Hauna and Maria

This section my Grandpa titled “Evangelist Hauna from Bosgoi.” It’s actually more about Hauna’s cool wife, Maria…

I have already mentioned about the awakening at Bosgoi in the early years of the mission and the number of young men and boys who were converted at that time. Many of them became workers in the kingdom of God. One of these was Hauna. He wasn’t the energetic type, like Darman of Djouman, but he was easy going, and he did much for spreading the gospel. He sat down with his friends and relatives and talked with them, in that way getting them interested in the gospel.

His father wasn’t a Christian to begin with, so he had some opposition in his home; but his mother was a wonderful, kindhearted, Christian who was wholeheartedly with him. She was a praying woman. His father was somewhat against her too, because she was kind to her son Hauna. He had a brother whose name was Semdi. They worked together, talked, and prayed together much about spiritual things. Semdi became a catechist and Hauna was called to Gounou Gaya to teach the children and young people there.

Hauna did a very good work there. Everyone loved him because of his kindheartedness. He desired to help the people when they were hungry and he was able to win their hearts, and lead many to Christ. Physically he wasn’t strong; he contracted an ailment which he suffered much from and he finally died because of it. He was happy both when he was sick and when he was well.

His wife Maria deserves mention, also. She was a daughter of an elder of the church in Bosgoi. She, like Hauna, had a wonderful disposition and was loved by everyone. Because her husband wasn’t physically strong, as mentioned before, he had a difficult time supplying the material needs of his family. But his wife was a very industrious and hard worker. She planted and grew things in places where no one else could get a harvest. God blessed her both materially and spiritually.

When it was mealtime, there was always laughter and chatter at Maria’s place. She often entertained her family and friends both spiritually and mentally. After the meal, she always followed them to the gate to say goodbye and to welcome them for the next time. She was a great help to her husband and there could not have been a happier home than theirs.

She was, you might say, a real evangelist wife, helping both spiritually and materially. And she herself was happy. Thus, whenever life in Bosgoi and vicinity is mentioned, her name is remembered. She certainly deserves to be remembered - not only as one of the finest church members, but as the wife of the evangelist of the church.

It is indeed fortunate for an evangelist to have such a helpmate who in everything goes with him and helps him. We pray that God will give many of the African pastors and evangelists such wives as Maria. Her work and life will live long after she is gone. Whoever visited their home will long remember both his and her kindness, and the spiritual uplift they received while visiting with them.

Maria, I want to be like you! I would have loved to have been a guest for one of your meals because it sounds like people felt loved when they were around you. (I so want people to feel loved when they are around me, but I wonder how often I actually achieve that...) You had laughter and chatter around the table. What hostess doesn't want that?

And you got results: “She planted and grew things in places where no one else could get a harvest.” You did the impossible. You inspire me, dear sister! Also, I love that you walked your guests to the gate, not simply to say goodbye, but to ensure they felt welcome to return. I bet they came back as quick as they could.

I wish I had known you, Maria. I’m really glad Grandpa wrote about you. I'm really glad that he wrote about the value of a woman partner.

Three simple words

I’m going to go all out today and post a second post in the same day. :) This isn’t one of Grandpa’s stories, however, it’s one of my own. And it’s not from years ago - it’s from today – and I’m the grandparent in this one. So, in keeping with the generational theme, but this time leaping forward by two, rather than back…


This morning I woke up to three words I will never forget. My four-year-old granddaughter was sleeping on a cushion on my bedroom floor for the second night in a row, as her family was visiting for the weekend. To fully appreciate the words I heard this morning, I must begin by describing yesterday morning. Yesterday, Saturday, she woke up in a very chatty mood at a very early hour – 5 a.m. to be exact – and never went back to sleep.

You need to know that I am not a morning person. (An understatement…) Nevertheless, every Monday through Friday I must act like a morning person and get up and go to work, like many other people who are fortunate enough to be employed. Well, by the time Saturday rolls around, it’s no surprise that I am more than ready to sleep in a bit – or a lot. So when yesterday’s 5 a.m. wake-up discussion began, it was difficult for me to fully appreciate it, even though I love my granddaughter like crazy. While I dozed, off and on, from 5-7 a.m., there were numerous comments and questions like, “I’m thirsty,” “Is it time to get up, yet?” and so forth…

So this morning, when I glanced at the clock upon hearing her first word – “Grandma” – and realized it was already around 6:30 a.m., I was pleased that it was later than yesterday’s start time, although it was still earlier than I had hoped, since my bedtime occurred after midnight. Well, preparing for the likely drink or potty question, I replied, “Yes, honey?”

