Revolution in World Missions

Chapter 6, What are you doing here? The Bible says that some plant and others water. The living God now took me halfway around the world to teach me about watering. Before he could trust me again with the planting, I had to learn the lesson I had been avoiding in India, the importance of the local church in God's master plan for world evangelism. It really started through one of those strange coincidences, a divine appointment that only a sovereign God could engineer. By now, I was a busy divinity student in Dallas at the Criswell Bible Institute, intently soaking up every one of my classes. Thanks to the scholarship God had so miraculously provided, I was able to dig into God's word as never before. For the first time, I was doing formal, in-depth study, and the Bible was revealing many of its secrets to me. After my first term, Gisela and I were married, and she joined me in Dallas at the beginning of the next school term, October 1974. Except for preaching engagements and opportunities to share about Asia on weekends, I was fully absorbed in my studies and establishing our new home. One weekend, a fellow student invited me to fill the pulpit at a little church he was pastoring in Dallas. Although it was an American congregation, there were many Native Americans in fellowship. Gisela was especially thrilled because through much of her childhood, she had prayed to be a missionary to Red Indians on the Great Plains of America. While other schoolgirls dreamed of marriage and a Prince Charming, she was praying about doing ministry work among Native Americans. Much to my surprise, I found she had collected and read more than 100 books about the tribal life and history of Native Americans. Strangely challenged and burdened for this little congregation, I preached my heart out. Never once did I mention my vision and burden for Asia. Instead, I expounded Scripture verse by verse. A great love welled up in me for these people. Although I did not know it, my pastor friend turned in his resignation the same day. The deacons invited me to come back the next week and the next. God gave us a supernatural love for these people, and they loved us back. Late that month, the church board invited me to become the pastor at the age of 23. When Gisela and I accepted the call, I instantly found myself carrying a burden for these people 24 hours a day. More than once, I shamefacedly remembered how I had despised pastors and their problems back in India. Now that I was patching up relationships, healing wounded spirits, and holding a group together, I started to see things in a wholly different light. Some of the problems God's people face are the same worldwide, so I preached against sin and for holy living. Other problems, such as divorce, an epidemic in the West but almost unheard of in India when I first came to this country, I was completely unprepared to handle. Although my weight had increased to 106 pounds, I still nearly collapsed when I attempted to baptize a 250-pound convert at one of our regular water baptisms. People came to Christ continually, making ours a growing, soul-winning church with a hectic round of meetings that went six nights a week. The days passed quickly into months. When I wasn't in classes, I was with my people giving myself to them with the same abandonment that characterized my village preaching in North India. We learned to visit in homes, call on the sick in hospitals, marry, and bury. Gisela and I were involved in the lives of our people day and night. Because we had several Native American tribal groups represented in the congregation, as well as Anglos, we soon found we were ministering to several different cultures simultaneously. The staying power and disciple-making were what my ministry in North India had lacked. I saw why I had failed in Punjab. Holding evangelistic crusades and bringing people to Christ are not enough. Someone has to stay behind and nurture the new believers into maturity. For the first time, I began to understand the goal of all mission work, the perfecting of the saints into sanctified, committed disciples of Christ. Jesus commanded us to go to all the nations, baptizing them and teaching them to obey all the things he had revealed. The gospel team ministry I had led in India was going, but we weren't staying to do the teaching. The church, a group of believers, is God's ordained place for the discipleship process to take place. God's plan A for the redemption of the world is the church, and he has no plan B. As I shepherded a local congregation, the Lord revealed to me that the same qualities are needed in Native missionary evangelists, the men and women who could reach the hidden peoples of Asia. In my imagination, I saw these same discipleship concepts being implanted in India and throughout Asia. Like the early Methodist circuit riders who planted churches on the American frontier, I could see our evangelists adding church planting to their evangelistic efforts. But even as the concept captured me, I realized it would take an army of people, an army of God, to accomplish this task. In India alone, 500,000 villages are without a gospel witness. And then there are China, Southeast Asia, and the islands. We would need a million workers to finish the task. This idea was too big for me to accept, so I pushed it from my mind. After all, I reasoned, God had called me to this little church here in Dallas, and he was blessing my ministry. I was getting very comfortable where I was. The church supported us well, and with our first baby on the way, I had begun to accept the Western way of life as my own, complete with a house, automobile, credit cards, insurance policies, and bank accounts. My formal schooling continued as I prepared to settle into building up the church. But my peace about staying in Dallas was slipping away. By the end of 1976 and early in 1977, I heard an accusing voice every time I stood in the pulpit. What are you doing here? While you preach to an affluent American congregation, millions are going to hell in Asia. Have you forgotten your people? A terrible inner conflict developed. I was unable to recognize the voice. Was it God? Was it my own conscience? Was it demonic? In desperation, I decided to wait upon God for His plan. I had said we would go anywhere, do anything, but we had to hear definitely from God. I could not go on working with that tormenting voice. I announced to the church that I was praying, and I asked them to join me in seeking the will of God for our future ministry. I seemed to have no peace, I admitted to them, about either staying in the United States or returning to India. I wondered, what is God really trying to say to me? As I prayed and fasted, God revealed Himself to me in a vision. It came back several times before I understood the revelation. Many faces would appear before me, the faces of Asian men and their families from many lands. They were holy men and women, with looks of dedication on their faces. Gradually, I understood these people to be an image of the army of God that is now being raised up to take the gospel to every part of Asia. Then the Lord spoke to me, They cannot speak what you will speak. They will not go where you will go. You are called to be their servant. You must go where I will send you on their behalf. You are called to be their servant. As lightning floods the sky in a storm, my whole life passed before me in that instant. I had never spoken English until I was 16, yet now I was