Kayatta is a small village of close to 800 or 1000 people, and is a place of dry river beds. Just as the rain fell unexpectedly, so too did the rivers to flow once again. The Gospel message also triggered a flow of people to the field, where about half the village came to hear the good news. It was amazing to see young and old alike making a full surrender to Jesus Christ. The morning seminars stirred up the body of Christ to get busy and do the work of an evangelist. YES mini crusades can and do work! This was a good test to iron out any logistical and technical problems before we head out into far away remote places.
We now focus our attention on The Republic of Congo. The planning is well underway and our technical team flies out on 18th February to Brazzaville in order to set up in Lout?t?. We have been in correspondence with Michael Mogga our good friend from Southern Sudan. Provisional dates have been set for four major city-wide meetings. Please remember us in PRAYER
William Booth of the Salvation Army sent out his famous one word greeting that simply read “Others”, which best describes our heart. We give our all so that “Others” can hear and come to know Jesus Christ personally.
Thank you for you love and support,
Roger and Shireen West
John 10:16 I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.
Click the picture to see it full size in light box.
Charles Spurgeon was asked about his position on evangelism. He said, “Evangelistic preaching is a choice every pastor truly called of God makes. If a man does not have an evangelist heart, he should leave the ministry. He is obviously not called.” I believe he is right. “Do the work of an evangelist,” says Paul to Timothy. That is the work every one of us has. There is a world that needs Christ. We are called upon to bring the Gospel in its purity to them.
“Back in 1921, a missionary couple named David and Svea Flood went with their two-year-old son from Sweden to the heart of Africa-to what was then called the Belgian Congo. They met up with another young Scandinavian couple, the Ericksons, and the four of them sought God for direction. In those days of much tenderness and devotion and sacrifice, they felt led of the Lord to set out from the main mission station and take the gospel to a remote area.
This was a huge step of faith. At the village of N’dolera they were rebuffed by the chief, who would not let them enter his town for fear of alienating the local gods. The two couples opted to go half a mile up the slope and build their own mud huts.
They prayed for a spiritual breakthrough, but there was none. The only contact with the villagers was a young boy, who was allowed to sell them chickens and eggs twice a week. Svea Flood-a tiny woman only four feet, eight inches tall decided that if this was the only African she could talk to, she would try to lead the boy to Jesus. And in fact, she succeeded.
But there were no other encouragements. Meanwhile, malaria continued to strike one member of the little band after another. In time the Ericksons decided they had had enough suffering and left to return to the central mission station. David and Svea Flood remained near N’dolera to go on alone. Then, of all things, Svea found herself pregnant in the middle of the primitive wilderness. When the time came for her to give birth, the village chief softened enough to allow a midwife to help her. A little girl was born, whom they named Aina.
The delivery, however, was exhausting, and Svea Flood was already weak from bouts of malaria. The birth process was a heavy blow to her stamina. She lasted only another seventeen days.
Inside David Flood, something snapped in that moment. He dug a crude grave, buried his twenty-seven-year-old wife, and then took his children back down the mountain to the mission station. Giving his newborn daughter to the Ericksons, he snarled, “I’m going back to Sweden. I’ve lost my wife, and I obviously can’t take care of this baby. God has ruined my life.” With that, he headed for the port, rejecting not only his calling, but God himself.”…
(Eventually the baby landed with some missionaries from the States. They changed her first name to “Aggie”. Aggie grew up in South Dakota and married a young man named Dewey Hurst. They had two children together and moved to the Seattle area, where there was a large population of Scandinavians.)
“One day a Swedish religious magazine appeared in her mailbox. She had no idea who had sent it, and of course she couldn’t read the words. But as she turned the pages, all of a sudden a photo stopped her cold. There in a primitive setting was a grave with a white cross-and on the cross were the words SVEA FLOOD.
Aggie jumped in her car and went straight for a college faculty member who, she knew, could translate the article. “What does this say?” She demanded.
The instructor summarized the story: It was about missionaries who had come to N’dolera long ago … the birth of a white baby … the death of the young mother … the one little African boy who had been led to Christ … and how, after the whites had all left, the boy had grown up and finally persuaded the chief to let him build a school in the village.
The article said that gradually he won all his students to Christ … the children led their parents to Christ … even the chief had become a Christian. Today there were six hundred Christian believers in that one village….
All because of the sacrifice of David and Svea Flood. For the Hursts’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, the college presented them with the gift of a vacation to Sweden. There Aggie sought to find her real father. An old man now, David Flood had remarried, fathered four more children, and generally dissipated his life with alcohol. He had recently suffered a stroke. Still bitter, he had one rule in his family:
“Never mention the name of God-because God took everything from me.”