And that’s when I heard it. The three words that are continuing to rock my world even tonight. She replied simply and wondrously. “I love you.” That was it. No asking “Can I watch the Clifford movie?” or “Are the deer still up?” or “When can we get up, Grandma?” Nope. This morning, my darling granddaughter just wanted to tell me that she loved me.

As I was still enjoying the warmth of those early morning words, and her love behind them – receiving joy from that expression even now, more than fifteen hours later – it suddenly occurred to me. I actually get to start every day with those three beautiful words. They are spoken daily from my Heavenly Father, who loves me even more than my sweet granddaughter does. If I was so transformed by her words of love this morning, shouldn’t I be equally transformed (even more so) by my Creator’s morning reminder of love?

Why is it I seem to miss His greeting first thing in the morning? Am I not listening? Do I not truly believe His love is there for me? Actually, I think it’s because I forget... I forget to remember that He is not only in the room with me, but wants to remind me – first thing each day – that He loves me like crazy. He wants the first three words I hear every day to be “I love you” – and He gets to speak them, because no one loves me like He does. I think He spoke them audibly through my granddaughter today. To remind me how awesome it is to start the day with love. And how possible.

The story behind...

This is the second of two posts from a section my Grandpa titled “The Evangelist Darman of Djouman.”

The story behind Darman is even more wonderful. God indeed sent him to Nigeria that he might learn Hausa and bring the gospel back to Djouman. But the Lord had been working from another direction to prepare for this.

My wife and I were sent by the mission board to Nigeria, where the Hausa language is widely known and spoken; and God, even before that time, appointed men to translate the Bible into the Hausa language. When my wife and I came to Nigeria, the work of the translation was already underway. A few years later the whole Bible was translated. We, therefore, were able to take up the study of the Hausa language and the Bible, as Darman also did.

Now I see God’s wonderful plan in this. God sent us to Nigeria to study the Hausa Bible and then He sent Darman to learn Hausa so that when he had learned Hausa we were already there, prepared to help him and to show him the Way of Life. This leads us to think, and to know, that God had a purpose in His dealing with both my wife and myself, and also with Darman.

I don’t look upon it as a coincidence that we were sent to Nigeria about the same time as Darman; I believe it was a part of the fullness of time for evangelizing the village and country around Djouman, Ere and many other villages around there.

My wife and I had not planned to learn Hausa because we were planning to go eastward to Cameroon where the Hausa language would not be of much use to us. But now we see God’s plan and why He led us to learn Hausa and to meet Darman of Djouman – so that we could be of spiritual help to him and the movement that he, by the grace of God, was able to start.

We thank God for such African men as Darman, and pray that He will raise up men to continue His work so that the evangelizing of this part of Africa may go forth in strength, and many may be saved out of the darkness of unbelief, into the marvelous light of Jesus Christ. May the Lord bless the memory of Darman of Djouman.

Oh Grandpa, I pray that Darman's memory is being blessed by God even today, as I have the honor of relaying this story to any blog readers... I love that you pointed out God’s planning and orchestrating in this story - I couldn't agree with you more! It was not simply a coincidence that you ended up in Nigeria learning Hausa.

The fact that I’m even typing your words from this newly found document into this blog, is also something I do not believe for a second is a coincidence. The fact that I have met numerous people this year with connections to Cameroon is not a coincidence. And the fact that I’m planning to visit your longtime home in Yagoua in January – with a now dear friend, who I had not even met prior to August – is not a coincidence either.

God’s ways are so much more interesting and fun than our ways without Him. God has placed Africa on my heart this year, and while I don’t know all the why's in particular, I do believe it is a God thing, and I'm trusting and praying that He will use this interest for His glory.

I'm also praying, as I type this, that God is orchestrating non-coincidences, of similar scope, in your life. And that He is giving you the faith and grace to trust His wonderful plan behind them.

Always,
Annie

Darman of Djouman

This is the first of two posts from a section my Grandpa titled “The Evangelist Darman of Djouman.”

It was a treat to have Darman come into our mission station at Yagoua one day in 1929. He is one of the most remarkable Africans I have ever known… Like many others of his village, he went to Nigeria to work in the tin mines to make money. He got work and stayed there a few years. He made enough money for clothes for himself and his wife and gifts for his friends when he returned home. But, he came back with more than that. In Nigeria, he learned to read Hausa by reading the Hausa Bible. In that way he learned to know the Bible, thus accepting Christ as his Savior.

