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NOVEMBER 17, 2025-In Memoriam: Russell Lowell Bjorling December 1, 1950-November 17, 2021

November 18, 2025

My brother Rus, his wife Carol, and his daughters, Elizabeth and Amanda

“I am a bear of little brain.” Winnie the Poo

The date should have meant more to me. All day, I kept wondering what was special about November 17th? Oh my heart! Four years ago in August 2021, we returned to America because my brother-in-law Tink was dying from complications of Agent Orange. God brought us back just in time, for we spent only two days with Tink before finding him dead in his house. But we didn’t realize that one of my brothers was also struggling with health problems.

My brother Rus loved Jesus, his family, and animals and farming. Rus was brilliant, a born comedian with impeccable timing, and a passion for learning, whether it was scientific facts or Bible studies. Rus was also a teacher, and one of his students shocked an Israeli guide when she began pointing out landmarks while on a trip to Israel. “Where did you learn all this?” the guide asked. “Oh, my Bible study teacher taught me,” was the answer.

There have been two times in my life when I have noticed small things about a loved one’s health that later turned out to contribute to their deaths. When my parents visited me in the fall of 1979, I noticed my mother had developed “paper money skin,” typical for someone on steroids. Although I attributed it to aging, I was more correct than I realized, for even then Mom was developing small cell lung cancer that made its own steroids. The immune suppression from that cancer allowed the development of fungal brain abscesses that eventually killed Mom several months later.

When we stayed with Rus and his wife Carol, we went for a walk in a nearby park, and I noticed that Rus was behaving like someone with chronic lung disease. Little did I realize that Russ’s lungs had suffered major damage after years of exposure to hog dust and ammonia fumes from poorly ventilated hog confinement setups. (Years before that, one doctor looked at Rus’s chest x-ray and said, “Well, if you’ll give up smoking, your lungs might improve.” Rus looked at the doctor aghast and replied, “But I’ve never smoked in my life.”)

We’ll never know how Rus was exposed to COVID, but in early November 2021, Rus came down with COVID pneumonia. That was a time when controversies raged over proper treatment as well as vaccination, and horror stories about bad side effects of vaccination were beginning to appear. Would it have helped had Rus been vaccinated? Who knows? One of our friends at church had a 43-year-old son who was a computer programmer…until a COVID vaccination damaged his brain so severely that he could no longer do his work. The big problem for Rus was the previous lung damage. Adding COVID to chronic lung disease proved more than Rus’s body could handle.

By the time we learned of Rus’s illness, we were already in Texas, preparing to leave America November 10th for Ghana. Our dilemma was real, for Christmas was approaching, and at Christmastime, our mission hospital in Saboba was-and remains-one of the few facilities at which patients could get operations in our area. We discussed the situation with Rus and his family and prayed fervently. Finally, we chose to return to Saboba, realizing that we might have seen Rus for the last time on earth.  

Rus died with his wife and daughters around him on November 17, 2021. At Rus’s funeral they played “I’ll be Waiting on the Far Side Banks of Jordan.” Here are the lyrics:
“Far Side Banks Of Jordan”

I believe my steps are growing wearier each day
Still I’ve got a journey on my mind
Lures of this old world have ceased to make me want to stay
and my one regret is leaving you behind

If it proves to be his will that I’m the first to go
And somehow I’ve a feeling it will be
When it comes time to travel likewise don’t feel lost
For I will be the first one that you’ll see

And I’ll be waiting on the far side banks of Jordan
I’ll be waiting drawing pictures in the sand
And when I see you coming I will rise up with a shout!
And come running through the shallow waters reaching for your hand

Through this life we’ve laboured hard to earn our meager fare
It’s brought us trembling hands and failing eyes
I’ll just rest here on this shore and turn my eyes away
And then you’ll come then we’ll see paradise.

And I’ll be waiting on the far side banks of Jordan
I’ll be waiting drawing pictures in the sand
And when I see you coming I will rise up with a shout!
And come running through the shallow waters reaching for your hand

For now, Rus is waiting on the far side banks of Jordan. But we do not mourn as those who have no hope, for we KNOW our Redeemer lives and that one day, we will all be together in heaven. So Rus, keep waiting. God still has things for us to do here, but one day, we will cross that Jordan and we will be together with Jesus for eternity.


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BURYING BILLY GENE PROCTOR SEPTEMBER 29, 2025

September 29, 2025

They’re burying one of our closest friends today, and we can’t be there. This is the part of missionary life that few people speak about, but it’s one of the toughest. Financial limitations? No problem! Both my husband and I grew up in families where money was a bit scarce. Devoting time to caring for others? Giving up luxury vacations to pay for blood, medicine, and food for patients? Sure, those are challenges, but anybody in any kind of ministry faces similar problems. There are many things we have sacrificed gladly for the sake of God’s calling on our lives. But once in a while, special events come along and remind us that our friends and loved ones are back in America and we are not. Funerals of close friends serve as one of those reminders.

Today as our friends gather at Getwell Church in Southaven, MS, we will be fortunate if we are able to watch the proceedings as they are streamed. But watching something doesn’t make up for being there and hugging people, sharing stories of the loved one, and yes-crying a bit with the family. While those attending the funeral will be treated to a gallery of photos and a video depicting Billy’s long life of 84 years and those whom he blessed during that time, all we will have is memories.

