Revolution in World Missions

Chapter 7 It Is a Privilege We began Gospel for Asia without any kind of plan for regular involvement, but God soon gave us one. On one of my first trips, I went to Wheaton, Illinois, where I called on almost all the evangelical mission leaders. A few encouraged me, but not one offered the money we then needed desperately to keep going another day. The friend I stayed with, however, suggested we start a sponsorship plan through which North American families and individuals could support a native missionary regularly. It turned out to be just what we needed. The idea, to lay aside $1 a day for a native evangelist, gave us an instant handle for a program anyone could understand. I asked everyone I met if he or she would help sponsor a native missionary for $1 a day. Some said yes, and that is how the mission began to get regular donors. Today, this pledge plan is still the heart of our fundraising efforts. We send the money, 100% of it, to the field sponsoring thousands of missionaries each month in this way. Because I was sending all the pledge money overseas, we still were faced with the need to cover our overhead and living expenses here in the United States. Time and time again, just when we were at our lowest point, God miraculously intervened to keep us and the ministry going. One Sunday, when we were down to our last dollar, I drove our old $125 Nova to a nearby church for worship. I knew no one and sat in the last row. When it came time to take the offering, I quickly made an excuse to God and held on to that last dollar. This is my last dollar, I prayed desperately, and I need to buy gas to get back home. But knowing God loves a cheerful giver, I stopped fighting and sacrificed that last dollar to the Lord. As I left the church, an old man came up to me. I had never seen him before and never have since. He shook my hand silently, and I could feel a folded piece of paper in his palm. I knew instinctively that it was money. In the car, I opened my hand to find a neatly folded $10 bill. Another afternoon, I sat grimly sulking on our sofa in Euphala. Gisela was busy in the kitchen, avoiding my eyes. She said nothing, but both of us knew there wasn't any food in the house. So, said a coy voice from the enemy, this is how you and your God provide for the family, eh? Up until that moment, I don't think I ever had felt such helplessness. Here we were in the middle of Oklahoma. Even if I wanted to ask someone for help, I didn't know where to turn. Things had gotten so low, I had offered to get a job, but Gisela was the one who refused. She was terrified that I would get into the world of business and not have time to work for the native brethren. For her, there was no choice. It was to wait on the Lord. He would provide. As the demonic voice continued to taunt me, I just sat still under the abuse. I'd used up my last bit of faith, declaring a positive confession and praising God. Now, I sat numb. A knock came at the door. Gisela went to answer it. I was in no mood to meet anyone. Someone brought two boxes of groceries to our doorstep. These friends had no way of knowing our need, but we knew the source was God. During those days, our needs continued to be met on a day-to-day basis, and I never had to borrow from the missionary support funds. I am convinced now that God knew the many trials ahead and wanted to teach us to have faith and trust in Him alone, even when I could not see Him. In some way, which I still do not really understand, the trying of our faith works patience and hope into the fabric of our Christian lives. No one, I am convinced, will follow Jesus very long without tribulation. It is His way of demonstrating His presence. Suffering and trials, like persecution, are a normal part of the Christian walk. We must learn to accept them joyfully if we are to grow through them, and I think this is true for ministries as well as individuals. Gospel for Asia was having its first wilderness experience, and the Oklahoma days were characterized by periods of the most painful waiting I had ever faced. We were alone in a strange land, utterly at the end of our strength, and desperately dependent on God. Speaking engagements were hard to come by in the early days, but they were the only way we could grow. Nobody knew my name or the name of Gospel for Asia. I still was having a hard time explaining what we were all about. I knew our mission in my heart, but I hadn't learned to articulate it yet for outsiders. In a few short months, I had used up all the contacts I had. Setting up a speaking tour took weeks of waiting, writing, and calling. By the winter of 1980, I was ready to start my first major tour. I bought a budget air ticket that gave me unlimited travel for 21 days, and somehow I managed to make appointments in 18 cities. My itinerary would take me through the Southwest, from Dallas to Los Angeles. On the day of my departure, a terrible winter storm hit the region. All the buses, including the one I planned to take from Eufaula, Oklahoma to Dallas, were canceled. Our old Nova had some engine problems, so a neighbor offered to let me use an old pickup truck without a heater. The vehicle looked as if it could not make it to the next town, let alone the next six-hour drive to Dallas. But it was either the pickup or nothing. If I missed my flight, the tightly packed schedule would be ruined. I had to go now. Doing the best I could to stay warm, I put on two pairs of socks and all the clothing I could. But even with the extra protection, I was on U.S. Highway 75 only a few minutes when it appeared I had made a terrible mistake. A freezing snow covered the windshield within minutes. After every