OK, so I went to see John Michael Talbot play a solo concert at a big Roman Catholic Church in the Woodlands. It was several years ago, and I don’t remember a lot of the details. He wore a monk robe, played a classical guitar, and sang a bunch of songs I have never heard before or since. He was great.
He also told a bunch of stories that I have forgotten, but there was one story that has stuck with me. I don’t remember many of the actual details, but I remember the basic idea. He gave actual names, dates and addresses that could be verified (feel free to research the details).
A wealthy French nobleman became convinced that he should sell all of his possessions and become a missionary to Africa. No one talked him into this, it was his own idea based on what he believed God wanted him to do. His friends tried to talk him out of it, but he had his mind made up. A few garage sales and a splash of holy water, and he was off to Africa.
In Africa he lived alone. His attempts to reach out to the Africans were completely fruitless. Alone, he would pray, read his Bible, and write detailed accounts of his attempts to reach out to the natives. He continued to do this for many years, I don’t remember how many, but for maybe ten or twenty years he kept at it. Not one person came to a Bible study, or a prayer meeting, or was baptized, or showed any interest in what he gave his life up for. He became depressed and disillusioned.
One night a band of men came to his door. They had heard that he was a French spy. They brought guns. They killed him.
The end.
Seriously. The end.
Several years later, after everyone had forgotten that a crazy French guy had ever been there, an African man found the Frenchman’s Journal. As he read the tortured story of a deeply Christian man who gave up everything so that some people that he had never met might hear the good news of Jesus Christ and believe, he was deeply moved. He read about the conversations and rejections by all the people that he had come to help, and an amazing thing happened. The African man found faith. He shared the story with people from his village and they also believed.
Today there is a large missionary outpost/church/community that has been built by the people who found faith through the Journal of the French guy who was killed by bandits.
This story drives me to continue writing songs, and blogs, and makes me want to start keeping a journal.
No sacrifice for the Gospel is ever wasted. AMEN
May 30th, 2008 at 11:40 am
When you got to “the end” I was hearing “all the lonely people” about Father O’Malley (”no one was saved”)… What a great REAL ending!
So, it’s Father “MacKenzie” according to this:
http://www.lyricsondemand.com/b/beatleslyrics/allthelonelypeoplelyrics.html(yeah, I’m not smart enough to figure out how to hyperlink)
(course it also has “Ella Marigby” getting married and the good father “nodding” his socks. Thought you might want a laugh.)
Ahem, what a great real ending!
May 30th, 2008 at 3:59 pm
An interesting parallel - when I was in highschool, there was a young man in the community who was killed in an auto accident. It was known that he wasn’t saved, and through his death, many kids came to a saving knowledge of Christ. Goes to show that God can use any situation in any way that He sees fit to fulfill His purpose. Sounds like He is God after all!
Later
Jason