Matthew and Mark both tell the story of Jesus healing the daughter of a Gentile woman in one of the cities of Syrophoenicia on the Palestinian coast:

“And … he arose and went away to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And he entered a house and did not want anyone to know, yet he could not be hidden. But immediately a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit heard of him and came and fell down at his feet.  Now the woman was a Gentile, a Syrophoenician by birth.  And she begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. And he said to her, ‘Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs.’  But she answered him, ‘Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs.’  And he said to her, ‘For this statement you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter.’   And she went home and found the child lying in bed and the demon gone” (Mark 7:24-30 ESV, and see Matthew 15:21-28).

Mark makes it very clear that the woman was a Gentile, a Syrophoenician (the NIV calls her “Greek” because the Jews referred to all non-Jews as “Greeks”), and seems to also stress her gender – putting her at a double disadvantage as a member of an ethnic group and gender looked down upon by many ancient Jews who often used the term ”dogs” of Gentiles as impure according to God’s Law.  We should remember that religious Jews did not like to be approached in conversation by Gentiles and particularly by women.   The woman’s approach to Jesus is all the more remarkable as she clearly knew about Jewish culture.

Jesus apparently rebuffed her at first, saying: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel” (Matthew 15:24), and, when she persisted,  “Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs.”   This led to the woman’s amazing reply in pleading that even the dogs were able to pick up crumbs under the children’s table, for which words Christ rewarded her with the healing of her daughter.

Reading this account superficially, Jesus’ reaction to the woman, effectively referring to her as a “dog,” seems harsh and out of character, but we should consider two things.  Instead of the Greek word kinos “dogs,” Mark actually uses the word kinaria – the diminutive form used of “little dogs” or “puppies.”  This considerably softens the tone of Jesus’ words, though the implication is still there, kindly worded or not. We can only presume then, that Jesus’ words were meant not to disparage the woman but to see the extent of her humility and faith. This is a meaningful possibility to keep in mind, because Jesus’ reaction was immediate and full as soon as the woman replied in such a way to indicate her humble acceptance of his words and her faith in him despite any insult she might have perceived. 

If this was the case, the lesson for us is obvious.  Whenever we are faced with difficulties and trials that we need to take before God, we should remember that it is possible to approach him with both accepting reverence and persistence (see also Jesus’s parable on the importunate widow, Luke 18:1-8). The example of the Syrophoenician woman shows us that our faith must be willing to humbly accept the present answer, but we should also be unafraid to persist in asking God’s favor.

You have probably heard or read how the genealogy of Jesus Christ includes, among his human ancestors, the prostitute Rahab (Joshua 2, Matthew 1:5).  Historically, some translations of the Bible have clearly felt uncomfortable with this situation and have translated Rahab’s profession as that of “innkeeper,” but the Hebrew word used in the Book of Joshua to describe Rahab is zonah – which does indeed mean prostitute.

The nature of this situation – the love of God that included this woman in the ancestry of his Son – is remarkable enough of itself, so we sometimes overlook the details of the faith of Rahab.  We may know that Hebrews 11 – the Bible’s great “Faith Hall of Fame” chapter – includes her in its list of believers of great faith, but have you ever thought about the details of Rahab’s mention in that chapter?

Setting out its list of the most important examples of faith in the Old Testament, Hebrews 11 details the faithful lives of the greatest patriarchs: Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, and Moses. The stature of these patriarchs is self-evident. It’s hard to argue that there are greater biblical figures than Noah, Abraham and Moses, and the importance of these patriarchs in the biblical narrative is such that the list could well have stopped there, and it almost does. 

A few verses after discussing Abraham, the writer of Hebrews tells us: “And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson and Jephthah, about David and Samuel and the prophets …” (Hebrews 11:32). It’s as though even the spiritual greatness of King David (Acts 13:22) and the prophet Samuel (Jeremiah 15:1) are almost glossed over when compared with the faith of the patriarchs.  The later characters, those coming after Moses, are simply listed as greats in the “also mentioned” category.

But there is one exception:  Rahab.  After describing the faith of Moses, Hebrews adds one more person to its list of patriarchs whose exploits of faith are actually detailed – and that person is Rahab (Hebrews 11:31).   While it might have been completely natural to conclude the detailed list of the faith “greatest of the greats” with Moses, and then to include Rahab in the list of “also mentioned,”  Rahab is the final person listed with details – the final member of the Faith Hall of Fame’s inner circle of greatness.

Think about this for a minute. If we were asked to list the greatest individuals in biblical history, would we include Rahab alongside Noah, Abraham, and Moses?  Would we give her precedence over David, Samuel, and the great prophets?   And think about another aspect of this situation.  If we were asked to list the greatest female counterparts of the patriarchs we would immediately think of Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel – but Rahab?  As it is, Hebrews 11 does not mention any of the female matriarchs – not one of them – only Rahab.   In fact, Rahab is the only woman mentioned by name of the fourteen greats listed in this chapter.

So, what is it about Rahab?  What makes this woman stand out above the crowd of later biblical greats and from all the Bible’s named women?  The answer is obviously her faith.   That may not be easy for us to understand because the only details Hebrews gives us are the facts that “By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient” (Hebrews 11:31).   

Simply “welcoming” a group of spies may not sound like an act of particularly great faith, but there was clearly something about this situation that meant Rahab truly risked her life in accepting the Israelite spies and in helping them to escape the city of Jericho.   Doubtless then, as now, if they are discovered, those who aid spies often receive the same penalty as the spies themselves. In fact, in the ancient world, the penalty of death would probably have been more than likely for Rahab.

We know from the biblical record that many other individuals risked and lost their lives in the Old Testament era because of their beliefs, but apparently none exhibited more faith in this situation than that shown by Rahab.  There is no other reason that can account for Rahab’s inclusion with faith’s greatest of the great.  This is all the more remarkable considering that from the Israelite perspective Rahab had three strikes against her: she was a Canaanite, a woman, and a prostitute.
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In that sense, Rahab reminds us of the woman in the New Testament account who led “a sinful life” (polite-speak for “prostitute”) who Luke tells us anointed the feet of Jesus, was forgiven by him, and who Jesus told: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (Luke 7:50). It was faith that saved Rahab physically, but the extent of her faith must have been great indeed for her to have been given the place of honor she holds in Hebrews 11.

