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C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

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RADIO BROADCASTING MINISTRY: TESTIMONIES AND TRAVELLING

Once the production of radio programs in the Makua language was running well, the obvious thing to do was to consider producing audio Gospel material in other languages for, in South Africa alone, there are eight African language groups, and across its borders in the three adjoining countries there are many more.

Since the evangelists in our mission represented just about every local language group, we were soon able to produce audio cassette recordings in all of these eight languages. We also made use of well-known speakers from other ministries outside of the Mission. So within a short period of time, we had quite a sizeable collection of audio cassettes. A cassette normally consisted of four 12 minute messages interspersed with Gospel songs which we also recorded in our self-constructed studio. These little “preachers” were posted all over the country and did a great work, especially for Christians working on farms or living in other remote areas where they just about never had the opportunity of attending a Word-based church. As time went by, we also produced a series of messages on topics such as the Christian family, faith, prayer, how to study the Bible and, of course, also on salvation.

Although the majority of our listeners probably were just about illiterate, we were amazed at the number of letters received from them by post in response to our radio programmes. It was so thrilling, during that period of civil war in Mozambique and while Communism often had the upper hand, to receive a letter from a listener residing in “Mao Tse Tung Avenue, Maputo, Mozambique” stating what a tremendous blessing these messages were to him in the midst of the war that was raging all around.

From the Gaza province in Mozambique, we received a letter from a lay preacher, telling us that he was the only person with a radio in a radius of many kilometres, but that many of his friends and acquaintances gathered at his place twice a week to listen to the programs. They arrived well ahead of time, then worshipped the Lord in song until the program started. After the message, they discussed it, prayed and had a further time of worship before returning home. In this way a little church was founded way out there in the bush where they hardly ever even saw a motor vehicle for the lack of infrastructure. Radio waves are like the Spirit of God that knows no boundaries.

Another letter that really blessed our hearts was written by a lady who was lame and permanently confined to a wheelchair. She lived in a township called Kanye, which means light, in the neighbouring country of Botswana, and told us how her husband had left her after she had become lame and that she had a hard time in sustaining herself. She also could not attend church meetings because of the distance and her physical condition. We replied by letter expressing our regret for not being able to go there and provide for her material needs in some small measure. Her reply was: “Do not let that trouble you. Should you give me a loaf of bread, it will only last for a day or two but you are giving me the Living Bread which satisfies me daily.” A further blessing to us in the radio and cassette ministry team, was that the Lord later on opened the way for one of our outreach teams to go to Kanye where they had a tent campaign and also met with this dear child of God Who had been instrumental in God’s plan to bring the Light of the Gospel to her people.

Notwithstanding the cost involved in the producing and broadcasting of radio programs, the Mission allowed me to extend this ministry to Chichewa, Shangaan, Sesotho and even Herero (a language spoken in Namibia.) We even compiled children’s programmes in Shangaan and I wrote and recorded radio plays based on two books titled: “Apollo the apostle to the pygmies” and “Samuel Morris”. This was quite a challenge for we did not have a library of sound effects at our disposal as did the large broadcasting studios. I had to devise and record most of the sound effects myself, such as the calls of birds and wild animals, the opening and closing of a door, the crying of a baby, the noise generated by a crowd of people, etc. Many of the bird calls I recorded during two of our visits to the Kruger National Park and some of them matched professional recordings, notwithstanding the poor equipment I had at my disposal. The recording of “Apollo the Apostle to the Pygmies” was transmitted in Afrikaans by Trans World Radio at prime time, in a series of eight consecutive transmissions. The “Samuel Morris” manuscript I later on sold to the Namibian Broadcasting Corporation that translated it into three of the local dialects, then recorded the plays and broadcast them over their transmitters.

Compiling the radio programs did not mean that I just sat in the studio all day long, for I often went to places I had never been before. On one such occasion Mr von Staden requested me to fly down to Cape Town where one of our teams was having a campaign in a township called “Crossroads”. I was to join the team for a couple of days, take some photos and bring back a report which he would be able to use for deputation work. He had been an excellent photographer in his days and used the photographs he took very effectively to stimulate prayer amongst South African Christians for the salvation of the African and Coloured people. This also was the Mission’s way of raising funds for itself. Christians who got to know about the work the Mission was doing, often felt the urge and were led by God to provide for its needs. Mr von Staden had however now grown much older and could no longer do this work. He therefore used me and other members of the Mission to gather material that he could use for this purpose.

I flew down to the Cape, joined up with the outreach team and accompanied them all over the township, taking photos while they were concentrating more on doing house visitation. Most of the residents were Xhosa speaking people that had flocked there from as far as the Ciskei and Transkei to find work. There was of course no housing available and so they erected shelters constructed of just about any material they could lay their hands on. The roofs were normally made of second-hand corrugated iron sheeting supported by a couple of poles. The walls consisted of any kind of plastic conceivable. Worst of all was the lack of ablution facilities. There were some pit toilets at strategic places but there was no drainage system. Everyone just dug a shallow little furrow downhill to join up with the network of furrows lower down the slope. Thin planks were laid over the furrows to prevent one from putting one’s foot into the murky water often mixed with urine. Walking at night was very risky for there were no lights to light up this rapidly extending shantytown. The daily influx was enormous for by that time the influx control legislation preventing people from taking up residence in or near the cities without beforehand having found some sort of work, had been abrogated and people living in the homelands were under the illusion that they would be able to make a fortune if only they could manage to get to the cities – very much the same situation as is experienced worldwide during a gold rush.

Once I had finished Mr von Staden’s commission to take photos and compile a report, I lingered for another day or two, wondering what else I could do in terms of Kingdom work to justify the expense of my flight ticket before returning to Pretoria. At that time I was in the process of writing the “Samuel Morris” radio play. The story was about an African boy of the Ivory Coast who had been held hostage by a rival tribe. The Lord miraculously freed him and led him to a mission station where he was born again. He grew spiritually in leaps and bounds and very soon the missionaries could not answer his questions regarding the Holy Spirit anymore and advised him to see a certain Stephen Merritt who was lecturing at a Christian University in the USA. They said that Stephen would be able to guide him deeper into a life of total surrender to the Holy Spirit. He immediately set off on foot and, on reaching the coast, boarded a sailing ship that took him across the sea to his destination.

Since a considerable part of the story covered his experiences aboard the sailing ship and I had never been on one, I asked the Lord to provide me with such an experience in order that I would be able to write the story. Having brought this request before the Lord the previous evening, I went down to the small craft harbour the next morning and stood at a railing overlooking the boats. Right in front of me, though I did not know it at that time, was the largest and most luxurious of all sea-going yachts in South Africa. It was a two master called the Bonser. A number of people were scurrying all over the deck getting the boat ready to sail. As I stood, watching and praying, a man emerged from below deck. He had a very friendly attitude and, seeing me standing up there, waved at me. I waved back and called out: “Do you take others along?” “Yes,” he replied, “Hop on board!” I could not believe my ears but neither did I hesitate for a single moment. I sped over the gangplank, gave him a hearty handshake, told him who I was, what work I was doing and the purpose for which I wanted to gain the experience of a trip on the sailing boat. He was quite amused and made me feel very welcome. A couple of minutes later, we cast off and moved out of the harbour towards the open sea, using the boats’ huge diesel motor. However, having gone only a short distance they realised that the fog had become too dense for safety and that they would also not enjoy a day like that at sea. So they turned back and agreed to sail early the next morning. This suited me very well for it would allow me the opportunity of getting my cameras and sound equipment.

The next morning, soon after daybreak, we sailed out onto the deep blue ocean. I was a bit concerned that I might get seasick out there in the heavy swells. While we were still using the diesel motor, the chap that had invited me, took me down below into the cabin for a cup of coffee. He turned out to be the owner of the boat and, as I was later on told by one of the other crew members, a multi, multi-millionaire who owned several factories, each managed by a capable, professional manager allowing him to cruise the oceans without cares. He was also a very talented man.

I had never been in the cabin of a large sailing boat like this and it fascinated me: the bunks, toilet facilities (including a shower), lounge and especially the kitchen. The gas stove was on the starboard side and suspended on two thick rods protruding from its sides, allowing it to swing freely as the boat rolled from side to side, and in so doing, keeping the pots placed on it in a horizontal position all the time so that the contents would not spill. Needless to say, the cabin was luxurious.

The owner was a nominal Roman Catholic and obviously not a Christian. He admired me for the work I did and was fascinated by the Lord Jesus Christ, not because of the fact that He was the holy Son of God, but because of the fact that, though He could have had anything on Earth His heart desired, He chose to live a very simple life, having no home of His own and only one cloak to wear. This just did not make sense for, to him, life was all about having everything you could see, touch, hear, taste or experience in some or other way and to heartily enjoy it all. He did not speak badly of the Lord, but just could not understand His way of thinking and doing. I really enjoyed sharing the heart of the Gospel with him during those few minutes while having my coffee but had to cut it short for I was considered to be a member of the crew and had to get up deck and do my duty.

For that day’s cruise, the owner had appointed a retired ship’s captain, a very gruff and unpolished man and a heavy drinker who could not, for the life of him, understand why a “religious” man like me was invited to be part of the crew, for he was definitely looking forward to a real jolly time and felt that I was going to spoil it all. He was also down below while I was having my coffee and thirstily swallowed his first four fingers of neat booze for the day.

On returning to the deck, I found everybody very busy, each one knowing exactly what to do. They were rigging those massive sails that would speed us across the water. This was a much bigger job than I had ever anticipated. The sails were hoisted by ropes fed through a pulley at the top of each mast, then wound around horizontal stainless steel drums, each having a handle on top to rotate it. When turning the handle clockwise, the drum would rotate at high speed, hoisting the sail fast for the first couple of metres, but then, when the weight of the canvas required more power than one could muster, one could switch to turning the handle anti-clockwise and a cluster of gears inside of the winch would allow one greater leverage, but of course rotate the winch more slowly and slow down the hoisting of the sail – quite ingenious.

I lent a hand wherever I could and very soon got my turn at one of the winches. This was going to happen quite often during the course of the day, for the challenge for the crew was to keep the boat at maximum speed. The sails therefore had to be trimmed quite often, depending on the wind.

The captain was in charge all the time and would order one sail down and another one up, at which the crew members had to jump to it. My energy was somewhat low because of a stomach ailment, but the captain had his eye on me and would shout at the top of his voice: “Come on Ben, you don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you’re the only fit man on board: take the winch!” I would then jump to it, grab the winch with both hands, grind my teeth, pray to the Lord for supernatural strength to flow into my mortal body so as not to disgrace His Name before this uncouth human being and then swing that handle as if I were cranking the engine of a model T Ford. Eventually, seeing that he could not break or embarrass me, he backed off, probably also because the combination of sun, wind and booze had blunted the edge of his energy.

During the day I had the opportunity of conversing with some of the other members of the crew. To all of them, sailing was their favourite sport and they each had some sort of boat but counted it a privilege to sail this masterpiece. One of the couples I found especially interesting. They were accompanied by their daughter of about 28, and told me that they were getting their catamaran ready for a cruise around the globe, for they too, had laid up sufficient wealth to last them a lifetime and were actually sailing year in and year out. They then recalled some of their adventures of the past. Once they had been doing what they called “Island hopping” close to Australia which meant that they would drop anchor near to an uninhabited island, then use a small boat to get to it where they would roam about for a while before returning to their boat. On strolling across one such island, they found the wreck of a small aeroplane that had crashed there and were shocked to see the skeleton of the pilot still in a sitting position in the cockpit.

They also recounted to me how they had sailed from country to country and from harbour to harbour. All over the world they encountered people following a similar lifestyle, people that never did a day’s work to provide in their needs, people that lived lives entertaining themselves, all year round. When lying at anchor in the harbours, they fellowshipped with one another, having parties on one boat after the other. To me this was an altogether alien world, interesting but totally unacceptable. I just could not imagine myself wasting my life in such a way. To me, to live was to serve the Lord Jesus by giving all I had to extend His kingdom by making disciples of the nations. Though I also enjoyed life, I relished the presence of God more than any worldly pleasure and looked forward to the eternal joy that was still to come.

As the day wore on, the wind picked up and the boat listed over onto its side more and more, making it very difficult and tiring to move around, for one had to hang onto the cable railings or any other available fixtures for dear life not to go overboard. Having sailed some distance off shore, we gradually changed course, turned back and rounded Cape Point (Cape of Good Hope), then steered along the coast in a north-westerly direction until we finally, after twelve hours of sailing, moored in Simon’s Bay where the SA Navy base was. All of us, being dead tired, still had to drive back to Cape Town. I was so grateful for being given a lift by one of the crew because I doubt whether I would have made it by train.

The next morning I had to fly back to Pretoria, so I had to rise early to be in time for my flight. I managed to get to the plane, then flopped down in my seat with two eyes red as robots because of the wind I had been exposed to during the previous day. When it was time for breakfast, I was somewhat revived and noted that the chap sitting on my right hand side, ordered kosher food and had a little kippa (cap) on the back of his head. I guessed that he might be a Jewish rabbi which, when I started making small talk with him, proved to be correct. Though I felt much more like sleeping, I just could not ignore the voice of the Holy Spirit prompting me to share the Gospel with him. He was a very affable person and quite willing to discuss spiritual matters.

I asked him to explain to me, briefly, the gist of his religious convictions. He then told me that he was an orthodox Jew and his religion consisted of keeping the laws of Moses (Torah) which they fleshed out into 613 individual prescriptions: 248 “Do’s” and 365 “Don’ts”. I commented that, being human, it must be rather difficult to memorise and keep all those laws and enquired to what extent he personally managed to do so. I could see that he was a bit flustered and while fiddling with his hands admitted that he failed just about every day, but that provision was made for Yahweh’s (God’s) forgiveness by the sacrificing of an animal, usually a lamb. I further enquired, as humbly as I could, whether he did not consider the price of a lamb to be fairly small payment for the sin of a person, for some people were rather heavy sinners, for instance a murderer, and could the blood of a lamb, or even of a hundred lambs, be considered sufficient payment to cover such a great guilt, and exactly how many lambs, or bullocks, or whatever animals one would need to pay, and how could you be certain that one had covered all one’s debts? He shook his head, smiled wryly and admitted that that was in the hands of God and that you could never be sure of this.

I then explained to him that I, as a Christian, believed that the Lord Jesus Christ was the Holy Son of God and the only perfect, all sufficient Lamb to be offered on the altar of the cross for the sin of mankind, and that, by putting your life into his hands by faith, all of your sin was covered forever, with no need of any further sacrifice. You could then rest contentedly, knowing that you were accepted into the family of God and could, from that point onwards, grow into the image of his Son by the power and wisdom of the Holy Spirit that enters into your life, causing you to be born spiritually as a new creature. He listened very attentively and said that this was very strange for me to speak to him on this issue for, on his flight down from Pretoria to Cape Town some days earlier, another man who had sat next to him, spoke to him along the same lines and also gave him a New Testament which he had been reading since that day. By that time we arrived at the Johannesburg airport (then called Jan Smuts) where our ways parted. I committed him to the Lord, thanking Him for the opportunity of watering a spiritual seed sown by someone else before me.