Being saved himself, he wasn’t satisfied to leave the others in darkness. Coming back to his village, he gathered a group of young men and boys around him and taught them to read. In teaching he explained to them the truth of the Bible. Almost the entire group received the saving knowledge of Christ, and they, in turn, taught their brothers and sisters. It was not long before a considerable group believed.

At first the village people left him alone with his teaching and preaching. But, as soon as the older ones realized that his teaching was a new religion, they made opposition, wrought in accusation, against him to the leaders of the village, as well as to those representing the government. He was soon brought into court and put in prison. The accusations against him were, of course, not true. But he had no one to defend him and explain his case so he was kept in prison.

That did not prevent him from preaching the gospel. In and out of prison, to the prisoners as well as the guards, he witnessed like Paul of old for Christ, and a number of them were saved. This went on for some time. He was accused and condemned to prison – occasionally freed again – only to be accused once again. But he was always happy and content for the privilege he had in witnessing for Christ in prison.

I visited him a number of times and tried to set his case straight before the government. The last time I went to visit him I met him on the way. He was coming to see me in Yagoua, and I was on my way to Bongor to see him. When I saw him I immediately noticed his downheartedness. He told me all that had happened and that he now was at liberty. I said to him, “Darman, if you are at liberty and you are vindicated before the government, you should not be downhearted, but happy about it.”

He then replied, “Mister that is true, I am free; I am at liberty to go back to my village and teach. But the captains of the prisons and the guards realized that the reason for my strength and courage wasn’t in me but in the Book I have been reading continually - the Bible. So they thought that the only way they could discourage me and keep me from teaching was to take the Bible from me. So here I am a free man, but the source of my strength and happiness has been taken from me. I may go back to my village and teach the boys and young men about Christ, but without the Bible how can I teach?” He was almost at the point of weeping.

Living until he was a middle aged man, Darman’s occupation, like the majority of the men in his village, was fishing. Along the rivers where they fished were lots of tsetse flies, which carry the contagious disease of sleeping sickness. During his time as a fisherman, he came in contact with this disease and in a few years, he passed away. He is gone, but his message and influence of life lives on. He is remembered to this day as the evangelist that brought the gospel to Djouman. Many today praise God for his life.

Freedom, without God’s word, felt like bondage to Darman. I know that I don’t appreciate the easy access I have to the Bible on my nightstand. While hardly a day goes by that I don’t read from it – I get hungry and thirsty for the nourishment God’s Word offers me – I’m certain I don’t treasure it the way Darman did. Perhaps, because I’ve never had to go without it... If you are not a follower of Christ, you likely can’t imagine how “alive” this book can be. You probably can’t imagine how it is actually God’s relevant Word to people today, and that He uses it daily to speak personally to His followers all over the world.

While Grandpa doesn’t say...I suspect, and hope, that Darman was able to get his hands on another copy of the Bible.

In the next post, Grandpa looks at God’s orchestration in “the story behind Darman.”

Engagement ring sacrifice

This is the second of two posts my Grandpa titled “The Beginning of the Sudan Mission,” written about the years before he and my Grandma left for Africa (which they did in 1918).

At the next annual meeting of the Lutheran Brethren in Grand Forks, the interest in the mission had increased and the delegates decided to spread information about the mission, and work up interest among the people. I was called to travel in the interest of the mission, at which time I had much encouragement and many happy experiences.

At that time, the interest of the Lutheran Brethren Schools Foreign Bible Mission Society was very high and encouraging. Many of the students gave all that they could and sometimes even more than they were able to. One pastor in particular contributed considerably to the Bible School China Mission Society. When the offering was taken, he never gave less than $100. I visited his church one time and his wife, in her original way, placed a bill, larger than ordinarily given in the offering, under my dinner plate, and I knew that it was a contribution to the mission.

I had many such encouragements during my traveling for the mission, and before the next annual meeting, enough money had come in for the mission to send my wife and I to Africa. When we gathered for the following annual meeting, everyone realized that this was from the Lord and it was decided that the Lutheran Brethren should take up a mission in Africa, which for many years was called the Sudan Mission.

My wife and I at that time had joined the 59th Street Church in Brooklyn. These years of depression were hard times, even in New York and Brooklyn, but the people were much interested, and gave liberally to the mission – especially the girls working in the city. (This was because at that time there was very little work to be had, for the man to make money.)

Three years ago when we visited Norway [most likely in 1959], I heard about a couple whose interest in the mission back then had been so great that even when they were engaged to be married they gave up the buying of an engagement ring and gave that money to the mission. Even today, many are giving freely to the cause...

