Listen to Post

D6. VARIOUS MINISTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS

.

HATFIELD CHRISTIAN CHURCH NORTH, THE CHILDREN’S HOME AND OTHER EXPERIENCES

Hatfield Christian Church had by that time grown to some twelve thousand members spread over all of greater Pretoria and had appointed pastors over each of its four congregational areas. Our area, north of the Magaliesberg mountain range, had also grown to such an extent that the Steering Committee decided that it was to manage its own affairs and so the independent congregation of Hatfield Christian Church North was established for the northern suburbs.

Our Steering Committee bought a large piece of ground and erected a church building, complete with offices, a minor hall and two conference rooms. The main auditorium could accommodate approximately five hundred people but, within a short time, it had to be enlarged to seat more than one thousand.

While the building of our facilities was in progress, an office was set up in an existing old building on site. A lady was appointed as a full-time secretary and I took care of condensing the pastor’s teachings which he presented during special classes. After approval these were then printed and handed out. This job appealed to me and laid the foundation for work the Lord would later on want me to do. I also did some practical work like building a volleyball court, etc.

The work I did at the church, brought in some small income, but we realised that I would have to do much more to meet our needs. Though our elder son was by that time, earning an income and providing for his own needs, the younger one was doing a two-year diploma course and after that proceeded to do his degree in electronics. The Lord most graciously provided for him by way of a bursary in the form of a monthly salary and he was staying with us, but still needed financial support. We were also very actively engaged in spiritual ministry in our congregation and for that, if for no other reason, had to maintain a certain level in our standard of living.

The first thing I did was to establish a vegetable garden under shade netting. Once it had been established, Martie took over the daily care for it and grew a variety of vegetables. Some we sold to businesses in the area. This was a good hobby but we did not benefit much financially.

I tried my hand at several other occupations and businesses like the building of steel furniture which looked good and sold well but was not very profitable. I realised that I either had to produce these in bulk or build “exotic” items which would each sell at a very high price to ensure a reasonable income. We also had an aviary with African Greys and cockatiels (Lutinos) of which the latter bred exceptionally well and also sold well. I was very fond of these birds and would have enjoyed having an aviary for the rest of my life, but again, doing it on small-scale rendered only a small-scale profit. Another thing we tried was to set up a nursery of indigenous trees. At a certain point in time, we had 20,000. We did a very good job in growing them, but I had no talent as a businessman and absolutely hated the marketing side. As can be imagined, these projects amounted to a lot of work and rendered very little income. We were living on what remained of the lump sum I had received from the Department of Education after the smallholding we had bought and the house we had erected were paid for in cash. I still did not feel free to go into full-time secular employment for that would be to finally close the door on the spiritual calling on my life.

So what I did was to offer myself for full-time employment in our congregation, which the Steering Committee accepted and in consequence appointed me as an administrative officer and supervisor over the amenities and terrain. Soon afterwards a full-time treasurer and youth pastor were appointed. Pastor François van Niekerk continued serving with Hatfield Christian Church East but attended to our congregation two days per week. I quite enjoyed this work which fitted in well with the spiritual work Martie and I were doing in the congregation.

MARTIE’S NURSING OF MRS VON STADEN

While I was thus engaged, Martie, for a while, nursed Mrs von Staden (wife of Mr von Staden the earlier Director of the Dorothea Mission where we had served for ten years.) The following is her account of the service she rendered:

“After my resignation from Carina Fashions in December 1990, Mrs.von Staden’s children contacted me, asking whether I would be willing to nurse their mother. Mr. von Staden had passed away a few years before and she was staying with her youngest son. She was physically and mentally in a bad state and needed to be taken care of during the day while her son was at work. They had a female servant, namely Louisa, who took care of the cleaning of the house, did the washing and was staying on the premises.

As we had come a long way with the Dorothea Mission, and especially with Mr and Mrs von Staden (Oom Hans and Tannie Lettie) I, and also Ben, felt that it would be the right thing to do. It would also be an extra income for us since I was at home at that stage. To do so, I had to leave home very early every morning and had to travel a long distance to Waterkloof. On my arrival, Louisa was already attending to her. Mrs. Von Staden could, at this stage not recognise anybody anymore.

She was in a wheel chair, but sometimes got up and walked around the table while holding on to it. On seeing me she would not allow me to get near to her but scurried around the table, trying to escape from me. I would then go up to her, give her a hug and tell her over and over who I was. Then she relaxed and calmed down. The next step was to wash and dress her and get her ready for breakfast. She got very upset when I tried to wash her, refused and stamped with her foot saying: “You are a devil.” I would then pray for wisdom, asking the Lord what to do and what to say to her. Sometimes I would just give her a hug, saying: “No, Tannie Lettie, I am not a devil, I am saved by the Blood of Jesus, and I am a child of God”. At this she would look at me, cup my face in her hands, smile and say: ‘My darling’.

When all this was accomplished, I prepared breakfast. She would be sitting at the opposite end of the table, watching every movement I made. Sometimes I might ask: ‘Tannie Lettie, do you know who I am?’ She would just stare at me and it would be clear that there was no recognition at all. I would then try to help her by repeating: ‘I am Martie Lubbe, wife of Ben Lubbe’, etc. She would repeat every word after me, probably not grasping anything at all, yet, in the end, offering me that sweet smile again, and I would just go to her, and give her a hug.

Once I had prepared breakfast, the two of us would eat together. She was unable to eat by herself and I had to feed her. Sometimes she refused to be fed. I never forced her to do so and went on with my own breakfast, while she was just staring at me. Then, after a while, she would give me a big smile and I was able to feed her again. By 3 to 4 pm I would put her to bed and leave for home.

It was not easy for me to see her in such a state. This woman of God who had played such a major role to promote His Kingdom and had been a role model to us as students, had become so totally helpless and in a sense, had become a total stranger to me. I enjoyed caring for her, because it was as if I was caring for my own dear mother. I nursed her for nearly two years until she was admitted to a hospital where she could receive more intensive care. Shortly after being admitted, the Lord took her to be with Him.”

MARTIE’S TERM WITH A CHILDREN’S HOME

Martie also served in a home for destitute and unruly children. The following is her account of that period of her life:

“During July, 1992, Ben mentioned to me that he felt that I should apply for a post at a certain institution for destitute and unruly children. I had no desire to do so for working with other people’s children, did not appeal to me. However we prayed about it and I then went for an interview. I had to pass a verbal test of questions on how to handle situations that might arise when dealing with children coming from broken homes. This lasted for a couple of hours. I was very nervous, but trusted the Lord to give me the correct answers. To top it all, I was still uncertain as to whether that was the place I wanted to be, but committed myself to Him in prayer. A couple of days later, I was informed that my application had been approved and so, on the first of August, 1992 I took up employment and was assigned alternately to two girls sections; the one accommodating girls from grades one to seven and the other covering grades eight to twelve.

The smaller children were mostly from broken homes, while the older ones were placed there because of their unruly behaviour. This might have been brought about by a stepmother or stepfather’s harsh and unfair treatment causing them to elope from home every now and then. Others were drug addicts whose behaviour got so bad that the parents just could not handle them anymore. At times I had up to forty girls in my section for whom I had to care, for whom I had to be a mother in shifts of twelve hours per day. These older girls all had one thing in common and that was that they resented any form of discipline. Many of them were very dangerous and on several occasions assaulted the staff when their anger got the better of them. On one occasion, during a night shift, the lady in charge was struck on the head with a glass bottle, robbed of her keys by a number of girls who then unlocked the outer door and escaped from the institution. I was warned by my seniors to take care, but by God’s grace nothing serious ever happened to me. I normally had good relationships with all the children and also with the boys when, at times, I was appointed to supervise their section.

When a child did something wrong, especially something that endangered the other children or the staff, orders were that they had to be put in the ‘lock-up’ adjoining the supervisor’s office so that an eye could be kept on them. The lock-up was separated from the office by a security gate and a solid wooden door. On a certain day I had to commit three older girls to the “lock-up” for serious transgressions. At a certain point I had to go to the Superintendent’s office in the main building just a short distance from my office.

On returning, I immediately noticed something to be wrong because both the windows of the ‘lock-up’ were closed and the curtains drawn. I ran to my office and unlocked the lock-up’s wooden door to check what was going on inside, but was unable to open it since it had apparently been barricaded from the inside. Realising that something very serious was happening inside that room, that they had probably set fire to something, I ran outside, shouting at the boys to bring me the hosepipe, then used it to smash the window panes of the room. As the boys opened the tap, I stuck the hosepipe through the broken window in an attempt to quench the fire. In the meantime my seniors were alerted and came to the rescue. With the assistance of the boys, we finally managed to open the barred door and gained entrance into the ‘lock-up’. The room was dense with black, swirling smoke caused by two smouldering mattresses. The three girls were lying on the floor, breathing, but unconscious, their nostrils blackened by the smoke they had inhaled. By this time the Superintendent had phoned an ambulance that soon turned up and took them to hospital, one of them being in a very serious condition. By God’s grace all three recovered after some days of treatment. As for me; it also took me some days to recover from this traumatic experience.

Many of these older children experienced extremely high levels of anger; anger at those that had in some way in the past wronged them in some or other way; anger at themselves and anger at life itself. When this inner turmoil reached a peak it would boil over into unbelievable deeds of aggression directed at material things around them, at other people and even at themselves. A girl of sixteen years that I had to confine to the ‘lock-up’ for some days, got so upset during that period that she broke the ceramic toilet bowl (pot) into pieces with her bare hands. In her fury she must have opened herself to demonic possession that gave her such supernatural strength for she was just an ordinary frail girl and could not have done it in her own power.

Frustration and anger often caused the children to injure themselves, as did the demonic of Gadara. Once, on returning to my office I was shocked to see the two girls who were locked up, standing behind the security door, covered with blood. They had cut their arms and legs from top to bottom with razor blades that had probably been handed to them through the open window. As they stood there, blood was still dripping from their bodies onto the floor so that they were actually standing in puddles of their own blood. Though they must have been in considerable pain, they were still spiteful towards me and I had to use all my abilities of persuasion to get them to hand me the blades they had been using. Sometimes such children would even break a razor blade in two and hide one half underneath their tongues.

We of course also continually had to be watchful for those that would try to escape. Not even our sky-high fence, topped with razor wire prevented them from doing so. What they did was to drape a mattress or duvet over the top and then scale the fence. Sometimes they were cut in the process but that did not deter them. Even girls escaped in this way.

What upset me most was when they cursed me for disciplining them. I remember one night when, after leaving the premises on my way home, I stopped the car and sat there crying my heart out because of the things they had said to me while I was just doing my duty and trying to help them as best I could. The next morning as I sat in my office, the girl who had said those terrible things to me the previous day, came to me and apologised in all sincerity for what she had said. I got up, wrapped my arms around her, pressed her tightly to me and told her that I forgave her.

What helped me greatly during those years, was that I could return home and share my pain and frustration with a loving, understanding husband who would then comfort me and pray for me. This enabled me to continue at the Children’s home for such a long period of time.

One afternoon, a girl aged sixteen, just disappeared. I reported it to my supervisor but had no peace of mind and just knew in my heart that I had to find her very soon or it would be too late. I called on all the boys and girls to help me search for her but, without success. Frantic with worry, I returned to her room, noticed that her cupboard had been pulled away from the wall and as I looked behind it, found her hanging from an electric cord around her neck, already blue in the face. I thought I had been too late but screamed for others to assist me and as we loosened the cord and let her down, we were relieved to discover that she was still breathing and soon afterwards an ambulance took her away. The Lord Who had guided me to return to the room looking for her, also heard my prayers, touched her and within a couple of days she was back with us. God still had a plan for her life. I was actually amazed that she had tried to take her own life for she had been one of those children that had never given me any trouble and was in fact attending a normal secondary school without causing any problems. Some days after this incident, I sat with her for hours (I was working from 7am to 7pm) explaining the Gospel and finally leading her to the Lord Jesus Christ in prayer. Because of her attempted suicide, she was subsequently admitted to the Weskoppies mental hospital for treatment for a certain period. I often visited her while she was there and was glad to note that she was making good progress. Many years later, after I had left the children’s home, I heard that she had matriculated and was still following the Lord.

I also recall an incident that occurred while I was assigned to the boys section. They had a disagreement on some or other issue and as tempers flared up, began swearing and shouting at one another, using the Name of the Lord in vain. The discord amongst them had been building up for a couple of days and I just could not stand the tension any longer. I shouted at them to stop, threw the pen and the report I was writing onto the floor and fell forward onto my arms on the table. This was their turn to be shocked, and terribly shocked at that, for they had never before seen me in such a trauma and probably thought: ‘Tannie Martie never, ever behaved like this. What is going on with her?’ Two of them, came to me where I was lying face down on my arms, bent over me, held me tightly pleading: ‘Tannie Martie, please, please, don’t leave us’!

The supervising lady of the girl’s section heard the commotion and came over to see what was happening. The boys told her what happened for I was still too upset to speak to anybody. She wanted to call Ben, my husband, to come and fetch me, but I refused, saying, I would be O.K. She assisted me to lie down while taking care of my section herself. The boys all went to their rooms, shocked and as quiet as could be for the rest of that night. The next day, Ben took me to the doctor. He immediately booked me off for six weeks for I had reached the point at which I was emotionally utterly drained and had no further inner reserves to draw on. It was the first time in all my life that I had felt so exhausted. After the six weeks, I returned to work and the superintendent, assigned me to the toddlers section (ages varying from six months to five years) but after another couple of months, I was back in the girl’s section and continued to work there until 31July,1998.

There were many other incidents and I could just go on and on relating them! One evening I could not return home after my twelve hour shift because a little boy of six years had broken his arm and had to be taken to hospital for it to be placed in plaster. On reaching the hospital he pleaded with me saying: ‘Tannie Martie, please don’t leave me alone, stay with me’. I waited there, accompanied him to the theatre, and only much later, by 10pm when my supervisor arrived, did I feel I could go home. My heart cried for that little boy, because I knew how I felt towards my own two sons, how I loved them, and cared for them. So many of those children had never experienced the love of even one of their parents.