ministering in this strange language. I had never worn shoes before I was 17. I was born and raised in a jungle village. Suddenly I realized I had nothing to be proud of. My talents or skills had not brought me to America. My coming here was an act of God's sovereign will. He wanted me to cross cultures, to marry a German wife and live in an alien land to give me the experiences I would need to serve in a new missionary movement. I have led you to this point, said God. Your lifetime call is to be the servant of the unknown brethren, men whom I have called out and scattered among the villages of Asia. Knowing that at last I had found my life's work, I eagerly rushed to share my new vision with my church leaders and executives of missionary societies. To my utter bewilderment, God seemed to have forgotten to tell anyone but me. My friends thought I was crazy. Mission leaders questioned either my integrity or my qualifications, and sometimes both. Church leaders whom I had trusted and respected wrapped fatherly arms around my shoulders and counseled me against undue emotionalism. Suddenly, through a simple announcement, I found myself alone, under attack, and forced to defend myself. I knew that had I not waited for such a clear calling, I would have collapsed under those early storms of unbelief and doubt. But I remained convinced of my call, certain that God was initiating a new day in world missions. Still, no one seemed to catch my enthusiasm. Secretly I had prided myself on being a good speaker and salesman, but nothing I could do or say seemed to turn the tide of public opinion. While I was arguing that new wine needed new wineskins, others could only ask, Where is the new wine? My only comfort was Gisela, who had been with me in India and accepted the vision without question. In moments of discouragement, when even my faith wavered, she refused to allow us to let go of the vision. Rebuffed, but certain we had heard God correctly, we planted the first seeds by ourselves. I wrote to an old friend in India whom I had known and trusted for years, asking him to help me select some needy native missionaries who already were doing outstanding work. I promised to come and meet them later, and we started planning a survey trip to seek out more qualified workers. Slowly, a portion of our personal income and resources were sent as missionary support to India. I became compulsive. Soon I could not buy a hamburger or drink a cola without feeling guilty. Realizing we had fallen into the trap of materialism, we quietly sold everything we could, pulled our savings out of the bank, and cashed in my life insurance. I remembered how one of my seminary professors solemnly instructed his class of young preacher boys to lay aside money every month for emergencies, purchase life insurance, and build equity in a home. But I could not find any of this in the New Testament commands of Christ. Why was it necessary to save our money in bank accounts when Jesus commanded us not to lay up treasures on this earth? Haven't I commanded you to live by faith? asked the Holy Spirit. So, Gisela and I conformed our lives literally to the New Testament commands of Christ regarding money and material possessions. I even traded in my late model car for a cheaper used one. The difference went straight to India. It was a joy to make these little sacrifices for the native brethren. Besides, I knew that it was the only way we could get the mission started. Please understand, it is not necessarily wrong to have life insurance or a savings account. This was the way the Lord was leading my family. How the Lord leads you may be different. This is what is important. Each one of us is responsible for how we obey what He has said and follow Him alone. In those early days, what kept me going was the assurance that there was no other way. Even if people did not understand that we had to start a native missionary movement, I felt an obligation to the knowledge of God's call. I knew Western missions alone could not get the job done. Because my own nation and many others were closed to outsiders, we had to turn to the native believers. Even if Western missionaries somehow were permitted back, the cost of sending them would be in the billions each year. Native evangelists could do the same for only a fraction of the cost. I never told anyone that I eventually would need such huge sums of money. They already thought I was crazy for wanting to support 8 or 10 missionaries a month out of my own income. What would they think if I said I needed millions of dollars a year to field an army of God? But I knew it was possible. Several Western missionary societies and charities already were dealing with annual budgets that size. I saw no reason why we couldn't do the same. But as logical as it all was in my mind, I had some bitter lessons to learn. Giving birth to a new mission society was going to take much more energy and startup capital than I ever could imagine. I had a lot to learn about the United States and the way things are done here. But I knew nothing about that yet. I just knew it had to be done. With youthful zest, Gisela and I went to India to do our first field survey. We returned a month later, penniless, but committed to organizing what eventually would become Gospel for Asia. Soon after our return, I revealed my decision to the congregation. Reluctantly, we cut the cords of fellowship and made plans to move to Eufaula, Oklahoma, where another pastor friend had offered me some free space to open offices for the mission. On the last day at the church, I tearfully preached my farewell sermon. When the last goodbye was said and the last hand was grasped, I locked the door and paused on the steps. I felt the hand of God lifting the mantle from my shoulders. God was releasing me of the burden for this church and the people of this place. As I strolled across the gravel driveway, the final mystery of Christian service became real to me. Pastors, like missionary evangelists, are placed in the harvest fields of this world by God. No mission society, denomination, bishop, pope, or superintendent calls a person to such service. In Gospel for Asia, I would not presume to ordain and call the native brethren, but simply be a servant to the ones whom God already had chosen for His service. Once settled in Oklahoma, I sought counsel from older Christian leaders, listening eagerly to anyone who would give me advice. Everywhere I went, I asked questions. I knew God had called me, and much of the advice I got was suicidal and destructive. I found we had to learn most of our lessons by painful trial and error. The only way I escaped several disastrous decisions was my stubborn refusal to compromise the vision God had given. If something fit in with what God had said to me, then I considered it. If not, no matter how attractive it appeared, I refused. The secret of following God's will, I discovered, usually is wrapped up in rejecting the good for God's best. One piece of advice did stick, however. Every Christian leader should have this engraved in his subconscious. No matter what you do, never take yourself too seriously. Paul Smith, founder of Bible Translations on Tape, was the first executive to say that to me, and I think it is one of the best single fragments of wisdom I have received from anyone. God always chooses the foolish things of this world to confound the wise. He shows His might only on behalf of those who trust in Him. Humility is the place where all Christian service begins.