The Lord is continually watching the multitudes from heaven as a chess player watches the chess board before him and moves us into the right places to minister to others, or to be ministered to, by others.

BLESSED BE HIS NAME!

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C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

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FOUNDING OF THE RADIO AND CASSETTE MINISTRY

These years during which Martie and I were together in running the campaigns, was a wonderful period of our lives, a period during which we also got so much closer to one another, probably due to the hardships we had been sharing.

Then came the time when Frans had grown to the age he had to go to school, with the result that Martie and the children had to remain at home while I went out on campaigns. To both of us, this was a very distressing experience. By that time we had been married for eight years and before our marriage, I had courted her for six years during which time we had hardly ever been separated from one another, so we felt like being physically, emotionally and spiritually torn apart. Campaigns lasted upwards of three weeks in the course of which I never returned home. Cell phones were not yet available so I had to use the landline of the people that hosted me to phone her to at least hear her voice now and then, and she mine. Such conversations could seldom be conducted in privacy. We also corresponded and she still has a letter I wrote her at that time.

In a sense she was a bit better off than me, for she had the children with her, but I was all alone. Oh, how I missed them. I remember one day parking the car next to a school’s playing grounds, sitting there, looking at the children and desperately longing to have my two little ones on my lap. Their faces were continually before me and I could hear their excited chatter ringing in my ears.

Apart from the reports we submitted to Head Office at the close of every campaign, we also had to write a personal letter to Mr von Staden every now and then. I mentioned our feelings to him, requesting for a change of field of service to enable us to spend more time together as a family. I also shared with him my burden for the converts, people that came to the Lord during our campaign but were left without any further spiritual teaching. I requested to be allowed to produce audio cassettes in different African languages to send to them. My vision was to set up a system whereby the Whites that had requested us to hold the campaigns, either on the farms or in the nearby townships, could order cassette’s from us and use their tape recorders to play these to the converts. The idea was that they would do so regularly, say once a week. During that time they would also pray for the converts and counsel them, for these Whites normally were devoted Christians, well capable of running such a ministry.

I did not tell Martie that I was going to put forward this request, for I did not want to disappoint her should my request be turned down. In this I did well for the Lord wanted to deal with her in His own way…….

MARTIE’S ACCOUNT OF “WANTING BEN BACK HOME”

“We always accompanied Ben on campaigns, but soon the time came when our son, Frans had to attend school. We were then staying in one of the houses on the Mission premises. As a family we had never before been separated from one another and I found it very taxing when Ben had to go on campaigns for long periods, sometimes three to six weeks at a time. During such times, one or both of the children might become sick, leaving me to take all the decisions. On various occasions our son Frans had glandular fever and I had to treat him with great care. In his letters to me, Ben sometimes cautioned me to look well after him since his constitution had been weakened by the meningitis he had had on two occasions.

All sorts of unforeseen things were happening all the time, like the day when Jaco, on his way back home from school, then in grade A, stood with his two bare feet on a cobra snake, thinking it to be a thick stick lying across the footpath. Initially I managed to take it all in my stride but later on I could handle it no more. I got very rebellious and upset and said to the Lord: ‘I just cannot go on like this’. I even wrote a letter to Ben, just pouring out my heart and telling him how I felt about the situation. He tried to encourage me, but I knew that for him too, it was not easy to be away from home. We both, however, also knew we had to do it for the sake of those people that did not know God.

As I continued arguing with God, saying that I was not willing to stay alone with our two little children anymore and wanted Ben to be home with us, He answered me from His Word saying: ‘So He gave them what they requested, but sent a leanness within their souls.’ (Ps. 106:15, OAT). As I read this, I cried out: ‘No, please Lord, not that!’

I decided not to speak to anyone about this whole issue, but kept on praying. A few days later, Mrs. Von Staden visited me and said: ‘We have been praying about the fact that Ben is away from home for long periods while you and the children have to stay at home and decided to withdraw him from the campaigns so that he can be at home with his family.’ Shortly after that, he was indeed back with us for keeps!”

LAUNCHING THE AUDIO CASSETTE AND RADIO MINISTRY

This was to be a totally new phase in our lives. By that time we had long since, park home and all, moved from my uncle’s smallholding to the Dorothea Mission premises at Rosslyn where we were given a home. There were also several other homes where other Mission workers were staying as well as the Ladies’ Hostel and the Bible School for our African students. So we were a nice little community there, having good fellowship with one another.

My first job was to set up an audio recording studio to record messages and songs which we were then to transfer onto audio cassettes. We were allotted a little storeroom somewhat separate from the other buildings, for this purpose. To make it soundproof was a formidable task, for the premises adjoined a railway station with diesel engines thundering past every now and then. The noise was not entering only through the roof and walls, but also through the ground. We bought many roles of plastic fibreglass wool which we laid on the ceiling and affixed to the walls to keep out the noise and muffle the echo within the room. We did not even have separate control and recording rooms for this was a new thing to the Mission and it was hesitant to invest a lot of money in a project that might not bear spiritual fruit. Martie and I did most of the work ourselves and very soon our “studio” was ready to be used.

Initially we only had a small handheld cassette tape-recorder and a single microphone to do the job. The messages had to be preached all in one go for we had no way of cutting out portions of it or of joining two pieces of tape together. We got our African co-workers to bring the messages. While a person was preaching, I of course also had to be absolutely quiet in doing the recording, for we were both in the same room. Notwithstanding the difficult circumstances, we speedily built up a considerable supply of cassettes in two or three indigenous languages.

The next step was to purchase a machine that could duplicate the master cassettes. This was a very expensive item but one of my relatives donated the funds to buy it and so one day I came home with this beautiful brand-new Sony duplicator. Martie got the job of duplicating the cassettes and did this very efficiently, also affixing a printed label with a distinctive serial number to each. We bought and erected shelves and stacked the small “loaves of spiritual bread” onto them. The reaction to the catalogue and letters we sent out to the friends of the Mission amazed us. Orders started flooding in and so we were right into business in a relatively short time.

Once the foundation for spreading the Gospel by means of audio recordings had been laid, the Lord made a further move. He lay it on the heart of a son-in-law of Mr von Staden, Tom Barlow, to come up with the idea of broadcasting Gospel messages to the Makua people in the heart of Mozambique. He had earlier on also been in the Mission and had got to know an evangelist with the surname of Saukila in Malawi, a country much further north of South Africa. Though this man’s mother tongue was Chichewa, he also was fairly fluent in the Lomwe/Makua language and Tom thought that he might be able to assist us in compiling messages in that language.

We had in mind airing this program through the transmitters of Trans World Radio, a well established Christian radio station in South Africa. So one day Mr von Staden and I travelled to its South African headquarters. Mr von Staden remained in the car praying for me, while I went in to discuss the issue with the head of the broadcasting station. My main problem at that stage was to obtain a suitable recorder for quality audio recordings, at that time done by means of huge reel to reel machines which I did not have.

The Director of Trans World Radio was very appreciative of the fact that we intended to tackle such a difficult programme and assured us that they would give us all possible assistance. He put his word into action by presenting me with an old Ferrograph recorder which had in earlier years been used by the British Broadcasting Corporation and was still in good condition. He also gave me a couple of tapes of Christian songs in the Portuguese language, the official language of Mozambique, also spoken and understood to some degree by many of the residents, for at that stage we did not have a single Christian song in the language we wanted to broadcast. Mr von Staden, of course, was just as delighted when I told him what had transpired between us and showed him this prize piece of equipment. After scouting around and some extra funds having been received, I also managed to acquire a Revox- and later on even a professional quality Studor recorder.

In God’s work, the most important part always is to find the right man for the job. By that time we had of course already negotiated with brother Saukila to undertake this work and so we now made final arrangements with him and sent him the first batch of 10 to 12 minute messages to translate. As soon as we received word from him that he had completed the translations, we arranged for a date and paid for his passage.

At last he arrived for his first recording session. After all the trouble we had taken to set up the studio, it was a bit of a disappointment to discover that he was not all that fluent in the Macua language, especially not in reading it. I had to stop the recording frequently, wipe out some of what had been recorded and then let him start all over again. This was very difficult to do properly for any speaker is mostly unable to begin where he left off, in the same pitch and volume so the process has to be repeated over and over, a very time consuming task and still resulting in a final product sounding pretty terrible. This meant that we often had to record a specific message numerous times to produce an acceptable quality for broadcasting purposes.

Our lack of equipment also brought its own challenges. Without an audio mixer you had to manually string together pieces of tape containing the different components of your program such as the signature tune, initial announcement, main message, musical item, and closing announcement, one after the other, to produce a complete recording. So what you did was to play the signature tune from the first recorder and record it on a clean tape with a second recorder, leaving a small blank space at the end of the recording. Then you recorded the next item and the next onto the same tape until all items had been recorded.

Starting from the beginning, you would then play this master tape up to the point where the first item ended and mark it with a special marker on the back of it. The next step was to rotate the two reels slowly by hand until you could hear the start of the following item, stop rotating and again mark the position on the back of the tape. Then you pulled the tape away from the recording heads and laid it into the groove of a splicing unit. Using the cutting tool, you cut diagonally across the tape at the end of the first recording and at the beginning of the second, removed the piece of blank tape, carefully matched up the two ends of the tape and joined them on the back with a piece of adhesive tape provided for this purpose. The joined tape was then removed from the splicing tool and laid in position on the recorder’s heads again. If the job had been well done, you would be unable to detect that the tape had been joined when you listened to the recording afterwards.

After a while we managed to obtain some more funds and imported an Alan and Heath mixer from Britain. This made the job much easier for you could feed different playback recorders each into a different channel on the mixer and, by opening and closing the different channels while, at the same time starting the recorders at the exactly right moment, you could transfer the components of your program onto the master tape with much less trouble. Much later, we even got to the point where we had a cluster of machines, most of which had the ability to start automatically the moment you opened the slider for a specific machine on the mixer. By queuing up the different machines to the exact right spot from which you wanted them to play back, you could then sit down at the mixer and by just opening and closing the channels on the mixer, go right through the compiling of your final programme without ever having to stop or to get up and start a specific recorder. (Nowadays everything is done by computer. The music, the message and all the other elements of your final product are pre-recorded electronically and patched together by cutting and pasting as you would with a Word document. You can of course also include a host of other miracles to enhance your final product.)

However, that was how everybody did it in those early days and I was very thrilled when I eventually had acquired the skills of the trade and it was a great day when I made up the first few tapes into packages and posted them to Swaziland from where they would be broadcast over the shortwave transmitters of Trans World Radio reaching deep into the heart of Mozambique. We all bunched together around the radio to listen to the very first programme of “Mphatso ya Mulungu” (the Makuwa for “Gift of God.”). Beforehand we had made quite sure that we had tuned in to the correct frequency and after listening to some other broadcast in an unfamiliar language for a couple of minutes, at the exact right time, we heard our familiar signature tune followed by brother Saukila’s high-pitched voice speaking to the 2 ½ million Macua/Lomwe people in their own language, bringing them the message of hope at a time when the whole of Mozambique, and especially those northern tribes, were plunged into a devastating guerrilla war that was to last for 15 years before peace was at last restored.

PRAISE BE UNTO HIM FOR EVER MORE!

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C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

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THE PONGOLA CAMPAIGN

Pongola is a small town surrounded by sugar cane farms. The African people of that area consist mostly of Zulus with a smaller component of siSwatis from the nearby Swaziland. It is some 439 km from Pretoria and its climate varies from mild in winter to very, very hot during the summer months. We were invited there by a local evangelist to hold a campaign in the nearby township and were hosted by the same Tannie Joey with whom Martie had stayed at Jozini. We were quite tired on arriving there for we had run campaigns in two different places and had been away from home for two months on end, staying in the homes of our hosts all the time.

We had a fine team and the campaign set off at a good pace right from the start. One of our young male evangelists, Ras Nomame, especially touched the right chord with our audience in the evening tent meetings. Borrowing Martie’s piano accordion, he led the worship very effectively and we really sensed the presence of God. He was also a good-looking chap and on the closing night of the campaign, one of the young ladies testified that for the first week she was so mesmerised by him and by his playing of the piano accordion that she never heard a single word of the message. Then gradually God started speaking to her and her eyes were opened to see the Lord Jesus and to accept Him as her Saviour. Our house visitation also went very well and we had the expectation of a good harvest of souls.

The devil, however, would not allow us a free passage to victory and once more he struck Martie and me in an area where we were most vulnerable, namely by attacking our children. This time he lashed out at our elder boy, Frans who was some four years old at that time. Before the evening service both he and Jaco were fit as fiddle, running around in the tent, playing with all the other children and really enjoying themselves. After the service we went to bed but by about 4 o’clock the next morning, Martie woke up and attended to Frans who seemed to be restless. Laying her hand on his forehead, she found that he had a fever, so she woke him up, gave him a Disprin and put him back to bed. At six o’clock however, he was even more restless, running a very high temperature and we both saw that he was in a serious state. We woke up Tannie Joey who got the local doctor out. He had hardly started examining him, when he told us that we were to take him to hospital immediately but without telling us what ailment he suspected.

On arrival at the hospital, treatment started right away. We pressed the doctor to know what the problem was and he told us that it was a bad attack of meningitis and if Frans did not respond to treatment, they would have to fly him to Pretoria. We were shocked. It had all happened so suddenly. We immediately phoned our head office, asking for prayer. Martie then remained with him but I had to attend to the needs of the team.

On getting back to the motor car that was parked outside the hospital, it would not start. I found a couple of willing hands to push it and then drove to the garage. They discovered that the battery had gone quite flat and that it had to be replaced. I was dismayed for it was near to the end of the campaign and our funds were running very low, but I had no option but to buy a new battery and get on with my other duties which were to buy meat and other foodstuffs for the team and take it to them. When I told them how sick Frans was, they immediately agreed to get together and pray for him.

On returning to the hospital, my hopes sagged for although some hours had passed, there was no change for the better; he was actually getting worse all the time. His neck was as stiff as a rod and his temperature as high as could be. Martie and I remained by his bed all day long, praying and pleading with God as we had perhaps never before done in our lives.

Towards evening I left them to be with the team during the outreach meeting, but afterwards returned to the hospital: still no improvement at all. I left Martie with him for the night for I had to return home to look after Jaco who was still very small at that time. On arriving home, I was so grateful to learn that Tannie Joey had organised a prayer chain in Pongola while I was away.

As can be imagined, I slept very little, if at all, that night for I was on my knees before the only One that could be of real help in such circumstances. At that time there were no cell phones so I could not even keep in touch with Martie during the night, but very early the next morning I left Jaco in Tannie Joey’s care and hurried to the hospital.

