by Rebecca Darting
originally published in the Fall 1999 YLCF Journal
In Hebrews 13:7-8, we are taught to remember our leaders. “Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith,” says the writer. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (NIV). Whether our local pastor, a mature Christian mentor, or a well-known saint—the lives of the faithful build up our faith. Notice one key thought from this passage, though: Looking at the life of a man or woman of God helps us look to God. It doesn’t make us try to be them, but acquaints us with their God. And we begin to realize His character as it is exhibited in His dealings with others. As Westerner Christians, we are taught a lot of abstract truth in our churches, but sometimes it is hard to relate it to life. Stories of God and people help us bridge the gap. Daniel Taylor wrote, “When I am tempted, as I always am, to put my personal advantage ahead of the common good—in my home or in society—I am little moved by abstract ethical injunctions, and actively encouraged to ‘me-firstism’ by psychological-sounding appeals to my needs and rights. But I can sometimes be nudged toward something resembling concern for others by remembering a story from long ago…”
So, let’s move on to one example of one of God’s saints: Bruce Olson. Let me tell you, if there was ever a missionary who truly bonded with the people he was called to, it was Bruce (“This was my home. Everywhere else I felt out of place.”). He demonstrated absolute commitment to the Motilone Indians. “A man does not desert his wife because it’s troublesome to feed her,” he wrote. “As much as I wanted to stay away from the jungle, I knew I was going to go back.” He tells his story in Bruchko (1995, Orlando, FL: Creation House, 202 pages). Bruce, born in the 1940’s, had a personal encounter with Jesus Christ as a Lutheran teenager and soon thereafter was called to be a missionary. He left the U.S. for Venezuela at the tender age of 19 with “seventy dollars, no knowledge of Spanish, no concrete plans. Only a drive within from God that nearly everyone else thought was foolish.” After some time in Venezuela, Bruce began to be intrigued by the Motilone tribe living on the border between Venezuela and Colombia. When he heard they were dying of measles, Bruce’s heart was stirred and he went to help them. Instead, he came into near deadly contact with another tribe, the Yukos. Bruce stayed with them a few months, but he did not like them. When he left, he was only too glad to go. God would not let him off that easily, though! When Bruce tried to leave, it proved impossible, so he stayed a short while longer and during his second period with the Yukos, they became people to him. “What had seemed like ignorance or stupidity [in them] didn’t seem like that now. [I learned that] before you really understand a people, don’t judge.” When Bruce finally convinced the Yukos to take him to the Motilones, the tribe didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms. Instead, Bruce was shot with one of their arrows and brought back to their village. He became very ill and finally felt God wanted him to leave. Sickly as could be, he walked out of the jungle and—unknowingly—into Colombia. Through a miraculous chain of events, he ended up in Bogota where, after a time of rest, he again began to feel God’s call to the Motilones. The conviction was certain. He had to go back. This time, he brought supplies and established camp on the edge of Motilone territory. Two months passed before he made contact with the tribe, but when he did, he again went to live with them. It was a difficult period. He started out exchanging names, interesting the people with gags, and even making arrows. He watched the women weave, too, but realized, “If I spent time weaving, the men soon would be put off, since that was women’s work.” Bruce became bored and depressed. He wasn’t getting anywhere with language study, he couldn’t relate to the Motilones in their saving-face approach to emotions, he hated the food, he was tired of the filth. In the midst of all this, God brought one of the most precious blessings Bruce had ever known into his life: he became friends with a young Motilone named Bobarishora (“Bobby”). They established a pact—agreeing to share everything and be brothers. Bruce, who had always needed to belong somewhere, found his family in the place where God called him (“God sets the lonely in families,” Psalm 68:6). Language began to make sense to him, too, and life was more and more of a joy.