I am inspired by the Norwegian couple’s passion, yet it's clearly not the typical variety of passion - at least not the kind that's found in a romantic flick. It was their great interest in the African mission that led them to make a sacrifice of love toward a cause they believed in. How romantic is that?! In this age of big weddings, who would ever consider foregoing an engagement ring? Yet does anyone doubt that this sacrifice brought the couple great joy? And likely many blessings besides?

As I think about traveling to Africa in late January, I can’t help but remember a prayer from my youth: “Please God, don’t send me to Africa!” Seriously, with missions in my family history, I feared this... I loved God and wanted to please Him, but I really did not want Him to want me in Africa!

My high school girlfriends have reminded me of this prayer, with a smile, as they see my excitement for the upcoming trip. Granted, I’m only going for a couple of weeks, but nevertheless, I’m using every drop of vacation time to do so – and I can’t wait! While I don’t think this necessarily qualifies as a sacrifice, I do know it is now a great interest, which is bringing me much joy to explore, and to seek God’s will regarding...

Whoever is reading this – please allow me to ask, with kindness: What is your passion? Is there a great interest in your heart? And, have you considered this interest might be a God thing? He may be calling you to some work or sacrifice which will bring you great joy – and blessing to you and others, as well. I encourage you to explore, and seek God’s will regarding it!

The first dollar

The next two posts are from a section Grandpa titled “The Beginning of the Sudan Mission.” And to any newcomers – this is from a document my Grandpa, a missionary to Cameroon, Africa, beginning in 1918, dictated just months before he died in 1963.

While attending the Union Mission Institute in Brooklyn, NY, I met and got acquainted with two Danes. They, like me, were interested in the Sudan Mission. They had attended some mission courses in Denmark given by the Danish United Sudan Mission and had not gotten to go out to Africa for that mission. When they came to America for further education, their mission board was not much in favor of sending them out under them. As I had at the time no prospect of being sent by our mission, we planned and talked about organizing a mission together after the pattern of the Santal Mission. But as it happened, one of the men became ill and died in one or two years time, and the other man then applied to a mission in Liberia, and went out under that mission.

In the Lutheran Brethren things developed also (so that they finally decided to take up the Sudan Mission). In 1915 at the annual meeting in Fergus Falls, several missionaries were being sent to China. The mission board, who knew my desire to go as a missionary to Sudan, sent an inquiry to me asking if I would consider going to China if they called me. To this I had to reply that my heart was fixed on Africa and I could not at that time give it up.

During the annual meeting some of the leaders of the Lutheran Brethren had been thinking it over, and before the meeting closed, a Pastor suggested that perhaps this was the Lord’s guiding that the Lutheran Brethren should take up a mission field on the continent of Africa. A number of others also gave the thought much consideration.

The following summer, I taught Vacation Bible School in Superior, Wisconsin. I had a very fine opportunity to draw a large map of Sudan; it covered half of the classroom wall. There was considerable interest among the school children. Several dedicated their lives to missionary work. During my stay in Superior, someone recommended that I go to Bayfield, Wisconsin and conduct a series of meetings. While at Bayfield, an elderly lady, when she heard about the mission, gave a dollar for it. That was the first dollar that was ever given to the Sudan Project.

While I’m titling this “the first dollar,” and think it’s really cool that the first dollar toward the African mission was truly and simply one dollar, I gotta tell you I’m stuck on something else I read in this section. It’s that my Grandpa’s heart was fixed on Africa (end of his second paragraph, above). As I typed this, I couldn’t help but gulp, and ask: “What is my heart fixed on?”

At the Don Miller conference in Portland last month, one question that Don asked participants has stuck with me (even prior to reviewing my notes, which I’ve still not done...). “What do you want?” Don asked. He even wore this question on a t-shirt at one point. I’m not particularly fond of this question. In fact whenever I’m asked it, I tend to either squirm or get teary. It seems that either 1) I don’t know what I want, or 2) I know but am reluctant to admit it because then I may actually allow myself to desire it and, potentially, to be disappointed.

Grandpa knew what he wanted (to go to Africa) and stuck to it, even when a church board asked if they could send him to China. At the time, he didn’t have another mission option, but his “heart was fixed on Africa. “ He had confidence that there was a reason God placed Africa on his heart, and he stayed true to this conviction.

I’m really thinking that I need to: 1) figure out what I want, and/ or 2) admit what I want and risk disappointment, trusting that God has placed it on my heart for a reason. I’ll admit I’m somewhat envious of Grandpa’s fixed heart… Yet nobody is stopping me from fixing my heart on something. Except for me. So I’ll start with the obvious want. I want a heart that knows, and is willing to declare, what it wants.