Ben and I also ministered to the children and staff on a spiritual level. We held Sunday morning meetings for them with me leading them in worship with my guitar and Ben preaching the Word afterwards. One night, while I was off duty, I received a phone call from one of the ladies at the institution, pleading for our assistance since a situation had arisen that she was unable to handle. On arriving there, we found her as well as all the girls in her section, bundled together outside the building. The younger children were in a state of fear because of unseen things that harassed them in their dormitories. Their supervisor likewise, was in a state of near panic for she did not even know the Lord and of course had no training to equip her to handle matters pertaining to the spirit world.

What was continually happening there was that children who had been exposed to and participating in satan worship, were admitted and had brought these demonic spirits with them into the institution. So, what were we to do? First of all we called everybody together and explained to them the tremendous power of God, their Creator and that we would call upon Him to dispel the evil spirits from the dormitory. This calmed them down. We then took some oil, invited a number of the older girls to accompany us and went from door to door and bed to bed, anointing these with the oil as a token of the Holy Spirit. We also prayed to God and commanded the evil spirits to leave the institution. A wonderful peace came upon everybody and one by one the children filed to their beds. The supervisor also calmed down and so Ben and I could return home.

As we got to know the institution and its people in a deeper way, we realised that it was not only the children that needed assistance but also the staff, and so we offered to hold a day camp for them at one of the nearby holiday resorts. We were amazed at the response for just about all of them turned up, except of course, a skeleton staff that had to remain to take care of the children. The governing body even carried the expenses for they saw it as a team building excursion. We did in fact approach a friend of us who undertook these kind of camps to coach us and lend us some of his equipment and materials.

Everybody had a wonderful day, playing games, socialising and just relaxing. We, of course also had meetings with them and brought teaching in an endeavour to uplift their spirits and impart courage and vision for the work they had to do. One of the staff members was an African man that, in terms of the Labour Laws, held the appointment of shop steward. He was a real thorn in the side of the leaders of the institution for he never helped to solve problems but rather to complicate them. In the course of one of our meetings, we explained to them that we had to have the attitude of a servant in our workplace and more so when working with such traumatised children. As a practical demonstration of what we meant, Ben and I each took a bowl of water soap and towel and washed their feet, Ben attending to the men and I to the women. As we did so, we also spoke words of encouragement and love to each one. This African man afterwards testified that never in his life would he have thought it possible for a White man to sit at the feet of a Black man, washing his feet. This caused him to accept the Lord Jesus as Saviour, which in turn brought about a complete change in his behaviour so that his assistance in solving labour related disputes in the institution was henceforth sought by management and was much appreciated.

During my six years at this children’s home, I twice received achievement awards. I thank the Lord for His goodness and mercy that carried me trough all those years as well as for the rewards, but most of all I thank Him for having allowed me just to be there for that period and for what I could do for those children. During the farewell meeting held for me, I quoted Ps. 103:1&2: ‘Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His Holy Name!’ Yes, the Lord is so good and so wonderful, praise His Holy Name!

Just before I resigned from that institution, Ben managed to enter into a contract with the Church for the cleaning of the buildings and preparation of venues for the different meetings. We employed three women to do the cleaning and I supervised all aspects of this work. This took up a lot of my time for there were three to four meetings almost every night, and then of course, also on Saturdays and Sundays, but it was not as stressful as the work at the children’s home. The pastors, as well as all the other leaders and members of the congregation, were very appreciative of my work, which was such a comfort. I enjoyed my daily duties – so this again was a happy, blessed time along my life’s journey. The Lord balances our times of stress with times of refreshment so that our frail human nature may be able to bear it all.”

LORD YOU NEVER ALLOW US TO BE BURDENED BEYOND WHAT WE ARE ABLE TO ENDURE.

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

D5. VARIOUS MINISTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS

.

MINISTRY WITHIN HCC (EAST). CARINA FASHIONS AND THE COLLEGE

Now let me return to the spiritual ministry side of our lives. Because of the distance to our Church we could only attend the Sunday morning meetings. We hungered for more than that and so we and a couple who had joined the Church before us, decided to borrow video tapes recorded during the previous Sunday’s evening meeting and play them the next Sunday evening. We gathered at home for this purpose and very soon other couples joined in.

We then decided to change the structure of our gatherings and sang praise and worship songs led by Martie on her guitar with other vocals assisting her, before screening the video. As the meeting picked up, we rented a large room, adjoining a café, but also having access to a small walled courtyard. Another member, Carel Berndt, a very gifted musician and a very spiritual man, then took over from Martie and led the worship team. I still recall his frustration when we were in deep reverence before God and the extremely noisy air conditioner of the café would suddenly kick in. The roof of the building also leaked badly and many of us had our Bibles soiled during heavy thunderstorms. Every Sunday evening we had to transport an old TV set and the recorder to the venue and back home again to be able to watch the video.

The next step we took, was to acquire the use of the town hall which posed quite a challenge because of the rental we had to pay. This move was definitely in accordance with the will of God for the moment we moved into the town hall, visitors from the adjoining flats and homes became curious and flocked to our meetings. At that stage, a pastor from the main congregation, pastor Francois van Niekerk, was assigned to oversee the Pretoria suburbs north of the Magaliesberg mountain range and so we could discontinue the screening of the videos, for we now had a pastor ministering to us on Sunday evenings. He was an anointed servant of God and a forceful preacher and under his ministry our meetings blossomed.

He also set up cell groups over which he appointed leaders. From then on we received all kinds of training and instruction and many of us became quite efficient in leading small groups of people. We also had prayer meetings on Saturday mornings where we sensed the sweet presence of God. What also blessed us mightily, were the family camps held at holiday resorts at regular intervals. At these healthy entertainment and sport were mixed with deep, heart searching and faith building teaching, resulting in the enrichment of every member who attended. We also had marriage seminars, workshops on the use of spiritual gifts and many more. From an early date, Martie and I were appointed as cell leaders, then as shepherds to oversee a number of cells.

We were now able to minister within our church and were delighted to do so. The ministry of a cell leader could somehow be compared to that of a leader of a home church as found in the early New Testament Church. Meetings were held one evening per week but every member had to be cared for in depth by continual house visitation and counselling. Sometimes cell groups would even go on weekend camps. However, on Sundays everybody gathered at the church for what we called the celebration meeting. Cells consisted of up to 15 members and were supposed to grow and multiply every few months. A cell leader couple that were doing their work properly, were busy people. They would also follow up on new converts that had accepted the Lord during Sunday services, organize outreaches to hospitals, homes for senior citizens, etc.

As the cell groups and shepherds multiplied, Overseeing Shepherds were appointed. An overseeing shepherd had up to five such cells under his care and had to train the cell leaders and assistant cell leaders, counsel and encourage them. (Much later, when we were appointed as Overseeing Shepherds we had some 15 cells totalling upwards of 150 members under our care – keeps you busy when you take your calling seriously.) This work was unlike the purely evangelistic work we had been doing previously in holding campaigns and doing radio and cassette work. This work was more pastoral in nature and we gained valuable experience.

Unfortunately, on this side of the grave, one has to eat, dress, etc. and we were continually under financial pressure for our two sons had grown and where already attending secondary school. They needed more and more every day and we did not want them to lack for anything because of the fact that their parents were in full-time service of the Lord. This, of course, kept us on our knees in supplication to the Lord to provide more abundantly.

We had always believed that a mother’s place was in the home to tend to the upbringing of the children, especially when they were of a young age, and so we were very hesitant for Martie to take up employment that would keep her away from home in the afternoons when the children returned home. During this period we were, however, led to accept an offer by a relative of ours. She had a profitable business as a designer and dressmaker and wanted Martie to do her bookkeeping. She would only be working from 8am to 1pm, leaving her free to attend to the children the rest of the day. This lady was a Christian and she and Martie got on very well, so Martie worked there until the lady closed down the business to attend to her own family.

One day, unexpectedly, a vice-rector of a college of education, who knew us and was familiar with our work, made me an offer of the post of registrar at his college. I was very, very hesitant to accept this for I was so deeply conscious of my calling as a full-time minister of the Word of God, that I saw this as a temptation to betray the Lord and flee from my responsibility. But what could I do? I had a family to support, and so, after much prayer and heart searching, and because God did not provide any other way out, I accepted the offer.

To do this job, was not plain sailing, for the post had been vacant for a couple of months and I had to lay new foundations on which to build. I had no one to teach me what to do or any guidelines as to prevailing policy. Furthermore, I was totally “out of shape” as far as secular work was concerned for I had been engaged in spiritual work for the previous fifteen years. During the first board meeting, I addressed the members as “brothers and sisters.” After awhile I settled down and managed to get the admin side of the college running smoothly.

I however, never enjoyed my work, for the covering department, was very poorly managed and there were all sorts of questionable practices, both in the Department and in the College. The College was also in perpetual uncertainty as to its mission within the field of education. This was detrimental to the morale of the teaching staff. To cap it all, our rector was caught embezzling money donated to the College and his successor was altogether incapable of running such an institution. I often clashed with him on issues of integrity and was much relieved when he was eventually discharged from the Department; but that only happened during the last stage of my association with the College.

In 1994, soon after our country had its first open for all elections and the ANC came to power, it was decided that our college was to be combined with another similar college. Some of the staff were given the option of early retirement which many, including I, accepted and was grateful to be released.

Some good that came from my six years of association with the College was, first of all, that Martie and I managed to recover financially and buy a house, which we later on sold to buy a smallholding where we built a lovely double-storied house.

Secondly, with the assistance of a professional computer programmer, I managed to acquire some skills in programming enabling me to write all the programs required by the College for the proper functioning of its work. These computer skills have stood me in good stead ever since.

PRAISE BE TO HIS NAME!

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

D4. VARIOUS MINISTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS

.

END OF MEDIA MISSION. MINISTRY TO A NEEDY COMMUNITY AND COURT WORK

Transparency is a precious Christian virtue and we have always followed a policy of openness with our prayer and financial supporters. For this reason we felt that we were to inform them of our baptism and membership of a Charismatic congregation. This was like a child having to tell his father that he had smashed the front windscreen of his brand new Mercedes with his cricket ball and that this happened when he was batting in a forbidden corner of the yard; there was no doubt regarding the outcome of such a confession. Like Mr von Staden, we knew quite well that our supporters, being members of a conservative, traditional denomination, would recoil from this blow and immediately cancel their debit orders or whatever other support they had been affording us. We had known this before we set out on this course but had decided, as earlier stated, that “obedience was better than sacrifices” which, in our context meant that God would be more pleased by our obedience than by the work we were doing for Him. The question was: would he provide for our Ministry in some other way?

It turned out just as we thought it would: the moment our supporters got to know that we were now part of the “other camp,” they withheld their contributions and within a month’s time we were plunged into financial straits and unable to pay the allowances of our co-workers. This was a very traumatic experience for we knew full well that their predicament could directly be ascribed to our actions. Some of them, those belonging to Charismatic or Pentecostal churches, understood and admired us for the stand we had taken, but two or three were sulky and blamed us like the Israelites blamed Moses when they ran out of water in the wilderness. (Have you ever thought about the recriminations Abraham probably endured when he led his family out of Ur of the Chaldees to the Promised Land?) The Lord also, did not to provide for us in some other way as we had expected He would, which really tested our faith, causing us to want to doubt whether we had done the right thing.

Well then, within a month or two we realised, and had the inner conviction, that God was not going to provide and that the only sensible thing to do was to close down the Mission. We shared this with our co-workers and then set out to find other ministries where they could slot in. What blessed our hearts was that some of the Christian medical doctors who got to know our hospital ministry and our co-workers, had such a high regard for them that they agreed to take them under their care and provide for their monthly allowances. In this way the “trees we planted” continued to be fruitful which was a great comfort to us and confirmation that God’s hand was over us in it all. In the end, as far as I can remember, only one or two workers remained that we had to “turn out onto the street” to fend for themselves. So when all was said and done, it was just us as a family that remained without provision but by God’s grace Tannie Gertie was not offended by our being baptised and joining a Charismatic congregation, and ensured us that we could continue appropriating her house. Had we lost that home in the process, we would really have been stranded. (During that period, for about three months, we were unable to tithe but wrote down what we “owed” the Lord, and when our income later on picked up again, we managed to pay our “debt.”)

From then on, we somehow survived on regular donations received from my parents and other relatives and, though I could very well have returned to the Department of Justice, I just did not have the heart to do so, for I was still very conscious of God’s calling upon my life and was continually looking for opportunities to further His Kingdom and hoping that he would open doors for me into some sort of full-time ministry. Since our church’s centre of activity was some fifteen km away from us, we could not readily get involved in any of its multiple activities. The best we could to do, was to travel there for Sunday morning services.

Our hearts were, however burning to get into some serious Kingdom work, so what we did was to target a community of very poor people some ten kilometres from where we lived. We visited every home in that suburb again and again, built up relationships with the residents, then started with a weekly meeting in one of the homes. How this home was opened to us, is a story on its own.

What happened was that we felt the Lord was leading us to reach out to the children as a first step and we got permission from the owner of a stand adjacent to a small park, to set up our caravan in their backyard which had a gate opening into the park. That was at the onset of a short school holiday during which the children had nothing to do but loiter in the streets. Using our 1980 Chevy and a public address system which we got from somewhere, we went around inviting the children to the park where we entertained them by organising all sorts of games in which they could take part. Then, at a given time, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, we would take the whole group to our caravan, let them sit down in the shade of a tree and share the Gospel with them. We were amazed at how attentively they listened. Since many of them were from homes where food was in short supply, we also provided a very substantial meal at midday and were delighted when many of the neighbours, of their own accord, pitched up with all sorts of dishes for the children.

