What praying for M. . has done for me. I feel privileged to even know M . . . . I remember telling her mother that she is everything I ever wanted in the daughter I never had.
Sept.24/95 - Sunday Evening Service --
Talk on - What praying for M. .has done for me.
We first met Miriam Charter in 1979 when she was our summer intern here at Rexdale. Right from the first I was drawn to her, this young woman born in China of missionary parents.
Those of you who have read "Green Leaf in Drought Time" by Isobel Kuhn, probably know that the Lillian mentioned in that book was M. .'s mother. They were the second-to-last family to escape from China during the communist take-over.
And what a family! Her sister, Patty, along with her husband, is involved with WEC. Her brother, Ian, is on staff at the Bible College in Regina. Her sister, Ruth, is a missionary in Thailand. Her brother, Larry, is a missionary in Guinea. This year Larry & Pixie have delayed their furlough for a year in order to fill the need for house-parents at Ivory Coast Christian Academy. But most of all, it was M. .'s heart for God and her determination to serve Him in the very centre of His will, that drew me and began to kindle a desire to pray for her even after she left our church at the end of that summer in 1979.
Now, 16 years later, what has praying for Miriam done for me?
It has brought me many struggles and deep heart-searchings, and a determined longing to penetrate the heart of God. Why would praying for her, bring me struggles? Picture a scene like this. It's Saturday morning. I'm going to read for a while so I grab a diet pepsi or make myself an instant coffee. I feel a bit chilly so I twist a dial and warm air has me comfortable in no time. Then I decide to call Miriam.
Once again I'm surprised that her voice sounds so close and clear; but then, what am I hearing? She has to work at her computer, she must study, but her apartment is bitterly cold and her fingers are so stiff and sore it's difficult to force them to keep moving. The pain in her head and ears is pounding so fiercely that the words are blurred before her eyes. I suggest that she put the kettle on and make herself a hot drink -- but her water has been turned off again. She hopes it will be on soon because she has invited someone for dinner. Also, she has to prepare the worship music for church tomorrow. Well, of course, I know that it pleased God to bruise His own Son and the servant is not greater than his Lord. I know that all things work together for good. I know that God is Sovereign and if He thought it best, He could change any or all of this misery immediately. I know that old chorus --- Cheer up you saints of God, there's nothing to worry about, nothing to make you feel afraid, nothing to make you doubt. Remember, Jesus never fails, so why not trust Him and shout? You'll be sorry you worried at all tomorrow morning. --- Of course I know all these things and so does M. .; but could I remind her of them now, as this time? I could not. Could you?
But I remind God of them; and I begin to ask Him to give her that quality of joy that never depends on circumstances, to enable her to rejoice that she is counted worthy to suffer, to cause her to stand back and see the big picture of God's glory being achieved by salvation of the lost people around her, and etc., etc. But the words catch in my throat and begin to choke me. Against the background of what I'm asking for her, I see myself. I see my appalling lack of gratitude for all the blessings I had carelessly taken as my rights; too foolish, too selfish to take the time to probe the difference between blessings and rights. Then I see my effrontery in coming before Almighty God, M. .'s loving heavenly Father, and asking Him to make her the kind of person who will find difficulty, hardship, suffering, okay as long as God is glorified -- IF -- I'm not willing for Him to make me that kind of person also.
Another struggle I have is with bitterness against people who hurt her. The people she has gone to minister to, are so cruel, so hateful, so rude, so violent. A trusted friend who used her to cover up their own sin and left her devastated.
Christians in different parts of the world who have tried to undermine her, who have belittled and insulted her, just because she is talented, and a woman. M. . is so gentle and she doesn't defend herself. As I think of how much power there is in the spoken word, I recall part of an old poem:
"Keep a watch on your words, my sister, for words are wonderful things;
They are sweet like the bees' fresh honey, like the bees, they have terrible stings!
And then I cry out to the Lord for myself; Please, guard MY tongue, set a watch on MY lips.
What has praying for Mim done for me?
It has made it crystal clear to me that it's not my goodness which has prevented me from certain sins, any sins. It is the blessings which have cushioned me against cruelty, hatefulness, violence. I see in myself the capacity for all that and more. Praying for her has shown me the shallowness and hypocrisy of asking God to do more in the way of holiness in her life than in my own.
Well, with all that personal struggle, maybe I should give up praying for M. .? No way! It has deepened my longing to so abide in the Vine, that I'll have access to all of Heaven's treasures when I pray for her. We all know that it's easier to suffer ourselves than to see someone we love suffer; so praying for Mim has made me willing to stand in the gap and deflect some of the blows from her, if God will allow me to take them. Praying for her has increased my awe of such a tremendous and loving God, Who is going to accomplish His Sovereign will anyway, and yet He is willing to so instruct our praying, that He allows us to actually pray His will into being!
