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About the Book
"After Its Kind" is a novel that follows the story of a young man named Jeremy, who is torn between his loyalty to his strict religious family and his desire to break free from their oppressive beliefs. Throughout the novel, Jeremy struggles to find his own identity and navigate the tumultuous relationships within his family. As he embarks on a journey of self-discovery, he must confront his past and come to terms with who he truly is. The novel delves into themes of family, faith, and personal growth in the face of adversity.
Helen Roseveare
âIf Christ be God and died for me, then no sacrifice can be too great for me to make for him.â That was her missionâs motto. In 1953, Helen sailed for the Congo with hopes of serve Christ as a medical missionary with WEC (Worldwide Evangelization Crusade). For so many years sheâd dreamed of being a missionary. As a young girl, sheâd hear stories of her aunt and uncleâs experiences on the mission field, and now she was eager to have her own stories to tell.
In 1925, Helen Roseveare was born in England. Because education was a high priority for her father, Helen was sent to a prestigious all girls school when she was 12. After that, she went to Cambridge. It was during her time in college that she became a Christian, truly understanding the gospel for the first time. She left her Anglo-Catholic background and became an evangelical. Her focus was to finish her medical degree and prepare herself for the mission field.
After she became a doctor, Helen sailed to minister in the Congo. She was highly intelligent and efficient, but her role as a woman created struggles with her fellow missionaries and nationals. In that time period, single missionaries were seen as second-class citizens of the mission station. In the Congo, the medical needs were overwhelming. She couldnât just stand by and watch all the suffering around her. She was determined to make a difference. She dreamed of establishing a training center where nurses would be taught the Bible and basic medicine and then sent back to their villages to handle routine cases, teach preventive medicine, and serve as lay evangelists. She didnât have approval from her colleagues, who believed that medical training for nationals was not a valid use of time, evangelism and discipleship were more important.
Despite the conflict with them, after only two years after arriving in the Congo, she had build a combination hospital/ training center in Ibambi, and her first four students had passed their government medical exams. Her colleagues werenât as excited about her progress as she was. They felt that she was wasting time, so they decided that she would better serve the Congo by relocating in Nebobongo, living in an old leprosy camp that had become overgrown by the jungle. Helen argued that she must stay and continue the nursing training in Ibambi, but they insisted that she move. It was a major setback, but she went. Starting from scratch again, she built another hospital there and continued training African nurses. Still, she was strong-willed and seemed to be a threat to many of her male colleagues. In 1957, they decided to relocate John Harris, a young British doctor, and his wife to Nebobongo to make him Helenâs superior. Dr. Harris even took charge of leading the Bible class that sheâd taught. She was devastated. Sheâd been her own boss for too long, and although she tried to let go of control, she just couldnât. Everything that had been hers was now his. This resulted in tension between them, of course. Her independence was her greatest strength, but also a definite weakness. She did not know how to submit to imperfect leadership. In 1958, after over a year of struggling with who was in control in Nebobongo, Helen left for England for a furlough. She was disillusioned with missionary work and felt like she might not ever go back to the Congo.
Back in England, she really struggled with why she had all these issues between herself and the male leaders in the Congo. She began to convince herself that her problem was her singleness. What she needed was a doctor-husband to work with her and be on her side during the power struggles! She didnât think that was too much to ask. So, she asked God for a husband, and told Him that she wouldnât go back as a missionary until she was married. She met a young doctor and decided he would be the one. (She wasnât very patient in waiting on the Lordâs timing.) She bought new clothes, permed her hair, and resigned from the mission, all to try and win his love. He did care for her, but not enough to marry her. Helen was heartbroken, mostly because sheâd wasted so much time and money trying to force her plan into reality - without God.
Still single, Helen returned to the mission and left for Congo in 1960. It was a tense time for that country. They had been seeking independence for a long time, so a huge civil war was on the verge of beginning. Many missionaries left because the risk was so high. Helen had no plans of going home. She believed that God had truly called her back to Congo and that He would protect her if she stayed. She was joined by a few other single women, who made it difficult for the men, they didnât want to look like sissies. She was given charge of the medical base in Nebobongo because John Harris and his wife left on furlough. She had so many opportunities to minister in the midst of the turmoil. She was sure that God had her right where He wanted her to be. She continued to learn to see God in the details of her life, to trust him more fully. She had been coming closer to total trust in God all of her life, between bouts of depression, sometimes feeling that she was not really a Christian because she was capable of spells of anger and bitterness and other sins. âI was unable to reach the standard I myself had set, let alone Godâs. Try as I would, I met only frustration in this longing to achieve, to be worthy.â She came to recognize that hatred of sin is a gift of the Holy Spirit.