On the fifth day, when we had just started with our afternoon session, a pickup drove on to the premises, stopped next to the group of children and the driver, a burly man, sat staring at us through the open window. I must say we were rather intimidated for he lived in the area from where the children came and we suspected that he had come to see what we were up to. As the meeting proceeded, he became engrossed in the simple children’s message that went forth and no sooner had I closed the meeting, when he got out of the car, came up to me and asked whether I would not be willing to hold a meeting in their home once a week. Since that was exactly what we were planning to do if we could find a suitable venue, my heart rejoiced and we accompanied him to his home to see if it would be suitable and to make arrangements for the first visit, for at that time, our week of outreach to the children was drawing to a close.

From that day, our ministry to these people opened up and we got many of them to attend our weekly meetings. Some of them walked there but we had to transport others by means of the Chevy, the only vehicle we had. On such occasions I would drop Martie at the venue, and then go on my rounds to collect our “congregation”. Apart from myself, the car could accommodate four to five people and then I allowed another three or four children to jump into the boot and drove to our meeting with the boot lid wide open and the children hollering at the top of their voices. The meeting was not all that orderly, but somehow we got the Gospel across by using simple illustrations, because the level of education and of understanding of that group was fairly low. One of the younger daughters of the couple in whose home we gathered, for instance, was mentally retarded. This ministry was by no means an easy one, for most of the people had fallen to this level of existence because of their abuse of drugs and alcohol or of just being too lazy to work or of squandering their income. The going was slow, but Martie and I were delighted that we were once more afforded the opportunity of sharing the good news of salvation with people, especially with these people who were largely rejected by society.

One could write a book on any one of several of these families, but let me share our experiences with, let us call them the Wolmarans family, with whom we became intimately involved. The father was a very intelligent man and sometime, during his younger days, had been employed as a medical orderly in a hospital in London in the UK. He had watched the nurses and doctors very closely in all they did, had asked question upon question, had read as many books as he could lay his hands on and very soon, he had acquired so much knowledge that he had managed to squirm in somewhere and practise as a medical doctor for some time before he had been caught out. He had then relocated to South Africa where he married, had had one job after the other and eventually had decided just to take it easy, sharing his wife’s income. He was totally addicted to drugs of whatever kind he could lay his hands on and even bought small bottles of Lennon’s medications which he hid under the carpet in the boot of their car. When in conversation with others, he would excuse himself every now and then, slip out and down a bottle of Lennon’s which apparently lifted his spirits.

His wife too, was a singular person. Once, when we visited them, we found her doing the dishes which you could hardly see because of the soap bubbles that spilled over the sides of the basin. On seeing the puzzlement on our faces, she explained that she had run out of dishwashing liquid and was using her hair shampoo instead.

She had a hard time with her husband, so once, when his equally work-shy sister visited him for two weeks on end with none of them lifting a hand to assist her in her household duties, she got fed up and decided to get rid of them for a while, so she could have some rest and peace of mind. Since she was a nurse and had access to all sorts of drugs, she brought some home and doped the two of them by putting some into their drinks. This knocked them insensible for a couple of days, allowing her a period of well earned rest. (I presume that she repeated the dose when they showed signs of revival.) By God’s grace they did not die and hardly knew what had happened to them when they eventually woke up.

On another occasion, someone gave her a combination double wardrobe/dressing table. It was unfortunately too large to fit into their bedroom, so she borrowed a saw and cut off the dressing table section which she threw out the back door, then placed one side of the wardrobe on two bricks and, presto, there she had her wardrobe installed in the corner of their bedroom.

In serving this community, we learned lessons never to be forgotten. One of these was to be very careful not to provide indiscriminately for the needs of people, but to ask oneself the question whether the person to whom you wanted to give the article or supplies, would really be helped by it to become self-sufficient, or whether it would just increase his level of dependency. We once gave a four-plate electric stove to a couple because they had nothing in their home to cook their food, but when we returned there after a couple of days, we were dismayed to discover that they had sold it and used the money to acquire a large supply of liquor which they had also consumed in the meantime. What I am saying, is that it is so much easier to give away a redundant stove, than to walk a distance with such a couple, assisting them to recover from their wayward lifestyles and live normal, responsible lives as God intended man to do. Some of these people were so used to being assisted, that they were incensed if the welfare people were even one day late in delivering their monthly supply of groceries. To my mind, this is helping a person from the frying pan into the fire.

Though we did not see much fruit on our ministry to this community, there was at least some yield from the seed we had so diligently sown. One of the daughters of the couple that had invited us to hold the weekly meeting in their home, accepted the Lord Jesus Christ in the course of our ministry and, after completing school, attended a seminary for some years, where she was trained to be a missionary. God’s Word never returns void to Him. After we had discontinued our ministry to that community, a nearby Pentecostal church took up the challenge of ministering to them on a physical, social and spiritual level, delivering a more comprehensive service than we had done. They had a very practical, sensible approach, kept a record of what was provided to every home, making sure that it was not squandered and at the same time continually impacting them with the Word of God. The Lord never gives up on people this side of the grave.

Finances were still a problem since we depended solely on donations received from relatives. The thought occurred to us to set up a “tent makers’ ministry” as Paul did, that would bring in some funds and enable me to give effect to the calling to do the work of an evangelist. In some or other way we managed to procure some funds to buy audio recording equipment and set out to record and transcribe court proceedings. In doing so, we had to travel long distances to the venues where the proceedings were held. Martie and I often went in different directions on the same day and at times had to stay over in hotels or boarding houses when the proceedings lasted for several days.

Martie also had to do the typing. There were times when I felt so sorry for her. Once, just a couple of days after she had had a hysterectomy, and was still unable to sit down to type, I lifted the typewriter onto a chest of drawers, in this way enabling her to stand whilst typing pages and pages from the recordings. Sometimes we had to work all through the night to have the manuscript of that day’s proceedings typed and bound on the judge’s table by nine the next morning. The income from this source was also minimal and after a couple of months, we sold the business and the equipment to another firm.

PRAISE THE LORD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW!

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

D3. VARIOUS MINISTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS

.

HATFIELD CHRISTIAN CHURCH

By now we were very apprehensive of joining any congregation before we were quite sure that we were in agreement with the doctrine they preached, so we attended meetings of many different Charismatic and Pentecostal groupings. Some were indeed very boisterous. Coming from very conservative backgrounds, we did not feel at ease there at all. At last we came to the Hatfield Christian Church, a large Charismatic denomination in the eastern environs of Pretoria where we felt at home and sensed the Lord saying that He was giving it to us as our new spiritual home.

This did not mean that we had arrived at the end of our spiritual pilgrimage; we had in fact just entered through the door and now had to sit down and be instructed in a totally foreign field of experience. We were very pertinently confronted with the question whether specific prophecies, words of knowledge, tongues, words of wisdom or whatever gift was practised, was of the Holy Spirit or whether it just emanated from the speaker’s own mind or spirit. There was only one to whom we could turn for answers to these questions and that was God the Holy Spirit Himself and He was more than willing to guide us. He also found special ways to assist me in my search for truth and often confirmed in a supernatural way that what we heard and saw, was mostly from God.

During a certain meeting, the Holy Spirit gave me a prophecy and prompted me to go forward to the ministry microphone and share it with the congregation. Since I am rather shy by nature and was, in addition, very new in flowing in the gifts of the Spirit, I hesitated to do so. The next moment a certain brother in Christ, a person I knew well, got up, went forward and brought the exact words which I had been prompted to bring. What an awesome experience it was for me! Some weeks afterwards our pastor took us along to assist him in ministering to a congregation to which he had been invited. As I was speaking to a certain young man, I shared a vision with him, saying that I saw a light plane at an airport, with ropes criss-crossed all over it and pegged to the ground. I interpreted this to him saying that God made him to be spiritually free like an aeroplane that could leave the ground and fly high at great speed to its destination, but that he had many things in his life, sin and unbelief that prevented him from becoming what God intended him to be and that he was to cut those strings by confession and by faith. I then moved on to minister to other people. On our way home, our pastor told me that the man to whom I had ministered, was a professional pilot of a light aircraft and that the vision I got from God had spoken to him very forcefully. This was a great encouragement to me, working boldness in my heart to flow in the gifts of the Spirit in greater measure.

The Head pastor of our congregation, pastor Ed Roebert, also came from a very conservative spiritual background and knew what questions were going around in our minds, so he was in a favourable position to help us to get these settled. A gift of the Spirit that causes much controversy and heated debates, is the gift of speaking in tongues. To outsiders and even to the person that flows in it, it may sound weird, like incoherent gibberish and since it cannot be studied like any other language, it could be embarrassing, causing Christians to shy away from it. Pastor Ed told us how he had, in the early stages of his discovering of the Gifts, faced the same spiritual battle. What he gradually discovered was that every time after he had allowed the Holy Spirit to utter these unknown words through him, a great peace flooded his heart, a peace he came to identify as of the Holy Spirit, confirming that this language unknown to the mind of man was indeed breathed and inspired by Him.

This brought about a tremendous breakthrough in my life for I recalled how I had uttered these incomprehensible words when I was filled by the Holy Spirit and how I had suppressed the urge to utter them for fear of the unknown and of offending the Lord. On receiving this teaching, I just opened my heart and effortlessly began speaking in my heavenly language. The Lord had not withdrawn the gift He had previously bestowed upon me but kept it “on hold” till I was ready to use it and till this day it is such a blessing to me in my private prayer life. Whenever I just do not know how to pray about a certain matter, I switch to my gift language, allowing the Spirit to pray through me as He pleases and sense a tremendous relief and peace afterwards. Oh, indeed, the devil is a liar and is continually looking for ways to deceive and rob us of the blessings our Lord desires to bestow upon us.

The gifts of the Spirit are God’s tools which He uses when and where He pleases to bless His people and to further His work. Yes, I have witnessed the misuse of the gifts and I myself have on occasion brought prophecies that missed the mark, but I will never ever again shy away from flowing in the gifts for that would be to mistrust the Spirit that inspired the penning of Scripture that applies to these.

In the congregation where the Lord put us, we also experienced the flow of the Holy Spirit in many other ways. Gone were the days when a strict liturgical order regulated every meeting. God was in control and every meeting differed from the other; no two were alike. They were vibrant, filled by the very life of God. You could sense His presence, observe His deeds as visitors broke into tears, responded to the alter call, went forward and were saved. This was a New Testament church as depicted in the Bible and we enjoyed every moment of it and, till this day, after some 30 years, Martie and I are still members of it. Blessed be the Name of the Lord. All the searching and all the trauma we went through, were well worthwhile for we had found a fountain of Living Water, the source of which was God Himself and, though we love and respect all other Christian congregations that do not share our understanding and experiencing of the Holy Spirit, we will not exchange what we now have, for what we had before.

Probably the most precious teaching, or rather training we received in HCC, was that of praising and worshipping the Lord God Almighty, the King of Kings, the Creator of mankind and of the heavens and the earth, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, The Lily of the Valley, the Bright Morningstar, the Fairest of Ten Thousand. In worshipping and adoring Him we are lifted from this world into the very throne room of God, we become part of the heavenly multitudes, we join the angels, the twenty-four elders and the four living beings as together we behold His all surpassing glory and sing His praises and bow down and worship at His feet. Our congregation worships for at least three quarters of an hour uninterruptedly before we go into the flowing in the gifts of the Spirit and then listen to the preaching of the Word.

Praise and Worship must not only be practised in church or in song. Martie and I get together just about every morning singing praises to God and worshipping Him. When travelling somewhere, we normally spend the first three quarters of an hour in praise and worship and, if it is a long journey, we repeat this later on. We do not confine it to song but praise and worship Him by reciting all His attributes and praising Him for all His works as observed in nature and seen in His Word. God inhabits the praises of His people and as we do this, we are continually freshly anointed by His spirit and perceive Him as a living, loving, speaking and providing God, Father, Saviour and Spirit. Oh, bless the Lord oh my soul and all that is within me, bless His holy Name!

What also is a great blessing to us is the fact that our meetings are open to all races under the sun. We not only open our doors to them but we open our hearts and welcome them with the love of Christ and share with them everything we receive from our Lord. They are drawn into our home meetings and fellowship with us in every way.

Oh, how good it is to serve the Lord in the freedom which the Holy Spirit brings when He is allowed to take full control!

HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH!

OUR HEARTS ARE OVERFLOWING WITH THE JOY OF THE LORD.

OUR SPIRITS ARE DAILY REFRESHED AND AT THE AGE OF 70/73 RESPECTIVELY, MARTIE AND I ARE STILL IN FULL-TIME MINISTRY.

BLESS HIS NAME, BLESS HIS NAME, BLESS HIS HOLY NAME!

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

D2. VARIOUS MINISTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS

.

BELIEVER’S BAPTISM AND A CHANGE OF CHURCH

David said: “My times are in your hands…” Have you ever seriously contemplated what life would have been like had we known our futures just one year ahead? We might have fretted terribly had we seen the mountains we were to scale and the twists and turns in the road we would have to negotiate. No, the best we can do is not to speculate about the future but to trust the Lord to guide our footsteps day by day. In so doing, He will work out his perfect will in and through us.

On parting with the Dorothea Mission, we unfortunately also parted with our dear co-workers. To make up for this loss, we sought the fellowship of our church members and in the process joined a weekly Bible study group. One evening the topic happened to be baptism by water. Our denomination practised infant baptism and both Martie and I had been baptised when we were babies. Once we became Christians, and especially when our sons were born, I came to the conclusion that I did not understand the teaching on infant baptism all that well. In fact, to be quite frank, it did not really make sense to me but since the emphasis in our ministry was on the salvation of souls, I did not make a big thing of this issue. I decided that we would take our sons to be dedicated to God and if there was any deeper meaning to baptism, I would leave that to God and to the theologians. However, that evening, when dealing with this issue, everybody looked to Martie and me for answers since we were engaged in full-time spiritual ministry and were supposed to know more than the others, which, sad to say, as far as that topic was concerned, was not true.

