But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of your faith, I am glad and rejoice together with all of you. (Philippians 2:17)
With a garland of marigolds around my neck, I was made the hero. A congregation of thirty tribal converts honored me as a pastor who had flown from America to India to lay the cornerstone of their new church. When we wear heavenly glasses, a different hero appears.
Samuel was a meek evangelist with a warm smile. Many villages were within a day’s walk of his home, but one burned in his heart—Garepali.
The people of Garepali were illiterate outcasts whose children no school would accept. The name of Jesus had never been spoken in this dry place, but the Holy Spirit burdened Samuel to be the first.
“The one true God, Jesus, let himself be sacrificed on a cross to take the punishment we deserved for our sins. He wants to forgive and grant you eternal life,” Samuel said.
The village elders decided they would continue worshiping the river and tree gods. Samuel and his God weren’t welcome.
For nine years, the Holy Spirit whispered that Samuel should return and confront the darkness of Garepali without a single convert. Then one man took an interest and accepted Christ as his Savior and only Lord. For another year, Samuel taught his one convert, who finally led another to salvation, and then more. They built a church and thatched it with palm leaves.
When the believers could no longer fit inside their worship hut, they allowed a foreign pastor to dedicate the cornerstone for a cement block church. That’s when I showed up, clueless about the significance of the work in Garepali (and about most everything that matters in life.)
Humans may admire the sacrifices of globetrotting missionaries, but heaven sees the real heroes. Before God’s throne in paradise, there is a roar of applause for gentle, faithful Samuel.
Prayer: Saving Jesus, help me quietly pour out my life for you.