Puah and Shiprah were the two women mentioned in the Book of Exodus who were in charge of the midwives who delivered the Israelite children in Egypt.  Exodus tells us:

“The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives … “When you are helping the Hebrew women during childbirth on the delivery stool, if you see that the baby is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, let her live.” The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do; they let the boys live” (Exodus 1:15-17).
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Because the two women placed their fear of God before their fear of the Egyptian king, Jewish tradition presumed that they were Hebrew-born women, but the traditions disagree.  While one links Puah with Miriam, Moses’ sister, and Shiprah with Jochebed, the mother of Moses,  another tradition viewed the women as Jewish proselytes who were not related to Moses at all.
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The fact that they are said to be “Hebrew midwives” could mean  that they were Hebrew or that they were “midwives to the Hebrews.”  The names of the two women also seem to reflect underlying Egyptian names, and it is possible that they were indeed Egyptian converts.  This possibility seems all the more likely as we continue to read the story:

“Then the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and asked them, “Why have you done this? Why have you let the boys live?”  The midwives answered Pharaoh, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.” So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous.  And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own" (Exodus 1:18-21).

The fact that Puah and Shiprah could contrast Hebrew with Egyptian births suggests that they may have acted as midwives for both, and their excuse would be all the more believable if that were the case.  The ancient Jewish historian, Iben Ezra, states that the two women were in charge of “more than 500” midwives; if this was true, the  women were likely appointed by the Egyptian government and would almost certainly have been Egyptian women.

In any event, these women  acted with faithfulness to the law of God and demonstrated a measure of faith in doing so.  It is clear that  their faith was rewarded.   We are told not only that “God was kind to the midwives”  in the sense that they were spared the anger of the Egyptian king, but also we are told “the people increased…” (vs. 20), and “…because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own” (vs. 21). 
 
This last blessing may have been a particularly kind one, as scholars believe that midwives in that era were often women who could not have children of their own.  In the Hebrew of the Old Testament the expression “families” is literally “houses,” however, and Jewish tradition has it that these were “distinguished” houses from which many Hebrew civil and religious leaders descended. 

Whatever the case regarding the various traditions about them, it is clear that God did bless the two chief midwives, and the positive outcome of the story should not obscure the extent of their faith and faithfulness.

Historically, this is the earliest known example of civil disobedience in the face of a specific command by a powerful regime to disobey the law of God.  Even today it remains as a wonderful example of the power of faith in difficult circumstances.  The two courageous women did what they could to protect themselves, yet their faith in God was ultimately their protection and blessing.

William Carey (1761–1834) was born in Northamptonshire, England, where his father served as a parish clerk and village schoolmaster, and was raised in the Church of England. A talented student, the young William exhibited a natural gift for languages and taught himself Latin at an early age.

At the age of 14, Carey was apprenticed to a shoemaker and began to be influenced by a fellow apprentice who was a religious Dissenter. Through this influence Carey eventually left the Church of England and joined a Congregational church. In 1781 he married, and in the following years he taught himself Greek, Hebrew, Italian, Dutch, and French in his spare time and, it is said, while he was working on shoes.

Carey also became involved with a local Baptist congregation, and in 1783 he was baptized and began to preach in this congregation. In 1789 he became the full-time pastor of a Baptist church.  In 1792 he founded the  Baptist Missionary Society and also published what would become a revolutionary missionary manifesto:  An Enquiry into the Obligations of Christians to use Means for the Conversion of the Heathens. This book scripturally justified missionary activity and was responsible for overcoming much of the resistance toward it that was common at the time.

The following year Carey committed himself to missionary work in India; he and his wife arrived in Calcutta in November 1793.  In the next six years Carey worked full-time to support himself and his family, during which time he learned Bengali and translated the New Testament into that language. But life was far from easy. His son Peter died of dysentery, and his wife Dorothy suffered a nervous breakdown from which she never fully recovered. 

Carey’s personal situation was difficult at every turn, and he wrote “This is indeed the valley of the shadow of death to me. But I rejoice that I am here notwithstanding; and God is here.” His work was also often hindered by the British East India Company which was still hostile to missionaries, and in 1800 Carey moved his family to the Danish colony of Serampore.
 
In fact, it took seven years of labor before Carey saw the first conversion as a result of his work, but it was a significant conversion. In 1802, the daughter of that first convert married someone outside her social caste, and the wedding was a demonstration that Christianity rejected the castes that divided India.

Carey’s work now began to thrive. Over the next 20 years he translated the Bible into dozens of major Indian languages and dialects and also founded a college – the first in Serampore – to train indigenous ministers.  He also influenced the Governor-General of India to begin to put a stop to the infant sacrifice and the forced suicide of widows that were common practices in Indian society.

When he died in 1834, Carey had suffered much, but he died peacefully.  He had persevered through faith, and tremendous things had been accomplished through his service as a minister, Bible translator, social activist, and, as is often said, as the modern-day father of missions.

​We will get to you in a moment, but think first about Noah, Abraham, and Moses.  They are all great heroes of faith, of course – all three are highlighted in the “Faith Hall of Fame” of Hebrews 11 – but why do we single them out, what do they have in common, and what do they have in common with you?

These great men of God may have shared many qualities, and they certainly did all accomplish great deeds of faith.  Hebrews 11:7 tells us of Noah: “By faith Noah, when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family….”  Verse 8 tells us of Abraham: “By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.” And verse 27 tells us of Moses: “By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible.”  

Clearly, these three individuals shared great faith.  Through faith they all “saw” certain things regarding what God promised, and they all acted on that faith. But what makes them different from Joseph, Gideon, David, or others mentioned by name in Hebrews 11 – why is the faith of Noah, Abraham and Moses so notable?  The answer is not necessarily the degree of their faith, but the fact of the circumstances in which their faith was applied. 

Noah, Abraham and Moses each demonstrated his faith in God after God had not clearly interacted with humankind for an extended period of time. God had apparently not spoken openly to humans for many generations when the biblical story tells us Noah was called to build a large, strange boat in preparation for a monumental flood. Centuries later, Abraham was called to reject his own homeland in favor of the promise that his distant descendants would inherit a great land. Centuries later still, Moses was called to guide the people of Israel through the amazing circumstances under which they left Egypt and traveled to the Promised Land. 

These were all great events, and they may have required even more faith than we might guess.  We tend to think of Noah, Abraham, and Moses – and other servants of God – as having lived in a “biblical age” – an age when God’s existence and actions were evident in miracles, signs, and communications; but the biblical stories show that each one of these three great men of faith lived in an age without God’s obvious presence.  Noah, Abraham, and Moses all began their work in an age of “faith disconnect,” an age when God had not intervened in obvious ways in human history for centuries. 
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And that’s how we get to you.  We too live in an age of faith disconnect, an age when it may well be harder in many physical ways to have the kind of faith needed to do great works.  When we feel we don’t live in an age of great works of faith, we don’t expect them, and when we don’t expect them, they don’t happen. Yet we can take encouragement from the lives of those great servants of God who lived in ages similar to our own.  Noah, Abraham, and Moses remind us that the age we live in is not as important as simply accepting and wholeheartedly doing the job we are given to do. The results are in God’s hands. 