Jesus’ disciple Simon Peter was one of those guys who was forever asking the tough questions. I guess having spent years hauling fish out of the Sea of Galilee and battling those sudden storms left Peter with no patience for temporizing. When Peter had a question, he simply spat it out. And this particular day, Peter was worried.

Matthew tells the story in Matthew 19:16-29A rich young ruler approaches Jesus, asking what he has to do to gain eternal life. Jesus tells him to follow the Ten Commandments. When the man claims that he’s already doing that, Jesus advises him, “If you want to give it all you’ve got,” Jesus replied, “go sell your possessions; give everything to the poor. All your wealth will then be in heaven. Then come follow me.” The young man gulps hard and leaves dejected because he is very rich and very attached to his belongings. (But wait-there are some traditions that claim this young ruler was Mark, who later wrote one of the Gospels and who traveled with Paul and Barnabas.)

Peter and the other disciples have left their homes and their jobs to follow Jesus. Peter, his brother Andrew, and his friends James and John have walked away from thriving and businesses at Capernaum. All four have left their boats and their relatives to follow Jesus and are faithfully continuing to do so.

Matthew 19:27 Then Peter chimed in, “We left everything and followed you. What do we get out of it?”

28-30 Jesus replied, “Yes, you have followed me. In the re-creation of the world, when the Son of Man will rule gloriously, you who have followed me will also rule, starting with the twelve tribes of Israel. And not only you, but anyone who sacrifices home, family, fields—whatever—because of me will get it all back a hundred times over, not to mention the considerable bonus of eternal life. This is the Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first.”

Now Peter is asking Jesus what he and the others will get out of the deal. Has this sacrifice all been for nothing? Not only have the disciples given up being with their families but they have also sacrificed sharing special celebrations-birthdays, feast days, weddings, and funerals. Led by the Holy Spirit, Jesus has crisscrossed the land, leaving the disciples wondering where they will go next. Jesus assures Peter that his followers will receive houses and lands and families, both in this life and in the next. But in the meantime, the disciples find themselves isolated from their families by the call on their lives.

We met Billy Proctor shortly after arriving in Memphis, TN, in late June 1983. I was the new pediatric surgery resident at LeBonheur Children’s Hospital. Billy and his wife Carla were members at Faith United Methodist Church, a charismatic congregation just over the line in Southaven, MS. Eventually, we joined Faith and became fast friends with Billy and Carla. If you look at photos of Billy during that time, you see a middle-aged guy with a grin that just won’t quit, a grin that draws you in to whatever he has going on. Billy had that grin for his entire life, and I’m sure that the day Billy graduated into heaven, when Jesus reached out his hand to Billy to pull him out of a failing body, Billy grinned more widely than he ever had before.

It’s impossible for me to enumerate all the different ways Billy and Carla have helped us over the years. The Proctors have sheltered us, advised us, encouraged us, and handled our stateside mail for us. Billy has handled our finances, helping invest our Social Security and whatever other monies have come in that have not been used for ministry expenses. Billy has also shared travel tips with us, tips on local restaurants, and some of his other passions.

We have watched the Proctors’ children reach adulthood, marry, and become parents and develop careers of their own. We have rejoiced over births and grieved over untimely deaths. We have cheered for all kinds of successes and admired photos. Our lives and those of the Proctor family have become interwoven.

I am completing this about an hour before the funeral will begin. We can only pray that our internet connection will remain stable, allowing us to watch, even if it’s at a distance of several thousand miles.

The next time you ask a missionary based overseas for their challenges, remember there are many things about which we might be hesitant to share. We don’t want to come off as whiners. But we can only rejoice that some day we will all be in heaven together. As the old Gospel song says, “When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be! When we all see Jesus, we’ll sing and shout the victory!”

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IN MEMORIAM BILLY GENE PROCTOR SEPTEMBER 22, 2025 PART 3 COMMON SENSE IS NOT COMMON! AND NEITHER IS KINDNESS! BILLY HAD AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF BOTH!

September 25, 2025

I’ve said it before, but one of the things we appreciated most about Billy Proctor was his endless fund of common sense. These days, we keep realizing that common sense is anything but common; in other words, getting good advice that actually works is a major challenge.

In a previous generation, those in the military rejoiced when they encountered recruits who were farm kids, for these people had not only learned how to work diligently but they also were used to coming up with practical solutions on the fly. Billy P. was that kind of a guy-someone who could analyze details, identify fundamental problems, and devise practical workable solutions. We can’t count the number of times we would call Billy, posing problems, and Billy would always come up with solutions. If Billy couldn’t come up with solutions himself, he would seek out advice or ask leading questions that would aid us in finding solutions.

Billy was also incredibly kind. Billy’s mama had raised him right, so he was a true Southern gentleman who would be polite under all circumstances, even when someone was trying to insult him. Even when Billy found himself engaged in an argument, he remained calm and courteous. Billy was also genuinely kind to all those around him. Repeatedly, we would learn that Billy had quietly helped someone or that Miss Carla and he were volunteering in an outreach to those in inner city Memphis or in some other helping ministry. The Proctors were faithful supporters of the efforts of Getwell Church to aid the community. It was also common to find the Proctors carrying food to shut-ins, offering rides to those needing transport to church or doctors’ appointments, etc.