mile, I had to stop, get out, and scrape the windows again. Soon my feet and gloves were soaked and frozen. I realized that the journey was going to take a lot longer than the six hours I had left. In my worst scenario, I saw the newspaper headlines reading, Preacher freezes to death in winter storm. My head dropped to the steering wheel and I cried out to God, Lord, if you want me to go, if you believe in this mission and in my helping the native evangelists, please do something. As I looked up, I saw a miracle on the windshield. The ice was melting rapidly before my eyes. Warmth flooded the truck. I looked at the heater, but nothing was coming out. Outside, the storm continued to rage. It kept up all the way to Dallas, but the truck was always warm and the windshield was always clear. This miraculous start was only the beginning of blessings. For the next 18 days, I gained new sponsors and donors in every city. The Lord gave me favor in the eyes of all I met. On the last day of the tour, a man in California came to the pastor and said God had told him to donate his second car to me. I canceled my airline reservation and drove all the way home, rejoicing in the car God had provided. I received new inspiration and instruction from God as I drove. I followed this pattern for the next few years, surviving from one meeting to the next, living out of the trunk of the car and speaking anywhere I could get an invitation. All our new donors and sponsors came from one-on-one contacts and through the meetings. I knew there were faster, more efficient ways to acquire new donors. Many times I studied the mass mailings and radio-TV broadcasts of other missions, but everything they were doing required large sums of money, which I did not have and did not know how to get. Eventually, we moved back to Dallas. By now, I was traveling full-time for the ministry, and the strain was taking a heavy toll both on my family and on me. I was starting to burn out, and I almost hated the work. Two factors were wearing me down. First, I felt like a beggar. It's hard on the flesh to be traveling and asking for money day after day and night after night. It was almost becoming a sales operation for me, and I stopped feeling good about myself. Second, I was discouraged by the poor response, especially from churches and pastors. Many times it seemed as if my presence threatened them. Where, I wondered, was the fraternal fellowship of working together in the extension of the kingdom? Many days I called on people for hours to get only one or two new sponsors. Pastors and mission committees listened to me and promised to call back, but I never heard from them again. It always seemed as though I was competing against the building fund, new carpets for the fellowship hall, or Saturday night's Jesus Rock concert. Despite the solemn message of death, suffering, and need I was presenting, people still left the meetings with laughter and gossip on their lips. I was offended at the spirit of jocularity in the churches. It wounded me. So many times we went out to eat after I had just shared the tragedy of the thousands who starve to death daily, or the millions of homeless people living on the streets of Asia. Because of this, I was becoming angry and judgmental. As I felt uglier and uglier inside, depression settled in. Early in 1981, while driving alone between meetings in a borrowed car near Greensboro, North Carolina, all the dark feelings of psychological burnout crept over me. I had a full-fledged pity party, feeling sorry for myself and the hard life I was leading. With a start, I began to tremble with fear. Suddenly I felt the presence of someone else. I realized that the Spirit of the Lord was speaking. I'm not in any trouble, He chided, that I need someone to beg for me or help me out. I made no promises that I will not keep. It is not the largeness of the work that matters, but only doing what I command. All I ask of You is that You be a servant. For all who join with You in the work, it will be a privilege, a light burden for them. The words echoed in my mind. This is His work, I told myself. Why am I making it mine? The burden is light. Why am I making it heavy? The work is a privilege. Why am I making it a chore? I instantly repented of my sinful attitudes. God was sharing His work with me, and He was speaking of others who would join me. Although I still was doing the work alone, it was exciting to think others would be joining with me and that they too would find the burden to be light. From that moment until this, I have not been overpowered by the burden of heading Gospel for Asia. I find building this mission an exciting, joyful job. Even my preaching has changed. My posture is different. Today the pressure is gone. No more do I feel I have to beg audiences or make them feel guilty. Because the work of Gospel for Asia and the whole Native missionary movement is initiated by God, it does not need the worries and guidance of man. Whether our goal is to support 10,000 or 10 million missionaries, whether it is working in 10 states or 100, or whether I must supervise a staff of 5 or 500, I still can approach this work without stress. For this is His work, and our burden is easy. By now we had rented offices in Dallas, and the mission was growing steadily. I sensed it was time for a big step forward and waited upon God for a miracle breakthrough. We had hundreds of Native missionaries waiting for support by mid-1981, and I realized that we soon would have thousands more. I no longer could communicate personally with every new sponsor. I knew we had to use mass media, but I didn't know where to begin. Then I met Brother Lester Roloff. Brother Roloff is