The moment I saw Martie, I knew that there was a change for the better; I could see it in her face. She told me that the doctor had been there quite a few times during the night and at his last visit, early that morning, he found that the tension in Frans’s neck had gone and that he could even bend it right down till his chin touched his body. He was much relieved and, looking up, had smiled, nodded to Martie and said that the crisis was over and that our son would recover.

We were overjoyed at hearing this good news, although still concerned, for Frans’s legs had gone completely lame. He was unable to stand upright and the doctor told us that he might suffer a loss of hearing and sight, but that this would only become apparent in the course of time. We were however convinced that the Lord who had brought him that far, would do a complete job in healing him and not allow these complications to set in. In this we were not disappointed, for though he seemed to suffer some loss of hearing and sight initially, he gradually recovered completely and today is as normal as can be.

In God’s work “the show must go on” and so we continued with the campaign for another few days before we brought it to a close. Though the devil had tried to trip us up and stop the Lord from building His Kingdom, he was defeated and the campaign ended in a great victory with many people, especially the younger generation, testifying to their newfound salvation in Christ. A bonus was that a White young lady who had also been attending the meetings, felt that the Lord was calling her to the Dorothea Mission and soon after she entered the Bible School as a student.

Hallelujah to the Name of our mighty God!

THE BELGRADE CAMPAIGN

Some 120km from Pongola and on the way to Pretoria, lies a farm called Belgrade within an African Trust area which also is altogether Zulu territory. Some two years or more after the Pongola campaign, I recommended to the Mission that we go there for a campaign, for I knew the area quite well. We set off as a team of eight or ten people, consisting of us as a family, Oom Gerhardt Engelbrecht mentioned in an earlier chapter, Annelise Kropp, a German speaking co-worker of my and Martie’s age and four to six African co-workers. On leaving Pretoria we were in somewhat of a predicament because the Mission did not have sufficient funds for us for the campaign and could only fill our vehicles’ tanks for the journey.

While finding accommodation for the rest of the team with people nearby, we as a family and Annelise were to satisfy ourselves with two bare rooms on the premises – rooms that each had only two single beds. We had to drape sheets in front of the windows for curtains and I had to cut two branches and tie a rope between them on which to hang our clothes. We used the third room as a pantry, kitchen and dining room. There were no electric lights and so we had to make do with gas lamps.

Our main problem, however, was to obtain food for the team as well as for our two children. We all got together, knocked on heaven’s door, made our needs known and decided to trust the Lord to provide. Some of us had a small amount of pocket money with us, which we pooled, then set out for a little farm shop a few kilometres away. We introduced ourselves to the owners, called de Bruin, who enquired who we were and what we had come to do in that area. We explained that we were from the Dorothea Mission and had come to do a campaign in the trust area. At this they just opened up to us and we were delighted to discover that they too were Christians and dedicated Christians at that. We gave them a list of the foodstuffs we needed most and they graciously added many more items as a gift. They were not well-to-do people but quite often afterwards, brought us all sorts of food supplies.

This was however still hopelessly insufficient for the daily needs of so many people but the Lord also provided via the local African people to whom we had come to minister. As soon as they got to know us, every now and then someone would turn up with a gift from his or her garden: vegetables like potatoes, sweet potatoes and “madumbulus” that look and taste very much like potatoes. Meat was in short supply but whenever we reached a point of severely hungering for it, someone would turn up with a chicken or two which we shared amongst us. We never went hungry during all that time for God has food supplies stacked away in secret cupboards all over the world and releases them to his children according to their needs.

Martie and I knew a number of Christians at Piet Retief, which is about 40 km from Belgrade and so I phoned to let them know about our campaign, asking them to pray for us and inviting them to pop in if ever they felt to do so. We were surprised and delighted when one of them, a certain Mr Victor Volker, phoned us about a week later, requesting that we come over and tell them about our work. I did so and had a very good evening speaking about what we were doing and showing them the photos I had with me. In my heart I fervently prayed that these wealthy businessmen that were also doing a great work for the Lord and for his kingdom at Piet Retief, would give us a donation to meet our needs, for we still had to find the funds to return to Pretoria at the end of the campaign. This, however, did not happen and I returned home empty-handed and blissfully unaware of another challenge that was awaiting me.

Some days later our pickup’s clutch finally packed up and I hardly made it to the garage at Pongola which is some 60 km from Belgrade, where I left the pickup for repairs and somehow got a lift back to Belgrade. After a couple of days the garage phoned, informing me that the vehicle was ready to be collected. I could not postpone doing so for that would have put us in a bad light with the owner whom I had told who I was and that we were busy with a campaign at Belgrade. I managed to get a lift to Pongola in a big truck and on arriving there, I went to the garage to enquire what the costs for the repairs amounted to. I had been able to lay my hands on a couple of Rands – someone must have given it to us, but I knew that it was very unlikely that that amount would cover the costs.

When the garage owner handed me the invoice, my fears were confirmed. I thanked him and said I would return shortly and pay him. I suppose he thought that I would be going to the bank to draw the money. What he did not know was that by that time, the people I knew at Pongola had left and that I did not know a single person to whom I could turn for assistance. All I could do and planned to do, was to sit down on a bench in a nearby little park and pray to the Lord to provide in my dire need as He did for Hagar when she ran out of water in the desert and, together with her son Ishmael, faced certain death. I had walked about 20 yards when I heard him calling after me. On looking back, I saw him gesturing to me to come back. I did so and when I got to him he asked me: “How much do you have with you?” I told him the amount, to which he replied: “That will do.” I was speechless while many seconds ticked by and had to bite my lip to control my emotions or else the tears would have spilled over my cheeks. I thanked him over and over again, then drove back singing and shouting all the way. Can you imagine the exclamations of surprise and joy when I got home to Belgrade and shared with the team what God had done? Oh, how mightily our faith was strengthened.

During that campaign, towards the end of it, I had a very singular experience. We heard of a witchdoctor (sangoma) in that area who would have nothing to do with Christianity at all and the Christians challenged and urged me to go and see him. So one of my Christian brothers and I went there one afternoon. He was in his medicine hut engaged in sorting out his stuff, and to our amazement, invited us in.

There was nothing to sit on, so we squatted down and I began speaking to him in as friendly a manner as possible. Ingredients for his medicines were spread all around: beaks and claws of birds, feathers, snakeskin, animal hooves and hair and of course herbs of every imaginable kind. I gradually steered the conversation in the direction of getting to know how he had come to take up that profession and strangely enough, he was quite willing to share his story with us.

He had formerly been a member of a certain Christian church in that area and normally attended the meetings. Then one day, lightning struck a spot near to his hut, killing one of his children. He buried his child with only his closest relatives being present. Neither the pastor nor any of the members came to sympathise with him and he had to bear his grief all on his own. They were probably scared, suspecting that the wrath of their ancestors had come upon him because he had wronged them in some or other way. Time went by during which he continued attending the church meetings but then calamity struck again and the lightning killed another one of his children. Again he went through the same experience of nobody even coming to pray with him or to comfort him. Unbelievably this also happened a third time.

It was then that he had decided to turn to witchcraft to protect himself and, ever since he had done so, he and his family suffered no further loss although many years had since passed. Having told us his story, he looked up questioningly at me as if awaiting my answer. It was quite clear that he was very much against the church and against Christianity as a whole which had not come to his aid during those traumatic times. What was I to say? I prayed to the Lord in my heart to give me words of comfort and then felt led to speak on the love of God. I told him that people, even Christian people were so fallible and how Jesus, when led away to be crucified, was deserted by his disciples who had been following him for three years and had seen all his miracles. I told him the whole story of how Jesus was beaten and how, while hanging on the cross cried out: “My God my God, why have You forsaken Me?” I emphasized that the Lord Jesus understood his hurting heart that was still longing for his departed children and that the Lord wanted to draw him near to Himself. That was all I felt led to say during that visit and then we left.

The next evening, by the time the tent was properly full and we were just about ready to commence with the service, an audible gasp went through the audience and as I looked up, saw my friend, the witchdoctor, entering and sitting down to listen to the Word of God. Somehow his hardened, hurting heart had been touched by the Holy Spirit and now he had come to learn more about this unknown God; this God whom he never got to know while he was a church member and whom most of the other members probably also did not know. He did not come to accept the Lord during the next few days before our campaign closed, for I am sure he had to work through all the baggage which he was carrying. He knew very well that he would have to discontinue his witchdoctor activities when accepting the Lord Jesus as Saviour and this was a major step of faith. We often prayed for him even after we had left Belgrade and I would not be surprised to meet him in heaven one day, adorned with the crown of righteousness, instead of wearing the feathers of the witchdoctor trade. This occurrence also forcefully spoke to me as I contemplated the words of the Lord Jesus, cautioning us not to judge other people. We certainly have to discern their deeds when these are contrary to his Word and should speak to them in this regard, but to act as a judge by pronouncing judgement and sentence upon them even though it be just within our minds, that is not for us to do, for we know only that which is on the surface, the deeds that can be seen and the words that are spoken. Only God knows the full story behind the deeds and words and is therefore in a better position to judge.

There at Belgrade another witchdoctor, a woman came forcefully to the Lord. Annelise and an African sister visited her at her home but she would have nothing whatsoever to do with them, so they left, not returning there but praying for her day by day. After some time (for we ministered at Belgrade for four weeks) they returned to her home and were much surprised and delighted when she told them that she wanted to get to know God. After making sure what her motives were and explaining the Gospel in greater detail, they led her in the sinner’s prayer and she voluntarily and wholeheartedly accepted the Lord Jesus Christ after which she also burned all her witchcraft potions.

She then told them that she had been a witchdoctor for many years. During this time she had hated Christians with a blind hatred and boiled with anger when, looking through her window she saw them walking by. At that time, she had had tremendous power in different areas of life and even many White people came to her all the way from Piet Retief when they had court cases pending, asking her to cast a spell over the presiding magistrate so that he would rule in their favour. She of course made a tidy sum of money in this way. The flipside of the coin, however, was that she lived a miserable life for she was at loggerheads with all of her family and never knew any peace at home. At times the evil spirit living within her, took complete control, causing her to walk away from home for endless kilometres before it would release her spirit and, coming to herself, she would be amazed to find herself so far from home and would have to walk all the way back.

What we found very strange in her case, was that there was no need for Annelise and her partner to drive out the demon or demons that were within her. It was probably because of their concentrated prayers that these demons were kept at bay, allowing her to listen to the Gospel and to make a free choice to follow Jesus and, once she had done so, they just fled, being unable to endure the presence of the holy, living God that had moved in to make this woman’s life His temple.

During the closing meeting many of the surrounding people that had been attending the meetings, testified to having put themselves right with the Lord Jesus Christ and this former sangoma also gave her testimony of salvation.

Many of the Whites from Piet Retief to whom I had ministered some three weeks before, attended our closing meeting. They were mightily blessed by the testimonies of what God had done and after the meeting, as we stood around, each one gave us a donation which, when counted afterwards, amounted to such a large sum that we not only had sufficient funds for petrol to return to Pretoria, but also to mount the next campaign. It was such a blessing to our Director and his wife to witness in practice that not only they, but us as co-workers, had the will and faith to trust the Lord for our needs.

I often hear dear fellow church members praying “Oh God, show your power, do a miracle,” but I wonder whether they realise that miracles go hand in hand with trials, which implies that we must be willing to go through trials in order to witness God’s mighty hand do miracles. A trial is the substance which God uses and transforms, by means of a miracle, into a victory.

HALLELUJAH FOR THE LORD OUR GOD, THE ALMIGHTY, REIGNS!

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C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

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OPPOSITION AT NONGOMA

The challenges we faced at a place called Nongoma, were of quite a different nature. Nongoma is one of the larger towns in an area which was then held in trust for African people in the province of KwaZulu Natal. It is some 500 km from Pretoria. We had previously held a campaign in the town itself, but this time we were invited to reach out to the school for the sons of Zulu chiefs and headmen.

These were the leaders to be of the Zulu nation in the rural areas. In age, most of them ranged from 18 years to well into their 20s. At that time, in the rural areas of Zululand, the attitude was that school education was for girls, not for men. Therefore many of these young men had had very little schooling. The Zulus are a very proud nation and have a history of warring with all the surrounding nations, even those as distant as Lesotho and Zimbabwe (what used to be Rhodesia). These young men, though not well educated, but very much aware of their stand in society, had strong political convictions. That also was the time when political unrest was stirring in the hearts of young African people all over the country and not long before 16 June when violence erupted in Soweto. These young men therefore were in a state of anger against the White government and against Whites in general.

We were a small team that went down there. First of all it was us as a family, then pastor Gerhardt Engelbrecht, a German, affectionately known as “Thanda Bantu” amongst the African people, which means: “The man that loves people.” The third member was Shadrach Monageng, a Sotho-speaking African man, one of our Dorothea Mission co-workers.

On arrival there, Martie and I set up our caravan in the front yard of a house exactly opposite the main gate of the school premises. Having had a meal, we three men went to see the principal of the school to discuss our outreach. Both he and the vice-principal, who also had oversight over the hostel, were very friendly towards us and gave permission for our ministry to proceed, but were not willing to accompany us to the students’ evening meal where we would explain the purpose of our visit to them. After some persuasion the vice-principal eventually agreed to introduce us to the students but would not accede to remain for the evening service. He also offered us a room for brother Monageng in the dormitory where the students were housed. We then fetched brother Monageng’s luggage and got him settled in his room. Thereafter I took brother Gerhardt to the place where he would be hosted.

Some time before six that evening, we got together as a team and prayed for the evening meeting, sensing that we would be meeting with opposition. When the time came, we three men went to the dining hall where we met with the vice-principal. We entered the hall and sat down at a table having coffee while waiting for the students to finish their meal. The vice-principal then stood up, introduced us and said that we ourselves would explain the purpose of our visit. Having said that, he left in a hurry. Being the leader of our team, I stood up and explained (in English, which they understood) that we had come to share the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ with them and were hopeful that it would be a great blessing to them. They were very sulky and the atmosphere was very tense. However, they did not do or say anything at that stage. Our impression was that they were waiting to see what we had to offer and would confer afterwards as to what their attitude towards us would be.

Since all of them were at school during most of the day, we could not speak to them individually the next day, so we stayed at home and spent the day in Bible study and prayer. When evening came, the three of us went to the dining hall to hold the first meeting. As soon as they had finished their meal and the dishes had been removed, I stood up, greeted them and then opened the Word and began reading from it. Then, the moment I started preaching, they began to shuffle their feet, speak to one another and make all sorts of noises to disrupt the meeting. Though it was very difficult to continue, I kept a straight face, or should I rather say, a smiling face, and spoke kindly to them. I brought a very short message and must admit that I, and I do believe my co-workers too, were much relieved when the service was over and we could return home.

