It was a sad day when Janie and the other missionary ladies decided we needed to send her out because the sickness had developed past our knowledge of what to do. As I picked her up in my arms she looked at me with fear of not knowing what lay ahead.
Walking her to the small plane, we laid her frail body behind the seat for the ride to the hospital. Could I ever forget those yellow eyes and the emotion of the moment that pulled deep with in my heart and made me feel so helpless?
We all wondered if things would go well with her and that question was answered a few weeks later when the plane carried her body back to be buried among the family she loved. This time it was not the warmness of a body I felt as we carried her but the cold lifeless black plastic bag of death.
These were the times that make me so pleased for all the hard work George and Bob had put into learning the language and planting a small church among these once wild people. Her husband would miss his wife and the children would miss their mother but this dear little lady would miss hell, she had believed the good news that had saved her soul.
May our God give each one of you the passion and heart to get the language that opens the door to preach the wonderful message of life to those God sends you to? How can they believe if they have not heard? How can they hear without a preacher? How can they preach if they are not sent? How can they hear if the preacher is not speaking their language?
Paul wraps it up so well, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news of good things.” I am praying you will be that person with beautiful feet.