now with the Lord, but during his life he was a rugged individualist who preached his way across five decades of outstanding Christian service. Near the end of his life, I approached him for help in our ministry. His staff person, in arranging the interview, said I would have only five minutes. To his staff's astonishment, he gave me two hours of his time. When I told Brother Roloff about the Native missionary movement, he invited me to be his guest on Family Altar, his daily radio broadcast. At that time, we were helping only 100 Native missionaries, and Brother Roloff announced over the air that he personally was going to sponsor six more. He called me one of the greatest missionaries he had ever met, and urged his listeners to sponsor Native missionaries as well. Soon we were getting letters from all over the country. As I read the postmarks and the letters, I realized again just how huge the United States and Canada really are. Brother Roloff was the first Christian leader I had met who had done what I knew we needed to do. He had learned how to speak to the whole nation. For weeks, I prayed for him, asking God to show me how I could work with him and learn from his example. When the answer came, it was quite different from anything I had expected. The Lord gave me an idea that I now realized was unusual, almost bizarre. I would ask Brother Roloff to loan me his mailing list, and let me ask his people to sponsor a Native missionary. Trembling, I called his office and asked for another appointment. He saw me again, but was very surprised at my request, telling me that he had never loaned his list to anyone, even his best friends. Many agencies had asked to rent his list, but he had always said no. I thought my cause was lost, but he said he would pray about it. The next day, he called me back, saying that the Lord had told him to give us his list. He also offered to write a letter of endorsement and interview me again on the radio broadcast at the same time the letter went out. Elated, I praised God, but I soon learned that this was only the beginning of the miracle. The list was a fairly large one, and printing a brochure, my letter and his letter, together with the mailing, would cost more money than we had. There seemed to be only one way to get it. I would have to borrow, just this once, from the missionary funds. I figured it out again and again. If I worked it just right, I could get the money to the field with only a few weeks' delay. But I had no peace about the plan. I had always used the funds exactly as designated. When the time came to send the regular monies to the field, I told our bookkeeper to hold the money for one day, and I prayed. Still, no peace. The next day, I told her to hold the money for another day, and I went back to prayer and fasting. Still, no peace. I delayed it for a third day, and still God would not release me to use the missionary support funds. I was miserable. Finally, I decided I could not break the trust of our donors, even for the Lord's work. I told my secretary to go ahead and send the missionary money. I now realized we had gone through one of the greatest tests of our ministry. This was it, my first chance to get a major increase in donors and income. But it had to be done with integrity, or not at all. A half hour after the check had gone to the field, the telephone rang. It was from a couple whom I had met only once before at our annual banquet in Dallas. They had been praying about helping us, and God had laid me on their hearts. They asked if they could come and talk to me, and they wanted to know what I needed. After I explained the cost involved for printing and putting out the mailing, they agreed to pick up the entire amount, nearly $20,000. Then the printer became so moved by the project that he did it for free. Plainly, God had been testing me, and He miraculously showed that if we were obedient, He indeed would provide. The artwork went to the printers, and soon printed letters were sitting on skids ready for the post office. I had prepared a special radio broadcast to coincide with the arrival of the mailing, and the broadcast tapes already had been shipped to stations in many parts of the nation. Timing was everything. The mail had to go on Monday. It was Friday, and I had no undesignated money in the general fund for the postage. This time, there was no question of borrowing the missionary money. It stayed right where it was. I called a special prayer meeting, and we met that night in the living room of our home. Finally, the Lord gave me peace. Our prayers of faith would be answered, I announced. After everyone had gone home, the telephone rang. It was one of our sponsors in Chicago. God had been speaking to her all day about giving a $5,000 gift. Praise God, I said. That mailing incident proved to be another turning point in the history of Gospel for Asia. We received many new sponsors, a double increase in the number of evangelists we were able to sponsor. In later years, other Christian leaders like Bob Walker of Christian Life Missions and David Maines of Chapel of the Air would help us in similar ways. Many of the people who joined our ministry through those several early mailings have since helped expand the ministry even further, giving us a base of contacts from every state in the Union. God had given us a clear message for the body of Christ, a call to recover the Church's missionary mandate. In every place, I preached this same message, a prophetic cry to my brothers and sisters in Christ on behalf of the lost millions in the two-thirds world. Through it, thousands of believers started to change their lifestyles and conform to the demands of the Gospel.