The next day, we as a team again had our normal Bible study and time of prayer during which we fervently implored the Lord to overcome the resistance and to soften the hearts of these young men which were so important to win for the kingdom of God. Very soon evening came again and we returned to the dining hall. Just as on the previous evening, I opened the Bible and started bringing the message which the Lord had laid on my heart. They had however decided to have none of this and so they made every conceivable kind of noise, whistling, shouting, banging with their fists on the tables, stamping their feet on the ground, etc. In between the leader shouted in a deep voice: “Thandaza bhaba, thandaza,” which means: “Pray father, pray.” The next moment the lights went out and then there was total chaos. The whole dining hall erupted in violence. Although we could not see what was happening, we heard what sounded to us like them banging or throwing the tables and chairs around and wreaking havoc while shouting at the top of their voices.

I stood stock-still there with my open Bible in my one hand, just waiting to be struck down by a chair or stabbed with a knife. My brothers told me later on that they just remained seated where they were. It would have been useless for us to try and reach the door for it was right on the other side of the hall and we would not have been able to find our way there in the dark. What all of us did, was to pray with all our hearts that God would keep his hand over us. This went on for a couple of minutes and then, to our relief, the lights were switched on again. I was still standing in the same position but the hall was a sight to see. The furniture was in total disarray. Some of the students were in the process of leaving, but others remained behind, staring at us to see what effect their intimidation had had on us. God gave us grace not to panic for that would have been playing right into their hands. I just closed my Bible and the three of us left the hall and the premises and returned to our caravan just across the street, where we had some strong coffee.

We were of course very concerned for our brother Monageng who was to sleep in that dormitory that night and we decided to find other accommodation for him. We waited until the lights of the dormitory were out and the students presumably asleep. I then drove our vehicle onto the premises without switching on the lights and parked near to his room. He slipped in through the window, handed his luggage to me, slipped out again and we left in a hurry. We then took him to Christian brothers we had met earlier on and they were just too happy to accommodate him once we told them what had happened at the school.

Martie and I were of course concerned for the safety of our two little children in that flimsy caravan. Cell phones had not yet been invented and we had no means of contacting anybody if we were attacked. Those men were in a position to kill the four of us, burn our caravan, cremate our bodies without anybody knowing about it, but after having committed ourselves to the Lord, we slept like babies. Did not David, when surrounded by enemies, say “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.” (Ps 4:8).

The next morning we gathered as a team. A decision now had to be made. Were we to acknowledge defeat and return home to Pretoria or what were we to do? We decided to remain there for a couple of days until we were quite sure as to what God’s will was for us to do. As the leader of the team I was very conscious of the responsibility resting on my shoulders and I poured out my heart to God.

His reply came in a very unexpected form. What He did was to pour out His love for those young men into my heart in a way I had never experienced in all my life. My heart was flooded with such a pure and intense love for those misguided young men, that I realised that it was just impossible to leave them in that state, without at least making another effort to win their hearts for the Lord Jesus Christ. I shared this conviction with the rest of the team and they agreed with me. So then, after again enquiring from the Lord, I decided to return to the students, but this time not taking the rest of the team with me. I felt that by making myself vulnerable, they would see that we were not forcing the Gospel upon them, but affording them the opportunity of making their own choice. In doing so, I would stand a better chance of them opening their hearts to receive God’s grace. And so, during the next day’s lunch, I went there on my own and asked whether I could have a few minutes to speak to them that evening before leaving for Pretoria the next day. They looked at one another and then agreed.

That night I again went there on my own and asked them to set out the chairs in a large circle or double circle. Once everybody was seated and while I too remained seated, I addressed them saying that I wanted to share a couple of thoughts with them and if they then still felt that they did not want to listen to me any further, I would respect their decision and leave the next day.

I then explained to them how our relationship with God was on a much higher level than any earthly matters. I said that it was human for people to become discontent with their situation, including the prevailing political setup in the country, but that God and His kingdom was high lifted up above any earthly kingdom and that it was not in conflict with them as a nation. God was preparing a great kingdom, an eternal kingdom of which everybody could be part, and that we should not miss the eternal glory which He was preparing for us, because of our anger against other people. We must never blame God for what people around us are doing to us for, in so doing, we are treating God as our enemy and closing our hearts to the grace and blessing which He wants to bestow upon us.

I also emphasised that God does not love one nation more than another but wants to assist every nation and every person to have a full and blessed life here on earth. I then told them the story of the Jewish people that had been God’s people for many ages, but when he sent his Son to save them from the bondage of sin and of the devil, they crucified Him because they wanted Him to use his power to overthrow the Roman government which was suppressing them. In doing so they brought a terrible judgment upon themselves and also on their children, with the result that for hundreds of years the Jewish people had been suffering all over the world and thousands of them had died in concentration camps during the 1939 – 1945 war. I pleaded with them not to make the same mistake and reject the Lord Jesus Christ because they were angry with other people. They were rather to get to know Jesus and then pray to Him as their mighty Saviour to assist them in getting righteousness done to them. I closed by saying that I was willing to remain, together with my team, and share this Gospel of Jesus with them for another couple of days on condition that they would promise to behave themselves, for God was a great King and I could not be His ambassador and bring his Word while the listeners behaved in a disrespectful way. Their disrespect was not towards me, but towards God, their Creator. They looked at one another and then the leader spoke up and said that they accepted that and that we could continue with the services.

So we continued with the meetings that evening as well as the following two, after which we had to return to Pretoria since we were scheduled for other campaigns. During these evenings I also had Oom Gerhardt bringing a message for he had been a farmer most of his life and was fluent in Zulu, speaking it so well that even his accent did not betray him. I do believe that this did much to break down at least some of the prejudice which these young men had against us, for to speak a person’s language, goes a long way in showing that you have regard for him and respecting a person opens the way to loving him.

Then, came the last night with these young men. Although we had been explaining the urgency of accepting the Lord Jesus as Saviour, we felt that the time was not ripe for making an invitation for them to step forward and do so openly. We just thanked them for having listened so attentively to the Word of God during those last few days and said that we were now returning home but would pray for them.

The meeting was then adjourned and most of them left the hall ahead of us, but some remained and we could see that they had a desire to show us some friendship before we left. Some of them indeed came to walk with us on our way out and thanked us for having come all the way to share God’s Word with them. The leader that had so openly mocked us, walked along until all the others had left and then, when he was sure that nobody else was listening, apologised for his behaviour, saying that he had been drinking that night and that it had added to his arrogance. We assured him that we did not hold it against him and wholeheartedly accepted his apology. We also assured him that we would be praying for him, more so, because he was the unofficial leader of those young men and carried the responsibility of leading them in the right direction. On this high note we parted.

Though we could not point to a single soul that was saved in the course of our outreach, there was a tremendous peace of God in our hearts and the assurance that we had been worthy ambassadors and had pleased our King that had sent us. We were also very confident that the seed which we had sown would germinate in its own good time and that at least some of those young men would turn to the Lord.

Our hope was not in vain, for about a year later another of our teams went down to minister at this school and returned with the good news that quite a number of these young men came to accept the Lord Jesus Christ in the course of the campaign. God’s Word never returns void to Him but is always accompanied by at least a measure of success. The seed of his Word is most powerful and though it may lie dormant in the heart of man, will, in its own good time, germinate, sprout forth and produce the fruit of repentance and faith to the glory of Him that gave us the command to go forth, making disciples of all nations. Our part is faith and obedience and His part is to make the seed grow. Bless his holy Name.

In reaching out to the lost, we will often meet up with the “unlovely” ones and be tempted to bully them into the kingdom of God, but this will not work. The people of this world are used to being attacked. They will see this as just another attack and will use the shields of the flesh to ensconce themselves. Love, however, is something which they do not normally experience; it is an unguarded door through which we may gain entrance into their hearts.

The Lord once gave me a vision of a very ugly hairy creature which I cannot really describe in words since it was more of a spiritual perception, like an abstract painting. I was abhorred and backed away. He then showed me a bucket filled with liquid nearby and told me to pour it over the creature. I took up the bucket and threw the liquid over it from some distance. Suddenly it began to change. Not only did its form change, but also its colours and even its smell. The colours were like that of the rainbow and a sweet odour surrounded it. The Lord then said to me that the bucket contained love, which caused the creature to change into something lovely. I then understood in a deeper way that God would change the people of this world into his image by his love. “For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son…..” (John 3:16) The truth is a sharp two edged sword that cuts deeply, painfully, therefore it must be handled by a gentle, loving hand.

BLESSED BE THE NAME OF THE LORD!

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C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

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THE OPANZI CAMPAIGN

Some of the campaigns were very demanding, spiritually as well as physically. One of these was an outreach to a place called “Opanzi” on the Makatini flats in the district of Josini at the uppermost north-eastern tip of Kwa-Zulu Natal. We were invited there by the pastor of a congregation in Josini. His was actually a congregation consisting of Whites, but because of his love for the Lord and for lost souls, he had a tremendous burden to reach out to the African people who were living so far from civilisation and were steeped in witchcraft and ancestral worship. Since he was keenly aware of his limitations in conducting such a cross- cultural spiritual outreach, he invited us to come over and assist him.

A team of eight of us left Pretoria early one morning and arrived at Josini late that afternoon, fairly exhausted after the 500 km drive with heavily loaded vehicles. After a brief discussion we set off for Opanzi with me towing an ordinary caravan which the pastor made available to us as a family. The drive there in itself was quite tricky for the road was very sandy and we once had to go through a drift with fairly deep running water and uneven stones at the bottom, so the caravan was lurching from side to side. However, we made it safely to Opanzi which means “The low down place.”

The caravan had no side tent, neither did we have any shade netting and we did not camp under a tree but right out in the blazing sun where temperatures could easily soar to 45°C. We were, however, very grateful to be accommodated in the luxury of a caravan, way out there in the bush. The African members of our team were housed in traditional clay huts, but one young man had to make the best of a piece of tarpaulin presented to him. He chopped down one or two young trees, planted them in the ground and draped the tarpaulin over them to form a sort of tent into which he crawled at night. To live like that for 3 to 4 weeks when you are on holiday and taking it easy, is no big deal, but when you have to dress in suit and tie when conducting meetings, it is a totally different story and I have always marvelled at our African workers’ ability to look spic and span day by day, notwithstanding the poor conditions under which they were housed. The service tent provided for our use resembled shade netting for its roof had hundreds of little holes in it and was also torn in quite a number of places which we had to stitch up before pitching it. However, that was all the dear pastor had and so we had to make do.

This was one of the earlier campaigns on which I was sent, shortly after leaving Bible School and it really was very challenging to me because of the great cultural difference between us and the people to whom we were to minister, and especially also because they were steeped in ancestral worship and witchdoctors (sangomas) played such an important role in their lives. In the beginning people were very hesitant to attend the meetings for they did not know what to make of us and were especially in fear of us as Whites and of the caravan in which we were living.

The loudspeakers were another source of concern to them. Sound travels a great distance in that country which is almost as flat as a table, with the result that people living even some kilometres away, heard us and those nearby could even discern the words of the songs we were singing and preaching. On the third day we hoisted three powerful loudspeakers on a tall pole. This of course had the effect that we could be heard even more clearly and aroused more fear. They cautioned one another to take note that the sound was becoming louder and louder which proved that we were stalking them, getting nearer day by day.

They also suspected Martie and me to be witches, out to get them and should they fall into our hands, they would never see their homes again. For this reason the attendance at the meetings was small in the beginning and continued to be so for quite some time, but news spread quickly and very soon some of them were overcoming their suspicion and curiosity took over. They came flocking into the tent, sitting down as far as possible from the front from where we were ministering.

In studying the Gospels and the book of Acts, I had read about people who were demon possessed and how the demons were cast out. However, we never received any specific teaching on this matter and I had no practical experience in dealing with demon possessed persons at all. That demons are very real is of course a fact. The devil and his hordes of evil spirits are continually in the process of trying to influence even us as Christians.

When a person opens his life to such an extent that an evil spirit takes over within him, its impact is a hundredfold more powerful and he loses all self control. This is often triggered by the person listening to the preaching of the Gospel. You will suddenly notice that someone within the audience is experiencing much discomfort and begins twitching and turning this way and that. Then he will start screaming, barking like a dog or making some or other animal sound or other unworldly noise. He might jump up, run around, throw himself down on the ground, writhe like a snake, foam at the mouth and when it becomes really bad, the person might even jump up and just run off. It is most terrible to witness such a manifestation of the presence and power of the devil.

This was the reason why the pastor enlisted our assistance; he had encountered many such demon possessed people in that area. Fortunately some of our team members knew how to deal with them. When the demonic spirit manifested during a meeting, the meeting of course had to be stopped because it would be totally disrupted and the rest of the people would be scared out of their wits. What we normally did, was to gather around the person as a team and command the spirit to leave. It would often not obey immediately as was also seen in the ministry of the apostles.

When this first happened at Opanzi, we had to fast and pray for a number of days before we were able to cast out the devil from the women in whom an evil spirit manifested during our tent service. Her deliverance was just as astounding as was her previous spiritual binding. She suddenly came to herself as if emerging from a different world, and looked around as if woken from sleep. That she had been delivered was quite clear to all of us. We then led her to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as her Saviour which she was eager to do. Once she was born again and the Holy Spirit had entered into her life, there was no further possibility of the evil one repossessing his earlier home.

The people of Opanzi were amazed and awed at the mighty power of God and started flocking to the tent in greater numbers. Very soon they had come to learn many of the choruses like: “There is power in the Blood of the Lamb,” and you could hear their joyful singing as they departed home, group by group, in different directions after our evening meetings which continued until deep into the night. This was not the only case of demon possession we came across but the others were more easily dealt with. It was as if a barrier had given way during our time of fasting and prayer.

The pastor, who invited us, put two young men with Land Rovers at our disposal and they took us along little footpaths to clusters of huts way out in the bush. (Forgive me for being a little naughty by telling the following story. One of our team members was mama Makhalwa, a heavyweight not only in spirit but also in body, especially in the lower parts of it. She not only suffered more than us walking in that loose sand under the blazing sun, but especially so when trying to heave herself up into the back of the Land Rover pickup. It was of course quite embarrassing to her to have us pulling, pushing and heaving to get her up and seated every time we had to travel to a different kraal. The Lord heard her prayers and led us to discover a tough cement block which we took along on the Land Rover from then on and so, whenever mama Makhalwa had to get onto or off the Land Rover, one of the young men hastened to put down this step for her so she could help herself.)

During the house visitation we had to take care to observe the protocol of the local people. Not doing so, would be considered as disrespect or ignorance as to how civilised people should behave, resulting in their despising you and considering your message not worthwhile listening to. When getting to a kraal, we would stand outside the gate and call out: “Sikhulekile ekhaya,” which can literally be translated as: “We are greeting at the house.” The people moving around on the premises will totally ignore you but you will often see two or three children running in different directions into the bush and after a while returning with a number of chairs which would then be placed under a large shady tree where the people of the kraal normally gathered.

