The Song Released

The wife of Charles Spurgeon, famous preacher of a century ago, was a near invalid for many years. One evening the darkness outside seemed to penetrate her room and her soul. “In vain,” she said, “I tried to see the sovereign hand that I knew held mine.” As she questioned why God allowed her to suffer, suddenly she heard a soft, sweet musical tone. No, it couldn’t be a bird singing at that time of night. Then the melodious note sounded again. She realized that the song was escaping from the oak log burning in the fireplace. Had the song got buried in the heart of the oak during bright days in the past, then become locked in by ring after ring of hard wood, which only the fire could set free? Mrs. Spurgeon wrote, “Then I realized, when the fires of affliction draw songs of praise from us, we are indeed purified, and our God is glorified.” Even fire is a blessing, if it sets our song free.

Last evening I researched one of the stories for the SIM magazine I’m working on. It’s about some intrepid evangelists and missionaries from the Me’en tribe in Ethiopia. Are they even living on the same planet we’re on? It sounds like it rains endlessly for months, turning already daunting roads into slick mud holes. These people who love Jesus and other people so much that they gladly endure those miserable treks were, a mere 15 years ago, uneducated, slaves to witchcraft, and still waiting for their first introduction to Jesus Christ. I hugely admire the Me’en workers who have taken their families to live among the Bodi tribe—worlds away from all that’s familiar to them. I also hugely admire the SIM workers who first entered Me’en country about 15 years ago. The daily hardships they faced then and continue to face cast an amazing light on the puny struggles we like to complain about in our western comfort zones. I’m not sure I can tell this story as it deserves to be told.

I’m still feeling strong and good, hoping to be productive today before tomorrow’s kemo slows me down again.

Thanks for your love and prayers.
Carol