“Doubting Thomas.”  There is no doubt about it, most Christians regard him as something of a failure. The apostle who said he would not believe in Christ’s resurrection until he had seen him with his own eyes and touched him with his own hand has become synonymous with those who do not believe.
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Even those of us  who believe faith should involve the head as well as the heart have not embraced Thomas as the poster-disciple of reasonable faith, but why is this – why do we doubt Thomas?  Looking at the story – which is found in chapter 20 of the Gospel of John – is instructive:  

“Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:24-29).

Although the account is often repeated as an example of unbelief, there is really nothing in it to say that Christ chastised Thomas in any way. We should remember that doubt had marked the response of all the disciples from the very first reports of the resurrection.  Although Mary Magdalene, who had gone to the tomb and found it empty, reported this to Peter and John (John 20:2), apparently even John himself did not believe the resurrection had occurred till he saw evidence with his own eyes: “Finally the other disciple [John], who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed” (John 20:8).

More importantly, John tells us that all of the disciples – except Thomas who was not present – were given the opportunity to see Christ, and at that time “he showed them his hands and side” (20:19).  Luke adds further details, and tells us that when Christ appeared to them at that time:
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“They were startled and frightened, thinking they saw a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts rise in your minds? Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and feet” (Luke 24:37-39).

So every one of the disciples had opportunity not only to see the resurrected Christ, but also to see the marks of his wounds.  This helps us to understand Thomas’ specific mention of wanting to see the same things, but we can hardly judge Thomas as a doubter of the resurrection any more than the other disciples who thought they saw a ghost and had to be given the opportunity of visible evidence before accepting the resurrection as fact.  

​When Jesus did appear to Thomas and the others later, he did not chide Thomas as “you of little faith” in the way he had so often rebuked the disciples when they beheld the miracles of his ministry; he simply gave Thomas the same opportunity to see him that the other apostles had already been given. We should realize that Jesus’ words: “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29) were given for us, not for Thomas.

We should also remember the importance of belief based on seeing for all of the apostles.  In his great sermon of Acts 2, Peter himself stressed that the proof of the resurrection was that all the apostles were witnesses – they had seen Christ with their own eyes (Acts 2:32) – and there is no indication any of them would have believed if they had not seen him.
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Tradition tells us that after seeing the resurrected Christ, Thomas’ firm belief led him to do extensive and powerful works in preaching the Gospel until his faithful martyrdom as far to the east as India. He was never called “Doubting Thomas” in the early Church,  and the Scriptures clearly indicate that, along with the other original apostles, he will have an honored position in the Kingdom of God (Revelation 21:14). Thomas’ belief, once he established it, was a full and powerful faith – and there is no reason to doubt that.

“Unless there is an element of risk in our exploits for God, there is no need for faith.” - Hudson Taylor

James Hudson Taylor was born in 1832. His father was a Methodist lay preacher, but the young Hudson turned from the Christian faith until the age of 17, when he was converted after reading a religious tract.  In 1849 he determined to go to China as a missionary and began to read widely and to study the Mandarin Chinese language in preparation.

Three years later, after receiving initial medical training and serving as a medical assistant, Taylor moved to London where he volunteered as the first missionary for the recently formed Chinese Evangelisation Society.  After a hazardous five month journey Taylor arrived in Shanghai, China, on March 1, 1854.  The country was engulfed in civil war, and his first year in China was fraught with difficulties. Nevertheless, Taylor persisted, and beginning in 1855 he made some eighteen preaching tours in the Shanghai region.   

At first Taylor was not accepted by many Chinese who viewed him with suspicion as a foreigner. The missionary found he could overcome this difficulty by adopting Chinese clothes and hairstyle, however. He was then able to distribute many thousands of Christian tracts and portions of Scripture in Chinese in the Shanghai area.

The difficulties faced by Taylor were still considerable. When he travelled across China in 1856 his medical supplies, stored in Shanghai, were destroyed by fire, and he was robbed of nearly everything he had.  The Missions Society that had sent Taylor had incessant problems and in 1857 Taylor relocated in the city of Ningbo where he began to work independently, although he was joined by the English missionary John Jones and four Chinese Christian men. It was also in Ningbo that Taylor met and married Maria Jane Dyer, who worked at a school for girls founded by one of the first female missionaries to China. 

Difficulties continued.  The Taylors lost their first child at an early age and in 1860, due to his own health problems, Taylor return to England with his wife and surviving daughter for needed rest and recovery.  But Taylor was far from finished with his work.  While in England he translating the New Testament into Ningbo dialect, he completed his medical training and in 1862, and with his wife’s help, wrote a book called China's Spiritual Need and Claims.  The book was to prove influential in developing further missionary work in China, and Taylor himself founded the China Inland Mission (CIM -now OMF International).

In 1866, Taylor and his family returned to China (surviving two typhoons on the sea journey there), and worked tirelessly and with unswerving faith despite continuing difficulties.  In the course of eleven trips, Taylor spent a total of 51 years in China and accomplished great works. The society he founded brought over 800 missionaries to the country and founded 125 schools as well as a great many help facilities.  Because of his active campaign against the opium trade, Taylor has been called one of the most significant Europeans to visit China in the 19th Century.  His missionary work was certainly of the greatest significance.  It has been said that no other Christian since the apostle Paul carried out a more systematic missionary campaign over such a broad geographical area than Hudson Taylor before he died, in China, in 1905.

Throughout his life of service Hudson Taylor personified the faith that accomplishes the work of God. He encountered innumerable difficulties and setbacks in the work he did, but through faith he overcame them all.  His attitude to the works produced by faith is summarized in his own words:  “I have found that there are three stages in every great work of God: first, it is impossible, then it is difficult, then it is done.”

“At Caesarea there was a man named Cornelius, a centurion in what was known as the Italian Regiment.  He and all his family were devout and God-fearing; he gave generously to those in need and prayed to God regularly.  One day at about three in the afternoon he had a vision. He distinctly saw an angel of God, who came to him and said … “Your prayers and gifts to the poor have come up as a memorial offering before God” ( Acts 10:1-4).

Two aspects of Cornelius’ faithful walk before God are shown in these verses – twice over: his generous gifts to the poor and his prayer.  Now we may not be able to prove it, but given the fact of Cornelius’ evident  concern for those with needs, the final verse in this section of scripture seems to indicate he was praying  for the poor as well as giving to the poor.  If that’s the case, doubtless the poor were not all Cornelius prayed about, but the story of  this centurion reminds us that prayer and giving are both important in helping others and in learning the spirit of true giving ourselves.  Just as we can give without a concerned attitude, we can pray without actual giving, and in either case our concern is limited as well as our effectiveness.

This is a point the apostle James makes so clearly in his Epistle: “Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food.  If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?" (James 2:15).  It’s a vital combination:  we should not speak without doing.  James doesn’t suggest that our words of comfort are not important, just that they should not be alone.  This applies as much in terms of our words spoken in prayers, of course, as it does in our direct relations with others.