Then, after another long wait and many more preparations, a child would be sent to invite you in. This child would also ask for your Bible and carry it for you. You will be led to the place that had been prepared and the head of the kraal, normally a man, would step forward and in a slightly bowed attitude, grasp your outstretched hand in both of his or stretch out his right hand while gripping his right arm with his left hand. He will then invite you, as his guests, to sit down on the chairs. If the people of that kraal had had contact with Christian ministers before and had acquired some knowledge of the importance of the Bible, your Bible would be laid on a special little rug within your reach. Having greeted you, he would remain standing and then call for each of his wives to kneel down on the “cansi” (sleeping mat) laid out before you for this purpose and greet you by hand. This would be followed by both parties enquiring after each other’s health.

Your host would also enquire as to which route you took to get there and what you saw and experienced along the way, for travellers were the local newspapers that kept the inhabitants up to date as to what was happening around them and further afield. Only after all these preliminaries had meticulously been complied with, would you be afforded the opportunity of preaching the Word of God to them. This means that two hours may have elapsed since your arrival which, for a Westerner full of the Holy Spirit and of zeal to preach the Gospel, could be quite a trial. Fortunately they also have endless time to listen to the Word and would in fact be very disappointed if you only brought a short message. They were slow in understanding when it came to Bible truths, for the Word was new to them and you had to get yourself to think as they thought, speak on one principle at a time, and explain it over and over again until you could see the frowns disappearing and the faces lighting up in a smile, indicating that they had understood and been edified by what you conveyed to them.

During one of these home visits, we encountered a youngish woman that also was demon possessed. She was very friendly to us and glad to have us teaching her from God’s Word but we had hardly begun doing so, when she virtually turned into a different person right before our eyes. She started twitching and becoming very tense. We recognised her condition for what it was and decided to discontinue our message and allow her to calm down. Once she had returned to her normal self, we enquired how she had come into this condition. She then told us that some years before, she wanted a certain young man to fall in love with her and that she had gone to a witchdoctor to procure medicine which he purported would attract the young man to her. Very soon after she started taking the medicine, she discovered that something very strange and painful was happening inside of her; not in her body but in her spirit. The reason for that of course was that the medicine had been sacrificed to evil spirits before being given to her and by opening herself to it, the evil spirits were afforded a door of entry. At that stage we were at the end of our campaign and I cannot recall if one of our team ever had the opportunity to minister deliverance to her.

It was during this campaign that I, for the first time in my life, attended a funeral where ancestral worship in its fullest form was practised. What happened was that an elderly man we had also visited in the course of the outreach, passed away and we were invited by the local pastor to attend the funeral. We were expressly told that we would not be allowed to minister, but only to attend. The whole team, including myself went there and sat a little apart from the rest of the mourners.

The funeral took place on the day following the death of this man. It could not be postponed any longer because of the heat and the unavailability of facilities to preserve the body. The corpse was laid out in the clay hut where the deceased had been living during his lifetime for he had lived separate from his wives as was the custom. As we looked on, a tall reed screen which had been hastily constructed that morning, was firmly affixed to the front of the building to cover the only door through which the room could be entered. The men then broke a hole into the side of the room, removed the corpse through it and immediately closed it up as effectively as possible. A shallow grave of about 1,5 m had already been dug right in front of the building. The body was covered in a cloth for they were too poor to afford a coffin and, in any case, such an item was unobtainable in that area, and lowered into the grave. His personal possessions such as his clothes (from which the buttons had been cut), a blanket, eating utensils, and wash basin were lying in a heap next to the grave. The men proceeded to take these items one by one and throw them into the grave on top of the body.

Then, while the leading member of the clan held a hollowed out reed vertically on top of the head of the corpse, the other men covered up the grave with soil. While they were doing this, he pulled up the reed higher and higher so that, by the time the grave was filled up and there was a mound of earth on top, the reed stuck out about 30 cm above the soil. (The spirit of the man was supposed to be within the reed.) He then knelt down on the grave facing away from the people, gripped the reed in his right hand where it was still planted in the soil and started addressing the spirit of the diseased saying: “Uthui, you now have to go. You cannot remain here any longer. You must go. We are coming, we are coming. Do not think of us anymore. We will be joining you, you must now go.” While he was thus imploring the spirit to leave, the deceased’s two wives started crying, wailing aloud. This infuriated the speaker who shouted at them: “Be quiet, shut up; you are keeping him back. How do you think is he going to leave if you go on like this?” As soon as they calmed down (which was instantly) he continued imploring the spirit to leave, then plucked the reed from the soil and cast it backwards over his head. As fortune would have it, the reed fell right next to the two wives who screamed in terror and scurried away some distance. The ancestral part of the ceremony now being completed, the meeting was handed over to the local pastor to do his “Christian” part.

The emotions that went through my soul in the course of the proceedings, were those of deep, deep sorrow for these deluded people and anger towards the devil that had, for so many centuries, deceived them with his lies. First of all, they were some of the poorest people to be found in Africa, but instead of being allowed to use what little possessions the father, husband or relative had owned, all of these were to be destroyed and for what reason nobody could really tell me. It could be that it was to indicate to everybody that the deceased had not been murdered for his possessions. A greater possibility is that it was to prevent him from returning to the premises for that was the reason why the screening was put in front of the door and the hole broken into the side wall was quickly sealed up again. The argument was that, should the spirit of the deceased return to his room and fail to find an entrance to enter through, he would be persuaded to move on into the next world and not roam about, troubling those that were left behind. This was so terribly sad to me. One moment the relatives were still in loving fellowship with their beloved husband, or father or whatever, and the next moment they were in fear of him and did whatever they could to rid themselves of his presence. All of this was brought about by deception and wrong perceptions that were handed down from generation to generation and were firmly believed by one and all.

Have we ever thought what a blessing it is to be born in a Christian home or even just in a nominally Christian society and being free of these false beliefs right from the moment of birth. Should we not also, having received so much light, so much revelation of the truth from the Lord by means of his Word, feel constrained by his love to cry out to Him to enable us in some way or other, to take the Gospel to such spiritually depraved people all over the globe. Certainly the love of God and of the people He created, compels us to do so.

Enough of the dark side of the campaign. On the third or fourth day after we arrived at Opanzi, the team brought one of the local elders to me who wanted to present a gift to us. He did not have it with him and requested us to accompany him and receive it at his home. I was very reluctant to do so for we still had a large area in which to do house visitation and wanted to get on with the job. I asked him what it was that he wanted to give to us, to which he replied that it was a chicken. My reluctance to accede to his request must have reflected on my face for after a second or two, he added that the chicken had four legs. I frowned and stretched my mind for an answer to this riddle, arguing that at least such a chicken would have a little bit more meat. Noting my predicament one of my co-workers whispered: “It must be a cow.” This persuaded me to accompany the elder and see for myself what it was.

On arriving at his kraal, he took us to the enclosure where his cattle were kept and pointed to a beautiful young heifer which he had separated from the rest and now gave to us. I found it hard not to cry for such generosity from a relatively poor man amazed me. I protested saying that he was impoverishing himself and his clan, but he would have nothing of my protests, led us to sit down in front of his home and then told us his story. He said that he had had a dream the previous night during which he heard God speaking to him, saying: “Have you seen those people there at the tent?” to which he replied: “Yes I have seen.” The Lord then asked him: “Where will they find meat to eat?” to which he replied: “I don’t know.” God then said to him: “You give them one of your cattle.” So that was why, the next morning he had kept the young a heifer from going out to graze, then walked all the way to the tent to tell us about it. We sat there, each with his own thoughts, knowing that there were no adequate words with which to thank this dear man and that we had no option but to graciously accept his present, praying that God would richly reward him with many more cattle to take the place of this one sacrificed, not to us, but to his Creator.

We had no means of transporting the animal to where we were staying, so he and his sons brought it to us the next day. They arrived while we were out doing house visitation but, as prearranged with them, they also slaughtered it for us for we did not know how we would manage to do it out of there in the bush. When we got home they had already done so, for which we were very grateful, but on entering the caravan, I found Martie in a very emotional state for she had witnessed the killing of the animal. Let her describe this in her own words:

“When the men got there with the heifer, they tied its head to a wooden post, pulling it right down till its nose touched the ground. The owner then took up an assegai and went to stand right next to the animal. Holding the weapon in both hands and resting the sharp point on its neck, just behind the head, he stood for a moment or two, then thrust it down with all his might, probably penetrating the spinal cord and cutting right into the marrow, for the animal fell down immediately without even uttering a bellow. I appreciated that this probably was the easiest and least painful way of slaughtering a beast out there in the bush, but still it was most shocking and traumatic to behold.”

Martie’s shock, however, gradually faded away as we as team, day by day, sat down to enjoy the delicious roasted meat. Here again we saw God’s mighty hand providing for us in a most unusual way.

Martie also had her ample share of testing there at Opanzi, but let her again speak for herself:

“On going down to Opanzi, our younger son, Jaco, was just a toddler. When we arrived there, we were dead tired for we had travelled hundreds of kilometres from Pretoria and the last part of our journey was just on a two tracked road winding through the bush. Jaco had had just enough of sitting down all the time in the cramped space of our single cab pickup which the four of us shared. When I opened the door on my side, he clambered over me, wriggled right out of my hands and rushed forward, enjoying his newfound freedom. The next moment, however, he tripped over something in the semidarkness, went right down onto his face, scraping a considerable amount of skin off his forehead and nose. So before we had even entered the caravan, I had to deal with the first casualty and our only chemist was our little box of medicine which we took with us wherever we went.

Speaking of Jaco, as a youngster he was very strong-willed and from the very first day he had made up his mind that the caravan which was lent to us, belonged to us, and to us alone. So whenever anybody else, even members of the team, stuck their heads through the door opening, he would scream at the top of his voice causing me so much embarrassment.

The availability of water was a very real problem for it had to be transported to us from Josini which was about eighty km away, with the result that we normally had only one drum supplied to us per week. With that we all had to bath, I had to wash the dishes and clothes for a family of four, cook and provide drinking water for all of us. That called for some meticulous planning.

The environment too, was not all that friendly and I always had to keep a close watch on where the children were and what they were doing, for Ben went off on house visitation for a couple of hours every day and there was no possibility of him being contacted in a hurry should any one of them get hurt which could so easily happen, and then of course we would still have to travel all the way to Josini for medical assistance. Danger was always lurking just around the corner. One day as I threw out a basin of water into the grass just a couple of steps from the door of our caravan, a cobra reared up in front of me, ready to strike and very upset because of the unexpected bath I had given it. However, we went right through that campaign without any of us needing medical attention, and that in a malaria area that swarmed with mosquitoes.” (End of Martie’s woes.)

On the spiritual side we unfortunately had a very unpleasant experience with the local pastor (not the one from Josini who invited us, but the resident African pastor of that area.) He had no idea of what it meant to believe in Christ and was quite happy to have ancestral worship and Christianity run side-by-side. I think this is generally referred to as syncretism. As time went by, scores of his church members who attended the meetings, became enlightened. They came to understand that there is only one God, the God that created them. Next they understood that He was one with his Son Jesus Christ and with God the Holy Spirit. They understood that Jesus, the Son of God died for their sins on the cross and that they needed to be born again. Having been in the darkness and bondage of ancestral worship since birth, this was a glorious revelation and many of them spiritually rushed in to lay hold of the Saviour and were gloriously born again. They also saw with their own eyes the miracles God was doing by delivering some of them who had been demon possessed for scores of years. A great joy came over them, they were exhilarated and went all over, testifying to what God had done for them.

This put their pastor in a very bad spot for he was confronted from all sides by converts who wanted to know why he, purported to be a Christian minister, had not brought them the light and the power of Jesus Christ. He got terribly jealous and mad at us as he saw his followers falling away. He then gathered those that had hardened their hearts against the message of salvation and did all he could to discredit us and to get us removed from what he considered to be his domain. But God had been working in such a powerful way, that the new converts just could not be stopped and gained the upper hand wherever they moved. Our last meeting at Opanzi was a celebration to the glory of God as one after the other stepped forward and gave his or her testimony of salvation. I remember one man saying that he just could not understand what we were preaching but one night as he was walking home in the dark, singing one of the choruses, namely “There is power in the Blood of the Lamb” his heart suddenly became enlightened so that he understood what we meant by salvation and there and then, all by himself, he accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as his Saviour.

The next day, as we were pulling down the service tent and packing our gear to return home, scores of converts were sitting under the trees, singing one chorus after the other, choruses they had learned during the campaign. Since my and Martie’s command of the Zulu language was still poor, they could not communicate freely with us to express their heartfelt gratitude for what we had done for them, so they did it by way of singing these songs to us. We were deeply touched. In those moments all the hardships, trials and tests just slipped off our shoulders as joy and gratitude flooded our hearts.

One last testimony: one of my pickup’s tyres had become somewhat flat during our four weeks at Opanzi and I just did not know how I was going to pump it for our pump was missing. We brought this need before the Lord in prayer and low and behold, shortly before we had to leave that morning, a little wagon with rubber tyres turned up, a vehicle that was unheard of out there in the bush where everybody used sledges to cart their goods about. And what do you know, he had a pump with him and so we could pump the wheel before leaving. God never runs out of supplies.

Let me share one more story regarding the Makatini flats. Some time after this campaign, it could even have been a year, we returned to minister there. On this occasion I led the team out on my own, while Martie and the kids remained at Josini. Way out there in the bush and near to the Mozambican border there were many wild animals and people were often harassed by hippos as they walked along the river banks at night to attend our meetings.

Here we met up with a very arrogant witchdoctor, well known all round. He boldly told us that he knew quite well that his power came from the devil whom he was worshipping. However, said he, the devil was very powerful but if our God was more powerful, he would be willing to serve Him. Sad to say, as far as I know, he never switched loyalties.

It was there that I had an unpleasant experience with a snake. We were housed in a shelter with a thatched roof and split poles for walls. We had stretchers that were very low. Late one afternoon, as I was lying on a stretcher on my stomach, reading a book, a metre long snake suddenly glided deftly over my left arm, no further that 30cm from my face. All I could find in a hurry was a gas bottle which I lifted up to face level, then cast it down onto him as he was slithering away across the sandy floor. I managed to crush its spine in two places and then crushed its head. A somewhat shaking experience but nothing to be compared to what Martie would be going through just a few days afterwards. Let her tell it in her own words:

“On this occasion, a follow-up to the first visit to Opanzi, I stayed at Josini while Ben and his team went off to minister at a remote spot in the bush. The children and I stayed with a certain Tannie Joey, a very dear Christian lady, fluent in Zulu, who was assisting the pastor of the White congregation who had invited us, in his reaching out to the African people.