As a faithful member of Getwell Church, Billy also helped represent us to the church at large and to several Sunday School classes. We can only pray that God will raise up someone to continue to spread our story at Getwell.

Billy was a faithful friend. Until the last few years of Billy’s life, he got together weekly with a group of men to eat lunch at a local restaurant. There were also the men who attended early morning Bible studies and prayer groups, a passion Billy shared with my husband Bob whenever we were staying with the Proctors.

Billy was a CPA’s CPA, someone so passionate about figures and reports being complete that he couldn’t stand to do shoddy work. This passion for correctness was evident in every task Billy tackled. Billy generously applied his talents to helping us manage our finances, multiplying donated monies to fund a host of projects at our mission hospital. Had we adequately compensated Billy for his work, he would have been a millionaire.

We continue to pray for Billy’s family and friends even as we grieve our own loss. The Navajo Indians have a saying that someone is a “valuable man,” meaning that individual’s contributions to society are immeasurable. By anybody’s standards, Billy Gene Proctor was a valuable man. Our loss is heaven’s gain. Rest well, friend, we’ll see you at the feet of Jesus.

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IN MEMORIAM BILLY GENE PROCTOR SEPTEMBER 22, 2025 PART 2 PRECIOUS MEMORIES

September 23, 2025
  1. Precious mem’ries, unseen angels,
    Sent from somewhere to my soul;
    How they linger, ever near me,
    And the sacred past unfold.
    1. Refrain:
      Precious mem’ries, how they linger,
      How they ever flood my soul;
      In the stillness of the midnight,
      Precious, sacred scenes unfold.
  2. Precious father, loving mother,
    Fly across the lonely years;
    And old home scenes of my childhood,
    In fond memory appear.
  3. As I travel on life’s pathway,
    Know not what the years may hold;
    As I ponder, hope grows fonder,
    Precious mem’ries flood my soul.

As the movie “Driving Miss Daisy” ends, the theme music continues to play, and scenes from Hoke and Miss Daisy’s relationship flash across the screen. That’s how I feel remembering Billy Proctor. The sweet pictures just keep coming. The music in the background is country Gospel with fiddles, banjoes, and guitars.

Billy loved to travel. After spending three years working in Mexico at the beginning of his career and traveling throughout the United States for Terminix, Billy was a travel specialist who had more practical tips than the average web site. Billy could tell you the best times to travel, when to catch the red-eye specials, when to use your frequent flier miles, and when to hold on to them. Back when travel agents were still available, we used Billy’s friend Harriet on many occasions. In his work, Billy also traveled extensively through the South and was an expert on the best local restaurants. We fondly remember one place near Morgan City, Louisiana, housed in an old airplane hanger that had outstanding Cajun food.

Eventually Billy became the head of the IRS Division of Terminix and it was a tremendous shock when he went in to work one morning at the age of 63, only to face a horrible choice: move to Chicago with his division or take early retirement with a retirement bonus. Billy chose to remain in Olive Branch, preferring to practice as a CPA with a select clientele. While that choice was difficult, it gave Billy the freedom to cherish children and grandchildren and to travel more extensively. Meanwhile, Carla continued to work as a social worker facilitating adoptions for several more years, creating many happy families.

Billy, and Carla became globe trotters. Israel, Scotland with the Edinburgh Tattoo, leaf tours in the fall-Billy and Carla did it all. It was no surprise when I learned that Billy and Carla were two of the few wedding guests who made it to a destination wedding in the Florida Keys, for that was typical for the Proctors.

Billy was a passionate follower of Jesus Christ. Living close to Getwell Church allowed Billy the chance to attend men’s breakfasts and Bible studies as well as small group meetings with Miss Carla. For many years, Billy was involved in the financial affairs of the churches he attended-first at Faith United Methodist and later at Getwell.

One of Billy’s most endearing characteristics was his enormous fund of common sense. As a Mississippi farm boy, Billy never “got beyond his raising” but always remembered the practicalities of situations. We frequently used Billy as a sounding board for a variety of decisions and always found his advice to be sound and helpful.

As the days go on, there will be more visions. For now, we can label these glimpses as more precious memories.

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IN MEMORIAM BILLY GENE PROCTOR SEPTEMBER 22, 2025

September 23, 2025

He was a bright farm boy from North Mississippi when he went off to Mississippi State to see what life had to offer apart from driving a tractor. Somewhere during those four years, he found his passion was accounting, a passion that would define the rest of his life even into so-called retirement. While at Mississippi State, he also met a shy coed a bit younger than he, and they fell in love. That second passion would also define the rest of his life. Throughout the years, he grew professionally to become a CPA’s CPA, someone who simply had to ensure that things lined up-columns of figures, family life, and faith.

We first met Billy Proctor in 1983 shortly after we moved to the Memphis area. We were searching for a church home. At that time, Billy and Carla were moving out of their home on the south side of Memphis into a house in Southaven; however, they were in the process of building a home in Olive Branch. We attended church with them and then went to lunch with them. Billy and Carla introduced us to Faith United Methodist. Little did we know that that lunch would only be the first of hundreds of meals that we would share with the Proctors through the years.

We all wound up at Faith United Methodist Church together. At Faith, Billy and his son Michael handled the sound equipment. Billy was always fascinated by machines-farm machines, sound equipment, computers, and cameras. Billy supplemented his income as an accountant by shooting wedding photographs, and he had an artist’s eye for composition. Billy was also a main stay of the MOFIA, Men of Faith In Action, the men’s group at Faith United Methodist.

