What You Think Will Change Your Life

 

[1]

Proverbs 4:23 Good News Translation

²³ Be careful how you think; your life is shaped by your thoughts.

 

Solusi, the first Adventist mission station amongst non-Christian peoples, was founded in 1894 about 30 miles west of Bulawayo, the second largest city in Zimbabwe, Africa. Elder William Harrison Anderson moved to Solusi about a year later to replace several of the first missionaries, many of whom had died of malaria and are buried on the campus of what is now Solusi University. He was about 25 years old and stated he would take quinine to battle the malaria, in spite of council against using it as a drug for humans. By 1901 he and his wife Nora Haysmer were the only missionaries left at Solusi. The other missionaries were either dead or had moved on.

He spent 50 years as a missionary in Africa. About the malaria, he is quoted as saying, “Ellen White or no Ellen White, I’m going to take quinine.” She later supported his choice and remarked that she had not been talking about the use of quinine for curing malaria. While teaching at Solusi and Rusangu that he later founded in Zambia, he found that students would start attending classes but would give up after the novelty wore off. He is credited with taking a sjambok, or hippo-hide whip, to drive the students into class. In support of this he quoted Christ’s parable of the feast where he sent his servant to “go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled.”

To eliminate lice, he shaved all of the students’ heads, which became the common practice in almost all of the missionary and government schools in Africa. One young fellow had a lock of hair that was over a foot long. When Anderson went to shave his head, he protested that the witch doctor had told him not to cut that lock—if he did, he would surely die. Anderson told him that the Lord was stronger than any witch doctor’s curse and shaved the lock off. Within a few days the fellow was dead! It was determined that he died of malaria—but he was dead. As our verse teaches us, “Be careful how you think; your life is shaped by your thoughts.” Of course, all of the animists in the area were sure that his death was on account of the curse. Animism is the major religion of Africa. Even Christians and Muslims often follow what they believe their ancestors tell them today.

Satan’s first lie to the human race was when he told Eve “That's not true; you will not die. God said that because he knows that when you eat it, you will be like God and know what is good and what is bad.” [2] This doctrine of Satan is the foundation of animism. Anyone who subscribes to this doctrine can be deceived easily by having evil spirits impersonate the departed soul and continue Satan’s deception on the unsuspecting victim. This lie of Satan is perpetuated in many Christian churches that teach that when people die, their spirit goes to heaven, and they spend their time looking back to earth to see what foolish things their former loved ones are doing with their earthly lives. It is then but a small intellectual leap to consider that the departed can communicate with the living—and, voila, Christians are sucked down into animism: direct manipulation by the evil one.

Lord! Preserve us from Satan’s trap of believing that at least part of us continues to live after we die.

 

 

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[1] http://animismspirit.weebly.com/uploads/5/7/3/3/57336339/3757006.jpg?1439982013

[2] Genesis 3:5 GNT

Sing and Shout

[1]

Psalm 95:1-2 World English Bible

95 Oh come, let’s sing to Yahweh.
    Let’s shout aloud to the rock of our salvation!
² Let’s come before his presence with thanksgiving.
    Let’s extol him with songs!

 

At Solusi in Zimbabwe and at Rusangu in Zambia and in many other churches in the newly independent republics in Africa, I had my soul transported into the grace and love of God by the singing. The people sang in full four-part harmony. They sang with deep spiritual joy that was entirely contagious.

As a kid I remember how we sang joyfully and forcefully enough to make the windows rattle. We loved those songs that were joyful, that had loud chords and praised the Lord.

Then I came to Ikizu in Tanzania. Most kids refused to sing. Those who did sang as though they were singing a dirge. It was as if they were forced to sing. They reminded me of the ancient Israelites who were marched off in chains to Babylon. They hung their harps on the bushes and sat and wept on the shores of the Euphrates.[2] Their captors expected them to sing, but, of course, they couldn’t

Then Pastor Mbwana joined the school. He evidently saw what I saw. However, he knew what to do to remedy the situation. He had a repertoire of Swahili gospel songs all set to the much-loved folk tunes of the people.

Suddenly the students came to life. Their singing was joyous and heartfelt. They made the walls reverberate. My heart leapt for joy. I must admit that the alien, to me, music made me do a double take. I felt alienated, strange. Was this really Christian music? This was music glorifying the gospel. It just wasn’t western type music. I decided to embrace it.