The Book of Acts shows us that Cornelius understood the importance of both speaking and doing.  He reminds us of that other centurion who told Jesus “… just say the word, and my servant will be healed.  For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it” (Matthew 8:8-9).   Both these professional soldiers understood the relationship between speaking and doing; both understood that speaking of itself is not enough. But while the one story stresses what God does as a result of our requests, the other story stresses what we should do as a result of our requests.  Words and deeds are always interrelated, in prayer as in other areas of Christian life, and the more we remember that, the more we can accomplish.

The man the world knows as “Father Damien” was born Jozef De Veuster in Tremeloo, Belgium, in 1840. Like his older brother Pamphile,  the young Jozef became a priest, but he longed to serve as a missionary. He is said to have prayed daily that he would be allowed to serve in this way, and when his brother –  who had been selected to serve as a missionary in Hawaii  – became ill,  Jozef was allowed to take his place.

He arrived in Honolulu in 1864, and on his ordination there he took the name  Damien. For eight years he served on the Big Island of Hawaii, but his service had hardly begun. In the early 1870’s the government of Hawaii felt forced to confine hundreds of sufferers from the terrible and then untreatable disease of leprosy (Hansen’s Disease) on a remote peninsula of the island of Molokai.   The conditions for those in the quarantined community were appalling, but Damien was the first to volunteer to go to serve these people – knowing full well that in doing so he risked his own life.

On May 11, 1873, the thirty-three year old  Damien was introduced to the colony at Kalawao on Molokai by the Catholic  Bishop  of Hawaii who told the crowd of doomed and dying that he had brought them someone “who will be a father to you … who loves you so much that ... he does not hesitate to become one of you; to live and die with you.” Damien learned the Hawaiian language and threw himself into the work of serving the colony. He immediately organized the building of a church and became  a priest to the group, but he also worked  with his hands to serve them. He built homes for the people, constructed a water system, made furniture, constructed coffins and dug graves as they were needed.  More importantly, he showed the outcast and rejected leprosy sufferers acceptance in a way no one else did. He worked directly with them,  dressing their ulcers, comforting and encouraging them daily. 

As a result of Damien’s service and the hope he instilled, the community was transformed.  Makeshift shacks were turned into painted houses, farms and gardens were established, and even schools were organized. The people of the colony came to love him greatly and when Damien had opportunity to leave the island to be replaced by another priest, he elected to stay on.  It is clear that the people he served had become his life. Even as early as six months after his arrival on Molokai Damien had written to his brother “...I make myself a leper with the lepers to gain all to Jesus Christ.” The statement would, of course, be proven true. 

In 1884 it became clear that Damien had contracted leprosy. Despite the disease he continued to work to build as many homes as possible and to plan for the successful continuation of the community.  Damien died of the terrible disease he had  helped others live with on April 15, 1889, at the age of 49. He was mourned not only by the people of the colony, but also by many Hawaiians who knew of the work of the man they called “Papa Kamiano [Damien] o Molokaʻi.”  

Damien’s work resulted in a greatly increased awareness of the disease of leprosy and the plight of its victims worldwide.  His  life and death also remain an inspiring testimony to the potential impact of the Christian faith on even the harshest and saddest conditions that occur in this world.  

Despite his position as the human father figure in the family of Jesus, Joseph is perhaps one of the least known heroes of faith. In mainstream Christianity he is represented in countless Christmas scenes and crèches each year, but then largely disappears from view.  Even from the perspective of the gospel writers (who doubtless desired to stress the true nature of Christ’s parentage), Joseph appears as a somewhat indistinct third member of the family mentioned in only a few scant verses before and after the nativity.  Yet a number of important facts can be deduced regarding Joseph’s character of faith.

Although apparently a humble and practical man (the Greek word tekton which is applied to him can mean a worker in a number of trades other than just “carpentry”), Joseph was a descendant of King David (Matthew 1:20) and clearly a man of great integrity. When we are first introduced to him we are told “… Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit.  Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly” (Matthew 1:18-19). We see that although Joseph was a God-fearing man who was faithful to the observance of the Mosaic law (which in this instance would have punished Mary), he was also  a man who was willing to follow first and foremost the law of love.  Rather than reacting to Mary’s pregnancy with indignation – especially to protect his own reputation – Joseph’s desire to divorce Mary “quietly” is a clear indication of the degree of his compassion and decency. 

When Joseph’s kindness was rewarded by a dream in which an angel explained the divine origin of Mary’s pregnancy, he accepted the role he had been given without hesitation (Matthew 1:24). We then hear nothing of him until the events surrounding the nativity of Jesus.  Some time after Jesus’ birth, Joseph was again instructed by an angel in a dream – this time to flee with Mary and the infant Jesus. “So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod … After Herod died, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.’ So he got up, took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel” (Matthew 2:13-15, 18-21).    

Joseph clearly experienced more than the average new parents’ share of lost sleep due to the multiple dreams in which he was told to get up and do something – yet in every case we see him reacting obediently and at once. In each situation we see things being commanded of Joseph which were of potential danger or loss to him and his family, especially considering the difficulties of travel in that day, yet he responded quickly with faith in every instance.  

We see Joseph only one further time in the Gospels, leading his family to the Passover festival in Jerusalem when Jesus was twelve. After that he disappears from the narratives, so it is usually presumed that he died at some time before Jesus began his ministry.  Mary continues to be mentioned, of course, and it is due to these extra references, and those in earlier narratives, that we feel we know her better than Joseph. Yet Joseph must have had many excellent qualities to have been selected with ultimate care and knowledge, along with Mary, as the human parents of God’s Son. We can presume that Joseph was an excellent human father figure and male role model for the growing Jesus, and despite the lack of many details we certainly see him as a man not only of warmly accepting love, but also as a man of deep faith who could be trusted to act firmly and without delay when his faith required it.

William Booth was born near Nottingham, England,  in 1829.  During his childhood his family became quite poor and he received relatively little formal education.  At the age of 15, however, he was  invited to attend Wesleyan chapel, where he was converted.  Booth then began to read extensively and trained himself in effective communication through writing and speaking.   Together with a friend, Booth began to preach to the poor in Nottingham. 

In 1849, Booth moved to London, where he joined the Methodist Reform Church and preached for them in a number of assignments.  But his pastoral duties meant he was unable to accept many requests to do evangelistic campaigns. Frustrated with this situation, in 1861 Booth resigned from the Methodist ministry and became an independent evangelist.  He began to draw crowds of listeners as he preached in the streets and commons of London, and in 1865 he was invited him to lead a series of meetings in a large tent in London’s impoverished East End  at which he brought the gospel to a great many of the poor and destitute. 