Those were the halcyon years for Faith. The Holy Spirit was moving powerfully every Sunday, and people were getting saved, baptized, re-dedicated, and called into ministry.

In the fall of 1985 Billy and Carla were preparing to move into their new home in Olive Branch; however, there was a problem. Faith had scheduled an event for the same night the Proctors were supposed to be moving. I reached the Proctor home late in the afternoon to find that the water heater had overflowed, flooding the garage. Somehow, I was able to get the water heater turned off safely without getting electrocuted, and then Bob and I helped the Proctors move. (Bob is a wizard at packing moving trucks!) Little did we realize that the Proctors’ new home would also become one of our “homes away from home” when we left for the mission field.

Sometime in 1987, we asked Billy to help us manage our finances while we were on the mission field. Billy agreed, and that commitment continued up to the day he died. Only God knows how much Billy helped us over the years. Billy handled investments and taxes and a host of other smaller problems.

The only thing in life that is constant is change, and eventually, Faith underwent a series of transformations, including changing the name to Lifespring. Somewhere along in there, the Proctors changed from Faith to Getwell Road United Methodist Church, now Getwell Church. Eventually, we followed the Proctors to Getwell, and in October 2005, Getwell sent a short term mission team to work with us in Saboba. That might have been the first short term mission team Getwell had sent out; since then, they’ve regularly sent teams to a number of places, including Honduras and Ghana. We suspect that Billy had a great deal to do with the team coming to Saboba. The Getwell group bonded with our local pastors, eventually building the Local Council of Churches meeting hall and guest house, a facility that continues to bless our entire community. The Sunday School class Billy attended also donated small refrigerators to our wards, something we desperately needed.

We laughingly refer to our location in Saboba as “Domeabra,” a phrase in Twi that means “if you love me, you will come.” Only dedicated people will journey all the way to Saboba! Billy traveled to Saboba twice, and the first time he came, he told us, “Now I know why I must continue to help you.”

There are no words to describe all the help Billy has given us through the years. Billy and his wife have hosted us numerous times and have shared their passions with us. Billy has handled our taxes, our funds, and other miscellaneous things such as social security and driver’s license renewals. The Proctors have allowed us to use their address as an accommodation address, a big thing when you spend most of your life overseas.

Billy Proctor was one of the bravest people we knew. Sometimes bravery consists of lying there in bed knowing everything hurts and getting up and working anyway. For the last twenty or thirty years, Billy struggled with a host of chronic health problems, any one of which might have incapacitated a lessor individual. Billy rarely complained and persisted in doing as much as he could.

Billy shared friendships with us. Billy was part of a group of men who got together for lunch once a week-most of those men preceded Billy into heaven. Billy faithfully attended the men’s groups and the Wednesday night meetings at Getwell, as well as Sunday morning services and Sunday School.

Billy’s story would be incomplete without telling some of the story of his beloved wife Carla. Born into an upper-class family in the Mississippi Delta, Miss Carla is a stickler for doing things properly, and a delight to all of us who know her. In an earlier age, Miss Carla would have donned white gloves before leaving the house. Were it not for Miss Carla’s devoted care, Mister Billy’s life might have been several years shorter, simply because Miss Carla refused to let him give up. Carla has been a wife, a mother, and a social worker passionate about placing the right children with the right homes.

When we returned from a shattering first missionary term in 1990, Miss Carla was the one who connected me with a Christian psychologist just in time to save me from having to enter a mental hospital with severe depression. For that help alone, my husband and I owe the Proctors a debt we can never adequately repay. Thanks to Carla’s timely help, I made the connection, saw Dr. Philip Gentry as an emergency, and got started on the necessary treatment. That treatment allowed me to work part-time while recovering and healing from long-time emotional hurts. My ability to later upgrade a health center to a small hospital in the middle of a tribal war is directly due to that healing.

When we think of Billy’s entry into heaven yesterday, we think of all the friends with whom he has re-connected-Pastor Curtis Petrey, Dr. Jack, Cecil Williamson, his parents. We can almost hear Curtis greeting Billy in that distinctive LA–Lower Alabama-accent.

For Billy, the words of Saint Paul in 2 Timothy 4:7-8 have come true: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”

To Billy, we say, “We have always loved you and continue to love you. We will see you in the morning when Jesus comes to free all of us.” To Billy’s family and many friends, we say, “We grieve with you. We pray for you. May God help us all to be as faithful as Billy has been!” And we also say, “Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!”

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REFLECTIONS ON TIME AND HOW THERE’S NEVER ENOUGH OF IT

September 18, 2025

September 18, 2025

Today would have been my sister-in-law Roxanne’s 75th birthday. Sadly, Roxanne died two days ago. We knew Roxanne was in failing health and we desperately wanted to be with her one more time, but events in the mission hospital where we work in northeastern Ghana precluded our leaving, and time caught up with us. We comfort ourselves with the fact that my husband Bob called his sister every night, asking about her day, praying for her, and exchanging corny jokes from old TV programs. Roxanne’s death underscores a point: We can never spend too much time with those we love, for one day time runs out and we are left to mourn by ourselves.