Paradox of persecution

Another of Grandpa’s stories from his early days in Cameroon, Africa – back in the 1920s…

In the spring of 1928, I made an extensive trip up the Logone River to Ham, Djouman, Ere and Kim. From Ere, I crossed over the low swampy country to the west, and arrived on the other side of the village of Kolong in the Kelo district.

Here lived a big African chief who called himself the King of the Banana. (The name has no relation to the banana plant, but this tribe was known to outsiders and foreigners as ‘banana’. This was because of their greetings. Whenever they met, they greeted with the word ‘banana’ which means ‘my friend’.) This chief prided himself by having a large lion in a den which he fed one goat every day.

When we brought the gospel to those people, the chiefs of lesser rank opposed the gospel because they knew they couldn’t keep on subduing and oppressing their people as they had done before. So they brought their complaint before the head chief saying that the Christians would not obey them and pay taxes. Consequently the chief put the Christians in a form of prison and they were persecuted.

When a preacher from America visited our field in Africa, I took him up to this place. There must have been more than twenty prisoners at this time. I pleaded to the chief, of course, and he released some of the Christians. But in time, he put others in prison again. This continued until the Christians finally fled across the river into another district. Here many of these groups of Christians settled down and today make up the bulk of God’s people in that district.

This we may compare with the persecution of the church in Jerusalem when people fled to Samaria and other places; and the gospel spread as never before. Not only in the case of the church of Jerusalem is this true but the whole of church history tells about the spreading of the gospel because of persecution.

We have continually tried to tell this to the national Christians, and they have been willing to suffer for Christ’s name in order that the gospel might go out to others. Persecution of the Christians has never stopped the spreading of the gospel. Many countries have been evangelized through the persecution of Christians in those localities.

The past year or so, I’ve become intrigued by the number of paradoxes that exist. I even started a list many months ago to begin keeping track of them. (But I didn’t keep track very well and am not sure where that list is... Nevertheless, I continue to notice them, and it seems my list would be pretty long by now.) The African Christians in 1928 were part of a paradox. For as they were persecuted and stopped from sharing the good news about life in Christ, the result was that the good news spread. It’s a reminder that when God’s Spirit works in hearts, and His Word is shared, not only can persecution not stop it, but it will likely advance it!

The real thing

Finally getting back to Grandpa’s stories... He’s speaking about his early days in Cameroon, Africa – in the 1920s.

There was a revival or awakening among the nationals in Bosgoi. It was remarkable, in that it was no respecter of persons. Pagan priests like Dangdang and Fokna, old men like Frumsia and old women like Pata; young boys like Ole and Haune, Semdi and Ware; wild warriors like Pirsu; bright and intelligent boys and girls who learn to read and write in a few months; unintelligent men who felt it was impossible to learn – all these were accepted equally in God’s great salvation. This is undoubtedly what Paul meant when he wrote to the Romans, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone who believeth, to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.”

This awakening in Bosgoi illustrates this truth that it isn’t by knowledge or intelligence, but whosoever believeth on Jesus is saved and transformed from the children of wrath unto new creatures in Christ Jesus. This awakening wasn’t confined to the village of Bosgoi only; it spread from home to home, village to village; it spread westward to the villages of Hoyang and Dachega where scores of people were converted. The gospel took hold especially in Dachega and soon there were 100 members added to the church, many of them young people.

It was a real joy to come and visit them when they had their meetings – Sundays as well as prayer meetings. There was wonderful fellowship among the children of God. Later, the gospel spread across the lake and through the woods and brush country until eventually it reached Gounou Gaya. From there it later could spread to the surrounding areas…

Grandpa’s words remind me of the power of God’s Spirit working in people’s hearts, preparing them and calling them to hear the truth and accept it. Grandpa did the physical work of going and speaking, but as cool as I think his going and speaking was – it was his God who changed people’s hearts. It was God who brought people the joy of being free from the power of sin and death. Grandpa went to share the good news, and trusted God to use His truth to change hearts.

And how does one know this heart changing is real? For me, the last paragraph says it all – “there was wonderful fellowship among the children of God.” Unless you’ve experienced that fellowship - brought by the Spirit of God - first-hand, you can’t imagine how great it is.

I had that fellowship with the pastor on the plane to Denver (previous post); I had it at the Portland conference with women from Branson and Phoenix, who I met for the first time; I have it with a man from Cameroon that I’ve never met except by email and phone (he’s in the states getting his PhD so he can go back and teach in a Cameroon seminary). I could go on and on…

It’s both fun, and reassuring, to read that Grandpa witnessed that fellowship immediately among the new believers in a 1920s Cameroon. This is not something that can be manufactured; it’s the real thing.