Booth realized this was his calling and  later that year he and his wife Catherine opened ‘The Christian Revival Society’ – later renamed ‘The Christian Mission’ for which they  held daily meetings attended by many of the poor and  homeless along with social outcasts such as alcoholics, petty criminals and prostitutes.   The need was vast and The Christian Mission was only  one of some 500 religious and charity groups working with the poor in the East End of London.  But a turning point occurred in 1878. Booth was dictating a letter and after saying “We are a volunteer army...” one of his sons objected  that  they were, in fact, “regulars”  and so the word "volunteer" was changed to “salvation.”  

Thus the “Salvation Army”  was born and, as it developed,  modelled after the military. Booth  became the Army’s “General” and his co-workers were made  "officers.”  Other members became “soldiers” and all wore the Army’s uniform for the missionary and charitable work they performed.  The success of the Salvation Army was profound and in the late 1880s it extended its humanitarian and religious work to the United States and several European countries,  eventually spreading throughout much of the world.  Booth travelled extensively and saw the Movement established in almost 60 countries and colonies in his own lifetime.  

But the Army’s success, and some of its positions, met with opposition from a number of quarters such as the alcohol industry, which realized that the work of the Movement would significantly cut drinking among the poor.  Groups were formed to oppose the Salvationists  and clashes led to the deaths of several  of them, with many others – including women and young teens - being injured. Much about the Army was misunderstood and misinterpreted and Booth was often personally criticized, insulted  and ridiculed. Yet even many of his detractors eventually came to see the good work he and his Salvation Army were undeniably doing. 

This was a clear example of letting one’s light shine and eventually the Press, the Church of England, and others who had been initially cautious about the movement came to accept it. When Booth died in 1912, some 40,000 people attended his funeral, including England’s Queen Mary.   Despite opposition and discouragement, William Booth had persisted in fulfilling his calling.  His work, continued in the Salvation Army he founded,  has brought hope and help to the lives of millions.  

The son of a businessman and a concubine in Kobe, Japan, Toyohiko Kagawa was taken into the homes of two American missionaries, Dr. Harry W. Myers and Dr. Charles A. Logan when the boy’s parents died.

The young Kagawa learned English and eventually converted to Christianity, at which point he was  renounced by the remaining members of his original  family. Kagawa was thus free to follow his new beliefs and he studied at Tokyo Presbyterian College, Kobe Theological Seminary, and from 1914 to 1916 at Princeton Theological Seminary in the United States.

The young seminarian was troubled, however, by the stress on doctrines which were often of no practical importance, and he developed a firm conviction that Christianity was a religion of action rather than just beliefs. Kagawa thus embarked on other studies in addition to his religious training and studied subjects such as genetics, anatomy and agriculture.

This stress on the practical aspects of life can already be seen in the fact that In 1909 Kagawa moved into a Kobe slum in order to serve as a missionary and social worker, and after completing his studies at Princeton he published his first influential work, Researches in the Psychology of the Poor, based on his experience of slum society, including what he had learned of the widespread practices of prostitution, drug use and even the practice of accepting money to care for children and then killing them.

Kagawa developed many avenues to employ Christian principles by which the poor could be helped, such as in the organization of labor and social cooperatives.  He also fought for universal suffrage so that first all men, then women could vote.   His often radical views in these areas led to his arrest on several occasions, but he was always released and continued his work. He was also a strong advocate of peace and in 1940 he was arrested yet again for making a public apology to the Republic of China for Japan's occupation of China.

Behind the public persona known for struggles and arrests, Kagawa tirelessly continued his basic work on behalf of the poor and those in need. He helped to organize relief work in Tokyo following the Great Earthquake of 1923 and also established a number of schools, hospitals, and Christian churches in Japan. Few Christians have ever impacted society in so many areas as Kagawa.  The effects of his work were felt in so many different arenas that he gained international recognition for his efforts.

He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1947 and 1948 (in the course of his life he wrote over 150 books), and also for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1954 and 1955.  After his death, he was awarded the second-highest honor of Japan (induction to the Order of the Sacred Treasure), and today he is commemorated each year on the anniversary of his death by the Evangelical Lutheran Church and the Episcopal Church of the United States.

Kagawa was always a practical person, directly applying Christianity in life. One of his most famous statements (and an inspiring one to those who know how much he accomplished) is: "I read in a book that a man called Christ went about doing good. It is very disconcerting to me that I am so easily satisfied with just going about.”

It often seems that the greater the sacrifice involved in what we give to God, the more God uses the gift and the greater good He brings from it.  If this sounds radical or merely speculative, consider examples ranging from the widow’s mite (Luke 21:1-5) to the sacrifice of Jesus Himself (Hebrews 9:28), and consider the story of Hannah.

Hannah was one of the two wives of the Israelite Elkanah, a woman whose story is a lasting testimony to sacrifice and blessing (1 Samuel 1-2).  Although she was loved by her husband, Hannah was childless and was tormented by her co-wife, Peninnah, who had borne children to him.  Every year Elkanah went up to the sanctuary at Shiloh to offer sacrifices, and it was on one of these occasions that Hannah went into the sanctuary and prayed before God while the High Priest, Eli, was sitting nearby.  In her anguish Hannah prayed silently yet fervently for a son, promising that she would give the child back to God, as a lifelong servant, if He would answer her prayer (1 Samuel 1:10-11). Such was the fervor of Hannah’s prayer that Eli thought she was drunk and rebuked her, only to change his correction to a blessing when he realized the truth of the situation.

As 1 Samuel shows, God heard Hannah’s prayer and blessed her with a son; but true to her word, after she had weaned the young boy, she returned to Shiloh and presented him to Eli for the service of God.  Notice Hannah’s words: “I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord…” (1 Samuel 1:27-28).  But a more literal translation of the last part of this passage might be as follows: “I also have given back what was asked [i.e., prayed for] to God …”  The more literal translation puts focus on the fact that Hannah had given back a gift from God – which meant a great deal to her – and returned the gift to God, despite the fact that it was doubtless a great emotional sacrifice. 

We see two things regarding this returning a gift to God in the story of Hannah.  First, that God often blesses those who give back His gifts to Him even more than before.  After sacrificing her beloved only son to God’s service, God blessed Hannah with more children (1 Samuel 2:21) and, doubtless, happiness.  The other lesson we learn from the story of Hannah is that God often uses the gifts which are true sacrifices in very powerful ways.  Of course, Hannah’s son Samuel grew to be one of the greatest prophets of ancient Israel and God’s leading servant in that time.  We see this pattern in the lives of a number of biblical figures – that those who are dedicated to God and sacrificed to His purpose perform great deeds, as we see repeatedly in the lives of individuals such as Samuel and Samson and in no less a person than Jesus Himself:  the greater the sacrifice, the greater that which is accomplished through it.