We first left America for Ghana in 1988. Through the years, we have lost parents, step-parents, and siblings. We were blessed to be in the U.S. and spend time with my two brothers-in-law before they died. On the other hand, we left America in November 2021, knowing that my beloved brother Russell was dying with COVID pneumonia. If that statement sounds harsh, you must realize that Christmas was approaching and at Christmas time our small hospital is one of the few facilities along the Eastern Corridor of Ghana where people can get emergency operations. While others celebrate, my colleagues and I work long hours under less-than-optimal conditions. (Recently, when we ran short of knife blades, we were making skin incisions with the tips of hypodermic needles.)

Even living in the same town with friends has not prevented us from taking them for granted until it was too late. Charles Talan was one of the finest theater (OR) nurses with whom I have ever worked-an absolute genius and a wizard linguist who spoke perhaps twelve tribal languages fluently. Sadly, Charles battled several health problems during his last few years, and when he collapsed at home one morning, all I could do was to pronounce him dead from a brain hemorrhage once he had been rushed to the hospital. Joshua Beso was one of Charles’ contemporaries, a hard-working man who headed our public health program for years. Again, Joshua suffered a heart attack and died while we were out of town.

I could go on to mention many others. Live long enough and your deposits in heaven far outweigh the number of friends and relatives you have left on earth. What is my point?

I’ve told the story many times, but it’s still worth a re-telling. My small home town in northwestern Illinois is graced by two sets of railroad tracks that have served the major rail network for more than a century. At one point, the sensor for one of the crossing gates developed a problem, resulting in several fatal accidents as unsuspecting motorists attempted to cross in the paths of speeding trains. One morning, it was raining when an elderly farmer living southeast of town tromped into the kitchen, leaving muddy tracks on his wife’s freshly mopped floor. Fuming, the wife fussed at her husband and he gave some smart aleck reply and then left for town. Sadly, that exchange was the last time that lady saw her beloved spouse of more than fifty years. As the husband was crossing the tracks, a speeding train totaled his vehicle, killing him instantly.

After hearing that story, my husband and I have made it a practice to tell each other “I love you” and kiss whenever we are parting for any reason. I’m sure we entertain the staff on the Kids Ward at our hospital, for my husband brings biscuits (cookies) to the kids in the mornings and then kisses me good-bye before returning to the house.

My late mother always said that it was a waste to send flowers to a funeral and that she would rather have people send her the flowers while she was alive to appreciate them. I heartily agree! Write that letter! Send that e-mail or text message or WhatsApp! Make that phone call! My husband called his sister every night, and now he wishes for just one more conversation, one more opportunity to tell her he loves her. The Ashantis say “Nkwa hia,” life is precious. Appreciate those around you while you have them and tell them you love them, tell them they are valuable people whom God loves.

If you are so blessed as to be able to spend birthdays or holidays with loved ones, do it! One of the hardest things we must face is all the family celebrations we have missed because of our work in Ghana. The unfortunate result is that even when we are back in America, family members forget to invite us to events because we have dropped off their radar.

When you spend time with people, you are investing in them. Turn off your cell phone or leave it somewhere and concentrate on the people around you. Don’t lie to yourself that Facetiming is the same thing as being physically present with someone; it’s not. People need physical contact-touching, patting, hugging-and no electronic media can offer that.

This Adinkra symbol is the Sankofa bird, a symbol of forgiveness and also the idea that you can go back to right a wrong or to find something you have lost. Sadly, when someone dies, the idea of Sankofa no longer applies. Death means it’s too late to repair that relationship or to say those loving words or to give that gift.

In closing, I would also like to encourage those of you with relatives serving overseas for any reason to keep those relatives in the loop. Missionaries go because God orders them to, not because they hate their families. Those serving in the military are equally under orders and must obey. We have not left you because we hate you but because we are under assignment from a higher power. Remember us, for we remember you and long to be with you. And treasure those around you, for one day, you will look but they will be gone.

Nkwa hia!

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MAY 26, 2025 FOLLOWING JESUS IN A POST-ASCENSION WORLD #32 WHEN GOD SENDS YOU, DON’T CONFUSE THE MESSENGER WITH THE MESSAGE!

May 26, 2025

Acts 14:1-7 At Iconium

“Now it happened in Iconium that they went together to the synagogue of the Jews, and so spoke that a great multitude both of the Jews and of the Greeks believed. But the unbelieving Jews stirred up the Gentiles and poisoned their minds against the brethren. Therefore, they stayed there a long time, speaking boldly in the Lord, who was bearing witness to the word of His grace, granting signs and wonders to be done by their hands.

But the multitude of the city was divided: part sided with the Jews, and part with the apostles. And when a violent attempt was made by both the Gentiles and Jews, with their rulers, to abuse and stone them, they became aware of it and fled to Lystra and Derbe, cities of Lycaonia, and to the surrounding region. And they were preaching the gospel there.

When you are acting for the Kingdom of God, there will always be opposition. And the more effective your ministry, the stronger the opposition. Here, Paul and Barnabas have been preaching and teaching and many people, both Jews and Greeks, have been streaming into the Kingdom of God. But traditional leaders whose commitment to their own power is greater than their commitment to God’s truth are doing everything they can to fight these men. Finally, Paul and Barnabas find themselves on the road again, fleeing to Lystra and Derbe and the surrounding region, preaching the gospel as they go.