Many of my fellow missionaries, however, were shocked to their core. My music appreciation never has been very cultural or classical, so I didn’t resonate with their horror. They wanted to put a stop to it before it got out of hand. There was a distinct beat to the new music. Those who had long taught and been taught about the evils of Rock and Roll feared it might lead to that. I talked with them and pointed out to them the beautiful change that had come over the students’ singing and themselves. This finally got them to hold off their criticism and wait to see what would become of it.

Thank you, Lord, that Your salvation reaches all people in their own setting.

  

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[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=er1F8AvJBfk

[2] Psalm 137

Pioneer African Educator

 

Ecclesiastes 3:11

GOD’S WORD Translation (GW)

¹¹ It is beautiful how God has done everything at the right time. He has put a sense of eternity in people’s minds. Yet, mortals still can’t grasp what God is doing from the beginning to the end of time.

C. Fred Clarke, my father, worked as a missionary educator in Africa for 42 years, starting in 1936. He loved Africa. He worked in South Africa for the first 18 of those years. He picked up enough Afrikaans so that he could communicate in it. This helped endear him to the people there. His sons were born in Africa. In 1974 he buried his first wife in Zimbabwe, just six weeks before they were to retire to the U.S.

He had pretty much a type A personality. Working in Africa north of the Limpopo helped him rein in his impatience. Africa is not to be pushed or hurried, ever. When people come to you about a problem, they normally will not broach the subject until they have enquired about your health and fortunes as well as that of your family and apprised you of their health and fortunes. This could take a half day to explore to the fullest. Only then will they bring up the topic of their mission.

Dad’s years in South Africa were used in developing a strong science program at Helderberg College. Under his leadership scores of his students were prepared to step into the rigorous medical program at the University of Cape Town and from thence branch out all over the southern sub-continent of Africa as doctors and hospital administrators. The rest of his years in Africa were spent founding Solusi University in Zimbabwe and carving a new school, Rusangu High School, out of virgin bush in Zambia. Rusangu has since continued to evolve into Rusangu University. Solusi has become a premier University while Helderberg has languished somewhat due to indifferent leadership. But it, too, has the potential to redeem itself and become a university in its own right. Dad firmly believed in the soon return of Christ, but his planning was long range—for eternity.

After my mother died and was buried at Solusi, Dad returned to America. He sought out an old college classmate and proposed to her: “Would you be willing to go to Africa with me for two years?” She accepted and became his worthy companion for another 28 years.

The picture shows C. Fred and his second wife Helen in their retirement.

May my endeavors and plans also be guided by eternity, O Lord, the initiator and inhabitant of eternity.

 

 

 

 

Keep Still and Let God Handle It

 

[i]

Exodus 14:14 

Good News Translation (GNT)

¹⁴ The Lord will fight for you, and all you have to do is keep still.”

 By May 1967 we had been staying with my parents near Monze, Zambia, for 9 weeks awaiting our visas to get into Tanzania. Finally, they had arrived—in Livingston, 180 miles away. I took the train down there from Rusangu, and first thing in the morning I stepped into the immigration office. The office was huge with one small tidy desk. The officer behind it was brisk. He took my passports and said, “Come back at 4:00, and I’ll have them for you.” Four o’clock was closing time.

 At 3:30 I returned. The officer was still brisk. “Sorry, I couldn’t get your numbers today. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” I told him I didn’t have any more money to stay there and still catch the train back to Rusangu. He understood, but I’d have to come back tomorrow. Looking around, I saw one straight-backed chair over against the wall on one side of the office. I quietly went to it, sat down, and prayed—silently.

About five minutes before closing, a man walked in and asked for clearance for his truck load of building materials. The officer was brisk. He leafed through a neat pile of papers on one side of his desk, pulled one out, and looked at it briefly. “Sorry, it’s not ready. Come back tomorrow.”

 “But sir, I’ve been coming back for 13 days now.” The driver tried to explain.

 The officer was abrupt: “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looked away; the interview was over. 

 I sat there quietly. It was obvious that the officer was awaiting a bribe. Even if I wanted to give him one, I certainly didn’t have the money to do so. For another 45 minutes I sat—and prayed. I had no idea what else I could do. Even though the office was closed, the officer sat there equally quiet, ignoring me. Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. “What’s the number on Clarke?” he asked. “Thank you!” He picked up my passports, opened and stamped them, writing in a number. Then he looked at me. “They are finished now! You can take them.” He held them out to me.

“Thank you very much!” I stood up briskly, took them, and walked out the door.

Thank You, Lord, for fulfilling Your promise to fight for me while I am forced to be still.

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[i] https://cpl.org/services/travel/passports/

A Shield Around Us

[i]

Psalm 3:3 

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

³ But You, Lord, are a shield around me,
my glory, and the One who lifts up my head.