This incident however stirred me to delve into the Word for answers and as I did so, I sensed that the Holy Spirit was actually leading us on. Martie and I then decided to get together every morning at 9 to search God’s Word for answers. We started our study right from the beginning of the Old Testament, giving special attention to the covenant and circumcision. Then we turned to the new Testament and researched the matter of baptism from Matthew to Revelation. We came to the conclusion that both sexes were to the baptised by immersion into water after being born-again and that this was indeed a testimony as to their spiritual death and resurrection in Christ. The next step was to read whatever literature we could lay our hands on, both that which advocated infant baptism and baptism of believers. Some of the theologians advocating infant baptism went as far as to say that a person who had been baptised by his parents as a baby and would later in life have himself baptised again, was annulling God’s covenant and would fall completely from grace without any hope of turning back to God. However, we were absolutely convinced that, having been born-again, we had to be obedient and have ourselves baptised by immersion in water.

This posed a serious problem for our church was strongly opposed to its members being thus baptised and we were already beginning to sense that our ministry could also be adversely affected. So what do you do in a situation like this? What comes first: one’s ministry or your obedience to God? In this regard the Holy Spirit reminded us of King Saul who chose to disobey God in order to retain his kingship over Israel but lost both his kingship and his relationship with God. The Lord strongly reprimanded him through the prophet Samuel saying: “Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams. For rebellion is like the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is like iniquity and idolatry. Because you have rejected the Word of the Lord, He has also rejected you from being king.” (1 Sam 15:22, 23) Strong words!

We decided to follow the pathway of obedience, made an appointment with our senior minister and went to see him one evening. We were much loved and respected both by him and by his wife and I must emphasise that both of them were very godly people which made it so much more difficult for us to take the plunge. After taking a deep breath, I just simply said that we had studied the Word of God for some time and had come to the conclusion that we were now to have ourselves baptised by immersion in water to give testimony of our new birth that had taken place long ago. I also gave him a written exposition of how we had come to that conclusion, saying that if he could detect any faulty arguments, we would be relieved and would withdraw our request.

I actually pitied them for having to face such an unpleasant situation. He got very upset and said to me: “Ben, I can’t believe that a man like you would want to do a thing like this and I will most definitely put you and your wife under church discipline.” We had anticipated that he would take this stand, but were amazed at his wife’s attitude for she said to him: “My dear husband, we do not share their viewpoint at present, but who says that we may not do so in future?” This of course added to his anger, so we decided not to infuriate him any further and I said to him that we had no intention of bringing discord to the congregation where we had been members for many years and would hand in our resignations within the next day or two. On that note, the interview ended.

The next day we went to see the junior minister with whom we also had a very good relationship (he had actually taught Martie to play the guitar). He advised us to rather leave the congregation for we would be upset every time we witnessed babies getting baptised in future. This was good advice which we accepted and so we handed in our resignations the next day. This was a traumatic experience, especially for me, for I had been a member of this denomination all my life and now had to part with it at the age of approximately forty-five.

Once again, there came an estrangement between us and our spiritual brothers and sisters who remained behind in the congregation; people with whom we had been such close friends. On noticing us walking along the streets or in the nearby supermarkets, they would look the other way, pretending not to have seen us, which really hurt badly. Human beings have a very real need of acceptance and often experience a deep pain within when rejected by others.

This caused us to search desperately for a church where we would fit in and feel at home and, having found a well-known denomination that practised the baptism of believers, we applied to become members. Immediately after being accepted as such, we were baptised by immersion in water with the entire congregation bearing witness. In this church we experienced more love than in any other we had ever attended. It was a smallish congregation and we quickly got to know everybody and had some good times with them. One such memory is of a weekend congregational camp we attended. The anointing of the Spirit upon us was also increasing and we sensed that we were becoming a blessing to the church.

They also accepted and supported our Mission and many of them, including the pastor and other leaders, attended a prayer meeting we held in support of our work once a month. I was even invited to attend and speak at the annual meeting of their Synod. In due course we also saw the need of a branch of the church in the Pretoria-North area and sensed the Lord prompting us to go ahead and establish a church. Martie and I shared this vision with the leadership. They agreed to it and so a number of us set out to bring the vision to fruition. I managed to rent a beautiful hall in a complex for senior citizens for our use on Sunday mornings, got all the paper work in place and called a meeting of those that were interested in becoming members of the new congregation.

In the meantime, however, the Charismatic movement was also beginning to have an effect on this denomination, not so much on our congregation but on the denomination at large and our pastor and other leaders were becoming increasingly apprehensive that it would adversely affect our church. Sermons were often preached, warning the congregation against false prophets and false teaching; the devil coming to us as an angel of the light and leading us astray.

In our hearts, Martie and I too had many questions in this regard and were wondering whether we were not, as in the case of baptism, missing out on something which God was doing in our country. We saw that the denomination was paying lip service to the gifts of the Holy Spirit but did not practise them in the course of their meetings. When confronting the pastor on this issue, he replied: “We believe in the gifts of the Spirit and if the Lord chooses to bestow any of them upon us, He may do so at any time.” I retorted: “Pastor, if a person takes that attitude to the teaching of salvation, he will never be saved. You yourself were saved when you actively appropriated God’s offer of salvation by faith and you never rested until you were quite sure that you had actually received eternal life and been born again. God wants us to actively seek the gifts which He wants to bestow upon us and not just passively believe that they exist. That is why you do not see anybody flowing in the gifts in your congregation.” To this he had no reply.

Further confirmation that the denomination did in fact not support the practising of the gifts as described in 1 Corinthians 12 and 14, etc., was that, once a week, they studied a book that clearly stated that the gifts of the Holy Spirit applied only to the first Christian church and what was now seen and heard in the Charismatic denominations, was of the devil.

With this we could not a agree at all, for in the course of our studies on baptism, our eyes had been opened to perceive, in a deeper way, the importance of the ministry of the Holy Spirit in the work of God and that He desired to minister to his people by means of the gifts He bestowed on them. Martie and I therefore came to the conclusion that we would no longer be able to flow with this denomination since we were not in agreement with their teaching. Therefore, at the meeting where the Pretoria-North congregation was founded, we opted not to become members of it and within the following week also resigned as members of the main congregation.

The pastor, a very loving servant of God, afterwards came to see us on two occasions in an endeavour to reconcile us to that Body of Christ but we declined, for the step we took certainly was not because of a personal grievance that could be resolved, it was a fundamental difference in the understanding and obeying of God’s Word which we felt could not be compromised. And so, after having spent some time with this congregation and having made many new friends in Christ, we once more had to uproot ourselves and move on in search of a church where the Holy Spirit was welcomed and allowed to take charge of the meetings.

(May I just add that the newly established congregation in Pretoria-North, called a pastor, grew, erected its own building and gradually became effective in its neighbourhood. In the course of our lives, it has been a blessing to me to note that trees we had been instrumental in planting, grew and bore fruit which confirmed that their planting was of the Lord. )

BLESS THE LORD OH MY SOUL!

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

D1. VARIOUS MINISTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS

.

MEDIA MISSION

As our “notice month” drew to a close, we became more and more concerned, first of all, to find a house to live in. It had to be within reach of the school our two sons were attending. To rent a house, was out of the question because we did not have a single cent to our names, nor a monthly income. Though we had run out of ideas, God still had a plan in store.

This is how it came about that we found a dwelling place. Through the Dorothea Mission, we previously got to know the de Wijns, three spinsters whose brother had died a couple of years before. After his death, his wife, Gertie de Wijn (tannie Gertie) moved in with Tannie Rosa Oberholzer, the widow of the Mr Oberholzer, the Secretary for Justice, whom I got to know while I was stationed in the head office of the Department of Justice. So, first of all, they must have had a good report of me through Mr Oberholzer. Tannies Gertie de Wijn and Rosa Oberholzer, were also sisters and members of the Hartbeeshoek Dutch Reformed congregation, as we were. They both also supported the Dorothea Mission and were aware of the role we had been playing in the Mission. We had also been in personal contact with them on occasion during the preceding years. So they got to know us from three different sources and must have had a good opinion of us.

Consequently, when the Lord put the thought into my mind to approach them regarding Tannie Gertie’s home which had not been occupied for several years, ever since she had moved in with her sister, I felt bold enough to approach her to rent her house. Great was my joy when she immediately said: “Ben, you and Martie are so welcome to use it and I will not to be charging you any rent.” It was an old place. One of the cupboards was still filled with her late husband’s clothes and the shelves of the pantry were stacked with rows upon rows of canned fruit which had crystallised over time, but we were delighted and relieved to have four walls around us and a roof over our heads. I vividly remember the sense of peace I experienced that first night when I lay down next to Martie on the double bed and switched off the light. It was as if we as a family were four little birds, salvaged from a river in flood and held in the cupped hands of our Benefactor. Did the Lord not say: “I will in no way fail you, neither will I in any way forsake you.” (Heb 13:5). “Could a mother forget a child who nurses at her breast? Could she fail to love an infant who came from her own body? Even if a mother could forget, I will never forget you.” (Isaiah 49:15)

Once we got settled in, the next step was to get our new ministry established. Accommodation was a bit of a problem, but we managed to establish an office in one half of the dining room which was quite large. We used what little funds that had come in, to buy tables and shelves for the audio cassettes and for the large variety of Gospel tracts which we always kept on hand. Next we had to compile and send out a newsletter to those that had been ordering audio cassettes from us while we were with the Dorothea Mission, informing them of our break with the Mission and that we would still be distributing these cassettes with its permission. How delighted we were when letters from individuals gradually arrived, not only to order cassettes, but also to inform us that they would love to receive our newsletter in future and would support us financially as God provided. This was a wonderful confirmation that we were within the will of God

A tremendous challenge was to set up an audio recording studio to record messages in eight different African languages to enlarge our supply of cassettes. We obtained Tannie Gertie’s permission to use an empty room in an adjoining outbuilding for this purpose, then made it soundproof as far as possible, with padded walls and ceiling and a thick carpet on the floor to dampen the echo, beautifully built workbenches to accommodate the different tape recorders, the audio mixer, patch bay, quick-start turntable, etc. While I did the welding, carpentry and other hard physical work, Martie did a tremendous job in soldering together all the wires and other connections, especially for the patch bay. When at last the construction work was completed, I scouted around for high quality used tape recorders and other equipment.

At last we could say that we now had a proper recording studio and could invite Gospel preachers and choirs to come in for recordings. The Lord blessed our efforts and within a couple of months we were able to issue quite a sizeable catalogue of cassettes in English, Afrikaans, Zulu, Sotho, Pedi, Shangaan, Venda and Tswana, in addition to the ones we had brought over from the Dorothea Mission. Martie was in charge of the duplicating and distributing of the cassettes which she handled superbly, freeing me to get on with the other duties of our multi-faceted ministry.

Our cassettes were being used by farmers who played the messages to their employees, medical staff in hospitals, warders in prisons, employers in factories, taxis, and of course also by African Christians in their homes. Encouraging testimonies we received from listeners as to how the Lord was using these little handheld messengers.

Once we had the recording studio, we could not resist the urge to compile and broadcast radio programs in one of the vernaculars, namely Zulu. We got an African Baptist minister with the surname of Mhlophe (which means “White”) to deliver the messages and also recorded many choirs, some even travelling from Soweto, to make up the programs. Since Zulu is widely spoken all over the country and also understood by most of the other language groups, our programs had a significant impact, far and wide.

Our mobile bookshop operated from a bakkie. Here it is seen parked in the Rosslyn industrial area where large numbers of factory workers converged.

As time went by, and a stronger financial base was established, we looked around for other possibilities to spread the Gospel, not only by way of audio media, but also via printed media. We converted our pickup into a mobile bookshop with shelves that could be pulled out under a sort of folding gazebo. It created quite a pleasant atmosphere. We parked the vehicle on an open space where thousands of factory workers passed by and many of them dropped in and bought Bibles, Christian books and audio cassettes. Gospel tracts were distributed free of charge.

Our evangelist, who was in charge of this ministry, also visited a number of factories during their half hour lunch breaks, and brought short 10 to 15 minute messages to the employees, while they were eating. Since this was an ongoing ministry, with the speaker returning to the same factories week after week, the Gospel gradually penetrated the hearts of some of the people who came to the Lord and testified to the blessing that this ministry was to them. Some very interesting factories and institutions were visited in the course of this Ministry, such as a factory that manufactured toys and furniture for preschool children, another that built trailers and similar equipment for the Army, an industry that supplied pre-packed meals for hospitals and another that did their laundry.

Probably as a result of my involvement with the Department of Justice, my heart had always gone out to those that had fallen foul of the Law and were imprisoned for long periods, some for life. I often wondered whether they were properly ministered to by prison chaplains, so I approached one of the maximum security prisons outside Pretoria where long-term prisoners were held. Though I was allowed to preach to groups of prisoners a few times, the chaplain informed me that prison rules allowed pastors to minister only to prisoners that were members of their own congregations or, at least, denominations. That meant that I was totally excluded and not allowed to enter through those massive prison doors.

My burden for these people, however, did not allow me to give up so easily, so what I did was to enquire from the chaplain whether prison rules allowed prisoners to be entertained by way of videos being screened. This servant of God actually, in his heart, approved of me and would have liked it if a way could be found for me to become part of his ministry team, so when I came up with this idea, he immediately grasped the opportunity and approved my amended application. (“Where there is a will, there is a way.”) I then set about building a trolley, complete with a large video screen, video player and loudspeakers and, with his blessing, went from cell to cell, “entertaining” the incumbents with video films such as the “Pilgrim’s Progress” and many others. He even appointed one of the prisoners to act as my interpreter.

This ministry was a little bit scary for we were locked into a cell with forty high risk prisoners for at least an hour, during which time the wardens were a long way off and would not have heard our cries for protection. However, the Lord who watched over Daniel in the lion’s den, and his three friends in the fiery furnace, kept his hand over us and we never, as far as I can remember, faced any real danger. The repeated application of God’s Word to the hearts and minds of these people, also bore fruit, and after some time, there were quite a number of convicts who had been transformed into converts. The chaplain, by further stretching his imagination, succeeded in interpreting the prison rules to the extent that these people were now “members of my congregation” and that I could see them regularly. Once a week they were therefore released from their cells to meet with me in the courtyard where I instructed them in Christian living.