While Paul and Barnabas are probably thinking only of escaping opposition, God has far bigger plans. For as these preachers are fleeing from one place to another, they are teaching people about Jesus wherever they go, lighting fires of hope in people’s hearts. Psalm 37;23 tells us that “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way.” While Paul and Barnabas might feel they are wandering aimlessly across the countryside, meanwhile, God is moving them into strategically important connections with spiritually hungry people ready to hear the gospel and accept it.

Acts 14:8-18 Idolatry at Lystra

And in Lystra a certain man without strength in his feet was sitting, a cripple from his mother’s womb, who had never walked. This man heard Paul speaking. Paul, observing him intently and seeing that he had faith to be healed, said with a loud voice, “Stand up straight on your feet!” And he leaped and walked. Now when the people saw what Paul had done, they raised their voices, saying in the Lycaonian language, “The gods have come down to us in the likeness of men!” And Barnabas they called Zeus, and Paul, Hermes, because he was the chief speaker. Then the priest of Zeus, whose temple was in front of their city, brought oxen and garlands to the gates, intending to sacrifice with the multitudes.

But when the apostles Barnabas and Paul heard this, they tore their clothes and ran in among the multitude, crying out and saying, “Men, why are you doing these things? We also are men with the same nature as you, and preach to you that you should turn from these useless things to the living God, who made the heaven, the earth, the sea, and all things that are in them, who in bygone generations allowed all nations to walk in their own ways. Nevertheless, He did not leave Himself without witness, in that He did good, gave us rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.” And with these sayings they could scarcely restrain the multitudes from sacrificing to them.”

The people of Lystra have been worshiping fake Grecian gods, even though the myths describe these beings as far from having any purity or holiness. When Paul and Barnabas speak to a man crippled from birth, he leaps up healed and whole. Local people are so thrilled that they can only conclude that their gods have descended and are favoring them. But now Paul and Barnabas have a new set of problems: the temptation to allow themselves to be worshiped as gods. Quite sensibly, Paul and Barnabas refuse, doing everything they can to convince these people that the God of heaven and earth has done this miracle and that they are only His agents.

The temptation to take glory reserved only for God continues to this day. Here in Ghana, it is quite common for those conducting crusades to spread posters portraying the evangelist and the dates of the crusade as widely as possible, advertising healing and deliverance. But without God, these people are nothing, powerless beings who can only mouth platitudes. The question is this: who is doing the healing and who should receive the glory? While God may work through men and women, He alone deserves the praise and the glory. People do get healed in these crusades; however, the healing comes through their faith in God and not because the evangelist has the power to heal. All power must come from the One True Living God. Paul and Barnabas know that God has healed this man in Lystra and they are doing everything they can to avoid being confused with traditional Greek gods. (Study Greek mythology, and you rapidly realize that the Greek gods are far from holy or pure!)

As God’s ambassadors, we must not take credit when all the glory belongs to God. There is a fictitious story about the donkey that carried Jesus on Palm Sunday feeling proud that all the adulation was for him; meanwhile, the donkey was only a means to an end. Like that donkey, we must allow God to use us but remember that He is the only One worthy of praise.

PRAYER: Father God, thank You for loving us and for caring for us. Lord, help us to continually point people to You, for You are the Source of light and life while we are only messengers. In the mighty and precious Name of King Jesus. Amen.

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APRIL 26, 2025 FOLLOWING JESUS IN A POST-ASCENSION WORLD #3 WHEN THE HOLY SPIRIT SHOWS UP, EVERYTHING CHANGES!

April 26, 2025

Acts 2:1-4 Coming of the Holy Spirit

“When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.”

Who is the “they” being referred to here? In Acts 1 we learn that there are 120 people gathered together and praying. When Jesus was teaching his disciples on that final night, he promised that his Heavenly Father would send the Holy Spirit. But the disciples really weren’t sure what Jesus was talking about. Now they were remembering some of the things Jesus had told them.

John 14:15-21 Jesus Promises the Holy Spirit (John 16:5–16)

“If you love Me, you will keep My commandments. And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Advocate f to be with you forever— the Spirit of truth. The world cannot receive Him, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him. But you do know Him, for He abides with you and will be in you. 

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. In a little while the world will see Me no more, but you will see Me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in My Father, and you are in Me, and I am in you. Whoever has My commandments and keeps them is the one who loves Me. The one who loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I will love him and reveal Myself to him.”

John 15:26 “When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father—the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father—He will testify about Me.”

“When the Day of Pentecost had fully come…”  One of the wonderful and frustrating things about God is His timing. From the creation of the world, God has already planned the place when the Holy Spirit will descend and the timing of that descent down to the last second.

“And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting.” Although this account contains the first description of the coming of the Holy Spirit, there have been countless other incidences. In one of the Transformations series of videos produced by the Sentinel Organization, there is an actual video of the Holy Spirit descending on members of a church in a remote Alaskan village during a baptism. Those operating the sound system originally think their equipment is malfunctioning; however, the roaring of the Holy Spirit wind actually increases after they turned off all the sound equipment. Some of the church members are flat on their faces while others are leaping in praise of God.

“Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.”  John the Baptist promises those whom he is baptizing. “I baptize you with water for repentance, but after me will come One more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” (Matthew 3:11) Today is the day for that baptism of fire. But the baptism of the Holy Spirit also empowers those who receive it with the ability to speak in “new tongues.”