Rebels were gaining strength, and there were reports of missionaries being attacked. Helen endured a burglary and an attempted poisoning, but always in her mind the situation was improving. She felt that she had to stay, because there was so much need and so many people depending on her. On August 15, the rebels took control of Nebobongo, and Helen was in captivity for the next 5 months. On the night of October 29, Helen was overpowered by rebel soldiers in her little bungalow. She tried to escape, but they found her and dragged her to her feet, struck her over the head and shoulders, flung her to the ground, kicked her, struck her over and over again. She was pushed back into her house and raped brutally without mercy. Helen suffered more sexual brutality before her release. God used this in her life to minister to other single women missionaries who feared that theyâd lost their purity due to a rape and thus their salvation. Helen knew that her relationship with God had not been damaged. She had not failed God in any way because of the rapes. Finally, on December 31, 1964 she was rescued. Helen had a sense of joy and relief, but also a sense of deep sorrow as she heard of many of her friendsâ martyrdom.
Helen returned to Africa for the third time in March of 1966. She served for 7 more years, but it was full of turmoil and disappointment. The Congo had changed since the war. There was a new spirit of independence and nationalism. They no longer respected the doctor whoâd sacrificed so much for them. Helen left Africa in 1973 with a broken spirit. Her 20 years of service in Africa ended in defeat and discouragement.
When she got home, she went through a very, very lonely period in her life. She turned to God. He was all she had. Instead of bitterness there was a new spirit of humility and a new appreciation for what Jesus had done for her on the cross. God was molding her for her next ministry. She became an internationally acclaimed spokes-woman for Christian missions. Her candid honesty was refreshing in a profession known as one of super sainthood. Helen mobilized people by showing them that God used imperfect people with real struggles to be his ambassadors to the unreached world.
By Rebecca HIckman
SOURCES
Roseveare, Helen: Give Me This Mountain (1966)
Roseveare, Helen: He Gave Us a Valley (1976)
Tucker, Ruth A.: From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya
Talking Back to God - How His Promises Provoke Our Prayers
It is one of the most audacious, and awe-inspiring, moments in all of Scripture. In the wake of Israelâs shocking rebellion against God â blatantly violating the covenant God just made with them â Moses humbly dares to mediate between God and his people. At the climax of his intercession, and his careful yet determined dialogue with the living God, Moses makes what is perhaps the greatest, and most perceptive, petition a creature can of his Creator. And it is, after all, a prayer â a modest yet bold request, made by man, to God Almighty: âPlease show me your glory.â That this is, in some sense, a special moment is plain. We do not stand in Mosesâs sandals. We are not prophets called to mediate a covenant, nor do we live under that Sinai pact. Yet Mosesâs prayer still functions as a model for the godly after him. It will not be the last prayer in Scripture for a sight of Godâs glory, and rightly do the faithful echo it today. What might we who are in Christ learn about our own prayers from the amazing sequence of Mosesâs pressing into God in Exodus 32â33? Can and Will God Forgive? Before wrestling with the prayer itself, we need to first acknowledge Mosesâs haunting question: Could and would God forgive the people such a horrific breach of the covenant? Moses was not yet sure. He heard stories of his forefathers, encountered God at the bush, and witnessed the plagues in Egypt and the rescue in the Red Sea. Moses knew a powerful God who had delivered his people, but would he also forgive them? At first, it looked like he wouldnât. When God first informed Moses, on the mountain, that the people had âcorrupted themselves,â by making and worshiping a golden calf (32:7â8), God had said, âLet me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them. . .â (32:10). As Moses began to plead that God withhold destruction, it was far from clear that any relationship of peace could be fully restored. God did relent of immediately consuming the people (32:14), yet the covenant remained broken. Although Moses went down the mountain, confronted the people in their rebellion, burnt the calf, disciplined the people (32:15â20), and oversaw the purging of the three thousand who led in the rebellion (32:21â29), Moses knew this did not restore what lay shattered. The next day, he returned to meet God on the mountain. What drives Mosesâs sequence of prayer in Exodus 33 is the question he begins to ask in 32:32: Can and will Yahweh forgive? Will God restore the relationship, and dwell among them, after they had worshiped the golden calf? And as we will see, God draws prayer out of Moses, and then moves to answer Mosesâs question, in a way far more powerful, and memorable, than if there had not been an unfolding, developing, deepening relationship with God. Moses, Teach Us to Pray Exodus 33 begins with God declaring to the people that even though he will give them the land promised to their forefathers, God himself will not go up among them (33:3). They mourn this âdisastrous word.â They want him, not just the promised land. They humble themselves before God, taking off their ornaments âfrom Mount Horeb onwardâ (33:6). Even though the people heard this disastrous word, however, Moses continues to enjoy remarkable favor with God. In a tent pitched far off from the camp, God speaks with Moses (33:9), and verse 11 comments: âThus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend.â This sets the scene for Mosesâs remarkable intercessory prayer in 33:12â18. âIn prayer, we respond to God. . . . First, we hear his voice in Scripture; then we access his ear in prayer.