My interpreter had a very interesting testimony. He had been a member of a death squad that hired themselves out to murder people for a handsome reward. As was to be expected, he did this once too often, was caught, convicted and sentenced to death. (At that stage the death penalty was still in force in the South African judicial system.) While he was in death row, waiting for his sentence to be executed, he conversed with a fellow prisoner who was awaiting his own execution. This man had had some exposure to the Gospel which he then shared with, let’s call him Lucky, who believed the good tidings of salvation by grace through faith, accepted the Lord Jesus as Saviour and received eternal life right there in the death cell. He put his faith into action, began praying to his Almighty Father, and soon after was informed that his sentence had been mitigated to that of life imprisonment. Oh, the grace of God that pursues the worst of sinners right up to the gates of hell. The bearer of the good tidings, however, as far as Lucky knew, never practised what he preached, was never saved, and consequently did not go to heaven: the terrible consequences of man’s hardening of his heart. The scene of the two robbers that had died on crosses next to the Lord Jesus, is still being enacted daily all over the world, not only in prisons but in homes, at the workplace or wherever people are living this side of the grave; some hear the Gospel and are saved but others turn a cold shoulder and are swallowed up in eternal death.

To me, a prison is comparable to hell itself, and then I am speaking about an ordinary prison, not places where the inmates are tortured or treated in an inhuman way. To be locked up in a maximum security prison day by day, month after month for endless years till death eventually sets you free, is an indescribable torture in itself which I, being so fond of the open spaces and of cycling for 20, 60, 100 km on end, will not to be able to bear.

In closing: regarding prisons, just a little bit of humour to lift our spirits. When on training as public prosecutors by the Department of Justice, we once visited a prison for lesser offenders that were allowed more freedom. A group of them had formed an excellent men’s choir which, in farewell, sang to us: “God be with you, till we meet again.” We had to smile for we knew that we were very likely to meet with some of them again in court.

I was often invited to preach somewhere on special occasions which then developed into an ongoing ministry. This is what happened when I was called on to stand in for another pastor who was unable to meet his commitments towards a police training college. I really sensed the anointing of the Holy Spirit upon me as I delivered a message to the large number of young African men that had congregated on that Sunday morning. As usual, I invited those that wanted to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as Saviour to step forward and then assisted them to do so.

As I was doing this, I noticed a slightly older man, but still in his twenties, looking very worried and standing a little bit apart from the rest. When I had finished speaking to the group and they had left, he looked around furtively, then came up to me and in a subdued voice told me that he had a very severe problem. He also wanted to accept the Lord Jesus but had committed very heinous crimes. What he had done was that he had waylaid three people one after the other in a desolate place through which they had been walking, killed them and robbed them of their possessions. What he wanted to know from me was firstly, whether God would be willing to forgive him for his sin and secondly, whether, having been pardoned by God, he would have to hand himself over to the police.

Though I had been in contact with offenders of all kinds of crimes before, it still was quite a shock to stand face to face with a self-confessed murderer and having to council him on such a serious issue. It was of course quite easy to tell him that the Lord would be willing to accept him and, by grace, forgive everything he had done, but as to whether he was to make a confession at a police station, that was another matter I felt I first had to pray about for, as I said, the death sentence still applied to such crimes and I would almost certainly have been sending him to the gallows by advising him to follow this route. I consequently assured him that I would not say a word to the authorities in this regard but would pray about it and then give him my answer the next Sunday.

On returning home I told Martie of my predicament, then went to a very senior Christian leader in whom I had much confidence, asking for his advice. Having prayed together, he looked me in the eye and said that he knew what he himself would have done: he would have made a full confession of his crimes to the authorities, leaving the consequences to God. That was the only option that would give him peace of mind. The Spirit of the Lord confirmed this word to me and so I returned to this poor man and told them what I believed the Lord wanted him to do, again assuring him that this was none of my business and that I would never do, or say anything that would incriminate him. Having prayed and committed him to the Lord, I left him to make his own decision in his own good time. I never met with him again, so, to this day I do not know whether he came to the Lord Jesus like the robber on the cross, or whether he went away sadly as did the rich young ruler for whom the price was just too high to pay. Oh, the horrible wiles of the devil that cause us to believe that we will get away with what we do or say, just to find out that there is a terrible price to be paid for every wrong we ever did.

Though our ministry, known as Media Mission, had grown considerably, the Holy Spirit was continually urging us on to “enlarge our tent, to stretch the ropes, to put down the pegs further apart” so that more people could hear the Gospel and be saved. In response to this call, we searched for erstwhile workers of the Dorothea Mission whom we knew to be anointed servants of God and invited them to join our Mission and serve as evangelists in the surrounding hospitals. The Lord blessed our efforts and a number of them that were not yet firmly established in ministries of their own, sensed that the Lord was calling them to enlist with us. Since they were mature Christian workers, there was no need for us to put them through any lengthy training and so, after some briefing, we appointed them to minister on a full-time basis in hospitals of their own choice.

Our evangelist, Piet Mathobela, ministering to a patient in the ga-Rankuwa hospital. In the background is the mounted cassette player.

We also provided them with equipment to increase the effectiveness of their ministries. What we did was to build them small trolleys mounted on castors, fitting each with a cassette player and a number of cassettes in the languages spoken by patients that would possibly be admitted to the specific hospitals where they would be ministering. Each of them was supplied with quite a number of these trolleys. What they then did was to chat to newly admitted longer term patients and with those that showed some interest in the Gospel, they would leave one of these trolleys, showing them how to play the cassettes of their own choice. After a day or two, the evangelist would then return to the patient to enquire whether he had been listening to the messages and was able to recall what he had heard. It was very much like laying a fishing line with bait and very often the evangelist had the good fortune of finding a fish on the Gospel hook. He would then either lead him to the Lord or answer his questions and return to him after a further few days. What was remarkable was that, though it happened in rare circumstances, some of the patients had by that time already, on their own, taken a step to receive the Lord Jesus Christ as their Saviour.

Many testimonies could be given of such spiritual “instrument babies,” and we were increasingly impressed by the power of such media when put into the hands of an anointed servant of God. After some months we were running such ministries in eight different hospitals, one as far afield as 500 km from our Pretoria base.

Let me just recall one incident of a soul who was saved in the course of our ministry, though not exactly by using the cassette players. At that time the ANC (African National Congress) was very actively engaged in acts of terrorism all over the country. African people that were not willing to side with them, were “necklaced” with motor car tyres over which petrol was poured and set alight, causing the victim to burn to death. They also placed bombs in crowded places, indiscriminately killing and hurting scores of people in every blast.

One such bomb was left in a motor car parked in Church Street, a main street of Pretoria, next to the building where the South African Air Force had its headquarters. The powerful bomb exploded in the late afternoon when the streets were thronged with mostly African people returning home from work. One of these was an African man walking down towards a taxi rank from where he was hoping to travel home. At the exact moment when he passed the specific motor car, the bomb went off, wrecking the windows of the multitude of nearby buildings, killing many people and injuring many more. This unfortunate man was one of those that was badly burnt by the blast and shortly afterwards rushed by ambulance to one of the hospitals.

On learning of this shocking incident, I immediately phoned our evangelist, Piet Mathobela, requesting him to go the hospital and minister the love of Christ to the victims. He immediately did so, went from bed to bed comforting people and praying for them. When the man that was so badly burnt was in a state to be spoken too, Piet sat down at his bedside in an effort to assist him spiritually. He could not understand why his own people, people he had never seen nor wronged, had almost killed him and maimed him for life. Piet then explained to him how so many bad things happened to innocent people because of satan’s hatred for mankind but that God wanted to turn bad into good. After some days light broke through the darkness that enveloped this man’s soul so that he opened his life to Jesus and was gloriously born-again. He later on gave testimony of this wonderful event in his life, saying that God had used this evil deed for his good for he, though not an evil man himself, never knew the Lord Jesus and would have been lost, had he died on that fateful day.

This then, is how the Lord used us after we parted with the Dorothea Mission; for this we give Him all the praise and glory of our hearts.

LORD, YOUR LOVING KINDNESS IS BETTER THAN LIFE.

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

.

PARTING WITH THE DOROTHEA MISSION

This is a very sad chapter for it deals with the ending of our involvement with the Dorothea Mission after 10 years of serving in its ranks. This is how it happened.

As the years went by and Mr and Mrs von Staden aged, some friction developed between them and some of the senior members of the Mission. To do all parties justice in recounting what happened, is easier said than done, for one cannot but convey one’s own perception of the events which may not be correct in every respect and putting it to paper in a book such as this, does not afford these dear two leaders of the Mission the opportunity of telling their side of the story, but let me at least give it a try for I need to explain why we left.

The first cause for friction was the way in which the administrative and other practical matters of the Mission were handled. No matter what the main function of an organisation is, its administrative side must run smoothly and effectively. Management has to appoint skilled staff to handle that side of the organisation and to modernise it, so as to keep up with the developing world. A badly administered organisation causes unnecessary delays and endless frustration to its staff. Whereas some of the Mission’s initial workers were fairly unskilled, workers that enlisted later on, graduates from universities or colleges or other people who had held senior positions in organisations, were more sensitive to inefficient and outdated administrative processes. Poor administration made them feel that the organisation in its totality was lagging behind and becoming ineffective. I must admit that my hands often itched to be allowed to get into the central and satellite offices to set up systems that would function smoothly and effectively and assist the Von Stadens in the execution of their managerial responsibilities. I most certainly never had it in mind to undermine their authority or take over their management responsibilities, but only to do what I had been trained to do in the Department of Justice, that is, assisting management, making it easier for them to run the organisation.

A second pebble in the shoe of the Mission, pertained to the Board which, for quite some time, consisted mainly of the Von Staden family and some of their close friends. Some of the workers that had been in the Mission longer than me, felt that the workers themselves had to be represented on the Board and be able to take part in discussions, for most of the Board members had no idea of what it entailed to go out on campaigns.

A third cause of conflict was of a rather more serious and tricky nature. At that time the Charismatic movement was burgeoning all over the country like an awakening giant, touching tens of thousands of Christians irrespective of the denominations where they grew up. The very conservative Dutch Reformed Church in which tradition played a major role and of which Mr and Mrs Von Staden were members, were hard hit by this spiritual revival and lost tens of thousands of its members to the different charismatic congregations that sprang up all over.

No Christian living in South Africa, could ignore what was happening in the spiritual world all around and many of us Dorothea workers that had given our lives to serve the Kingdom of God, attended Charismatic and Pentecostal meetings in search of something more than what we were experiencing in the Mission. No-one could deny the fact that the spiritual anointing that had rested on the Mission, had somewhat diminished and we were no longer seeing the earlier blessings. Some of the leaders even went to Mr von Staden, pleading for us as a Mission not to be left behind, as the wave of God’s blessing was sweeping over the country. (Martie and I were not really part of this group. We more or less just had our toes in the water, while looking around at what was happening to others.)

Mr von Staden was not impervious to the working of the Holy Spirit and often spoke about the baptism of the Holy Ghost, recounting stories of spiritual awakenings as in Wales and even nearer at home, in South Africa, under Dr Andrew Murray, but he was strongly opposed to the exercising of the gifts of the Spirit and I got the impression that he doubted the authenticity of the flowing in the gifts in the course of charismatic meetings. His concerns as to the practical impact this would have on the Mission, were twofold: firstly that it would split the work in two, with some workers being for it and the others against it and secondly, should the Mission join in this new movement, it would cut its own throat for it would most definitely lose the financial support of scores of Dutch Reformed Churches as well as of thousands of its members. It would possibly also have lost the support of many of its supporters in Europe. This certainly was a very, very tricky situation and a very difficult decision to take and Mr von Staden did not want to follow this route.

These then, were the issues that stirred up conflict. The conflict, however, was on a very personal level, between individual members and the Director. In reverence of God and respect to Mr von Staden, we seldom discussed these issues with one another and would never have dreamt of constituting a united action to approach him in this regard.

However, the time came when the simmering pot boiled over. Some of the workers were discharged from the Mission, while others thought it better just to resign. The older workers who had been with the Mission ever since it was founded in 1940, remained loyal to it and especially to Mr and Mrs von Staden. It was the younger group that had developed so well within the spiritual atmosphere of the Mission, created by the leadership of this great man and woman of God, who were the ones that sought other opportunities for investing their lives and the lives of their families in the Kingdom of God.

A ray of light in this dark situation was that wherever they went, they were accepted into leadership roles. One went to Operation Mobilisation; another became the moderator of a large denomination in a neighbouring country; a third headed up a theological seminary; a fourth became a pastor of a congregation and later on, a lecturer at a theological seminary after having completed his doctorate in theology, and Shadrach Maluka, of whom I spoke earlier on, founded a new denomination. These are just a few examples, but there were many more who left the Mission to minister in other organisations.

Penning this history is a painful operation even after all this time has passed. Why do such things happen in Christian organisations that should be models of love and wisdom? Why could not even the great apostle Paul and his long time co-worker Barnabas, come to an agreement when conflict arose on whether John Mark was to be allowed to accompany them on the next missionary journey? There do not seem to be any quick answers to these questions, but the following thoughts may at least be of some help:

1. Founders of churches and missions are normally very highly motivated people and go through much hardship to get to the point where the organisation is firmly established and acknowledged. This causes them to have a very personal interest in it so that they set a very high standard for the leader to whom they would be willing to hand over the reins (somewhat like a mother in law’s expectation of her prospective daughter in law!). They should perhaps be more realistic, reflect on all the mistakes they made along the way and trust God to guide the emerging leader around all the pitfalls and to develop him to become an even greater leader than what the founder himself had been.

