My Dad is one of the pioneer missionaries who went to Africa in the 60's - before Bibles were printed in the languages of the native people. His determination, drive, and the sheer force of his will warred against spiritual darkness and literally shoved the door open in West Africa for thousands to find salvation. It was tough and very very difficult for him as a preacher. This picture of him preaching in a village is one of the very few precious pictures that survived The Fire. He sacrificed, worked from sun up to sundown 7 days a week. He never took a day off....but felt his time was limited and should be spent building, preaching, singing, working, teaching, mentoring, correcting, showing, talking, praying, digging, laying rock, preaching, shouting, sharing..... over and over for years and years.
It took hard, tough, mean, craggy, rough years to plow the ground in the hearts of Africans in the 60's. Today the harvest is reaped all over Africa because of missionaries just like my Dad who plowed the hardened ground first. Softening the hearts to hear and be set free....
He is one of the rugged real men of God who gave his all so that others could hear the Gospel.
If you are a missionary reading this today.... take heart- you are one of God's Private Forces in the earth. Thank God for you!
My Dad I am thinking of you today and praying for you!!
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