4433
Pt. 1
The year was 1968 and I was a new Christian; having accepted the Lord Jesus
Christ as my Savior the previous year, (and the summer after my high school
graduation). Not one to waste a great deal of time, I had enrolled at a nearby
Bible college; (which in the intervening decades metamorphosed into a Christian
liberal arts university in which I was subsequently privileged to teach).
As the student body sat in chapel one morning, whomever happened to be
charge of the service stepped forward and instructed the sound person to play a
pre-recorded song. Suddenly, the strains of an unfamiliar hymn filled the
auditorium, and a baritone voice began to sing the most poignant words,
“I traveled down a lonely road and no one
seemed to care
The burden on my weary back had bowed me to
despair,
I oft complained to Jesus how folks were
treating me
And then these words He spoke so tenderly…”
There was just something so compelling about the words of the old song;
which went beyond the rhyme, content and meter. The expressiveness and
experiential tenor of the words lent such an eloquence to the theme which he
attempted to express to his audience.
It seems to me the student body sat spellbound, as the three verses to the
hymn played themselves out. As I reflect on it now, an almost ‘holy hush’
permeated the building that morning.
As the closing notes of our unseen guest and accompanying piano echoed
across the chapel, and silence permeated the room, our college president walked
to the podium, and provided the students a bit of information to which they had
not been privy, ‘til now.
“The voice you just heard was owned by a missionary named J.W. Tucker. He
is no longer with us, but died at the hands of Simba rebels in Africa just four
years ago.”
Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. There was just
something so personally poignant having just been exposed to the song, and
having just connected with the man who sang it; and to be informed that he had
lain down his life for the Gospel of the Lord whom he had so dearly loved.
Almost half a century has come and gone since that day, and I have often
reflected on the words of that old hymn by Ira Stanphill, and its relevance to
every Christian who ever lived and moved and breathed upon this planet. And
over the course of the past few decades I have often sung it as a solo, and
never fail to relate the story behind my personal association with it.
William McDonald, PhD
Pt. 2
A HERO OF THE FAITH
Originally Posted on March 11, 2014
It
was November, 1964. J.W. and Angeline Tucker had returned to Paulis, Belgian
Congo for their fifth term as Assemblies of God missionaries. Not long after
their arrival, Simba rebels overran the area, slaughtering hundreds of people.
J.
W., along with about sixty other Europeans and Americans, was taken hostage to
the Catholic mission in Paulis (later named Isiro). (Angeline and the three
children were rescued by Belgian paratroopers and flown to safety). While being
held at the mission, J. W. and several others, with hands tied behind their
backs, were mercilessly beaten to death. Their bodies were loaded on a truck
and taken about forty miles to the Bomokande River. There they were fed to the
hungry crocodiles. Truly a Prince and a great missionary had perished, and it
all seemed such a waste. But there is more to the story.
For
many years J. W. had tried, with little success, to reach the Mangbeto tribe
with the gospel. But the tribal king refused to allow him to preach to the
people, saying, “We have our own gods.”
During
the Simba rebel uprising, fighting spilled into Mangbeto territory. In
desperation, the king requested help from the central government in Kinshasa.
The government responded by sending them a man of powerful influence from the
Isiro area. They called him “the Brigadier.” Just two months before J. W. was
killed he won this man to the Lord.
When
the Brigadier arrived in Mangbeto country he quickly realized they were pagans.
So he determined to win them to the Lord. Being a new Christian, he shared the
gospel with them as best he could, but with very little success. Being somewhat
discouraged, he began to pray, and the Lord gave him an idea. So he sent word
to the king to bring his tribal elders and meet with him.
When
the tribal delegation arrived, the Brigadier said, “From time immemorial you
have had a saying: ‘If the blood of any man flows in our river, the Bomokande
River, we must listen to his message.’ A man’s blood has flowed in your river.
He tried to give you a message about his God Who sent His Son to die for your
sins, so that all who believe on Him will have eternal life. And I am bringing
his message to you. This man’s blood has flowed in your river, so you must hear
his message.” As the Brigadier spoke, the Spirit of the Lord began to move in
their hearts, and many received the Savior that day.
Today
there are thousands of Christians in the Mangbeto tribe, and between forty and
fifty Assemblies of God churches. How true the saying: “The blood of the
martyrs is the seed of the church.”
My
wife and I stood on the bridge over the Bomokande River, only a few feet from
where the rebels threw Brother Tucker’s body. We were both gripped by a great
sense of awe as we stood on that sacred ground. Our hearts were challenged by
the memory of a great, but humble, man of God who believed that being in God’s
will is more precious than life itself. And though dead, his message is still
bearing fruit.
Harold Walls
(Manna for the Journey Devotions)
Pt.
3
FOLLOW ME
Ira Stanphill
“I traveled down a lonely
road and no one seemed to care,
The burden on my weary back had bowed me to despair,
I oft complained to Jesus how folks were treating me,”
And then I heard Him say so tenderly,
"My feet were also weary
upon the Calv'ry road,
The cross became so heavy I fell beneath the load,
Be faithful weary pilgrim, the morning I can see,
Just lift your cross and follow close to me."
"I work so hard for Jesus" I often boast and say,
"I've sacrificed a lot of things to walk the narrow way,
I gave up fame and fortune; I'm worth a lot to thee,"
And then I heard Him gently say to me,
"I left the throne of
glory and counted it but loss,
My hands were nailed in anger upon a cruel cross,
But now we'll make the journey with your hand safe in mine,
So lift your cross and follow close to me."
“Oh Jesus if I die upon a
foreign field someday
'Twould be no more than love demands, no less could I repay,”
"No greater love hath
mortal man than for a friend to die,"
These are the words he gently spoke to me,
"If just a cup of water
I place within your hand
Then just a cup of water is all that I demand,"
“But if by death to living they can thy glory see,
I'll take my cross and follow close to thee.”
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