One night after having put Jaco to bed, I went back to check whether the children were okay, as a mum usually does. Bending over Jaco, I realised that something terrible was wrong, for he had, in a very short time, developed a high fever and seemed to have difficulty in breathing. I rushed back to call Tannie Joey. We both ran to his room. Tannie Joey took one look at him, told me that he had convulsions as a result of the fever and that he was choking because his tongue was sucked back and blocking his throat so that he could not breathe properly. She tried to force open his mouth, cutting her fingers on his teeth in the process, but not succeeding. I ran out of the house screaming for help, then returned to where she was bending over him, having immersed him in a bath of cold water. She realised that she just had to force his mouth open, for he was already blue in the face and was choking to death. To do so, she used the handle of a toothbrush, breaking out one of his teeth in the process, but eventually succeeding and getting his tongue back in place, enabling him to breathe properly once more.

As I got up and moved into the passage, I saw a large group of people gathered, praying to God to step in and do a miracle which He certainly did. After a while we managed to get hold of the military doctor to have a look at Jaco. He did so and gave us pills which he had on hand and told us to keep a fan on him until the fever abated. By the next day he was much better, then he recovered fully and never suffered any adverse after effects.

Tannie Joey however had to pay the price for her brave and unselfish deed. She always had heart problems and a few days later she had a bad heart attack which had most probably been brought on by the traumatic experience she had gone through, but God again overruled and she still lived for many years. We stayed with her in another town some years later while we were holding a campaign in the area where she was living. To have to go through such dramatic experiences without the presence of one’s husband, certainly tells on one, but God always restores His peace and gives one courage to press on towards the crown awaiting everyone who played his or her given part to win souls for His Kingdom.”

BLESSED BE THE NAME OF THE LORD!

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C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

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CAMPAIGNS ON THE FARMS

Once I got settled into the campaign work, Martie and I consulted and decided to request the Mission for her and the children to be allowed to join me during outreaches. Our request was granted and from then on we went out as a family to every campaign using two vehicles, the Opel which we had bought before Frans was born and a light delivery van which my brother had given me and was still in a very good condition. We considered all our possessions to belong to the Lord and were happy to use them in His service.

Although I was delighted to have my family accompany me, this brought challenges of its own. We were normally invited by Christian people, often by pastors, to hold campaigns in their areas and were accommodated by them or by members of their congregations. It must have been difficult for these folk to take in a family of four for a couple of weeks, as it was for us to lodge in other people’s homes with our two lively children aged two and four. Sometimes we had to sleep on the floor, which was not all that bad, but once we landed up in a very small bedroom and with all the suitcases laid out on the floor we could hardly move around; we had to step over our gear and sleeping children like trained ballerinas. We also had to have our quiet times in that very same bedroom and, in addition, it served as study where I prepared Bible studies for the team and messages for the meetings. Our host’s love and fussing over us, however, amply compensated for their inability to provide better accommodation. They were pasturing a Baptist church and the minister and I had a daily session of prayer in their garage where our souls were saturated with the presence of God.

MARTIE’S ACCOUNT OF ACCOMPANYING BEN ON CAMPAIGNS

“In the beginning the children and I were able to accompany Ben on campaigns and I enjoyed it very much. Sometimes we as a family stayed on our own, but not always. Once, when we arrived at the home of the people who invited us to hold a campaign, Ben was showed to his room which was inside the house but me and the children’s ‘room, was the garage. The place looked nice and clean, but I was very unhappy because we as a family were always together wherever we went and to be separated from each other, was just too much for me. We spoke to the lady of the house and though she was not happy about this, she placed another mattress on the garage floor so that we could be together. We appreciated it very much and thanked her for the trouble she took to please us. ‘For better or for worse …’ .”

Indeed, most of the time our hosts showered us with love and spoiled us in so many ways, like Boet and Annatjie van den Berg of the Lichtenburg district that had the most delicious food, including all kinds of puddings, cakes and tarts lined up on the table for us when we got home late at night after the evening meetings. They also deeply loved the Lord and after having had our seven course meal, we would sit down and discuss the great truths from God’s Word. Ministering at their farm was a feast in all respects.

Sometimes however, we coveted some privacy, especially because one campaign followed the other in quick succession with just three days in between. This meant that staying with other people was not exceptional but the normal thing we were doing month by month. On one occasion we were hosted by a pastor whose wife had not agreed with him to have us in her home and made life very difficult for us, especially for poor Martie. We never really complained and just went along with the arrangements for this provided us with a platform from where we could reach out to the lost. To live like that, one’s marriage has to be rock solid and your children need to be well disciplined!

THE DE AAR “COMMUNE”

At De Aar, in the Cape Province, we as a team of four (plus our two children), rented a couple of rooms in a double storied building. We had to share the kitchen and other facilities with the other residents. Once we had moved in, we discovered that a number of them were Jehovah’s Witnesses with whom we differed strongly in our convictions as to what the Bible teaches. This caused a bit of a strained relationship in our joint abode. In addition, the rooms just above our own, had plank floors and the young men living there were members of a rock group and were practising on their instruments all day long with drums thundering and cymbals banging. So we were caught between what Paul would probably have referred to as “false teachers” in front of us and “the world” above our heads; never a dull moment. We really had to keep a strict watch on our ears! The bright side of it is that at least one of the Jehovah’s Witness ladies came to acknowledge the Lord Jesus Christ as One with God the Father and the Holy Spirit and showed a real desire to accept Him as Saviour.

However, this was like a five star hotel compared to what our African brothers and sisters sometimes had to endure. On a certain farm to which we were invited, the men were directed to a room in an outbuilding. I accompanied them to have a look at it for I expected it not to be all that comfortable. This proved to be correct for a layer of cut grass had been spread on the floor and covered with a thick, hard, unyielding double plastic sheet that just could not be persuaded to lie down flat on the grass; all over the floor it lifted up about thirty cm causing our men to have to lift their knees up high into the air like soldiers on the march when moving about. I had then just come from the farmer’s house where tension ran high between him and his wife for her inviting us to hold an outreach on the farm and I realised that the situation would explode if I were to raise the matter of better sleeping facilities for our workers. All I could do was to sit down with them and commit the matter to the Lord in prayer. We then decided to fold up the plastic sheet, placing it in one corner as a table for their small effects and spread their blankets on the grass which worked quite well. Where there is a will, there is a way. When one gets to heaven and see a group of residents with special luxury facilities, it will probably include some of our African co-workers.

The campaigns that stand out in my memory are those we held on the farms where very few of the African employees had ever heard the Gospel. When invited to hold a campaign on a certain farm, we also held meetings during the afternoons on the surrounding farms to get those employees interested to attend our evening meetings on the designated farm. We prearranged with every farmer to let his workers off work a while before our arrival to allow them time to freshen up and then gather together. Most of those farms had enormous barns which were put at our disposal. The farmer would stack some bales of hay for the people to sit on.

The employees were sometimes very distrustful of us. They would, for instance, suspect that we were police in disguise, hired by the farmer to find out what they had done wrong and then to arrest them. We were unaware of this in the beginning. What we typically did on arrival at a farm, was for me to direct a few words of introduction to the workers, their wives and children who were present and then leave it to our African co-workers to continue ministering to them while Martie and I would accompany the farmer to his home. There we would sometimes use the opportunity to minister the Gospel to him and his family for most of them were not saved. When returning to the barn later on, we were welcomed by open, friendly faces for by then the employees were convinced of our good intentions and were beginning to look forward to hearing more comforting and nourishing words. We would then invite them to the central farm for the evening meeting.

On returning to the central farm, we would have a hearty meal with the owner and his wife, then proceed to the barn, light our Coleman lamps and get the place ready for the meeting. As evening fell, Martie and I would stand outside and watch and listen as the tractors with trailers full of workers approached from all directions. Our African people love to sing and as the headlights moved along in the dark, the droning of the tractors was swallowed up by the hearty singing of the people on the trailers. As the campaign proceeded, sometimes for two to three weeks, more and more people would turn up for the meetings and sometimes there were so many that we had to build a gallery with the flat-bed trailers in front of the barn to accommodate them all.

The meetings always started off with a prolonged time of worship until the Spirit of God had softened and opened up the attendees’ hearts, allowing us to bring the oracles of God to them. What a privilege it was! As I said, many of those people had never ever heard the Gospel. They may have heard some of the laws of God through the ministry of the Zionist movement, but to be saved by grace without the works of the law was an entirely new concept to them. Many of them took a step to accept Christ as Saviour and they did so in great earnest, but I always wondered whether they ever continued to grow as Christians and reached any measure of maturity because once the campaign was over and we left, they would have no further opportunity of being instructed in the Word of God. What I did later on, was to prepare audiocassettes with edifying messages in the eight prominent African languages to leave with the farmer’s wife, if she was a Christian, encouraging her to get together with the people, sing and pray with them and play the cassettes to them in order that they might be afforded the opportunity of growing in Christ.

In all of this, Martie and our two children accompanied me and she often also ministered by giving her testimony of salvation, teaching about a Christian marriage, the role of the wife, the upbringing of children, etc. She is also very musical and would at times assist in the leading of the worship with her piano accordion. Her being present, also afforded me the opportunity of discussing the meeting with her afterwards. It was such a tremendous blessing to have her with me. As to the children, they were small and just fitted in anywhere. Before the meeting started, they of course joined in and played with the children of the farm workers although they could not understand one another’s language, but that does not make much of a difference to children, for they use body language and just seem to hit it off right from the start. During the meeting they had to be quiet but by that time they were sleepy and Martie would just spread a blanket and put them to sleep right at her feet. Some wives and families may see this as an ordeal, but to us it was a delight and we praise the Lord for having been afforded the opportunity to serve Him in this way and for having been enabled to reach out to people that were terribly neglected spiritually. Oh, how my soul just leaps up when I think of those times and how I long to have them all over again!

THE WORD OF GOD WILL ALWAYS YIELD A HARVEST!

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C. THE DOROTHEA MISSION MINISTRY

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LEADING A TEAM TO STERKSPRUIT

Having completed my Bible School training at the end of September 1974, the Mission had to decide as to my field of service. Since I enjoyed Bible School so much and felt that I still had a lot to learn, I mentioned the possibility of continuing my studies for another year but my request was turned down because of staff needs in several areas. Firstly, Mr. Von Staden could do with an assistant to handle the administrative side of Head Office. Secondly, there was a need for leaders of outreach teams. In both of these areas I could be put to use because of my years of management as well as of administrative experience in the Department of Justice. Assisting Mr. Von Staden in an administrative capacity did not appeal to me, for my joining the Mission was for the purpose of reaching out to the lost and, after having been trained for two years, I felt that that was what I wanted to do. In the end I was appointed as team leader of an outreach team ranging from six to twelve workers.

This might not have been a good decision because I was spiritually somewhat immature to bear this responsibility. It was a burden that weighed heavily upon my shoulders for I was by nature somewhat of a perfectionist and this being God’s work, I pushed myself so much harder to achieve excellence. I also pushed those whom I was supposed to lead, equally hard. Many of them came from backgrounds where real hard work, strict discipline, punctuality, etc., were not the order of the day. As Christian workers, however, they suffered in silence, never letting on how much it cost them to serve in my “regiment”.

One of the earliest campaigns on which we were sent, was to Sterkspruit in the Eastern Cape which was a long, long, way from home. Two factors that caused this campaign to be almost a nightmare for me, were the fact that I had to be away from my family for six weeks on end and that my team consisted of African people only, with the result that their conversation with one another was in their native tongues such as Sotho, Zulu and Xhosa. The result was that I could never join in conversations, whether we were driving in the car, sitting down to eat or just fellowshipping. The people to whom we ministered at Sterkspruit were all Xhosa speaking so that I could only speak and minister to them through an interpreter during all of the many hours and days we were doing house visitation. That was also the only language I heard during tent meetings. The Zulu I had learned at the Bible School was inadequate and I normally guessed more than understood what my team was saying. There were of course some of them that could speak broken English but we were not accommodated under one roof so I had contact with them only during the times of ministry. We were housed at a Mission station where there were a few Whites with whom I could converse in English or Afrikaans but I had very little opportunity of fellowshipping with them.

A further complication was that we were invited to campaign at Sterkspruit by the White members of the mission station and since there was tremendous friction between them and the African staff at that time, the African workers resented our presence and would not even allow us to minister to them. The leader of the mission station, for instance, asked us to minister to his medical staff at their daily early morning prayer meeting. Some of our workers attended the meeting but were ignored by those present and kept from ministering to them by their singing Christian songs and hymns for the full half an hour which the meeting lasted and then leaving the hall. They also refused to attend our tent meetings. We prayed much about this and our workers then decided to minister to them one-on-one to try and break down the animosity. After a week or so, this yielded good results and some of them started opening up towards us.

We of course also ministered to the residents of that vast nearby township. Right from the start we sensed a very real satanic opposition to our presence and to our ministry. However, we would not be daunted by such opposition and pitched our tent on a low hillock more or less in the middle of the township where it would be visible from every direction and to all residents. Since the area was very rocky, we toiled for hours with huge sledgehammers to drive in the pegs to hold our service tent upright. I always did my share in the practical work. Just before sunset we had it all nicely done and put in the benches, microphone stands and all that, then rushed home quickly to have a bath and dress for the evening service. At that time we always dressed in a collar, tie and suit.

On arriving back at the tent, a very strong wind suddenly sprang up and as we were watching, sucked the tent upwards, lifting it right off the ground, then letting it go so that it came tumbling down into a heap of canvas, poles and ropes. By that time it was getting dark and there were no electric lights in all of that area. We hastily lit the gas lamps, laid our jackets aside, untied the ropes, loosened and pulled out the main jumper pegs and started all over by lifting the main poles, hoisting the canvas, hammering down the pegs and tying the ropes. By the time we had finished, and the tent was ready for the evening service, we were as dirty as mineworkers after a day of hard toil. We were of course also very tired having pitched the tent twice on the same afternoon and not having had the opportunity to eat at all.

By then hundreds of people had gathered all round, watching and making all sorts of remarks as we were pitching the tent. There was no possibility of postponing the meeting to the next evening. They just streamed into the tent, sat down and shouted for us to begin with a meeting. It was not as if they were thirsty for the Word of God, no they were demanding to be entertained. We had not even had time to pray beforehand as we normally did, but just launched out trusting God to work through us. We decided to have a shorter meeting and then go home, so we started off by singing well-known hymns and at least managed to persuade the audience to join us. Once it had quieted down to some extent, one of us brought a message of about half an hour. Instead of being happy and enjoying to assist those whose interest had been aroused by the message, we sighed with relief that it was over and that we would soon be able to return home to wash, eat and regroup for the next day. To our dismay however, as the people to whom we had just ministered filed out of the tent, the hundreds that had gathered on the outside filed in, sat down and demanded their share. What could we do? We just had to hold another meeting which again lasted about an hour and a half. Only then could we disperse the multitude with the promise that the next meeting would be held in the tent the next evening at the same time. That was my first real baptism of fire into the holding of tent campaigns and specially in leading such a difficult campaign.

