David Zeisberger was a German, born April 11, 1721 at Zauchtenthal, in Moravia. He had come with his parents to Herrnhut; had followed them to Georgia, and later yet to Bethlehem, Pennsyvania. In this latter place he began his acquaintance with the Delaware tribe, among who he would minister for so many years.
This article was written by a brother from Valley Christian Fellowship in Halsey Oregon. I was so blessed talking with him on the telephone. He has had a burden for telemarketers for some time and has now finally got some of these thoughts on paper.
I have been meditating recently on the subject of money and the incredible hold that it so easily develops on our lives and hearts. I find that even living here far away from the wave of materialism that you daily encounter, I must make it a spiritual routine to take stock of my heart and make sure that I am staying free from a clutching, hording spirit when I relate to money.
Most of the time, God uses these checkups to show me several areas where my heart is in danger of being ensnared, and then directs me to do something for His kingdom with the money or possession that threatens my soul. Obedience in this generally deals a deathblow to the tentacles that were reaching out and beginning to hold my heart, and sets me free again to serve Christ whole-heartedly. Sometimes, though, the things that God asks me to do are not easy, and my emotions cry out against the sacrifice that Christ is asking me to make.
Jesus found in His Father’s Word full provision to meet His every need during His life and ministry. The Word was His sword in temptation, His stay in trial, and His guide in teaching. Its prophecies were the seals of His messiahship, its precepts the rule of His obedience and its promises the balm for His suffering. Through life He had no grander theme, and in death no richer legacy. Modern critics often handle it with irreverent hands, but to Him it was sacred in every part.
I am sitting down to share these thoughts with you a day later than I had planned. I must say that my already full heart has been filled even fuller by the circumstances that God has allowed to intervene. I will come back to the subject of those unexpected circumstances in a moment, but for now let me share a bit about the subject that God has laid on my heart.
This month, as is commonly the case, I am sharing with you out of the things that God is doing in my heart and life. My life is filled with my responsibilities as a missionary to a largely unreached tribe. The things I write are heavily influenced by the scenes that meet my eye everyday and by the burden that I carry for my people, the Konkombas. I am not and do not try to be “balanced” in my writing, as I lean heavily towards the work of God among the forgotten and least-reached peoples of our day. I know that balance is essential in this as in every other area. I hope that my sharing as a voice from afar, tilted though I am in one direction, can be a challenge and a blessing to you there.
How this little phrase burned in my heart when I first read it! It clicked with something inside of me, because I knew what it was saying. No, I haven’t literally seen the smoke of a thousand villages, but the eyes of my heart have seen that “smoke.” It’s not the exhaust of inflamed wood that sets off a burning in my heart. It is the knowledge that everywhere the smoke is rising, there huddled around that fire, in mud huts with earth floors and grass roofs, are homes—homes for many people who are still sitting in darkness—a people whom Satan has held in his grasp for generations. They continue on, serving their idols, trusting in fetishes, slaughtering chickens to appease the spirits, walking on in their blind state, unknowingly turning their backs on God… and heading toward a Christ-less eternity. This is what that smoke represents.
I consider myself to be a novice, not an authority, on the subject of Islam or of Muslim evangelism. My experience with Muslims has been mainly in Ghana. But my heart does burn with an affection for the Muslim people that I cannot describe. The great Missionary Himself, who left us a beautiful pattern to follow, has kindled it: “Then Jesus beholding him loved him, and said unto him . . .”
Much of what follows in this article has been gleaned by carefully listening to people who share this “strange” affection for the Muslim people. Some of them cannot be mentioned here for their own safety. I want to give thankful recognition to Brother William J. Sall, author of Reaching Muslims for Christ, and the staff at Arab World Ministries for their help and encouragement. This article is partly a book review of Reaching Muslims for Christ. I do heartily recommend this book for further study into this vast subject. —Brother Wes
Somewhere, in some distant, foreign, strange land, there is a house prepared—but empty. Waiting. In that same land there are souls prepared. Waiting.
Some are not just waiting though. They’re calling: “Please send us a missionary! We need a missionary!” They know that someone can come and tell them the way to God, but that someone hasn’t come yet. They are prepared...and waiting.
I would like for us to look at the subject of God’s call and man’s response to it. The burden for this message comes out of the fact that as I’ve traveled the United States and met many of you, I hear a question over and over: “How did God call you to the mission field/Ghana/the Konkombas? How did you know that God wanted you to leave America and travel all the way across the ocean and live your life in Africa?”