Missionary @ MindSay

                We’re back home now, after a missionary intensive training time—ten twelve-hour days—in Orlando.

                I think intensive is an appropriate word.  We’re exhausted!

                We’ve learned a lot, forgotten a lot, been impacted and, generally speaking, encouraged to continue on the path we think the Lord has put us on, that seems to lead to India.

                On Friday, the last day of training, two Indian women sat next to Laurie and me in the dining room of the Rodeway Hotel, as we ate breakfast.  Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.  I got up, introduced myself—they half-stood at their chairs up in respect—and we engaged in delightful conversation.  Laurie joined us after she had finished talking to a couple who had joined us earlier at our table.  I was encouraged by the interaction.  Delightful ladies.

                At the last session of our training, the woman who organized our time together quoted from an old issue of the Advance magazine: “If God calls you to be a missionary, do not stoop to be a king.”

                We are humbled to be so called.  And I’d be less than truthful if I didn’t say we were also troubled and perplexed at times, as well as tempted to bag it all and stay home, where all is nice and safe. 

                India needs Jesus.  Please continue to pray for us as walk down this path.  Our next step is fund raising.

            There’s a man at this training from Iran, who is ministering in a Muslim country.  He told a story of healing yesterday.

            He went to a village and asked if they had ever heard of Jesus.  “He’s not here,” they told him.  “Perhaps he’s in the village over there.”

            As they were talking, he heard a woman scream.  They all turned to look, and a cow had fallen over.  “He’s dying!”  the woman cried.  Losing a cow at around $700 wouldn’t be an economic catastrophe for most of us, but there, it’s huge.  Devastating.

            This man realized he had to do something.  Because this happened just after he’d arrived, the people in the village would connect his coming with this event.  Perhaps he brought an evil presence.  A bad eye. 

            “Beat the cow,” he heard the Lord say.

            “Beat the cow?” was his response.

            “Beat the cow.” 

            He told the man, “Beat the cow.”

            “Beat the cow?  Why should I beat the cow?  It’s dying!  How will that help?”

            “Beat the cow!” this man said, more strongly.

            A man hit the cow, lightly.

            “Harder.”

            He hit it again, a little harder.

            “Harder.”

            The man began to vigorously hit the cow.  Suddenly it coughed up a small watermelon that had apparently gotten stuck in it throat.

            Now all the villagers wanted to hear from this man who had saved the cow by telling its owners to beat it and…how he knew that they should do it.

            One of the missionaries at training here approached me because he’d heard me say that we were praying about going to India.  In his conversation, he talked about going to Bangladesh, which our man on the ground there has talked about Laurie and me doing. 

            He said, “Bangladesh is total chaos, but it’s not too bad!”

            I laughed out loud and slapped him on his shoulder.  “You’re the first person who’s ever told me that total chaos isn’t too bad!”

            Lots and lots of stories being told here.  I don’t have time to tell them all now.  I’m down in the diner, and the shuttle leaves in thirty minutes. 

            Well, here we are in Orlando.  Missionary training.  We’ve gone through training before with our organization, but they’ve changed it so much that they’re asking us to go through it again.  We’re looking forward to it.  Plus, they offered to pay for our time here.  Hotel.  Meals.  Training.  We had to pay for the airfare, but it’s all good!

            Funniest moment of our trip.  For at least a year, I’ve been looking for a fold-up knife that I purchased a few years ago.  I like that knife, and I took some care buying it.  However, because we move so much, some things get—misplaced.  We couldn’t find the knife.  Laurie didn’t know where it was.  And if Laurie doesn’t know where something is, well, it’s time to pray.

            Ok.  I admit it.  I never did that.  I should have.

            So we’re going through security.  You can see what’s coming, can’t you?  (I’ve taken along my laptop on this trip, so I can stay connected.)  The TSA officer says that he’ll need to take a look at my computer briefcase.  I wonder why, but hey, that’s security sometimes.  I’m over on a chair putting my shoes back on as Laurie’s gathering the last of our belongings back at security, when Laurie calls my name.  There’s the TSA officer holding up—my knife. 

            I laughed.  Laurie said, “We’ve been wondering where that a thing is.”

            What baffles me is why on earth, in some moment of moving, I thought putting that knife in my laptop briefcase was a good idea.  

            Of course we all know where my knife is now.  Some store in the South where they sell all the stuff that’s been taken from forgetful travelers like me.

            Please pray for us.  We are seriously considering re-deploying to the mission field. 

            All of us would be going.  Laurie and I, our daughter, her husband and their five girls.

            Where?  Possibly India.   We’re presently in email contact with the man who is the overseer of the work there.  Great guy, who likes us.  Thinks I’d be perfect for the needs there—Bible teacher and mentor of leaders.  I’d possibly be traveling to Bangladesh.  Pakistan.

            There are no allusions here for Laurie and me.  We know how hard it is to leave the culture, the food, the safety, we have been familiar with in this wonderful nation in which we’ve lived the majority of our lives.  But there is the call of God, and it can’t be denied.

            And there is the price of discipleship, which is a mandate for all those who desire to be called His disciples.  Our amazing, challenging Jesus has told us that he who seeks to save his life will lose it.  He who gives his life, however, will gain it.  Sounds wonderful from this comfortable, idealistic chair.  It’s harder as it actually happens—although He is always sufficient.

            I know there are some of you who love me, who would want to help us financially.  And there are some of you who will also want to pray—which will be hugely, monstrously important, more important than the financial support.   If you are one of those people, please let me know.  I’ll give you my email address so you can receive instructions as this thing proceeds, which will probably be several months down the road.  We may fly there first to check things out.