We hoped that the worst was past but quickly found that there were to be many nights like that, or even worse. Our tent could not accommodate the crowds that were flocking to it and every night there were hundreds of Xhosa men, some carrying knobkerries, surrounding the tent in the pitch darkness. I was the only White man amongst a sea of blacks and they often wanted to lure me outside on some or other pretext. Had I succumbed I would possibly not have lived to see the next day.

Being the leader of the team, I was supposed to do most of the preaching, so after a couple of nights, I felt that I had to take my turn and prepared a message as well as I could. On looking back, I realise that it was altogether the wrong message for those people; their hearts had not yet been prepared by grace to receive it. At that stage, most evangelistic preachers engaged in a fair amount of fire and brimstone preaching to bring people to Christ and I fearlessly brought the message. It was well intended but not well considered for I lacked in experience. I could just feel the resentment rising within that tent but felt no fear and I was ready to die for Christ if that was how it was to be.

However, God saw the plight of this son of his and came to his rescue. There was a man in the Mission by the name of Shadrach Maloka, a great man of God, full of wisdom and of the Holy Spirit. When we left Pretoria for this specific campaign, he was not available to accompany us but followed a couple of days afterwards. God, being in control of everything, directed it in such a way that he arrived there at Sterkspruit exactly on the night and at that time that I was preaching. He had walked from the station or taxi stand and still had his luggage with him but did not go to our accommodation. On approaching, he must have seen the masses of men milling around outside in the dark, heard me preaching over the loudspeakers and realised that this was a build up towards serious trouble, so he just slipped into the back of the tent. I did not even see him standing there. The moment I finished my sermon and closed my Bible he, in his booming voice started singing: “Reaoboka Morena” (We praise you Lord) walking forward at the same time. The people, taken by surprise, probably thought he was on their side and waited to see what he would do. He came right to the front, faced the audience, stretched his arms towards heaven and continued singing that song with all his heart. What happened next was unbelievable. The atmosphere suddenly changed. All over people were beginning to join in this song until the whole crowd was standing, singing and praising God. That is how my Father saved me, His ignorant son. Praise be to His name.

From that time onwards things began to improve. I retained my role as leader of the team but in fact Shadrach, whom everybody recognised as the real leader, took over in a very humble way so as not to offend me, at the same time steering the campaign in the way God wanted it to go. Soon after his coming, we also saw a real change in the attitude of the African people at the mission station. One of the main functions of the mission station was the running of a hospital. As time went by, many of the nurses working at the hospital accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as a result of one-on-one ministry by our team members. After some three to four weeks we were thrilled to see the front rows of benches in the tent filled by nurses clad in their white uniforms, each with her own the Bible on her lap. Indeed the Gospel is the power of God unto salvation for people of all nations, races and sexes.

Shadrach took me under his wing and, as he was fluent in English, we spent much time conversing on matters related to the work we were doing. I also walked with him in the afternoons doing house visitation and accompanied him when holding open-air meetings. It was very apparent that he was guided by the Holy Spirit. As we were walking down the streets, we gave out tracts and spoke to everyone that would listen. I, of course, was very eager to lead whosoever came across my way to Christ and felt guilty if I did not speak to each and everyone, for I felt that God would hold me accountable should that person that came across my way, die without having had the opportunity of accepting the Lord Jesus as Saviour. Notwithstanding all my zeal, I hardly ever saw anyone responding.

With Shadrach it was just the other way round. He would hand out tracts to each and every one, speaking a kind Word while doing so, but not engaging in conversation with them. Then, unexpectedly, he would suddenly latch onto somebody and spend two hours or more speaking to him or her. Unfortunately I understood very little of what was being said (they spoke Xhosa), but the expression on the listeners’ faces testified to the depth of the penetration of his words. It was not uncommon for him to lead such a person in prayer to accept Christ as Lord and Saviour. These he would follow up again and again during the following days and even without understanding their words, one could sense how they were growing and maturing. The sombreness on their faces and in the eyes made way for joy and laughter. It was clear that my mentor followed in the footsteps of his Lord, kept his eyes on his Heavenly Father and only did that which he saw his Father doing. In that way he saved himself much time and frustration.

I will never forget a certain open-air meeting which he and I together conducted a long distance from where the tent was pitched. We selected a spot where there were many passers-by, parked our vehicle and put up the audio equipment. We were not accompanied by any other members of our team, nevertheless the two of us sang a number of songs and then Shadrach started preaching. By this time twelve to sixteen women had gathered and as he continued, they listened more and more attentively, later on becoming totally enraptured by his message. At that stage it began to rain and I hastily gathered the audio equipment and stacked it in the vehicle. Shadrach, however, must have sensed that God was about to do a great working in the hearts of these people and, standing there in the pouring rain in probably the only suit he owned, invited his listeners to accept the Lord Jesus as Saviour. By that time deep puddles of water had formed all over, but the majority of the women knelt down, oblivious of the rain and the water in which they were kneeling and, lifting up their hands towards heaven, prayed out loud, confessing their sins, asking for forgiveness and seeking the face of Christ. Never in my life had I seen anything like this. We left that spot, not only drenched to the skin by standing in the rain, but drenched to the bone by standing in the awesome presence of God.

The Gospels tell us of how the disciples that were sent forth by the Lord Jesus Christ to preach the Gospel, were amazed to experience the signs and miracles which God worked through them. We too saw a number of things happening which could not be attributed to any natural causes. A certain woman shared with us her grief – her son had left her a number of years before and she had never heard from him since. She requested us to pray to God to let her come to know what had happened to him; where he was, or better still, to send him home. Many people were present when she made this request and heard Shadrach put the request to the Father in heaven. Within a couple of days the fear of God came upon that community as the electrifying message flashed through the village that the prodigal son had suddenly turned up at his mother’s home. Of course they all rushed there, wanting to know what caused him to suddenly return home. He looked perplexed and answered that he could not really explain it; he just suddenly realised that he must have grieved his mother terribly and felt an urge to return home and let her know that he was still alive. God works for those who wait upon Him.

Then there was an elderly lady who on one night came under a tremendous conviction of sin and a deep realisation that she was lost. Not caring what other people would think of her, she cried out to God in prayer, confessing her sin at the top of her voice and asking for His forgiveness while tears were flowing down her cheeks. This went on for quite some time. Some of the young people made fun of her and other people were annoyed, but she went on until, at last, God’s peace in her heart assured her that she had found grace in His eyes and that her sin had been removed. Her sobs subsided and from that moment onwards she was a new person and quite sure that she had become a child of God.

As I said, she was quite old and within about a week’s time, she passed away. When we received the tidings of her death, Shadrach used the occasion to point out to everyone present in the tent that night how important it was for each one of us to put things right with God when He affords us the opportunity; that is what she did, not counting the cost as to what others would think of her. Now, as we were gathered there in the tent, she was rejoicing with her Lord in heaven. Where would she have been if she had not taken that step? That night, as Shadrach made an invitation many, many of the young people of that township gave their lives to the Lord Jesus Christ.

That campaign at Sterkspruit that had started off in such a tempestuous way, that had almost cost me my life, ended in tremendous victory as on the last night the tent was packed to capacity with hundreds of people on the outside listening to the loudspeakers and peering through whichever openings they could find, and scores of converts stepped forward to testify over the microphone as to their newfound life in Christ. In fact, the meeting lasted until well after midnight and then we still took down the tent and loaded it into our l.d.v. for some of us were expected back in Pretoria the next day and would have to leave before daybreak.

OH THE GRACE OF GOD AND THE MIGHTY POWER OF HIS WORD WHEN PREACHED UNDER THE ANOINTING OF THE HOLY SPIRIT.

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B. CALLING AND BIBLE SCHOOL

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THE DOROTHEA MISSION AND SOME OF ITS WORKERS

The Dorothea Mission was founded in 1942 by the late Mr and Mrs von Staden (affectionately known as Oom [Uncle] Hans and Tannie [Aunt] Lettie). At the time of the founding of the Mission, both of them were ministering within the Africa Evangelistic Band. This is how Oom Hans describes his calling:

“In February 1942, my wife and I visited in Lindley, in the Free State. The lovely shade of the willows on the banks of the False River was my chosen spot for Bible study and prayer early in the day. One morning I became intensely aware of the wonderful presence of the Lord. I heard His voice deep within my heart: We were to dedicate our lives to the evangelisation of the souls in the black townships of South Africa. It was a sudden unexpected call…” (Extract from the booklet, “I heard His call”.)

Soon afterwards they resigned from the Africa Evangelistic Band and founded the Dorothea Mission. Oom Hans’s mother donated funds for the purchasing of land for the Mission, hence the name Dorothea Mission which means, “Gift of God”. A site was bought just outside Pretoria where they built a house for themselves which also served as a Bible school where they trained African students to be evangelists. Shortly afterwards they started with tent campaigns in the African townships adjoining Pretoria and gradually also further afield.

A number of workers of the Africa Evangelistic Band joined them and so, within a relatively short time, the ministry grew and became very effective. Financial and prayer support were recruited especially from the Dutch Reformed Church which is a main line, reformed denomination of which both Oom Hans and Tannie Lettie were members. They also did deputation work in countries such as Germany, Britain and Switzerland from where they received a flow of income as well as students who wished to be trained in the Bible school to become part of the Ministry. The Mission not only ministered in all of the larger South African townships, but spread its wings and established branches in Zimbabwe, Zambia, Malawi, Namibia and Mozambique. The Lord was using this Mission in a mighty way and many African people came to know Him in the tent meetings or even in their homes, since house visitation was part and parcel of the Ministry. By the time I joined the Mission, which was in October, 1972, it had been running for 30 years and the von Staden’s had both become elderly people.

Once a year they had a celebration meeting, called the Dorothea Birthday, both at the Pretoria Bible School campus and at a central spot in Soweto (South Western African Townships). At the Pretoria campus, a huge tent was pitched and the meeting was attended by approximately 1000 supporters from all over the country. I have wonderful memories of these birthday meetings. About a week beforehand all the students gathered at the premises to get the grounds and buildings shipshape for the great occasion. The presence of God was tangible all over the premises during that time. At twelve midday, a bell rang and we would all gather together in little groups wherever we were working and sit down for a time of prayer. Every evening too, after having had a hearty supper, we gathered in the hall to listen to the ministering of God’s Word to us and to pray for the coming meetings. Every day more Mission workers from all the different parts of South Africa as well as from surrounding countries where the Mission ministered arrived, so this was a joyous time of fellowship with all the other workers.

The Birthday Meetings themselves were held over a weekend on the Saturday morning and afternoon as well as on the Sunday afternoon. They all commenced with a time of thanksgiving towards God for His goodness for the past year, followed by testimonies by the different workers as to what God had done through their ministries in the areas in which they were working. In closing, a message was brought by a guest speaker. After the meetings coffee, tea, cool drinks and all kinds of eats were provided for the guests that sat down all over, fellowshipping, speaking of the wonderful testimonies they had heard and just having a general good time together.

The weekend Birthday Meetings were followed by three days of prayer. Four meetings were held daily during which the workers from the different fields gave further testimony as to what God was doing in their areas and also mentioning their needs. The rest of the workers then gathered in small groups and prayed for these needs.

A considerable amount of time was also allotted to pray for countries all over the world. One of the very gifted workers continually collected information on the spiritual state of every country and their spiritual needs in general. This information was a great stimulus and helped us to pray diligently for these peoples worldwide. The meetings closed with a message by a guest speaker from countries such as China, Germany, Switzerland, Britain, the Netherlands, the USA, etc. They of course also told us about the state of the church in their countries and about their specific ministries. In this way the Mission’s workers gradually gained a world view of the state of the Church. At the close of these meetings, all the workers returned to their respective fields of service.

The Mission had a very lofty code of conduct which did not allow students to get involved in love affairs during their two or three-year period of Bible school training. How shall I put it: if you did fall in love during that period, you just had to put your emotions on “pause” until the end of it for you were to concentrate on your studies and on opening up your life to God, and a love affair would distract you from pursuing this objective. This of course was quite an ordeal for some of the students of whom many were young people of a marriageable age.

Then, having completed your training and if your desire to get married had not yet evaporated, the rule was that after having prayed about the matter and being firmly convinced it to be the will of God to marry a specific lady, you were to reveal your feelings to the director of the Mission. If he saw no real objections, he would also pray for God’s guidance for a period of time which could easily be a month or more and would then give permission for you to court the lady. Your next step would be to approach her and enquire whether you could see her in private, assuring her that you had the permission of the director to do so. Well, as things go, she would by that time already be well aware of the fact that you had a very special interest in her and she would also have prayed about it and made up her mind on how she would react to your attentions.

Meeting with one another privately, either just once or on an ongoing basis, also posed a problem. If she was a co-worker, it meant that both of you were living on the premises, possibly in the men’s or ladies’ hostel. This complicated matters even more for there would be no place for the two of you to meet with each other and it was considered indecent for two young people of opposite sexes to sit near to one another engaged in intimate private conversation within view of the other young people and students. But love always finds a way and a solution was to find a Christian family somewhere nearby that would understand the dilemma and put their lounge at the disposal of the lovers to meet each other.

A further obstacle hampering a budding love affair from coming to fruition, was that the Mission would often send out these two young people on campaigns in different directions. A campaign could last anything from two to six weeks and very likely the campaigns on which the two of them went, would end at different times so that they would not be back at the Mission at the same time to be able to get to know each other in a deeper way. Normally only three days were allowed back at base before workers went forth on the following campaign. So, as you can see, cultivating an intimate relationship with a view of getting married, was a very tricky matter. This could be one of the reasons why there were so many unmarried workers within the Mission. There were of course those that clearly felt called to a life of celibacy in order to be able to devote all their time to the work of God.

The bottom line was that workers who wanted to get married, depended more on the guidance of the Holy Spirit than on their feelings for each other or on having spent time to put their relationship to the test before marriage. Modern young people may be appalled by the thought of being subjected to such restrictive rules, but I daresay that marriages approached and contracted in this way, worked very well; the spouses loved and honoured one another and lived fulfilled lives to a ripe old age when God’s time came for them to go Home. I know of only one couple that divorced and that only happened some years after they had left the Mission.

There were many great Christian workers in the Mission and some of them were real saints. In this regard I am for instance thinking of a lady called Celia Coolidge. She came from Britain and was one of those who never married. She poured her life into the vast African township of Soweto. There she did house visitation and made many converts, especially African women whom she brought together in small groups and instructed in the Word of God, with much emphasis on not only getting to know the Word, but on putting faith into action; living a life in which Christ became visible. Celia duplicated her own life and Christian character in the lives of scores of women living in that township. She was a very soft-spoken, tender-hearted, humble, friendly person and when her face broke into a smile, everybody around smiled with her. To be annoyed with her, was just impossible even when she opened up her borrowed motor car’s oil cap and filled the engine with water to ensure that it would not overheat and be damaged while she was having the use of it. Even the Lord could not be angry with her and just sent somebody to drain the water, flush out the engine and set her back on the road again without any real damage to the engine, for which I am sure she thanked Him profoundly.