Following in the spirit of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, Bruce refrained from showing selfish ambition, but, in humility, considered others better than himself (Philippians 2:3). At one point during his stay with the Motilones, a pinkeye epidemic hit the tribe. He tried to convince the witch doctor to use medicine that would cure the disease, but to no avail. So Bruce did something incredible: he purposely infected himself with pinkeye and allowed her to use the medicine to cure him. When it worked, she was willing to use it on her own people. Bruce realized the importance of the witch doctor’s role in the tribe (she did not pray to evil spirits, but to God, in the best way she knew how) and he desired to keep her role intact. If that meant giving her the credit for the health in the tribe, so be it. When Bobby became a believer in Jesus, Bruce and he were able to share the joy of their relationships with God together. Bruce was an excellent spiritual father who directed Bobby to go directly to God to get his answers rather than going through Bruce. But there were, of course, ways in which Bruce tried to squeeze Bobby into the mold of his own culture (we’re all human!). Bruce wanted him to “witness” in the traditional way, not fully understanding that “News has no real significance to the Motilones until it’s given in a formal ceremony.”
Bobby was simply waiting for the right moment and when it came, he shared his exciting news through a lengthy song at a Festival of Arrows. As Bobby sang with another Indian, Bruce found himself struggling within. The song sounded “so heathen” to him. “The music, chanted in a strange minor key, sounded like witch music…Yet when I looked at the people around me…I could see that they were listening as though their lives depended on it.” And what was the result? That day, everyone wanted Jesus in his or her life. The gospel was absolutely accepted. And would it have happened if Bobby had shared his news in the stereotypical “witnessing” way? Probably not. What an example for us as we seek to share God’s good news with those around us. How can we best communicate so they will understand (that is, after all, the point)? Rather than only accepting one method, we should utilize every means of communication we can. Bruchko is a powerful book that shows how God equips those He calls. It is also evidence of how God can give us a supernatural love for those we are called to serve. Our life will not necessarily be an easy road (Bruce experienced many, many hardships and illnesses). But because Jesus is with us, we will make it. This book is one of my favorites, and Bruce’s example has been very powerful to me. I want to love the people I serve (whether in the U.S. or elsewhere) like he did. I want to use culturally-accepted modes of communication and to be authentic and genuine, as he was. On the other hand, it’s frightening to think of the trials he faced. Honesty makes me admit I would not relish such suffering. The spiritual grit that comes in such times both attracts and repels me.
When we see all that Bruce went through and the courage and love God gave him, it is a huge encouragement to our faith. I believe this book would be suitable for age 10 and up. All ages need to hear about what God can do in a life.
For The Master’s Use
attributed to Cornwall, submitted by Jennifer Straw
The Master was searching for a vessel to use;
Before Him were many, which one would He choose?
“Take me,” cried the GOLD one, “I am shiny and bright;
I am of great value and do things just right.
My beauty and lustre will outshine the rest,
For someone like You, Master, gold would be best.”
The Master passed on, with no word at all,
And looked at the SILVER urn, narrow and tall.
“I will serve you, dear Master, I’ll pour out your wine;
I’ll be on your table whenever you dine.
My lines are so graceful, my carving so true,
I am sure I am fine enough even for You.”
Unheeding he passed to the vessel of BRASS,
Wide-mouthed and shallow and polished like glass.
“Here,” cried the vessel, “I know I will do.
Place me on your table for men to view.”
“Look at me,” called the goblet of CRYSTAL so clear;
“Though fragile I am, I will serve you with fear.”
The Master came next to the vessel of WOOD,
Polished and carved it solidly stood.
“You may use me, dear Master,” the wooden bowl said,
“But I’d rather you use me for fruit, not for bread.”
Then the Master looked down on the vessel of CLAY,
Empty and broken it helplessly lay;
With little hope that the Master might choose
To clean and make whole, to fill and to use.
“Oh, this is the vessel I’ve been hoping to find;
I’ll mend it and use it and make it all mine.
I need not the vessel with pride of itself,
Nor one that is narrow to sit on a shelf;
Nor one that is big-mouthed and shallow and loud,
Nor one that displays it’s contents so proud.”
Then gently He lifted the vessel of CLAY
Mended and cleaned it and filled it that day.
He spoke to it kindly, “There is work you must do;
Just pour out to others as I pour into you.”
originally published in the Winter 1999 YLCF Journal
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