God’s word shows that He does honor the sacrifice of what He gives; just as He honored the sacrifice of Hannah’s only son, God honors what we sacrifice and give back to Him, also.  We have all received gifts from God (James 1:17), and if we are willing to give some of them back, God will not only bless us, but also will often use those gifts to an extent we might not even expect.

“Faith does not operate in the realm of the possible...Faith begins where man's power ends.” – George Müller

Born Johann Georg Ferdinand Müller (often spelled Mueller) in a small village near Halberstadt in what is now Germany, Müller’s early life was marked by its absence of faith. It is said that he stole from his father, and that at 14, while his mother was dying, he spent the time drinking and playing cards with his friends.

But Müller's father encouraged him to take a religious education and while studying divinity at the University of Halle, Müller began to seriously read the Bible and was converted.  He soon desired to be a missionary and began preaching regularly in churches in and around Halle.

In 1829, Müller travelled to London and worked in a number of church-related positions including serving as a minister, although in 1830 he renounced his salary for that position and began what would be a lifetime of trusting God for his needs and the needs of his phenomenally productive work.

Müller founded the “Scriptural Knowledge Institution for Home and Abroad” to assist Christian schools and missionaries. Through this institution he successfully distributed over 285,000 Bibles, one and a half million New Testaments and almost a quarter of a million tracts and also established a number of Christian schools and orphanages.   He received no church or government support for this work and accepted only unsolicited gifts, but his organization received and used well over one million pounds (around 90 million pounds  - or some 155 million US dollars - today).

Beginning in 1836 Müller and his wife organized their own rented home to receive orphaned girls and then began to add more homes as dedicated orphanages for boys and girls. Eventually he ran five orphans’ homes which cared for over ten thousand orphans during his lifetime.  Müller also established 117 Christian schools which taught over 120,000 children, many of whom were orphans.

Throughout all this Müller never appealed for financial help, nor went into debt, but continually asked God in faith for the things needed. It is known that many times unsolicited gifts of food and other supplies would arrive right at the time they were needed. On one documented occasion, Müller  gave thanks for breakfast with all the orphan children sitting at the tables, although  he had no food to give them.  As he finished praying, the local baker came to the door with a gift of sufficient bread to feed everyone, and a local milkman also arrived with a large amount of fresh milk because his cart had broken down right outside the orphanage.  These and every other gift accepted by Müller – down to the smallest quarter penny – were carefully noted down, and the records of what was received and spent were made available for public scrutiny.

Müller also accomplished a great deal of missionary work in over thirty countries – as widely scattered as Egypt, China, Australia and the United States.  His efforts remain an inspiration to anyone who is willing to look at the good he was able to effect with virtually nothing but trust; and his accomplishments challenge us to ask ourselves what we might accomplish in our lives through faith.

Florence Nightingale  was born May 12, 1820 in Florence, Italy – after which she was named.  She is remembered as a pioneer of modern nursing and as a social reformer who accomplished much good. 

Nightingale came from a well-to-do British family  and was able to travel widely.  While in Egypt in 1850 she wrote of being “"called to God," and "...to do good."  The opportunity to do good was soon to arise. After gaining basic medical training in Germany, she obtained a medical supervisory position and in 1854 she was sent, along with a staff of volunteer nurses  she had trained, to Turkey to provide medical help to soldiers wounded in the Crimean War.  It was at this time that her reputation was established; her nickname “The Lady with the Lamp” originated from a report about her work in the field hospitals published  in The Times of London:

“She is a ‘ministering angel’ without any exaggeration in these hospitals, and … When all the medical officers have retired for the night and silence and darkness have settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand, making her solitary rounds.”

Modern critics sometimes see Nightingale as a figure given hero status when heroes were needed for morale in a time of war, but her service in the Crimea is undeniable, and her further accomplishments for good are equally obvious.   Florence Nightingale laid the foundations for modern professional nursing which led to her establishment, in 1860, of the first scientifically-based school of nursing – the Nightingale School of Nursing, at St. Thomas’ Hospital in London – which still functions as part of London’s King’s College.  She was also involved in organizing training for nurses and midwives in workhouse infirmaries around England.  A number of modern hospitals are named after her, and International Nurses Day is celebrated  annually on May 12, in honor of her birthday.

Nightingale was raised in the Church of England and stayed within that denomination, but she had wide interests in religion and sometimes unorthodox views.  She wrote a book on theology:  Suggestions for Thought, which develops her ideas and in which she questioned the concept of a God who would condemn individuals who did not understand salvation; she felt that all would have the eventual opportunity of reconciliation.  It is said that Nightingale comforted many of the sick and dying that she tended with her conviction of this. She was quoted as having said “… the real God is far more merciful than any human creature ever was or can ever imagine.” 

Florence Nightingale died in 1910 at the age of 90 – after spending  a great deal of her life in selfless service and helping others as a result of her personal calling.  A woman of faith, she accomplished much through her concept of serving a caring and merciful God.

The first Bible printed in the New World was not in English, Spanish, or any other European language. It was actually the Algonquin Bible Up-Biblum God, translated and printed by the Puritan John Eliot (c. 1604 – 1690) in 1663.  The story is one of dedicated striving on the part of Eliot to take the Word of God to the native people with whom he worked. 

Eliot was born in England, educated at Cambridge University, and emigrated to America.  Arriving in Massachusetts in 1631, Eliot began missionary work with the Massachusett Indians, learned their language and served them for many years. 

As early as 1649 Eliot wrote, “I do very much desire to translate some parts of the Scriptures into their language… and teach them to read … Such a thing will be troublesome and chargeable, and I have not means of my own for it.”

But Eliot persevered.  He began the work of translating the Bible into Algonquin, but was beset by many delays and difficulties.  In 1653 the work was still not done, and he wrote:

“I have had a great longing desire (if it be the will of God) that our Indian language might be sanctified by the translation of the holy Scriptures into it … but I fear it will not be obtained in my dayes. I cannot stick to the work, because of my necessary attendance to my ministrie in Roxbury, and among the Indians at sundry places …”

For years Eliot persisted despite his many other responsibilities. In his translation work there was often no Algonquin equivalent of a word, so in many cases he had to substitute an English word from the Geneva Bible or King James version. But Eliot did not translate simply from the English; he had studied Hebrew and Greek and often used the original texts as the basis for his translation.

Eventually Eliot’s persistent struggle paid off. In 1658 he wrote: “The whole book of God is translated into their own language; it wanteth but revising, transcribing, and printing. Oh, that the Lord would so move, that by some means or other it may be printed.”  That prayer was to be answered.  A British missionary society called the Corporation for the Propagation of the Gospel sent a printing press and special fonts to represent the sounds of Algonquin, and even a printer on a three-year term to conduct the printing.  Later, another workman was sent from England to bind the copies.