Celia was also responsible for holding weeks of prayer all over the country. The Mission, at that time had a forty seater bus called Nehemiah. It did not quite do justice to its name and we often, on a winter morning, had to tow it round and around the Mission premises for some time before it would cough a couple of times, befoul the air with black smoke and then grudgingly come to life. It definitely was not a self starter as his biblical counterpart was, but got its name because it was supposed to be a tool in Celia’s hand to transport Christians to the venues where the weeks of prayer were to be held. In this way it contributed to the rebuilding of the walls of God’s kingdom in many countries all over the world, hence the name: “Nehemiah.” Celia of course did not drive the bus herself and, as for me, I took one look at that piece of ancient machinery and decided that I would rather be chided for failing one driver’s licence test after the other, than passing it and having to get to know Nehemiah in a more intimate way.

I would, however, never forget one such week of prayer which was held at Komatipoort, near to the Mozambique border. Since Celia had to see to the food for all the attendees, she had much to do in the course of such a week and so she asked me to take care of the spiritual side by organising the meetings and leading some of them myself. This I did and for some inexplicable reason we just sensed the overwhelming presence of God throughout.

One day, as I was requesting prayer for the country of Israel and its people and spoke of the soil on which God’s feet touched the earth, we suddenly became aware of His awesome presence. A hush came upon us with tears flowing down our cheeks as we prayed for the Holy Land. Next we prayed for the country of Mozambique just across the border where a devastating tribal war was raging. I am convinced that our prayers of that day contributed towards the reaching of a truce later on, followed by peace and the establishing of a democratic government which is still in power to this day.

At those meetings two young African women broke down in tears, giving their hearts to the Lord Jesus Christ. At the end of the meetings when we gave an opportunity for people to testify as to what the Lord had done for them during that week, they told us that some two years before, the two of them had conspired to bring a certain young Christian man to a fall. He was a very powerful preacher and led many people to the Lord. They attended his meetings especially for the sake of tempting and leading him astray and in this one of them succeeded after some time, getting him to sleep with her. The next day the immensity of his sin came forcefully upon him and that was the end of his Ministry. These two ladies now realised what terrible sin they had committed and confessed it with deep sorrow upon which both of them were saved and found peace with the Lord. As the attendees witnessed God’s abounding grace, great joy flooded their hearts.

At this week of prayer we also saw the Lord doing a miracle as regards material things. The Mission never had an abundance of funds and towards the end of the week we just did not have sufficient maize-meal, bread, vegetables, etc., to feed everybody for many people from that area flocked to the meetings. Celia told me of this shortage of food and we decided that all we could do was to dish out whatever she had in those large pots. As we stood there watching the spoons being dipped into the food then tipped into the plates, we could not believe our eyes for the process just went on and on. You could not actually see the food in the pots becoming more, but it was indeed doing so right before our very eyes. A number of times she and I looked up at one another in amazement as everybody, every last one, was fed and some came back for second helpings. The awe that comes upon a person when seeing things like this happen, is indescribable and you often feel you cannot speak of such holy moments.

There were also other “saints” like Oom Hannes Joubert and Tannie Rosa Kühn and many others that need to be mentioned. Mr and Mrs von Staden set an example both in life and in ministry that was well worth following, and God used them to raise an army of men and women that loved the Lord dearly and were willing to sacrifice all they had for Him and for His Kingdom. By their ministry the sweet flavour of the love of Jesus was carried into scores upon scores of townships all over South Africa, whereby many African people got to know the Lord Jesus Christ and we met many of them as we, of a later generation, moved across southern Africa to do our share in spreading the Gospel. These dear people, our predecessors, have by now long ago all passed on into the presence of the Lord and their works have followed after them.

GOD’S SAINTS ARE HIS PRIDE! HE SAID TO THE DEVIL: “DID YOU TAKE NOTE OF MY SERVANT JOB?” AND INDEED HE DID, FOR JOB WAS STANDING OUT LIKE A TOWER OF LIGHT IN THIS DARK WORLD.

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B. CALLING AND BIBLE SCHOOL

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CHOICES, TRIALS AND JOYS; JACO’S BIRTH

We all need to make frequent choices; making the right choice enriches one’s life, puts one on the forefoot, brings progress, whereas making a bad choice leaves one poorer, causes one to lose ground, has the effect that one has to take another two steps just to get where one would have been had one made the right choice right from the start. Some things may seem to be the right thing to do but very soon prove to have been exactly the opposite or at least a waste of time. Towards the close of my second year at Bible School, on the evening just before I had to write my final exam on a certain subject and was cramming the last bits of knowledge, my mother phoned and said that the doctor had been to see my father and it seemed that he had had a heart attack. He was not in good shape at all and she thought it might be best for me to come over as soon as possible.

I was uncertain as to whether I was to go and had not yet learned deeply not to react to each and every request and pressure that came my way, but to look to the Lord for guidance, even in matters that one would normally solve intellectually. However, I prayed saying: “Lord, now what am I to do, I have to write my exam tomorrow and if I travel 120kms and back, when will I study? On the other hand, should I not go and my father dies, I will always blame myself.” Immediately I sensed the Lord replying: “Don’t go,” so I phoned my mom and said I would pray for both of them but could not go for I felt the Lord wanted me to study and to do my exam. She accepted my decision graciously. I studied till late that night, phoned her back early the next morning when she told me that he had somewhat recovered. I then wrote the exam, did quite well and on phoning her later that afternoon, was relieved to hear that my father was much better and on his way to a full recovery. The right decision had lifted me to higher ground and peace flooded my heart. The devil is a master in the art of deception and can skilfully manoeuvre us to waste half of the precious days which the Lord has allotted to us on earth.

Life is a mixture of bitter and sweet and things meant to be altogether joyful, may suddenly turn into sorrow. In June of that second year of Bible School, the other major thing that happened in our lives was the birth of our second child, our second son, Jaco. Towards the end of Martie’s pregnancy, my mother-in-law came to stay with us to assist her when the time came for the baby to be born. Once again there was an onslaught on my study time. About three days before the date on which the baby was to be born, Martie had a false alarm. I took her in to the maternity home where she spent the day unsuccessfully waiting for the birth to take place. That afternoon I brought her back home. Then, three days later, on the night just before I had to write my Zulu exam, Martie came in saying: “I must go at once, quickly, quickly, there is no doubt about it, I’ve got to go”. Her suitcase with necessities was already packed and we left my mother-in-law in the Park Home to look after Frans and rushed off to the hospital. This time I would not be tricked again and I took my Zulu textbook with me, intending to put in some study should this baby play any more tricks.

On getting there, we found the place in turmoil. It seemed as if all the babies of Pretoria that were to be born in that month, had decided to be born that specific night and the place was overflowing with anxious mothers to be, and nurses and doctors rushing to and fro. At reception they asked me all sorts of “irrelevant” questions that I could not answer; the type of questions that only the wife can answer; birthdays and which sicknesses Martie had had since childhood, her blood group and the physical ailments of her relatives, and by the time I got through and was sweating profusely, the matron took me by the left arm saying: “Take this white coat, put it on and stand by your wife in that ward over there, for we have no nurses to spare.” With my Zulu handbook clutched under my arm, I did as I was told for you do not argue with matrons in maternity homes about the need of studying for your Zulu exams. After some ten minutes of smiling encouragingly at Martie while biting my fingernails, the doctor arrived and was I grateful to be relieved of maternity duty and chased out of the ward.

I stood near to the door, wondering what was going on inside. Apparently they had affixed a heart rate monitor to Martie but something was wrong for one could hear the baby’s heart beat clearly but then it would become softer and softer and fade out altogether. The next moment the door burst open and the doctor emerged and rushed down the passage without even looking at me. A minute later he and a specialist came charging back, entered and closed the door behind them. Now I was certain that there was trouble but tried to remain calm. All I could do was to pray. A few minutes later the specialist left the ward, went down the passage and our house doctor approached me, saying that he was sorry to bring me bad news but they suspected that the umbilical cord had wound around the baby’s neck and that he might not live.

This was bad news indeed but my first thought was for Martie who had carried this little one for nine months and was so excited for our second son to be born and now, at the very last moment, to be faced with such dreadful news. Since the hospital was so short of staff, they asked me to remain with Martie and just hold her hand. The doctor took over and proceeded to assist her to give birth. I had never imagined that women had such pain during childbirth and how my heart ached every time she cried out. At the same time I was thinking of what to say to her when, after all that pain, the little one was born dead, as surely he would be. Minutes dragged by but then, at last, there he was and what do you know, safe and sound, no umbilical cord around his neck, no damage done and when he was given a good smack on the behind (for giving us such a fright?) he cried out lustily, filling his lungs with air.

Oh, what a relief, not only for me but also for the doctor and nurse who confirmed that our son was well. The devil had just been scaring us out of our wits. As soon as the baby was wrapped in a cloth and laid in a cradle or whatever, I said: “Please stop for a moment and close your eyes,” and as they did so, I poured out my heart in thanksgiving and praise to the Lord for what He had done. The doctor then attended to Martie and when she was ready, the nurse lay our little one in her arms.

When I got home, the lights were still on and Martie’s mother was anxiously waiting in the lounge for news as only a mother could. Her face lit up with joy as I told her that all was well and that she had just acquired another grandson. How different it would have been if I had had to bring her the terrible tidings that the cradle would remain empty and the carefully accumulated baby clothes tucked away somewhere in a drawer, perhaps forever.

Did I study Zulu that night? No. The duties of assistant midwife had depleted every ounce of my energy. I went to Bible School the next day with red rimmed eyes though, wrote the exam and I think I did reasonably well and thus received a double blessing.

Those are the bitter-sweet occurrences in the lives of us as human beings and also of the lives of God’s children. These experiences all add up to make our Lord so much more precious to us.

HE IS RIGHT BY OUR SIDES; THROUGH FLAMING FIRE, DEEP WATERS, EXAMINATION HALLS AND MATERNITY WARDS!

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B. CALLING AND BIBLE SCHOOL

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PROVISION AND SURPRISES

From that time onwards we never again had a financial challenge right up to the end of my Bible School training. It was as if we had broken through a barrier. I think God’s testing and building of our faith had, for the time being, come to an end. This was much of a relief. There are some subjects in any course that are harder than others!

However, there were other challenges, one of which was that of transport. We had moved further away from the Bible School and I had to travel 15 km daily to and fro with a fairly dilapidated Lambretta scooter which somebody had given me. That machine really humbled its user. Every now and then it would break down along the way because the carbon inside the combustion chamber came loose and a small speck would get onto the spark plug, with the result that there was no spark, no ignition of the fuel vapour and consequently no forward movement. I then had to push it off the road, get out the box spanner, remove the spark plug, clean it, replace it and continue on my way with hands all black with oil and a conscience soiled by thoughts of anger. Then again it would cut out at a robot and would not kick-start so that I would have to run with it for some distance and then jump onto it in an effort to get it started. Having repeated this procedure three or four times, it might let out a cloud of blue smoke, then take off slowly as if doing me a favour. Now just remember that not long before I had been a Magistrate in that very area and that many people knew me. While thus engaged in persuading my unwilling donkey to carry me on its back, I often wondered what they were thinking of this Magistrate on that poor little scooter.

One day as I was travelling to Bible School, the traffic was very heavy and a long line of motor cars was waiting to pass a certain robot. As motorcycles and scooters normally do, I slipped by them on the inner side of the road which was quite legal. Then something unforeseen happened: there was an open piece of ground to the left of the queue of motorcars and one of the cars left a gap for a parked car to get through the queue and into the lane going in the opposite direction. The driver came through that gap at full speed and suddenly popped up right in front of me. I slammed on the brakes but to no avail and I hit the car right from the front. I went over the handlebars onto the bonnet while the scooter went partially underneath the car. I slid off the bonnet and managed to walk but was limping badly. My knee and ankle were hurting terribly. I did not want to make an issue of it and so we agreed that we would talk about it later on and they took me and the scooter back home.

The scooter was damaged beyond repair, so I was stranded without transport because Martie was then expecting our second child and I would not leave her alone on the smallholding without a car. Urgent petitions ascended to heaven again and our wonderful Lord came to our assistance by persuading a certain Christian brother to give us his old Volkswagen Beetle which was still in a fairly good condition. Unexpectedly I was now travelling in style, listening to the radio while thinking back to the Saturday nights I had previously been returning by scooter, travelling the 15km in winter through one suburb after the other, smelling roasting meat and shivering with cold all the way. It had also been rather dangerous and Martie was much relieved that I could now travel in comfort and safety. “All things work together for good for those that love God.” (Rom 8:28)

A good father loves to surprise his children; so does the Father of Fathers. As students we were altogether dependant on what people gave us as they felt led by God. None of them had made any commitment to give something on a regular basis. We always had sufficient to eat but there was nothing left for luxuries or entertainment. During one of the holidays of the Bible School, I was sitting in the living room of the Park Home watching Martie, as usual busy as a bee. I started teasing her, saying: “Oh, can you imagine how wonderful it would be if we now were at the seaside, sitting on the sand, watching the waves rolling in, feeling the breeze upon us and sometimes going into the water and having a good swim. Oh, don’t you think it would be wonderful; just imagine this.” She was getting more and more upset with me, telling me to keep quiet and not stir up desires that could not be fulfilled. There were just no funds for something like this at all.

As we were speaking, I suddenly remembered that my uncle and aunt on whose smallholding we were staying, had a son in the Department of Justice and that he was stationed at a seaside resort called Mtunzini where he had a house all to himself but was complaining that there was nobody to cook for him; he had to prepare his own food. I said to Martie: “You know what, Ben is at Mtunzini. How about it if we go there, cook for him and share the place with him?” That got her attention!

We mulled this over in our minds for half an hour or so, then went to my aunt, got my nephew’s phone number and I phoned him. Was he delighted to invite us down there, not so much to assist with the cooking but to have company! He had the whole place to himself and there were many vacant furnished bedrooms. All we needed to take along were our clothes and bedding. So, joy upon joy. Still in a daze of unbelief, we packed the Opel as fast as only young people can and before daybreak the next day, were off. The day after that we were lolling on the beach, smelling the salty air, basking in the sun, building sand castles with the children just as we had visualised it 48 hours before.

Oh, praise our Father, our Heavenly Father Who has so many surprises up His sleeve. I often can almost see Him sitting way up there in heaven, waiting to see His children’s reaction to a miracle He had done for them, smiling down at them, smiling at the angels saying: “Just look at that; just see how surprised they are!”

WHY DO YOU LOVE SURPRISES? BECAUSE YOU WERE CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD AND HE JUST LOVES TO SURPRISE HIS CHILDREN!

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