After an emotional reunion with her half brothers and half sister, Aggie brought up the subject of seeing her father. The others hesitated. “You can talk to him,” they replied, “even though he’s very ill now. But you need to know that whenever he hears the name of God, he flies into a rage.” Aggie was not to be deterred. She walked into the squalid apartment, with liquor bottles everywhere, and approached the seventy-three-year-old man lying in a rumpled bed. “Papa?” She said tentatively. He turned and began to cry. “Aina,” he said. “I never meant to give you away.” “It’s all right, Papa,” she replied, taking him gently in her arms. “God took care of me.”
The man instantly stiffened. The tears stopped.
“God forgot all of us. Our lives have been like this because of him.” He turned his face back to the wall.
Aggie stroked his face and then continued, undaunted. “Papa, I’ve got a little story to tell you, and it’s a true one. You didn’t go to Africa in vain. Mama didn’t die in vain. The little boy you won to the Lord grew up to win that whole village to Jesus Christ. The one seed you planted just kept growing and growing. Today there are six hundred African people serving the Lord because you were faithful to the call of God in your life….
“Papa, Jesus loves you. He has never hated you.”
The old man turned back to look into his daughter’s eyes. His body relaxed. He began to talk. And by the end of the afternoon, he had come back to the God he had resented for so many decades.
Over the next few days, father and daughter enjoyed warm moments together. Aggie and her husband soon had to return to America-and within a few weeks, David Flood had gone into eternity.”
Cymbala, Jim. Fresh Power. Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 2001, p. 115-119.
ABSENCE OF CONVICTION THAT EVERY IMPENITENT SOUL IS UTTERLY LOST. Judge Mingins had been an infidel in his youth, and had lived with his infidel companions in Philadelphia. Sometime after his conversion he was visiting one of them, who said: “George, I hear you are a Christian now. Is that so?”“Yes,” said Mr. Mingins.“George, do you believe in God?”“Yes.”“And do you believe in Hell, and that all who do not believe in God and in Jesus Christ will ultimately go to Hell?”“I do, most certainly.”“Well, George,” said he, “does Christianity dry up all the milk of humanity in one’s body as it has in yours?”“Why,” said Mr. Mingins, “what do you mean?”“I mean this,” He replied, “that here you have been living under my roof for three days and three nights, knowing and believing all this, and yet you never put your hand on my shoulder, or said one word to save me.”How many of my readers are in the boat with Judge Mingins?Many years ago, Charles Peace, one of the greatest of criminals, was brought to justice. A burglar, forger, and double murderer, he was condemned to death. As he was being led to the scaffold, the chaplain walked by his side, offering what we call “the consolations of religion.” As the chaplain spoke of Christ’s power to save, the wretched man turned to him and said: “Do you believe it? Do you believe it? If I believed THAT, I would willingly crawl across England on broken glass to tell men it was true.”Thank God it is true; but if the measure of our belief in its truth were the efforts we are making for the salvation of souls, I am afraid our belief could not be described as vital. General Booth once said that he would like to send all his candidates for officership to Hell for twenty-four hours as the chief part of their training. Why? Because it is not until we have a vital conviction of the irrevocable doom of the impenitent that our belief will crystallize into action.ABSENCE OF CONCERN FOR THE LOST. Christ had a concern for the individuals and for the multitudes. His concern was so real and so deep that at times the flood of tears could no longer be restrained, and rolled down His compassionate face. Jesus, the manliest of men, wept. Paul, the brave, besought men, night and day with tears, to be reconciled to God.When a young missionary, who had been invalided home, was asked why he was so eager to get back to his people, he said, “Because I cannot sleep for thinking about them.” Oh, for tear-filled eyes! Oh, for sleepless eyes, because of the imminent danger and doom of the unsaved! Do the tears ever start unbidden from OUR eyes as we behold our city filled with sin and suffering and shame? Does sleep ever flee OUR eyes because of our concern for the souls around? How cold, and callous and benumbed are our souls!When William C. Burns, so greatly used in revival work in Murray McCheyne’s parish, and later in China, was commencing his ministry, his mother met him one day in a Glasgow close. Seeing him weeping, she said: “Why those tears?” He answered “I am weeping at the sight of the multitudes in the streets, so many of whom are passing through life unsaved.”General Booth received a message from one of his captains that the work was so hard he could make no progress. The General sent back a reply of two words: “Try tears.” Success visited that corps. WHATCONCERN FOR THE LOST CAN ACHIEVE “I went to hear D. L. Moody preach when I was a country minister and he so fired my heart, that I went back to my country church and tried to preach as he preached, and we had really a great work of grace. It did not start immediately; and I was so discouraged, because things did not go as I thought they ought, that I called my church officers together and said: ‘You will have to help me.’ They promised to do so, and finally an old farmer rose and said: ‘I have not done much work in the church, but I will help you.’ One of the officers said to me afterwards: ‘Do not ask him to pray, for he cannot pray in public,’ and another said: ‘Do not ask him to speak, for he cannot speak to the edification of the people.’ Next morning we had one of those sudden snowstorms for which that part of the country is famous, and this old farmer rose and put his horse to his sleigh and started across the country four miles to a blacksmith’s shop. He hitched his horse on the outside, and went into the shop all covered with snow, and found the blacksmith alone. The blacksmith said: ‘Mr. Cranmer, whatever brings you out today?’ The old farmer walked to the blacksmith’s bench, and putting his hand upon the man’s shoulders, said: ‘Tom!’ and the tears started to roll down his cheeks. Then with sobs choking his utterance, he said: ‘Tom, when your old father died, he gave you and your brother into my guardianship, and I have let you both grow into manhood and never asked you to become a Christian.’ That was all. He did not ask him then; he could not. He got into his sleigh and drove back home. And he did not go out again for months; he almost died from pneumonia.“But that night in the meeting, the blacksmith stood up before my church officers and said: ‘Friends, I have never been moved by a sermon in my life, but when my old friend stood before me this morning, with tears and sobs, having come all through the storm, I thought it was time I considered the matter.’ We received him into the church, and he is a respected church officer today. PREACHING FAILS, SINGING FAILS, BUT INDIVIDUAL CONCERN DOES NOT FAIL.”ABSENCE OF CONCEPTION OF THE VALUE OF A SOUL. A man will work harder to recover diamonds than gravel. Why? Because they are of so much greater value. How then can I compute the value of a soul?BY ITS NATURE AND ORIGIN. Man was made in the image of God, and into him was breathed the breath of God. Man is an immortal being.BY THE DURATION OF ITS EXISTENCE. The human soul exists eternally, and either in bliss or in woe. (See 2Co 4:18 1Co 15:53 Ro 8:11 Jude 1:7 2Pe 3:6,7 Mt 25:46.)BY THE COST OF ITS REDEMPTION. It required not shining silver or yellow gold to pay the price of man’s redemption, but crimson drops of precious blood from the broken body of the Son of God. This makes even the meanest soul worth saving.
As we look across Africa there is still a ripened harvest that must be reaped – opportunities we have now may not be available tomorrow. I think of the lyrics of an old Broadway song. A bell is not a bell ’til you ring it. A song is not a song ’til you sing it. Love in your heart is not put there to stay. Love is not love…’til you give it away. The Gospel is not the Gospel untilit’s given away! His heartbeat has become our heartbeat, as we begin 2010 may we understand the value of a soul. May what is important consume us. With a renewed passion we launch out into the deep for another mighty catch. From 20th to 28th February we are returning to the Republic of Congo to a remote village Lout?t?. In January we will minister in and around Nairobi, as well as spend time in prayer and preparation for 2010. We are aiming and praying about returning to Southern Sudan in May June July and August.
Family news. On Christmas Eve at about 9pm our car finally arrived. Timothy and Joshua were both home for Christmas. We spent our time together in Nairobi. One highlight was a family picnic in Naivasha in the Rift Valley.
A most striking example of the urge to win souls triumphing over even imminent death, is that of John Harper, a Baptist minister of London, who was lost with the TITANIC. At a conference held in the city of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, a man rose and gave the following testimony: “Four years ago, when I left England on board the TITANIC, I was a careless, godless sinner. I was in this condition on the night when the terrible catastrophe took place. Very soon, with hundreds more, I found myself struggling in the cold, dark waters of the Atlantic. I caught hold of something and clung to it for dear life. The wail of awful distress from the perishing all around was ringing in my ears, when there floated near by me a man who, too, seemed to be clinging to something. He called to me: ‘Is your soul saved?’ I replied: ‘No, it is not.’ ‘Then,’ said he, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ We drifted apart for a few minutes, then we seemed to be driven together once more. ’Is your soul saved?’ again he cried out. ’I fear it is not,’ I replied. ’Then if you will but believe on the Lord Jesus Christ your soul shall be saved,’ was his further message of intense appeal to me. But again we were separated by the rolling currents. I heard him call out this message to others as they sank beneath the waters into eternity. There and then, with two miles of water beneath me, in my desperation I cried unto Christ to save me. I believed upon Him and I was saved. In a few minutes I heard this man of God say: ‘I’m going down, I’m going down’ then: ‘No, no, I’m going UP.’ That man was John Harper.”
“It is God’s will through His wonderful grace, that the prayers of His saints should be one of the great principal means of carrying on the designs of Christ’s kingdom in the world. When God has something very great to accomplish for His church, it is His will that there should precede it the extraordinary prayers of His people; as is manifest by Ezekiel 36:37 and it is revealed that, when God is about to accomplish great things for His church, He will begin by remarkably pouring out the spirit of grace and supplication (see Zechariah12:10).” – Jonathan Edwards