Finally, in 1663, after years of patient striving, Eliot saw his dream fulfilled – the printing of the complete Bible in the Algonquin language:  Mamusse Wunneetupanatamwe Up Biblum God.  The front cover page of the Bible translates as: “The Whole Holy His-Bible God, both Old Testament and also New Testament. This turned by the-servant-of-Christ, who is called John Eliot.”

For his work with the Massachusett Indians and his translation and printed Bible, Eliot is often called “The Apostle to the Indians.”  It is a well-deserved title and one fitting for an individual who strove for over thirty years to bring Up Biblum God to its people.

“As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!’  ‘Martha, Martha,’ the Lord answered, ‘you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her’ (Luke 10:38-42).

The story shows two sisters with very different personalities.  Martha was clearly the older sister:  she is the one who invited Jesus into their home; she says Mary should be helping her; she seems very much like an older sister – bearing most of the responsibilities and being a more serious person as a result.

Mary gets most of the accolades, doubtless because of Jesus’ words in Luke 10.  The younger sister was clearly totally devoted to Jesus and “hung on his every word” (vs.39).  Jesus said of her that she had “chosen what is better” in that circumstance (vs. 42) and clearly approved her desire to focus on his words even if at the expense of physical preparations which could, perhaps, have waited.  It was apparently Mary, too, [an upcoming blog will show this] who took expensive perfume and anointed Jesus (John 11:2, John 12:1-3).  Clearly, Mary was a woman of faith and deep devotion.

But where does this leave Martha, the serious and perhaps too often busy older sister?  It is easy to dwell on Mary’s devotion and to miss Martha’s own personal faith which is nowhere clearer than in the story of Jesus raising their brother, Lazarus, from the dead.  Notice the story in the Gospel of John, who tells us that Jesus, hearing Lazarus had been buried for four days, proceeded to the home of Martha and Mary:

“When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.  ‘Lord,’ Martha said to Jesus, ‘if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.’  Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’  Martha answered, ‘I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.’  Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?’  ‘Yes, Lord,’ she replied, ‘I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world’” (John 11:20-27).

This is one of the most profound acknowledgements of faith that Jesus encountered in His ministry and shows a side of Martha we should not forget.  Although we may type her as the older sister, busy in her responsibilities, it was Martha who went out to meet Jesus – who sought him out and asked His help at a time when all others – even apparently Mary herself – were consumed in their grief.  Martha does not appear to have been Mary’s subordinate in the faith – both women were dedicated to Jesus, just in different ways; and both were women of exceptional understanding and faith.

The question asked by someone  leaving a showing of the recent “Noah” movie, “Was Noah really like that?,” is typical of many who haven’t read the Book on which the movie was based.  Even among those who have read the biblical account, opinions on the film often seem to come down to one thing – whether the view of the person of Noah as portrayed in the movie is one that matched the biblical story or not. People were often not so bothered about plot issues – or even the message of the Noah narrative – it is “how like the biblical Noah is the movie character Noah” that so often matters to people.

Despite its debatable portrayal of Noah, we might want to give Hollywood’s Noah a fair shake in admitting that religions themselves have interpreted the patriarch in various ways.  It’s not just that Judaism sees Noah one way and Islam another, with Christianity having its own take. Even within each religion there are widely divergent interpretations of the character of Noah himself. For many Jewish commentators, the biblical description of Noah as "righteous in his generation" (Genesis 6:9) suggested that Noah was only righteous compared to the world in which he lived – that he was nowhere near as righteous as Abraham, for example.  In this view, Noah is even seen as a man who ensured his own safety while ignoring his neighbors.  Other Jewish scholars, such as the commentator Rashi, said this view was unfair and that Noah purposely stretched the building of the Ark over 120 years precisely to give his neighbors a chance to repent.

Christianity has done the same thing in terms of differing interpretations.  Noah is generally seen in a very positive light – doubtless due to his inclusion in the “Faith Hall of Fame” of Hebrews 11, and the fact that according to Peter, Noah was a "preacher of righteousness" (1 Peter 2:5). But there have been many Christian “takes” on Noah even within this tradition.  I understand that the Mormon Church teaches that Noah was actually the angel Gabriel in human form, and these facts shows the extent to which views on Noah can diverge even within the range of faith.

So although we might rail against the “divergence” between the biblical Noah and the “Noah” of the movie, we might remember the range of views within the faith traditions themselves and the fact that the movie – despite its problems of fidelity to scripture – has at least been the cause for vast numbers of people reading the Genesis narrative on the internet Bible sites, many of whom might never have looked at the account had it not been for the film’s popularity.

Ultimately, we need to realize, too, that the Bible really does not do biography, per se.  Not even the lives of Jesus that we find presented in the gospels give a single seamless account with all the details seen from the same perspective.  At the end of the day, the Bible gives us few details about Noah himself, and while we might (and do) argue about their interpreta- tion, the story of Noah remains a classic example that what was important to the biblical writers was not the man’s personality or even his problems (imagined by Hollywood or otherwise), but how he was used by God.

David Livingstone (19 March 1813 – 1 May 1873), the British explorer and pioneer medical missionary in Africa during the reign of Queen Victoria, lived a life of remarkable accomplishments regarding his convictions and faith.  The son of devout Christian parents, Livingstone worked in a cotton mill between the ages of 10 and 26, but he read widely and gained entrance to, and completed, medical school in London. It was at that time that he met Robert Moffat, a missionary working in South Africa, who inspired him with the idea to take Christianity further into Africa both as a missionary venture and as a potential way to help stop the slave trade.  

Traveling to Africa, Livingstone set out to take the word of God to the “…thousand villages where no missionary has ever been" of which  Moffat had told him.  It was while helping the people of one of those villages to hunt and shoot a marauding lion that Livingstone was mauled and received injuries that troubled him for the rest of his life. While recovering from his wounds, Livingstone met and married Moffat's oldest daughter, Mary, who joined him in his work till she died of malaria in 1862.  When he was able, Livingstone pushed further and further into the African heartland, preaching, teaching, and helping the sick.  When he moved from one village to the next, many of the inhabitants would follow – not wishing to be separated from him. 

Many of the people he influenced for Christianity were short-lived in their faith, but Sechele, chief of the Kwena people of Botswana, became a staunch follower (except in certain areas such as polygamy).  After learning to read, then teaching his wives the skill, Sechele wrote down the Bible in his own language as well as converting most of his people and leading missionaries to surrounding tribes. Certainly many people heard the gospel either directly or indirectly through Livingstone. Livingstone’s accomplishments as an explorer in Africa were also many.  He did the “impossible” in crossing the Kalahari Desert, developed a provisional cure for malaria, discovered numerous rivers and large lakes and was also the first European to discover Victoria Falls, the largest waterfall on earth. 