Why has God chosen these people, this time, and this place? Pentecost marks one of the major feasts, one for which people from all over the known world flock to Jerusalem.

Christianity.com tells us this: “Pentecost is a Jewish feast that has been celebrated since the Old Testament, being called the Feast of Harvest or the Feast of Weeks in Jewish tradition. It is mentioned in five places in the first five books — in Exodus 23, Exodus 24, Leviticus 16, Numbers 28, and Deuteronomy 16. ‘Pentecost‘, the Greek name of this event, is also used to refer to the events in Acts 2 when the Holy Spirit intervened following Jesus’ ascension to heaven.

What is the Origin of Pentecost?

Pentecost was the celebration of the beginning of the early weeks of harvest. In Palestine, there were two harvests each year. The early harvest came during the months of May and June; the final harvest came in the Fall. Pentecost was the celebration of the beginning of the early wheat harvest, which meant that Pentecost always fell sometime during the middle of the month of May or sometimes in early June.

There were several festivals, celebrations, or observances that took place before Pentecost. There was Passover, there was Unleavened Bread, and there was the Feast of Firstfruits. The Feast of Firstfruits was the celebration of the beginning of the barley harvest. Here’s the way you figured out the date of Pentecost. 

According to the Old Testament, you would go to the day of the celebration of Firstfruits, and beginning with that day, you would count off 50 days. The fiftieth day would be the Day of Pentecost. So Firstfruits is the beginning of the barley harvest and Pentecost is the celebration of the beginning of the wheat harvest.”

God is a master showman and He sends the Holy Spirit when the maximum number of people are going to witness the results. Tomorrow we’ll examine what happens next, but consider something. How many times have you begged God to do something in your life, only to have to wait on His timing? And when you have waited, haven’t you been thankful that you were patient? As we study the Pentecost story, pay attention to the small details, for they will bless you.

PRAYER:  Father God, thank You for loving us and for caring for us. Lord, help us to wait on Your timing, knowing that You arrange things perfectly. Help us to trust where we cannot see. In the mighty and precious Name of King Jesus. Amen.

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DEAR LORD AND FATHER OF MANKIND IMMANUEL LUTHERAN CHURCH, ALTONA, JUNE 1955

April 6, 2025

“Dear Lord and Father of mankind, forgive our foolish ways; re-clothe us in our rightful mind, in purer lives thy service find, in deeper reverence praise.”

It’s June 1955, and I am sitting with my family in our usual spot, 6 rows from the front on the north side of Immanuel Lutheran Church in Altona, Illinois. It has been a tough spring for me. After years of fighting horrible bouts of tonsillitis compounded by ear infections and vertigo, I finally weathered a tonsillectomy two months ago. Now my throat has finally healed enough for me to swallow rough food without wincing, and I feel healthy for the first time in years.

Outside, birds are singing in the maple trees that surround our lovely church. Inside, I gaze on the triptych above the altar, one figure of Jesus the good shepherd on the left, Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane on the right, and Jesus ascending into heaven in the biggest picture of all in the middle. I have no idea how many times I will gaze on those pictures through the years or how much they will come to mean to me. Even now in the stillness of the night, I meditate on those pictures and marvel at the goodness of my Lord. As I sit with my parents, I can hear my mother’s clear soprano reinforced by my dad’s tenor as we enter the second verse.

“In simple trust like theirs who heard, beside the Syrian sea, the gracious calling of the Lord, let us, like them, without a word rise up and follow thee.”

As I listen to these words, I have no inkling that God will call me into the mission field at age eleven, that I will commit my life to Christ at the age of fifteen, that I will train as a general and pediatric surgeon, or that I will come to northern Ghana, where I will spend the rest of my life. Have I ever regretted saying “Yes” to Jesus? NO! NO! A MILLION TIMES NO! Even if I knew all the suffering I would endure, I would never refuse. Jesus has blessed me beyond measure, and nothing is too much to give up for my Lord.

“O Sabbath rest by Galilee! O calm of hills above, where Jesus knelt to share with thee the silence of eternity, interpreted by love!”

My brothers and I feel loved and protected. Today, we will finish church and Sunday School and return home to a scrumptious home-made dinner. We have our own animals butchered and grow most of our own vegetables. My grandparents may join us, in which case, Grandma will bring her delicious butterhorn rolls, fit for the angels. The early strawberries are ready, and we are having strawberry pie for dessert. In the afternoon, my parents will visit and rest while we kids play ball in our large yard. We do not do farm work on Sundays, apart from caring for our animals.  

“Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease; take from our souls the strain and stress, and let our ordered lives confess the beauty of thy peace.”

Our lives are ordered and quiet. Most of our trading is done in small towns no more than seven miles away; otherwise, we only go to town for church and school. We still have the same ancient phone system that was brought in fifty years ago, with the switchboard in Oscar Johnson’s house in Altona. I attend school in the same building from which my dad graduated from high school. Everybody in town knows everybody else, and while this might seem intrusive, we care about one another. A general line ring of four long rings will bring out help for any emergency. Social media is unknown and even movies are an infrequent treat. We spend much of our free time playing games or reading, and we keep a local library busy with our patronage.

“Breathe through the heats of our desire thy coolness and thy balm; let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire, O still small voice of calm.’”