2. Founders also want to be quite sure that the new leader will follow meticulously in their footsteps, that is, pursue the vision they originally received from God. Mr von Staden’s vision from God was to hold tent campaigns in the major African townships and wherever else opportunity would arise. For a departing leader to bind his successor to his original vision, closes the door for him to hear from God as to a possible change in direction. A leader should have sufficient confidence in his chosen successor to adapt to changing circumstances while not departing from the unique purpose of the organisation for which it was originally founded by God.

3. A leader needs to sit back at times and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, identify the Joshua that is to take his place, then put special effort into the development of this person and allow him to take over one duty after the other even though he might not be able to perform them up to standard. In so doing, he will be able to guide him through the learning process as a loving father raises his son. This process should begin long before old age overtakes the existing leader. It will effect a smooth transition in leadership, allowing all the members of the organisation to gradually come to accept the emerging leader. King David probably waited too long and was still officially the king of Israel, though bedridden and incapable of fulfilling his functions. This almost ended in disaster which would have affected the whole nation. He delayed to take action till he was forced by circumstances to do so (1 Kings chapter1)

4. A strong spiritual leader will normally raise up numerous strong, capable leaders and if the organisation is too small to accommodate all of them in sub-ministries where they can reach their full potential, the organisation will become top-heavy, implode or topple over and destroy itself. It is therefore the responsibility of a good leader to see this approaching problem well ahead of time and to take effective measures to prevent it before it arises. This could be done by guiding developing leaders into ministries outside the existing organisation or encouraging them to set up similar organisations in some other area or even in some other country. In this way God’s precious people will not be wasted and his Kingdom will benefit as it should.

Now let me hasten to get on with Martie’s and my story, for that is what we set out to do. We were part of those who fell by the wayside and suddenly found ourselves without a ministry, an income, a bank balance, a house and supporters but with two wonderful young sons that had to be cared for.

I arranged with Mr von Staden for me to remain with the Mission for an extra month to continue the training of a worker who had come into the radio and cassette ministry of the Mission some time before, for it would have been a catastrophe for that branch to have collapsed completely. I also negotiated with him to be allowed to take the master copies of the cassettes which we had produced, with me, so as to have at least something to set up a new ministry. He agreed to that because the Mission’s radio ministry was well geared to produce new cassettes within a relatively short period. We were very grateful for this concession for it gave us some hope and direction.

Since we were fairly well-known in some Christian circles, we were approached by other ministries to slot in with them. Firstly we were invited by the South African director of Trans World Radio to dine with him during which time we discussed the possibility of us joining their ministry. We highly appreciated what they were doing and had, for some years, been involved in producing programs which were aired by their transmitters, but we did not feel led by the Lord to become part of their ministry. Another offer came from a theological seminary for the Herero people of Namibia. They offered to pay for my flight there and back in order that I might see the work for myself and discuss our possible involvement with them. I really appreciated this kind offer, but, Martie and I having prayed about the matter, again sensed that this was not the direction the Lord wanted us to take.

How very, very important it is for Christ’s servants to hear clearly from Him, especially during times of trial for one might so easily grab at the most profitable opportunity and miss God’s greater purpose for one’s life. So, in the end, and before the completion of that month, we had come to the firm decision to further exploit the audio cassette ministry and possibly also begin with a radio ministry. This was a tremendous challenge for we hardly had the funds for food for the next two weeks.

HE PROMISED NEVER TO FORSAKE US.

OH, THANK YOU JESUS, DURING ALL OUR YEARS YOU WERE WITH US EVERY STEP OF THE WAY.

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

.

TRAVELLING THROUGH NAMIBIA

Namibia, earlier known as South-West Africa, has the Atlantic Ocean on its western side, with the northern stretch known as the Skeleton Coast. Inland it borders on Angola and Zambia in the north, Botswana in the east and South Africa in the south and south-east. It covers 825,418 sq km (geographically quite a large country) of which a considerable portion consists of arid land such as the Namib desert and the Kalahari semi- desert.

It became a German colony in 1884. In 1920 the League of Nations mandated the country to South Africa. Uprisings and demands by African leaders, especially by the South West Africa People’s Organisation (SWAPO) led to Namibia obtaining full independence from South Africa in 1990 with Sam Nujoma as its first president.

It has a population of 2.1m people, comprising of the Herero, Nama, Damara and Bushmen (a very interesting nomadic tribe) and of course the White population, mostly farmers.

Namibia offers a fantastic experience to tourists who love to get away from civilisation and experience “raw” nature. For a Christian to climb one of those red Namib sand dunes, sit down on top all alone with nothing to see but dunes upon dunes in whichever way you look while experiencing the awful presence of the Almighty God that created it all, is an experience never to be forgotten. It is then that you begin to understand why the Lord took his son Moses into the semi-desert to reveal Himself to him in a burning bush. Then you also begin to understand why the Father led His greater Son, Jesus, into the wilderness by His Spirit to experience his intense nearness and to be tempted by the devil. It is when we are stripped of other physical distractions that our spirits are set free to delight in God in all His fullness.

It was to this country that Mr von Staden sent me to take photographs and bring back reports that would stimulate South African Christians to pray for its peoples. Johan de Koning was the Mission’s man in Namibia and had been a spiritual pioneer for many years.

So, early one Monday morning, I slid into the passenger seat of the seasoned Land Rover, with Johan with his slightly balding head, lock of hair dangling over his brow, bristling moustache and non-fading smile, crouched over the steering wheel. As usual he had his white helmet handy as protection against the scorching sun. He was in his element for to him this was home country and I got the impression that he was enjoying having me with him for all those many years he had been travelling the dusty roads mostly on his own, confined to his own thoughts hour after lonely hour. Only once a year did he travel the 1369 km with this old vehicle to the Mission headquarters at Pretoria to fellowship with co-workers from other territories and fields of service and to give testimony as to what the Lord had accomplished through him during the year gone by. Now he had a representative of the Mission with him, a living missionary who could hear, see and appreciate the scope, depth and challenges of his ministry, take photos and return to Pretoria to report back and elicit prayer for Namibia and its peoples.

And certainly, God blessed the country via the endless toiling of this robust servant of His. He did not go there with a remarkably new inventive plan, but simply gave effect to God’s Great Commission to go out and make disciples of all nations. Accepting Namibia as his special field of service, he simply went forth from Windhoek to the north, the south, the east and the west, revealing the Gospel of Jesus Christ to whoever would listen, irrespective of race or colour. He proclaimed the Word “In season and out of season.” He sowed the Seed liberally so that no-one would have an excuse for not having heard. Though some fell by the road-side, on rocky ground and amongst the weeds and did not bear fruit, he did not give up, but was faithful to his calling and the Seed that fell on fruitful ground, yielded an abundant harvest, so that Johan became well known, loved and appreciated all over the country.

So from Windhoek we travelled north to Okahandja, then to Otjiwarongo where we turned north-east, travelling to Otavi, then took the road that branched off to Grootfontein and from there to a farm where we would spend the night, tired as can be from the day’s journey in that bumpy, noisy, hot Landy.

At that time, the “Bush War” or “Border War” as we called it, between the South-African army and SWAPO, was in its earlier stages and we often heard of tragic deaths of farmers on remote farms. One such tragedy occurred when a farmer was shot at his homestead. Our hearts had always been touched when hearing of such occurrences over the radio but to meet with the remaining relatives and hear their story from them personally, struck so much deeper. We were actually taken to the homestead where the remaining spouse showed us the large bloodstain on the veranda where her husband had died. As he was emerging from the house, a shot rang out from the surrounding bushes that hit him and caused him to bleed to death within minutes. Yes, he was buried, for life had to go on and the cement was scrubbed again and again, but that huge stain of blood of a beloved husband remained and would remind his wife day by day of the tragic end of the life they had shared. During that period, farmers such as these, were at the mercy of snipers who shot at them whenever they moved out of doors and, due to the remoteness of the farms, the army could do very little to protect them, yet few fled to the safety of the towns for they, their parents and grand-parents had been born there and knew no other way of living. Indeed, as one historian put it: “The history of mankind is a history of wars.” Whatever the reasons may be for taking up arms, many people, and often innocent people, do suffer terribly in the process.

Well, fortunately I am not called to be a war historian, but to herald the Good News of a better Kingdom that came into effect by the voluntary shedding of His Blood by its King. Hallelujah! So that night we experienced true German hospitality at a table overflowing with delicious dishes with meat in abundance and went on talking and talking till well into the night. Farmers such as these, seldom received visitors from outside their own districts and were thirsty to listen to news from elsewhere and to share their own hearts. A visit by Johan, of course, always included sitting around a huge dining table, listening to the words of God being expounded.

I cannot recollect what time it was when we were eventually released and could lay down our weary heads on those milky white pillows. We had however hardly turned over once, when there was a knock at the door and we were informed that dawn had broken and we would have to rise for there was a long day and a long journey ahead of us and the farm workers had already been gathered and were waiting, anxious to receive their share of God’s message of grace.

This was the first time I had the opportunity of telling the Bushmen people of God’s love for all of His creatures. The Bushmen (as most of them prefer to be called) are also known as the Khoi/San and are said to be the earliest inhabitants of southern Africa (dating back some 20,000 years). When displaced by physically stronger tribes that came to populate these areas, they fled to the remote, and especially to the desert and semi-desert areas of Namibia, Botswana and South-Africa. They are exceptionally short in stature and have a yellowish coloured skin which wrinkles at an early age. In their natural state, the diet of the Bushmen consists of plant food such as roots, melons, berries and nuts gathered by the women, and the men hunt game using poisoned arrows and spears. A hunt for a single Gemsbok may continue for many days before it is run down. Their homes are made of sticks, that can either be discarded or readily gathered into a bundle and carried along to their next dwelling area as they follow after game that in turn treks to where rain has fallen and there is an abundance of food. They never used to farm nor kept livestock, but lived off what nature provided. They have a loosely knit family culture, but no tribal structure nor an overall leader. To find a way of putting the Bushman language of click sounds into writing (much later) was a singular challenge. Their religion has an element of ancestral worship similar to that of the other African races, but has many other teachings endeavouring to explain the origin of man and the nature of a god or gods and their relation to mankind. They are indeed a very remarkable people that seem to have remained unchanged for many centuries.

As White farmers moved into Namibia, they made contact with the Bushmen and during times of drought when plant food got scarce and the game moved to distant areas, some of them took up employment on these farms. They were not very dependable workers, for the moment they saw lightning flashing somewhere over the horizon and knew that rain had fallen there, the age old urge that nature and a life free of any obligations had over them, became so strong, that a whole family would just vanish overnight, not to be seen again until the next hard season overtook them – difficult for you and me, born to the slavery of a steady job, to understand! (Let us forget about the hardships of such a life for a moment: but can you imagine such total freedom from the rule of time and the weight of obligations?)

Well, let us not dwell on such flights of fantasy but look at the situation from a Biblical perspective and see that they are to be included in the great multitude that will one day be standing before the throne of God. That is of course how Johan saw them and availed himself of this opportunity of their being within reach of the Gospel while working on the farms, to serve them with God’s revelation of Himself and of His directives for mankind. As can be imagined, this teaching was totally foreign to them – just another of the oddities of the White man – but the Word, activated by the Spirit, penetrates into the spiritual marrow of any human being. One morning Mr. von Staden received a phone call from Johan conveying the good news that a number of Bushmen had been born-again. How we all rejoiced!

Some time afterwards, Johan brought two of them, all dressed up in Western clothes, to the annual Mission Birthday celebration. They had both picked up the Afrikaans language while working on a certain farm for some time, so we could converse freely with them. I took the two of them along on errands I had to run, collecting cakes which various supporters had baked for the Mission’s birthday. On asking them what they considered the most wonderful thing the White man had invented, I was surprised to hear them unanimously, and without having to think about it, reply: “A tap with running water”; not a motorcar or a Boeing or a skyscraper, but a tap with running water. They must often have been thinking what a treasure a tap with running water in one’s knapsack would be while travelling on foot through their arid homelands!

There were, however, also two other things that touched their fancy. The first was a slice of chocolate cake one of the ladies from whom we collected the cakes gave each of them. I could see by the way their faces wrinkled up, that they were enjoying every single mouthful. On asking one of them whether he liked it, he smacked his tongue, ran it carefully all around his icing covered lips, closed his eyes and replied: “Tagen-tagen-tag, dit smaak vir my ek eet sommer ses-en-vyftig (wow-oh-wow-oh-wow, I feel like eating 56 of them!) Why “56”, I cannot say.

Half an hour later I took them with me into a lift. Fortunately we were all on our own – just the three of us. As the doors closed automatically and they felt the lift ascending, they staggered backwards and, with eyes bulging to twice their normal size, pressed their backs and the palms of their hands against the sides of the lift, holding their breaths till the lift eventually came to rest some five floors up and the doors slid open again. I felt rather naughty, even guilty, for playing such a trick on them so I put my arms around their shoulders and led them to a window where we could look down upon the street where we had been walking moments before. The utter amazement on those two faces! They stared at me as if I had personally performed this unbelievable miracle of lifting us all up into the air in a matter of seconds.

Now let me continue describing our journey through Namibia. From Grootfontein, Johan and I travelled further north-west and north, visiting many other places where he ministered. We passed close by many tourist attractions like the “White Woman of the Brandberg” and the “Petrified Forest” but our minds were fixed on “things above” for which purpose we were travelling down below and had no time or even the inclination to visit these.

At Okahandja Johan opened the way for me to attend the annual festival held by the Herero nation to pray to their ancestors. It is said that after having clashed with the Germans that had colonised Namibia earlier on, their numbers were down to 15,000. At present they number about 250,000. Most of them are fluent in Afrikaans, a common language widely spoken all over Namibia.

On 25 August, while I was waiting on the site where the feast was to be held, bus loads of people arrived. After having refreshed themselves somewhat after their long journeys, they all gathered at a central spot. One of the leaders, an elderly man, stepped forward and addressed the people, welcoming them and, as was done every year, explained the purpose and significance of the occasion. He then invited them to step forward one by one. They did so and knelt in a queue.