Livingstone believed that “Christianity, commerce and civilization” would wipe out the slave trade in Africa, and so he returned to England to gain official support for his idea to open up the Zambezi River as a highway that would carry all three of his goals into the interior.  Unfortunately, the expedition ultimately failed as the river was found unnavigable in areas.  Livingstone was also criticized by expedition members and had to seek private funding to continue his work in Africa. Returning there, he lost contact with the outside world for six years and was finally found by the American reporter Henry Morton Stanley. It was on this occasion that Stanley is said to have uttered the now famous words “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”- ironic in that Livingstone was the only other white man in hundreds of miles.

Livingstone’s final years were spent in poor health and often in severe sickness. In 1871 he witnessed some 400 people massacred by slavers, and this event destroyed his desire to continue exploration, though he continued his Christian and medical work. Finally, after exploring and serving as a missionary  in Africa for 22 years, he died in 1873 while still working with the people he strove to serve. A figure of legendary proportions in Britain, he was honored with burial in Westminster Abbey in London. 

Like all of us, Livingstone had his shortcomings, but he endured incredible things in the course of his missionary activity and greatly served the people among whom he worked.  The accomplishments of his faith were many. Most importantly, after he died, the life of David Livingstone became an inspiration to countless other missionaries who have followed after him, both in Africa and elsewhere.

Ananias is one of my favorite characters in the Book of Acts.   He only appears briefly, but his role was pivotal in the conversion of Saul – the man who would become the apostle Paul.  It's easy to read over the story without thinking about the faith and bravery of Ananias, but it's worth our time to reflect on this.

Here in the United States we have a saying when discussing doing something that needs to be done, but which will be extremely difficult and dangerous. We say "Who'll bell the cat?" referring to the old story of mice that decided they would be much safer if they put a bell on the collar of the marauding cat that threatened them, to warn them of its approach. Although all the mice thought it was a great idea, the problem was, of course, "Who'll bell the cat?"

The story of the Ananias is the story of a man of faith to whom God gave the equivalent job of "belling" a  lion or other big cat – or, perhaps more accurately, of freeing a potentially very dangerous restrained lion.  You can read the story and come to know more about Ananias in the article "'Brother Saul' And the Faith of Ananias" uploaded to the Faith Hall of Fame section of our site today.

WHO AM I?  (Wer bin ich?)
- Remembering Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I won’t usually include poems in this Blog, but today, as this month is the anniversary of  Dietrich Bonhoeffer's birth,  I make an exception.  Rereading  Bonhoeffer’s “Who Am I?”  recently,  I  was reminded that it carries a message worth retelling. Bonhoeffer was a  German theologian and  pastor who was imprisoned and eventually executed in a Nazi concentration camp for his work in helping the Jews and conspiring against Hitler.   

“Who Am I?” was written by Bonhoeffer while he was imprisoned and  offers an open window into the mind and soul of someone naturally in anguish about his situation, yet equally calm in the face of probable death.  Witnesses say that he was a great comfort to fellow prisoners and even to some of his guards. He also went to his execution with great faith, despite doubts such as we all have, and  his poem “Wer bin ich?” indicates why.  For those who have never read it, it is worth reading. For those who have read it, it is worth reading again.


Who Am I? 

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectations of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

Whoever I am, you know, O God, I am yours!

“Then Joshua son of Nun secretly sent two spies …‘Go, look over the land,’ he said, ‘especially Jericho.’ So they went and entered the house of a prostitute named Rahab and stayed there  (Joshua 2:1).

In this ancient spy story, whatever else the two spies did in Canaan is not disclosed (if this were a modern intelligence report, the information might have been redacted!), but the Bible tells us the spies came to the house of the prostitute Rahab.  Perhaps God led them there because He was willing to save this woman of faith, but it is also possible that her house which was “on” or “in” the great wall of the city (some ancient “casemate” walls contained rooms in which people lived) was actually an inn. This tradition is mentioned by the 1st century historian Josephus, as it was not uncommon for inns to function as brothels in the ancient world. In any event, the spies came to the house of Rahab and were hidden there from the king of Jericho who was searching for them.  This was, as one-time CIA director Allen Dulles remarked, the first known “safe house” for spies in history – and it proved, of course, to be the only “safe” house when Israel destroyed the city!

The story of the Canaanite woman Rahab and her house is an interesting account at a number of levels – not least that of understanding the right kind of faith that we should all have. Rahab is included in Hebrews 11, the Bible’s “Faith Hall of Fame” chapter, for this specific quality: “By faith the harlot Rahab did not perish with those who did not believe, when she had received the spies with peace” (Hebrews 11:31, NKJV).

But we might question here exactly how Rahab exercised faith.  Certainly she believed that God was with the Israelites, but the Biblical account makes it clear that most of the inhabitants of Jericho felt exactly the same way.  Notice what Rahab told the spies:

“I know that the Lord has given you this land and that a great fear of you has fallen on us, so that all who live in this country are melting in fear because of you. We have heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea for you when you came out of Egypt, and what you did to Sihon and Og, the two kings of the Amorites east of the Jordan, whom you completely destroyed ... for the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below” (Joshua 2:9-11 and see also Joshua 5:1).

Clearly, the inhabitants of Jericho had human faith in the fact that God was with the Israelites. So what made Rahab different?  From the perspective of Jericho she was just a traitor who sided with the enemy, but from the perspective of the Bible it was precisely her actions to save the Israelite spies that made her faith real.  The other inhabitants of Jericho had the same information she had, but they reacted differently to the same knowledge. Once the Israelite army reached Jericho we see the people of Jericho’s reaction: “Now the gates of Jericho were securely barred because of the Israelites. No one went out and no one came in” (Joshua 6:1).

Rahab not only protected and helped the spies when they were with her, but also exactly followed the command she was given to distinguish her house by a piece of red cloth (Joshua 2:18-19), perhaps symbolic of atoning sacrifice and certainly reminiscent of the Passover placing of blood on the houses to be spared (Exodus 12:13).  Her actions may have been simple ones, but they contrast starkly with those of the other inhabitants of Jericho: while they hardened their attitudes and shut themselves in, Rahab reached out and was obedient to what she was told to do. 

It is not that Rahab was physically saved by “works,” but by working faith – belief that was active – as Hebrews says: “Rahab did not perish with those who did not believe.”  Joshua 5:1 and Joshua 2:9-11 show that the other inhabitants did believe, but not with full, active belief – which is what Hebrews must mean. Unlike her believing but fearful neighbors (James 2:19: “…the devils also believe, and tremble”), Rahab believed with an active belief that was complete in its expression of obedience, and her story stands as a lasting example of faith that works as opposed to empty belief without action.

What became of Rahab? She evidently married Salmon - one of the two spies she had saved – and through him became one of the ancestors of  Joseph, adoptive father of Jesus (Matthew 1:5).  Her active faith not only enabled her to physically save the spies, her family and herself, but also to include her in the genealogy of the One who would enable the salvation of us all.