As we are singing this last verse, my family has no idea that in three short weeks our world will be turned upside down. My father will be severely injured in a near-fatal head-on collision at the Walnut Creek bridge just west of town. Dad’s injuries will be so severe that he will actually have a near-death experience in which he will see his grandparents and great-grandparents in heaven before being called back into his body by my mother’s fervent prayers. Dad will be bed-bound for several weeks and then remain on crutches for several months thereafter. We will get our first TV so Dad has something with which to entertain himself while he’s stuck in bed. The disruption of our lives will eventually convince my parents that my mother should return to school and complete her Bachelor’s degree so that she can teach and help stabilize the family income. We will also abandon our milking operation, retaining only one or two cows to provide milk for my grandparents and us.

I am remembering that Sunday as I return from rounds on the Children’s Ward and the NICU at the Hospital in Saboba. It’s far hotter here than it ever gets in Illinois, even in the depths of August. Rounds have kept me too long for me to make one of the local church services, so I sit here remembering and contemplating those magnificent words penned by the Quaker writer, John Greenleaf Whittier, so long ago. And once more I hear voices of all those church members in Altona, those in the choir and those beloved Sunday School teachers who humbly gave their Sundays to teach wiggly little kids and blaze teen-agers.

Nothing done in love for a child is ever wasted. I’m sure many of my Sunday School teachers went home from church wondering if they had made any impact on the kids they were teaching. The same thing might be said for those teaching vacation Bible school. While I can’t speak for anyone else, I will gladly stand before God and testify that I am eternally grateful for the sacrifices made by these teachers. Whether or not they realized it, they did find purer lives in the services they rendered. Whether or not these people realized it, they were agents of peace and servants of God. And I stand to bless every one of them. Now in my 77th year, I continue to pray the prayers embodied in these verses, and I say with Mr. Whittier, “Breathe through the heats of our desire thy coolness and thy balm; let sense be dumb, let flesh retire; speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire, O still small voice of calm.’”

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TRIBUTE TO UNCLE BOB YOUNG ON HIS 83RD BIRTHDAY-February 11, 2025

February 11, 2025

THIS PHOTO SHOWS MY HUSBAND BOB FEEDING CHICKEN TO A LITTLE PATIENT WITH BURNS.

I am sitting here in our living room writing this tribute. Next to me on the coffee table is a freshly-made mug of my favorite tea. That mug appears each morning in time for me to sip tea as I write Bible studies. And that mug of tea bears a silent witness to my beloved husband, Bob Young.

For some men, their love language is flowers or gifts or candy. But Bob’s love language is loyal service. In nearly 43 years of marriage, Bob has made countless mugs of tea for me. But Bob has also carried my supper to ICU conference rooms in children’s hospitals while I was a resident, has brought cross country skis for me so I might ski home when Memphis, TN, got hit by an 18-inch blizzard, has faithfully done our laundry, and has supervised our chaotic household in Ghana while I have served as the only doctor in bush hospitals. Through the years, Bob has repaired countless pieces of hospital equipment and has even assisted in surgery on occasion.

Bob is a kid magnet! Bob LOVES little kids and they love him right back! Here in our mission hospital, Bob brings biscuits and lollies to the kids and extra food and toys to children with burns so they will begin thinking about living and heal rather than giving up hope.

One of my recent treasured photos is of Bob feeding a little girl with burns small pieces of chicken. I have a short video of Bob dancing with the little girl’s brothers, who also were burned.

Bob has never met a stranger and can strike up conversations with anybody. My standing joke is that Jesus will return and we will be ascending to heaven and Bob will say, “Wait a minute, Lord! I have one more person to talk to.”

Bob excels at maintaining long-term friendships with all sorts of people. I have learned to be a friend from watching Bob. Thanks to social media, Bob keeps in contact with high school friends, church friends, and even people with whom he served in the U.S. Navy.

Bob passionately loves his family, particularly his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. One of the sacrifices we have made by being overseas is our inability to be “real” grandparents, to attend all the school programs, the musical performances, the graduations and weddings, and the birthday and holiday celebrations.

When I met Bob in 1981, I was entranced by his curly blond hair, his handle bar moustache, and twinkling blue eyes. Now that blond hair has become white, but the twinkle in the eyes is still the same and he still puts an Hercule Poirot curl on the ends of his moustache. We share a goofy sense of humor, and Bob can still convulse me with his animal imitations. Bob’s imitation of a gerbil is not to be missed.

Bob is a man of tremendous faith and reads large portions of Scripture each morning, including 5 Psalms daily. He also is kind enough to read my Bible studies out loud in addition to his other devotional readings. We love to share in worship services and listen to gifted preachers.

We are each other’s best friends. We must be, for we have lived in relatively isolated environments for much of our married lives. When girlfriends mention shopping together, manicures/pedicures, or eating out together, I simply say, “Good for you!” Such activities are simply impossible in our situation, and the money involved is far better spent feeding burned kids or settling medical bills for indigent patients.  

We share several passions. We both love to be outdoors and enjoy nothing more than being back in Bob’s beloved home area and hiking trails he has taken with his father. We love to travel and see new things and enjoy new kinds of foods. We both love to dance, although an old back injury is beginning to limit Bob’s dancing career.

So, I come back to that humble mug of tea and Bob’s Bible, both of which are currently sitting next to my computer. Service and faith-these are the things I love most about Bob.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY LOVE! MAY GOD RICHLY BLESS YOU, BOTH NOW AND FOREVER!

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