It had been a long day in Lusaka, Zambia. I was driving the Ford Taunus south on the Great North Road towards Monze, with my wife and my mom and dad aboard. There was no one else on the road as we started into a long gentle curve. Then coming towards us we saw another car. It was obviously drifting onto our side of the road. I slowed down and moved over onto the dirt shoulder, and still he came over towards us. I yelled at him, “Get over on your own side of the road.” A lot of good that did! He couldn’t hear me.  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, but there was nothing I could do. He struck the side of the car and pushed us down the embankment and into the ditch on our side of the road. The car rolled over onto it’s top. The sideways push stuffed grass inside the tires.

The four of us got out of the car and stood wondering what to do. The sleepy driver of the other car drove on, or tried to. However, he had damaged his car sufficiently to stall the engine. He got out and shuffled over to us. We were clustered in a bunch staring at the car with its four still-turning wheels pointing skywards. He stood there looking at this wreck and said, “My car won’t run. There’s nothing wrong with yours. Why don’t you drive down and get some help for me?” His breath reeked of alcohol.

We flagged down a car that was going south, and the driver took my mom and my wife with him into the next town. He, too, smelt of alcohol, and Mom rode in semi-terror that he would also have a wreck. They sent a tow truck back to fetch Dad and me. We felt extremely thankful to the Lord that He was truly a shield around us. This was before cars had seatbelts, yet no one complained of injury. My eyes were scratchy, and we wondered if some glass fragments from the smashed windshield had gotten in them. The hospital kept me overnight for observation. Fortunately, my eyes were fine. Although the car was a complete write off, we were all safe.

Thank You Lord, that you indeed build a shield around us, even when we don’t deserve it.

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[i] http://www.car-accidents.com/2007-auto-crash-story/11-18-07-upside-down-crash.html

From Lusaka to Harare--Almost

[i]

Galatians 1:8, 9

King James Version

But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, if any man preach any other gospel unto you than ye have received, let him be accursed.

Hitchhiking from Lusaka, Zambia, to Bulawayo, Southern Rhodesia, I caught a ride in a little, old gray Hillman. The driver, a kindly man old enough to be my father, stopped and offered me a ride as far as Salisbury, now Harare, Zimbabwe. I accepted gratefully, tucked my suitcase in the boot (trunk), and climbed into the front seat next to him. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and spoke of our various occupations. I was selling Christian books in the Copper belt region of Zambia to earn my way through Helderberg College. I forget his actual occupation, but he was a leader in the Jehovah’s Witnesses in Zambia.

After an hour or two we started down the escarpment into the Zambezi River valley. Suddenly a great, tropical thunderstorm burst upon us. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and the rain came down so heavily that we couldn’t see beyond the bonnet (hood) emblem of the car. He found a spot on the shoulder and pulled over to let the rain ease off.

While we sat there he started talking very earnestly about the doctrines he held so dear. One of the topics he spoke about at length was the eight New Testament verses that Protestant pastors use to support their keeping Sunday, the Catholic holy day. I had been exposed to those verses previously and countered with proofs he couldn’t contest that none of them supported a change of the holy day to Sunday. Another was the Arian heresy that Christ was merely a good man and not divine. Again I countered with Scriptural evidence that indeed Christ is God.

We drove down and across the mighty Zambesi and on up the escarpment on the other side. As we travelled he went through the major doctrines of the Witnesses, and I very ably countered each one. I confess that at the time I was not a believing Christian and was doing it purely for the joy of intellectual debate. My knowledge of Scripture clearly matched his and was probably better. My speech exhibited neither Christian love nor concern for his soul. On the other hand, he was really pleading with me for my soul.

Eventually I had angered him beyond what any God fearing person should ever do. Hours from Salisbury there was a Sinoia Hotel made for travelers who would stop for the night or at least for some liquid refreshment along their journey. The Hotel was well off the road, but he stopped along the shoulder, got out, and took my suitcase and placed it firmly on the ground. “You’re getting out here!” he commanded. I did.

The exuberance of besting a knowledgeable opponent lasted a long time. But the shame and remorse of misrepresenting my gracious Savior has lasted longer. The poor man did not understand the grace of Christ, and it should have been my responsibility to convey this to him. Unfortunately at the time I had no better understanding of grace than he did.

Thank You, Lord, for Your limitless grace and love for all of us, JW’s included. May I not be accursed because I teach “another gospel”!

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[i] https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2369/5715069061_6b1f693e34_b.jpg