The first one, a young woman then crawled up to him on her knees. As he spoke to her, she bent down to the earth, took up some of the loose soil into her mouth, spat it out and rinsed her mouth with water supplied to her in a cup and waited expectantly. Next he asked what her need was. She replied that as she was a young woman who had come of age, she wanted a young man to be married to, and would he please pray for her? This he did out loud, imploring the spirits of his ancestors to supply in her need. She then got up, returning to the rest of the audience and the next woman moved up for the same ritual and to be prayed for. Their needs differed: most of the young people wanted marriage partners, but there were also other people who were sick or had financial or other needs and all of these needs were brought to the ancestral spirits by means of this mediator.

When it got dark, I went home but returned early the next morning, just after daybreak. The sight that met my eyes was gripping. Vast numbers of women were clad in colourful Victorian type dresses with accompanying singular headwear with the men in military uniforms dating back to the German army that had once held sway over them. They were organised into different groups, coming from different parts of the country. Once they were all assembled, the whole procession set off on foot to the nearby graveyard of their ancestors where, of course, all the earlier important chiefs were buried.

There a leader took control of the meeting, again explaining the importance of it and touching on the history of the Herero people. In a loud voice he then started praying to certain specific ancestral spirits. His prayer was nothing but heart breaking to me for it was offered at a time when many of the Herero people were being killed in the course of the SWAPO war and most of the rest of the people were getting more and more impoverished because of a drought that just would not end. In the course of his prayer he uttered the following words: “We are suffering so much. Many of us are being killed in the war by the enemy. Our cattle are dying because of the drought. We have been praying to you for a long time but have received no answer: are you dead? Are you really dead?” Oh, how these words pierced my heart for his fear that his ancestors were dead and of no avail to them was in fact, a fact. They could render no help, not in this life nor in the life that was to come. How my heart yearned to have the opportunity of taking up the microphone and proclaiming Christ Who had risen from the dead; a living God that could and would help them, if only they turned to Him.

Having closed his prayers, another man stepped forward, purporting to be a medium through which the ancestral spirit could speak. The voice in which he spoke was very muffled and the speech somewhat incoherent so that I could not discern what was said. Whether the audience believed him or not, I cannot say, but once he had finished, all of those present went to one grave after the other, touching the tombstones with their hands (presumably the tombstones of some of the more prominent deceased chiefs) thereby paying allegiance to them.

Then they all returned to their camp and I went home with a camera filled with pictures and a heart breaking with grief for these dear people that had suffered so much as a nation and who were still groping in the dark, looking for solutions where none were to be found. Johan and I then returned to Windhoek from where I took the plane back to Pretoria, more determined than ever to lay down my life for the making of disciples of the peoples of Africa.

Many, many years later, Martie, I and our two boys did in fact return to Namibia for a short vacation. We entered right at the top through the Caprivi Ziphel where so many of our White young South African men had laid down their lives during the war with SWAPO which, in retrospect, does not seem to have been worthwhile. We then spent a delightful time in the Etosha game reserve and in Mile 4 caravan camp, just outside Swakopmund, after which we went north some distance along the coast, travelling on a dirt road surfaced with salt which caused the surface to become so hard that it was just about as good as a tarmac road.

We also visited the Namib Naukluft Park where we walked down into the Sesriem canyon and visited Sossus Vlei. The sunrise at Sossus Vlei was spectacular, awesome, keeping you spellbound as if you were standing on holy ground, but on returning to the table where we had left foodstuff, we were rudely yanked back to reality when we observed the havoc caused by three crows that had devastated our cartons of milk and packets of chips in their desperate attempt to devour their body weight in food before having to dodge the sticks thrown at them. As my vexation subsided, I looked up into the tree to see if there were any more culprits awaiting their opportunity and looked right into the four large staring eyes of two spotted Eagle Owls that seemed to say: “Why get so upset, son of man, there is no sense in losing your peace over such a trivial matter and waking us up at this time of the morning!” As they coolly turned their heads away to resume their slumber, Martie and I unpacked what was left of our picnic basket and settled down to enjoy an early breakfast.

We then set off scaling a massive adjoining sand dune, walking along a ridge winding on endlessly towards the top. Hour after hour we toiled, sinking to above our ankles into the loose red sand, later on stopping every ten paces to catch our breath, sometimes sitting down to empty our shoes of sand, but, in the end being so exhausted that we were compelled to turn back before reaching the pinnacle.

What an amazing country, so dissimilar to any other place I had ever visited in southern Africa, a unique spot on earth created by God to demonstrate His greatness and the peace of His being to whosoever has an open spirit to receive it.

THANK YOU LORD FOR ALL THE BEAUTY YOU CREATED FOR US TO ENJOY!

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

.

RECORDINGS IN MALAWI

Malawi, sometimes referred to as the “Warm heart of Africa,” is a landlocked country which lies in a general north-eastern direction from South Africa, beyond Zimbabwe. Bordered by Mozambique, Zambia and Tanzania, it is a smallish country of 118,484 square kilometres with a population of 13 million people, mostly Chichewa speaking. After being a British colony, it became independent in 1964 under “His Excellency the Life President Ngwazi Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda.” A multi-party democracy was established in 1994/5.

Malawi was another African state to which the Dorothea Mission extended its ministry. A number of its well trained African evangelists were stationed at Blantyre in the southern part of the country. From there they went on outreaches and had a significant spiritual impact on the population. As the work grew, the need arose for it to be registered with the government as an independent organisation. Because of my legal background as a magistrate, Mr von Staden sent me there to assist our workers in this matter. I snatched at this opportunity to lay a basis for establishing a radio programme in the Chichewa language.

A major challenge during those early years, when hardly any music in African languages was obtainable on the open market, was to go to the people to whom you would be directing your programs, and record as many songs as possible in their churches or with small existing choirs. This then, was what I set out to do. After having gathered all the equipment such as tape recorders, a good supply of reels of tape, microphones, microphone stands, an audio mixer, a huge bunch of cables, etc., I boarded the plane to Blantyre.

I was met at the airport and heartily welcomed by our Malawian co-workers who took me to their homes in a nondescript vehicle which they had bought earlier on. A variety of food was in short supply, but their wives had saved up some beforehand and did their absolute best, even competed, to treat me as a king. How I appreciated their hospitality and Christian spirit.

As was normal when a White person from a different country would visit an African state, I was coached by our team in the local laws and traditions so as not to get into trouble with the government officials and local people, nor to be an embarrassment to our evangelists during my stay in the country.

There was, for instance, very strict legislation in regard to dress. It was illegal for women to wear see-through clothes, slacks or jeans of any kind, or skirts which showed any part of the knee. When we later on sat waiting in an attorney’s office, I picked out a law book from his shelf and, on paging through it, found the paragraph in this regard, stating that when a lady stood erect, lifting her arms above her head, the hem of her dress was to cover her kneecap. Men were not allowed to have hair below the collar; when men whose hair was too long, arrived in the country, they were given a haircut and ladies had to go to the dressing room and dress “properly” before leaving the airport. When a young man and lady were found sitting alone in a car in a secluded spot, it was suspected that they were doing so for immoral reasons and they were summarily arrested.

Indian people had to watch their step. I was told the story of a certain Indian shopkeeper: an African lady came into his shop wanting to buy material for making a dress. Some of the rolls of material were on the very topmost shelves. She pointed to one after the other and the old man had to go up and down the ladder many times until he eventually got fed up and refused to attend to her any further. On leaving his shop, she reported him to the Government which ordered him out of the country by the next morning.

On the slope of a hillside, I was taken to a grave, complete with a tombstone, and was told that some years before, a huge procession of people was held with a hearse in front carrying a coffin. Within the coffin was said to be the earlier Federation of Central African States, established by the British government in 1953 with Malawi (then called Nyasaland) as one of the member states. This federation was dissolved in 1963/4 but after gaining full independence, the Government decided a funeral was required to formally lay it to rest. And so, as everybody looked on, the coffin was lowered into the grave and covered with soil. That was how the Federation finally became history. Interesting stories. The flipside of the coin was that serious crime was almost unheard of. If a car was stolen in the country, the news hit the headlines of the newspapers.

At that time, there was a tremendous thirst for the Gospel in the country and a visiting evangelist was immediately snatched up to preach at one place after the other, no matter for which purpose he had come to the country. My purpose, of course, was to record as many Gospel songs as possible within the short time I had available and I had no intention of preaching at all, except for holding a few Bible studies for our co-workers. They would however have none of this and arranged for me for one meeting after the other.

Many of these were lunch-hour meetings in government buildings. I would then have to stand in a place where as many as possible people could see me. Once I stood in a passage filled to capacity with listeners in both directions and directly in front of me, two open doors into rooms where scores of people stood, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of me. It actually was most humbling, almost embarrassing for me, such an inexperienced preacher, having to bring the Word of God to such thirsty people.

On that occasion I used the illustration of the country’s legislation on how people were required to dress before being allowed to set foot on its soil as illustration of the spiritual requirements for a human being, wanting to be allowed into heaven after leaving this world. I said that God had His own rules for us to be admitted into his Kingdom. Down here below, our lifestyle might not seem so bad in our own eyes for we all sin in some or other way, but no one can enter into heaven in such an imperfect state. All of us need to be clothed in the spotless robe of the righteousness of Christ. This needs to be done before we “board the plane” that takes us into eternity. At the Blantyre airport we might still be afforded the opportunity of buying and putting on clothes that comply with the country’s legislation, but when we arrive at heaven’s door, there will be no further opportunity to get rid of our soiled garments. By the grace of God this word really touched the hearts of our listeners and I was so sorry that space and time allowed no opportunity for speaking individually to those who wanted to be put right with God. All I could do was to lead them in the sinner’s prayer and trust the Holy Spirit to complete the work in their hearts.

Once the work of drawing up a constitution, having a board meeting for the founding of the Mission in Malawi and fulfilling all the other legal requirements to the satisfaction of the attorney that was to represent us with the Government, had been completed, I could devote all my attention to the recording of Christian songs. The first step was to record a signature tune. The Chichewa people are exceptionally gifted when it comes to music and in the course of one day, they wrote a song, composed music to go with it and set about finding the most gifted singers to get together and practise it. Having done so, we were now ready for the recording.

An ordinary room with a rectangular shape and hard brick surfaces, results in so much unwanted echo, that I preferred to do the recording in a mud walled little room with a thatched roof. There was no electricity and so I had to use my Nakamichi cassette recorder which operated on eight torch batteries. A number of flat stones protruded from the walls in several places. On these we placed candles, for we were doing the recording at night time when the area had quietened down. We recorded the item over and over to make sure that it was as good as possible. Since I was sitting with the recorder in the same room as the choir, it was very difficult to get a proper mix between the different voices and also between the voices and the musical instruments. Furthermore, the recorder could record on two tracks only, so there was no possibility of recording the different instruments and voices each on its own track, and doing a proper mix afterwards in the studio. For this reason, everybody had to keep absolutely quiet after each go, to give me an opportunity to listen to what we had recorded and make sure that it was as good as could be.

It was during one of these pauses, that a grown chicken that had been hiding in the dark in its normal sleeping place under the dining room table, could stand the tension no longer and erupted in a series of cackles and cries at the very top of its voice. The twelve year old son of our host was totally bewildered by this irreverent disturbing of such holy moments, pounced on it, tucked it under his arm, plucked opened the door and ran down the street as fast as his legs could carry him, intending to put as much distance between the stricken chicken and the “recording studio” as quickly as possible, while the deranged bird was cackling at the top of its voice, convinced that doomsday had come upon it. The recording proved to be a great success, was used for many years as part of our Chichewa program and became well known in many a Christian home all over Malawi. I do believe that even in heaven such events are humoured.

We recorded a good collection of usable musical items all over that southern part of Malawi. These were translated into English by our evangelists so that I would be able to understand them and use an appropriate one to go with the messages when compiling the programs. I also recorded a good supply of sermons by the different evangelists and after a very successful visit to Malawi, returned home to my family in South Africa.

BLESS THE LORD THAT DIRECTS THE FOOTSTEPS OF HIS SERVANTS AND CAUSES THEM TO PROSPER IN ALL THAT HE SENDS THEM TO DO.

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.

Listen to Post

C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

.

PROPAGATING THE RADIO PROGRAMS IN LESOTHO

The radio is a tool and a wonderful tool at that, for while sitting in your studio, you can speak to thousands of listeners at the same time, even those way beyond the borders of your own country. To gain the attention of these listeners requires much ingenuity and effort. That is why most radio stations avail themselves of every opportunity to become visible to and attract possible listeners. They would for instance set up a temporary studio where a show is in progress for they know that for the duration of the show, thousands of people will be moving around. Normally such a studio has a window through which the public can watch the broadcaster or disc jockey at work and communicate with him by means of an outside microphone and a loudspeaker. The public would then be invited to comment on the exhibition or send messages to families and friends which would be broadcast live. In this way the radio station becomes known and builds a personal relationship with hundreds or even thousands of people in the course of a couple of days who would then hopefully in future, tune in to this station.

But what do you do when the people you wish to target are spread all over the remote areas of a neighbouring country like Lesotho? Well the basic principle of becoming visible to possible listeners remains the same, but you have to adapt your strategy. So what we did with our Sotho program, was to print thousands of pamphlets, stating the name of the program, frequencies and times when we could be heard, and a description of the content of the programme. With these we set off for Lesotho in a 1500cc 4 x 2 Mazda pickup with a canopy. The team consisted of only two people, namely Shadrach Maluka of whom I spoke earlier, and me. We decided to enter the country at the most northern accessible point and work our way down southwards along the western border. Lesotho, of course, is a mountain domain with the Maluthis being the central range. Most of the developed areas are at the foot of the mountains, along the borders, but we also wanted to reach those people dwelling within those mountain ranges so that they too could hear the Good News of Salvation. A verse which popped up in our minds was Isaiah 52:7: “How lovely upon the mountains are the feet of him that brings the good message, that announces peace; that brings good tidings, that proclaims salvation; that says unto Zion, your God is King!” (Isaiah 52:7)

On approaching the border, we were delighted to learn that pastor Reinhart Bonke (who, since then, has become a world-famous evangelist) was holding a campaign in that area. At that stage he was still doing his work on a smaller scale. We found him camped in a small caravan, spent some time chatting about our respective ministries and then went on our way.

