I have been reading a lot about Missionary Work in Africa. I think that we can learn great things from “cultures other than our own.” I have two stories to share with you this evening.
The first is about:
An English journalist who was visiting a remote part of Africa with his wife… While they were there, his wife became extremely ill. The next thing they knew she was suffering from severe bleeding, [so much so,] that she was at the point of being near death.
She needed to be in a hospital, she needed to be in a critical care unit, she needed an IV, she needed an immediate transfusion.
In the bush, there are no hospitals. In the bush, there are no blood centers. The wife of the journalist was fading fast.
When the only physician in the area discovered that the journalist and his wife – were of the same blood type, it became a no-brainer.
Blood was transfused directly from the husband into his wife. The only reason she lived and survived was because he was able to pour his own blood directly into the veins of his wife.
The Journalist was in Africa to write a story about faith in the “outer bush regions.” He was not a Christian. It was in that moment of time however that he began to realize “what” the Christian faith was all about.
He did “it” for his wife – Jesus did “it” for countless unknown numbers of people. The “it” was the gift of life!
The second story comes from an area in and around Bong Mine, Liberia. A group of foreign missionaries were stationed there – with pastoral responsibilities in a rather wide geographical area. The missionaries always went out into the region, two-by-two, even as Jesus sent his emissaries out two-by-two. It was for their own protection and their safety.
Almost like the Old Methodist Circuit Riders, these missionaries went out to dozens of tiny far reaching villages. These too, were in the outer bush areas.
The villages were small and isolated and hundreds of miles apart. There would be no developments, no electricity, no tap water, no cell towers, no internet, no showers and roads that were not easily passable by vehicles.
For the villagers, it was a rare and much anticipated treat when once or twice a year an actual pastor would come and celebrate with them the sacraments.
Just like the old circuit riders days, people would be married, baptized and given communion. Sometimes there were even burials and memorial services held…it was a very big thing.
Some villages were more welcoming than others. In some villages, the descendents of village medicine men felt that Christianity had usurped their rightful power.
They would don hideous and scary masks and costumes and lay in wait in the bush for the missionaries to arrive.
And then (at just the right time) they would jump out and scare and threaten all the villagers…sending them running back into the security of their huts.
They were known as the hated and despised “Bush Devils.” If you failed to heed their warnings – you might just disappear into the night.
As the missionary and pastor set up for communion in the mud-thatch-church, it happened right on cue.
Thump, thump, thump, louder, thump, faster thump-thump, closer thump-thump, the drums of the “bush devils” were getting ever closer.
All the villagers hid themselves and their children. There was no one left to be seen, except for the missionary and the pastor.
When, all of a sudden an ancient-stooped woman-slowly shuffling her calloused bare feet entered into the church doorway in utter defiance. Faces began to peep from their huts in horror, disbelief and then, finally in admiration. This sainted, unnamed old woman sneered into the bush. Slowly but surely the others followed…women, little naked children and finally the men.
The old matriarch put everything on the line.
When asked why she would do such a thing, she responded: She wanted the living bread that came down from heaven. The old woman with tears in her eyes, said, “She would have gone anywhere to get this bread.” This is the bread of eternal life.
If only, if only, we could imitate this ancient tribes-woman of the African bush…
If only, the bread of life and the cup of salvation, meant for us, what it obviously meant for her.
If only… Amen.