Jesus said and He still forcibly calls to us today, “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” We all know that when we fail to do this, it brings trouble and unrest into our lives and into the lives of those around us. Missionary life provides many challenges in this matter of trusting the Lord. I would like to share some of my stumblings and some of the Lords dealings with me, in hopes that it will help others to deal properly and honestly with their burdens.
An ancient poet of the 1800s sat in his padded pew in a very orthodox church. In front of him sat a sophisticated, proud matron, with ne’er a wrinkle upon her dress, with her bonnet ribbon “starched” to perfection, covering her stoic face. But, meandering up her “starched” bonnet ribbon, unbeknown to this prim lady were several lice. There she sits, so confident that everything is just right, and she doesn’t realize that she will be scratching like a dog in two days. In response to what he saw, the poet penned these lines:
Would that God some
gift would give us,
To see ourselves as
others see us.
I would add to these lines, and to see ourselves as our dear God sees us.
This would perhaps be revealing, embarrassing, humbling, and shaming. We would join with Isaiah and cry out, “Woe is me, I am undone.” One preacher said, “One of the greatest gifts that God can give a man, is the gift of self revelation.” Now this kind of gift is bittersweet. In my situation as a missionary in the field both of these happened to me. I attempted to carry burdens in my own strength, and this revealed many “lice” in my life that others saw. They were very real and very offensive. What then did God see? Oh, the rottenness of my sinful, proud heart!
David beautifully shares in Psalm 55:22, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.” The Amplified inserts, “releasing the weight of it.” In Psalm 37:5 (AMP), David also admonishes, “Commit your way unto the Lord (roll and repose each care of your load on Him).”
There are many burdens in life God gives us to bear that are right burdens—the care of families, of churches, of missions. These should drive us to our knees in prayer and fasting. Many times we do not take them seriously enough. But in the midst of these right burdens we need finally to release them, roll them on Him in trust, to find the rest that Jesus invites us to receive. If we do not, the very proper burdens and responsibilities given to us by God will finally crush us, wound us, and disable us. Then we start to fret—the very opposite of rest, of commit, of trust, and of peace. Fret means “to worry, to burn, to eat away as leprosy, to dig a pit, to be displeased, to wax hot.”
Haiti is indeed the land of the unexpected. The demands of life, the requests, the need to make decisions come plunging in upon one, day after day. I knew, and most of us know, “His grace is sufficient”, “I will give you rest”, but I was not experiencing the rest and grace. I took the load of the finances, the wear on the trucks, the daily demands of routine mission life, the total responsibilities and started to fret. Indeed, it started to “eat as leprosy.” Someone always gets hurt in such situations. In my case, it was my missionary helpers; it was the native missionary helpers; it was the native laborers; it was others in my path who were hurt. I say this to my shame, failure, and sin. I would see this failure to commit my way to the Lord at times, and seek release, but would stumble again and again. I did not want to go this way. I said in my heart it must be different, but it wasn’t. I battled and prayed and failed again and again.
I struggled with the oft-medical trips to T-Guoave, too much wear on the trucks, too many dollars spent. I overshadowed the missionary workers in their routine decisions; the native laborers did not produce enough or well enough. I became curt with the Nationals in their many requests and expectations of the mission and me. I would see some of it and ask forgiveness at times, but like a tire taking a deep, muddy rut, I was soon back wallowing in my muddy rut again. How I wanted out of this “trap”—or did I?
God’s kindness is so great, so good, to show us our need. He has his ways of setting us up in real life situations that reveal the problems in our lives. In the midst of the flurry of many medical trips, I was returning from Port with supplies on the Toyota. On our rugged road from T-Guoave to Ailigue, I met our other truck coming my way, loaded with our workers and (you might guess it) another medical case for the hospital. I sensed my spirit rising up; not another case! I sought to conceal my feelings. You never can. What’s there comes to surface sooner or later. I asked a few questions and made some remarks. I forget them exactly. But I shall not soon forget what I saw—the deep hurt and wound upon their faces. It haunted me. As I left, I cried out to God, “Give me another chance.” This dare not continue. I will not keep hurting my friends. If I cannot find rest and freedom I must go back to PA.
That night I climbed the steep hill to my little kay with resolution. I was determined to go the whole way, whatever the cost. Next morning I was up early crying out to God for mercy and deliverance. I said, “God, I can’t go on like this.” I sent a letter down the mountain to the other workers via e-mail asking for a meeting.
Before the meeting I felt led to go to the house nearby where Levi, Bruce, and Raymonde stay. I wanted everything clear. There I confessed my impatience, curtness, and lack of love. With tears we all shared together. I repented and confessed. I was a deeply broken, wounded man. This was but the beginning. I then met with my loving, fellow workers. I told them to be very frank and share their hearts where I hurt them and others. It was difficult at first for these dear younger people to, as it were, expose and rebuke me as an older grandpa. But I wanted God’s knife to go deep. We had a painful but healing time of sharing, praying, and weeping. God was indeed cutting deeply.
Next morning I continued struggling. I went down to my little prayer place and tried to find direction and comfort from Psalm 51—David’s prayer of repentance. It was difficult to read it and receive it for myself. God kept revealing my heart in its true state, “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.” For two days I struggled to find total clearing. My heart was shattered so deeply. I went to each one of the missionaries and told them I want everything to be clear. I want to be able to bless you and bless the natives. Again and again I simply said yes to God. That indeed is my heart. All my righteousness is indeed as “filthy rags,” very filthy rags. Clothe me with your righteousness. And He did. He also went deeper. I felt a need to publicly share sins and failures to the natives at the morning service. I wanted no stone unturned. That afternoon I met with deacons and opened my heart to them likewise. I was finally “casting my burden on the Lord,” the burden of sin in my failings and then I was finding as Jesus said, “My burden is light.”
There were some natives who were a continual “pest” to me, drained me and I had trouble accepting and loving them. I asked the Lord to give me special love for them. Indeed He did. I had offended a deacon’s son at T-Guoave one time. I tried to clear it in the past but in vain. But praise God, that very Sunday afternoon he walked into my courtyard. You know when you are clear, then God can work with others too. When I saw him coming, I said in my heart, “God, whatever he says, whatever he asks, I want to take, I will make no defense.” There was nothing to take; God had already worked in his heart. We embraced and forgave each other. Oh, how lovely are the ways of God.
In the midst of all this I told God, “I choose to surrender all to you, the trucks, they are yours, the finances, they are yours. If you want me go back to PA and give up the work, I am ready.” I was more concerned about peace, rest, and the grace of God in my life. Yes, God had shattered my life, but He picked up the pieces. May He put it together as He chooses, for His glory. I indeed chose to “commit my way unto the Lord”. He promised He would bring it to pass.
Missionaries are very human people. They need your prayers, your love, and your understanding. Praise God, I am a forgiven one clothed in His righteousness.
For His glory, my humiliation,
E. Harold Herr
