youthful look of a fifteen-or sixteen-year-old.
Memories flooded back to me. As much as I had wanted to fit in with my peers during those dark days as a teenager, there had always been a paralyzing realization that I could never measure up to what was expected of me. More often than not, I had felt patronized, merely tolerated as a misfit among my peers.
Though I was significantly older than I looked, I often felt I was being treated and spoke to as if I were a child. By the first years of high school most guys were experiencing a significant physical transformation; however, I found myself trapped in a skinny little kid’s body well into my senior year.
As the years passed, I had grown in my understanding of who I was from God’s perspective, and by faith, I had taken on the identity of His much-loved child. I was comfortable, confident, and happy in God’s presence, but I still struggled among my peers. Over time and with God’s help, I had overcome the years of sarcastic comments belittling jests and frequent physical abuse from guys who had matured at a faster pace. The constant reminder that I was different, that I still had to grow up, left me with a void of any self-confidence and in a struggle to see myself through God’s eyes.
And suddenly here it was again, unanticipated, like a familiar demon from the past staring me in the face. I had been ambushed by one innocent well intended sentence, and now there was a fierce battle going on, a spiritual war, and I was a target. How could it catch me off guard like this? I thought I knew where the spiritual battles would be fought on this mission trip. I had failed to anticipate that an attack might happen in a highly protected place in my heart, a place I had thought was well-camouflaged, safe and secure. I felt like a net had been thrown over me and I was being dragged back into the same old hole that had held me captive for so many years. I was being bullied spiritually in much the same way as I had been bullied physically as a teenager. No one could have known how powerful the words of that short introduction were. Like fiery darts, they slipped through a gap in my spiritual armor and drove deeply into a most sensitive area of my heart. I felt myself being sucked back into a former battle I thought I’d overcome and put behind me. In a moment, my heart was filled with those terrible yet familiar feelings of worthlessness.
To be continued and concluded tomorrow.