Praying for M. . is never boring. I don't know about you but statistics bore me silly. Tell me that thousands are starving and I know it's terrible but my heart is not often deeply touched. But before communism ended in Romania, it was as if I looked into the face of one woman and heard her say to M. . , "I get up in the dark and cold before 4 in the morning and go to the bread lineup. Women in the line faint from hunger and fatigue; but I stand there for 6 to 8 hours.
Then when I finally get to the front of the line, I'm told there is no bread left and I go home to my children with nothing. This doesn't just happen once but day after day; and now you try to tell me that God loves me!" I felt that I saw that woman and I felt the speechless pain in M. . ‘s heart.
When M. . went into communist countries, she was known only as Mary-Anne. One day on a train, soldiers surrounded her and said, "We know who you are; you are M. . , you were born in China, your parents were missionaries and we know why you're here." The fear that gripped M. . was not for herself but because in her bag was a list with the names and addresses of the pastors in Romania. If they searched her bag, those pastors would be beaten, imprisoned and probably executed.
Then later, when a Romanian pastor was so badly beaten, the Christians took a courageous stand. They gathered around the pastor's home in ever-swelling numbers, they lit candles and sang hymns, and they would not let the soldiers through to arrest the pastor. Some were punched and beaten but they would not give way. When they marched to the government office of Caucescau, holding their candles, still singing, M. . was among them. Nobody knew at that time what the outcome of that march would be. But we know now. Were you praying?
Now she is in Russia. Many times she has walked long distances in bitter cold and oppressive heat, because travel on the bus is so unpleasant, even dangerous. The people are rough and nasty. Her purse was slashed, so she doesn't carry a purse anymore. Her backpack was slashed, so now she carries her books in a shopping bag. Because she's a westerner, the market vendors double the prices when she shops, and then she goes home and washes the worms out of her rice. Threatening notes have been tacked on her door. A gang of teenagers kick and slash her door with a knife, trying to get money from her for cigarettes. Outside her apartment there is nothing but dirt and danger.
Perhaps the greatest difficulty of all is the loneliness; often intense loneliness. It's not because other workers are unkind, although sometimes some are thoughtless and some are unkind. Some missionaries have been quite helpful and the Petts have been unusually sensitive and generous. But married workers have the same pressures as M. . with language-study, ministry and just living, in addition to family responsibilities. She would never want to intrude or be a burden; so most times her needs go unexpressed.
Because I was so close to my mother, I understand M. . 's deep
concern for her mother. Three Hills is a long way from Krasnodar and Mrs. C. . is not really well enough to be in her senior's apartment; she should have the care of a nursing home but a nursing home is not available.
I regard it as a very treasured gift to have M. . share with me her deepest hurts and confidences in our telephone conversations; things which we can discuss with nobody but the Lord. Prayer for M. . is never boring. When you pray for a missionary, everything that affects them becomes so important to you, that prayer for them becomes as natural as breathing and just as vital; but never boring.
What good does praying do for M. . ?
Let me give you just a brief excerpt from her last E-mail.
(I thank God for F. . , who is a servant to several missionaries with his E-mail equipment).
Amazingly, after my great time of rest in Austria, I was READY to come back to Russia. I was dreading returning to Krasnodar but it hasn't been bad. In fact, there has been a sort of "joy" in coming back. This is my HOME now, I guess. I have sensed God is doing a special work in my life -- GIVING ME THAT JOY in being here, for which you've been praying. I have witnessed that work in my own life -- whereas, before, I just could NOT drum it up and pretend something that was not there. Even when I awaken in the apartment and I'm ALONE (physically), I have sensed God's Spirit-implanted joy in the past 3 or 4 days. Thank you for praying.
Praying for M. . has brought me closer to God and to understanding a little more of His heart with a longing to know more. I can tell you truly, that when I pour out all these things to the Lord, frustrations, bitterness, even the questions -- dissolve in the beauty of His Sovereign love and power; and then He instructs me in the night seasons. It has brought me to know that if the mere thought of M. . crosses my mind, it's a call to prayer. I've found that if I obey such calls, then the Holy Spirit will definitely alert me through the day and awaken me through the night, with a specific urgency to pray. Oswald Chambers said that the Holy Spirit sweeps the world through Christians. What a wonderful privilege, that the Holy Spirit would sweep demonic obstacles from the path of a missionary through us, when we heed His call to co-operate with Him in intercession.