On enquiring from the local people what the road was like into Lesotho, they grimaced and told us that, a few days earlier, another vehicle had tried to enter Lesotho by the route we were now intending to take, but was towed back by a span of oxen. This was not very encouraging but after consulting with the Lord, we decided to give it a go. Being used to negotiating difficult tracks in remote areas, we had little difficulty in making our way down to the river. Crossing the Caledon, however, was an obstacle we never expected, for it was flowing strongly and there was no bridge of any kind whatsoever. The Lord however knew all about this obstacle beforehand. He Who made a way for His people through the Red Sea and 40 years later again through the Jordan River, always has a solution when we run out of plans. A couple of metres from the opposite bank, a Land Rover was parked in the riverbed and a couple of people were busy washing it. We waved and shouted to attract their attention and then enquired how we could get across with our little pickup. They indicated for us to remain where we were, then got into their vehicle and backed up slowly, twisting this way and that until they reached the bank on our side. We were amazed that the water, though rising up against the vehicle, never seemed to get into it. They explained that there were rocks underneath the surface that provided a safe passage and by following right behind them, we would get across. We were very hesitant to do so for we did not want our vehicle to end up on its roof right at the first border of the country to which we wanted to bring the Good Tidings, but the sun was setting and so we decided to trust the Lord to bring us safely across. We drove almost bumper to bumper with the Land Rover every step of the way and though our pickup often lurched alarmingly from side to side and dipped its nose and tail deep into the fast flowing current, we finally made it to the opposite side and followed the Land Rover up against the embankment to where the ground levelled off and we could safely stop. We were so encouraged for we clearly saw God’s hand in bringing us through the Caledon and took it as a sign that He would assist us to overcome all the unforeseen obstacles that were still ahead of us.

We followed the road down to Butha-Buthe, Leribe, Teyateyaneng and up to the capital city of Maseru, sometimes making excursions into the interior of the country. All the way, while I was driving, Shadrach handed out pamphlets while explaining the contents. We were also delighted to find people that had actually been tuning in to our programs.

Regarding Lesotho. This little country of 30 000 square km (approximately the size of Belgium) is entirely landlocked by the Republic of South Africa. It is also known as the Kingdom in the Sky for the entire country rises 1000m above sea level and ¾ of its terrain consists of mountains, the Drakensberg and Maluthis being the main ranges. Thabana-Ntlenyana with its peak of 3482m is the highest mountain in Africa south of Kilimanjaro. With its often snow-capped peaks, deep gorges and major rivers, Lesotho is a most scenic country. It was established more or less in 1860 by the Sotho king Mosheshwe 1 at Butha-Buthe in the north-east. He later on moved his kraal to the mountain fortress of Thaba Bosiu where even the Zulu King Tshaka’s impi’s had to give up their endeavour to subject him and his people. It is said that after their final failure, he sent down a herd of cattle to them with the message that since it seemed that the Zulus had no food in their country, he wished to present them with this gift. Lesotho became independent in 1966. Its economy has never been strong enough to sustain its people and thousands of its male population have, for many decades, been working on mines in South Africa.

Lesotho also is renowned worldwide for its Lesotho Sun Roof of Africa Rally (Race). The Lesotho part of the race cuts over its northern mountain ranges from Butha-Buthe through Moteng Pass to Moghotlong and includes Sani Pass on the east. “It is considered to be one of the absolute toughest off-road endurance events in the world, attracting the world’s best Xtreme Enduro competitors to take on the challenge.” (Quoted from its website).

At Maseru, our picnic came to an end for there we turned inland to cross Lesotho from West to East, over the Maluthi mountains. Although of course not at all comparable with the rally course mentioned above, it was, in those days (approximately 1974) no child’s play, especially with no backup vehicle. This was the most hazardous journey I had ever undertaken in a two-wheel drive vehicle. It was just one mountain pass after the other: Bushmen’s Pass, Modimo Nthuse Pass (God Help Me Pass), Blue Mountain Pass, Likalaneng Pass, Cheches Pass, Mokhoabong Pass (2860m) and many more. Uphill the little 1500cc Mazda laboured mostly in its lower gears. When reaching the summit of a mountain, the view into the valleys below was breathtaking with the road just a pencil thin brown line connecting one mountain range with the next. Sometimes I would slip the gear lever into neutral, pull up the handbrake and just sit still and worship God for His awesome handiwork. From those peaks one would often be above the level where the eagles were normally flying and, looking down on them from above as they were effortlessly soaring, searching for prey, you had the sense of being one with them, detached from the earth. But then you just had to return to reality, engage the gears and get on with your journey. Negotiating those endless downhill twists and turns, required skill and concentration. Shadrach had both feet firmly planted against the front end of the floor board and every now and then I would just hear him whispering: “Oh, the corners, the corners!” Though I was in my early thirties and quite fit, my legs felt lame after a couple of hours of incessantly working the clutch and brake pedals.

Towards late afternoon we became quite concerned for we did not know where we were, how far the next village was and whether we would be able to reach it at all. That wonderful little instrument called a GPS, had not been born yet. We prayed about this issue as I was driving and after a couple of minutes I noticed the lights of a vehicle, very far behind us but drawing nearer quite fast. When it caught up with us, I stopped and it drew up alongside us. It was a lorry (a truck) and though its body was quite compact, its wheels were enormous and towered above us. The driver stared down from his cab in amazement. We enquired as to the way ahead and after some more dumbfounded gazing, he said that there was a river a couple of kilos ahead and if we managed to cross it, we should be able to reach the next settlement where we could overnight. He was working for an Australian firm that did mercenary work for the Lesotho government.

By that time night had fallen and so had our spirits. On reaching the river, I changed into second gear and gunned the engine. We cleft the water like a speedboat and all went quite well but right at the other side of the river, there was a very steep ridge. The front wheels leapt over it but the vehicle had lost momentum and the rear wheels just, just made it onto the edge of the ridge where the engine stalled. I jerked on the handbrake, sat breathless for a moment or two expecting us to slide back into the river. Then, when I was sure that we were stationary, I started the engine, gunned the motor, released the handbrake and by the Lord’s grace and a mighty push by His strongest angels, we dashed up the incline and were safely on the home run. Soon afterwards we arrived at our destination, as tired but also as grateful as can be.

We had arrived at a Roman Catholic mission station. The staff were very friendly, offered us overnight accommodation which we gladly accepted, and invited as to join them in an excellent supper. Since they seldom received visitors, they were hungry for conversation and were looking forward to an evening of us fellowshipping with them.

Having answered all their questions regarding ourselves, our ministry and the purpose of our visit to Lesotho, I asked whether I could read a portion of Scripture and pray for them. They gladly accepted my proposition and so I took out my English Bible and read from chapter 9 of the book of Acts which deals with Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus. One of them, named Saul, was a medical practitioner from Italy and also a Roman Catholic. He was ecstatic to learn that there was a Bible character with the same name. He must have been a very nominal Catholic. Having shared his joy, I then spoke on Paul’s miraculous conversion and how he, apart from Christ, became the most important character in the New Testament. I also spoke on the essence of his teaching as found in the books of Romans and Galatians, namely that people are saved, forgiven, born-again by trusting in the complete work of Christ and not in their own good deeds, and was delighted to note with what concentration some of the members of staff were listening. We were of course totally exhausted after our day’s journey and made a beeline for bed.

Though Shadrach and I differed from them in our understanding of the Word of God, we admired the great work they were doing in the efficient running of a hospital up there in the mountains. We were told that many years back, when the hospital opened, they bought deep freezes in South Africa that operate on paraffin, removed the doors to make them somewhat lighter, then strapped them onto mules and, in this way, transported them all the way up to the hospital. This must have taken them many days, if not weeks to accomplish. What tremendous drive some people have!

The next morning we made an early start as usual. First of all we distributed tracts and our radio pamphlets both to the patients and to the nurses in the hospital and then continued on our journey. The road called for patience and endurance. The crests of many of the smaller hills consisted of one enormous rock like a dome which means that the road disappeared on reaching it and continued from some or other point on the other side of it. I often had to get out of the vehicle, remove some of the loose stones in our way and find the best route to traverse the rock so as to meet up with the road on the other side – a time consuming exercise.

We often splashed through crystal clear mountain streams in which we could replenish our water supply. Along the way we often passed a Sotho man on his surefooted pony with a colourful blanket draped around his shoulders and a conical shaped grass hat (called a Mokorotlo) on his head. What really touched my heart again and again, was the sight of a small hut high up on those mountain slopes where a solitary little herd boy, not much older than twelve, spent most of his days watching over his father’s cattle. Every now and again someone from the kraal would bring him a small supply of maize-meal but apart from that, he would not receive any other visitors and of course had to take care of himself as far as the preparation of food was concerned. I so longed to be in a position to go up there, live with him for a couple of days while sharing the Good News of the Lord Jesus Christ. He would have ample time to contemplate, unlike our young people living in the cities whose minds are bombarded with all kinds of inputs, most of which do not benefit their souls.

What also thrilled our hearts was the fact that our shortwave transmission could be heard clearly all over those mountain ranges. This proved to us the value of our hard work. By vehicle we could pass through those regions only once in a lifetime, but by radio we could visit every village, every hut, every day. Unlike down below in the towns like Maseru, there was no FM reception up in the mountain areas, so everyone who had a radio, tuned in on shortwave and would most likely pick up our broadcasts.

At last we reached one of the larger settlements called Thaba Tseka where there was some sort of a grocery store where we could replenish our supplies. Having done so, I saw Shadrach surrounded by some angry men, pointing in my direction while speaking to him. I was rather concerned about this and prayed that the Lord might intervene for it would be most unfortunate for him to be attacked. I would then have had to intervene and an incident like that would most probably end up in court and keep us from returning to South Africa for many weeks. After a while they seemed to calm down and Shadrach returned and got into the vehicle. He explained that they were very politically minded and accused him of going around with “that White dog”. I felt so sorry for him for having to take the brunt of people’s anger towards us Whites, but could do nothing about it, apart from praying for him for wisdom and for his safety.

From Thaba Tseka we travelled in a south easterly direction, then, where the road branched, we turned left in a north-easterly direction, passing through Taung, Linakeng and Molumong and went as far as Mokhotlong, where we stayed for the night. The next day we retraced our footsteps to Taung, then turned left in a south-easterly direction. Early that morning we pulled up next to one of those crystal clear mountain streams to have a proper wash and I also had a shave. From there the road seemed to continue endlessly and the sun had already set when, at last, we saw the few tiny lights of Tsoelike winking at us way down at the base of the mountain range along which we had been travelling since daybreak. On arrival, Shadrach was accommodated by one of the local people while I slept in the back of the pickup, as usual.

The next morning we were all smiles, believing that our risks and hardships were over since we had left the mountain ranges behind us and were in the lowlands, travelling along a road that ran more or less parallel to the border of the country and continuing like that right up to Maseru where we intended to cross over into South Africa. We set off in a south-westerly direction, travelling up to Mpiti where we turned left and shortly afterwards arrived at Qacha’s Nek, a border post giving access to South Africa. I first of all bought a comb (a huge African type comb) for I had lost mine somewhere along the way and had to rake my hair into place with my fingers for a some days. Our next stop was the petrol pumps to fill up the tank for the last part of the journey.

I had hardly paid the pump assistant, when the left door was opened by a youngish African man who commanded Shadrach to move up, got in, slammed the door shut and commanded me to drive to the police station. I enquired who he might be and was informed that he was a private detective acting on behalf of the Lesotho Police Department. Apart from that, he would say no word and as we arrived at the police station, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by a couple of policemen that really meant business. The leader questioned us while we remained sitting within the vehicle. Since his command of English was rather poor, I left it to Shadrach to explain to him that we were missionaries from South Africa, propagating our Christian radio broadcasts. He also gave them a few pamphlets we were displaying as well as of the Gospel tracts we had with us.

This did not convince them of our bona fides and good intentions at all, so we were told to remain in the vehicle and one or more of their colleagues were appointed to keep a strict watch over us. They took up a stand a few yards in front of our vehicle, each slammed a bullet into his old Lee Enfield rifle and watched over us as if we had just committed a series of murders. One hour followed upon the other without us knowing what their intentions were. Very little conversation passed between Shadrach and me but fervent prayers went up from our hearts. At last the station commander and a retinue of subordinate staff, emerged from the building, walking briskly towards our vehicle. What now? Would we be locked up or executed? After staring at me and then at Shadrach for another couple of moments, he heaved himself up to his full height, looked right over the pickup and informed as that they had checked with their head office at Maseru and we were free to resume our journey. Without wasting another moment, I nodded in acknowledgement, started the pickup and left the premises without a backward glance.

From that moment onwards we never again stopped in any of the towns through which we passed and we also made quite sure that we had passed the police stations before we spread our pamphlets through the windows which we knew people would pick up. The rest of the journey along the southern border up to Mohale’s Hoek, then along the south-western border through Mafeteng and finally travelling north-wards parallel to the western border up to Maseru, was uneventful though we never were quite at ease. At last we crossed the bridge over the Caledon River and the next moment we were back on South African soil. Shadrach, who had been born in Lesotho, pulled out his white handkerchief, wiped his forehead, shook his head and said: “Thank God, we are back in our own country.”

ONE THING I CAN SAY ABOUT ALL THE YEARS OF DOING MISSION WORK IS THAT WE HARDLY EVER HAD A DULL MOMENT.

⇐ INDEX ⇒

◊

Have you enjoyed reading this page, or do you disagree with what was said or do you have questions? Please share with us whatever is on your mind by using the “REPLY” window provided below.