â Observe, then, at least three lessons Christians today might take from Mosesâs otherwise inimitable prayer. 1. Prayer responds to God. The living God takes the initiative. He first announced to Moses the peopleâs breach of the covenant (32:7â10). And he revealed his enduring favor on Moses, prompting the prophet to reply. So too for us. We donât just âdial upâ God in prayer when we so wish. First, he speaks, as he has revealed himself in his world, and in his word, and in his Son, the Word. In prayer, we respond to him in light of his revelation to us. First, we hear his voice in Scripture; then we access his ear in prayer. We pray in light of what he has promised. 2. Prayer pleads Godâs reputation and glory. When God announces to Moses the peoplesâ sin, and the intention to destroy them and start over with him, Mosesâs reflex is to lean into Godâs own reputation. This is a good reflex. âWhy should the Egyptians say, âWith evil intent did he bring them out, to kill them in the mountains and to consume them from the face of the earthâ?â (Exodus 21:12). Moses prays for God to turn from righteous anger and relent âfrom this disaster against your people,â for Godâs own nameâs sake. Moses does not plea the peopleâs worth â or their humanity, made in Godâs image â but Godâs choice and word. He chose them as his people. âAt the bottom of prayer to a God like ours is our longing for his face, not merely the provisions of his hand.â Today we are in good company to pray for Godâs own reputation in the world, and to take notice of, and pray, Godâs own promises back to him. God loves for his people to pray in light of what heâs said to us, to make our pleas in response to his promises. And praying for his glory not only concerns Godâs reputation in the world, but also, and most significantly, our own knowing and enjoying him. At the bottom of prayer to such a God is our longing for his face, not merely the provisions of his hand. 3. Prayer can be incremental and sequential. We might even call Mosesâs prayer âdialogical.â It is striking how relational his process and sequence of prayer is in these chapters. At the heart of the âdialogue,â reverent as it is, is whose people the Israelites are, a topic God introduces and draws Moses into. First, to Moses, God calls them, after their sin, âyour people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egyptâ (32:7). Then God introduces the surprising tension of his ongoing favor on Moses. God will consume the people and âmake a great nationâ of Moses (32:9â10). This favor, combined with calling the nation âyour people,â presents Moses an invitation to reply in prayer. Moses asks to know more about this God â âplease show me now your waysâ (33:13) â to discern whether God will forgive his stiff-necked nation. And Moses meekly, but importantly, appends this to this first plea: âConsider too that this nation is your people.â God answers positively, though briefly: âMy presence will go with you, and I will give you restâ (33:14). The short reply invites Moses to press in further, for the sake of the people. His âmeâ moves to âus.â He pleads for âI and your peopleâ; then again âwe . . . I and your people.â Moses identifies himself with the people, asking that Godâs favor on him extend to them. Prayer, by human persons to the living and personal God, is far more than transactional. It is relational, and often incremental, with measured, humble boldness. God leads us, like Moses, into prayer. We make our requests. He answers in time. We learn more of him, which leads us to ask to see more of him. âShow Me Your Gloryâ Mosesâs prayerful dialogue with God has become more and more daring â slowly, one incremental plea at a time: Donât consume your people (32:11â13). Please forgive your people (32:31â32). Show me your ways (33:13). Count the people with me in my favor with you (33:15â16). And now, most boldly, âPlease show me your gloryâ (33:18). This short but daring plea will be Mosesâs last. He will not speak again until 34:9, when he finally completes the plea for forgiveness he left unfinished in 32:32. In Exodus 33:19, God begins to respond: I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name âThe Lord.â And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy. (Exodus 33:19) Moses receives his full answer, however, a chapter later in Exodus 34:7 with another revelation: The Lord passed before him and proclaimed, âThe Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin. (Exodus 34:6â7). The driving question has been answered, and so Moses bows in worship and prays with confidence, âO Lord, please let the Lord go in the midst of us . . . and pardon our iniquity and our sin . . .â (34:9). Having prayed, and seen the glory in Godâs declarations about his character, his goodness, his mercy, his grace, Moses is confident that God will grant forgiveness and renew the covenant. Christ, Our Moses For Christians today, any Moses-like leveraging of Godâs favor we know to be firmly grounded in his favor on Christ. More significant than our echoes and imitations of Moses is the fulfillment of his intercession, and final mediation for Godâs people, in Jesus. We may indeed glean some categories and concepts from Mosesâs prayers. Yet, as we come in Christ to Exodus 32â33, we identify not only with the prophet, but with the people. They are âstiff-necked.â Rebellious. Deserving of divine justice. Desperate for mercy and grace. But in Christ, we have one far greater than Moses who intercedes for us, leveraging his own perfect favor with God on our behalf. Jesus, our great high priest, âhas passed through the heavens,â and calls us to âdraw near with confidence to the throne of grace, [to] receive mercy and find grace to help in time of needâ (Hebrews 4:14, 16). And he does so not only as new-covenant mediator and intercessor, but also as the very one in whose face we see the glory of God. What was unique in ancient Israel â speaking to God âas a man speaks to his friendâ â is offered to all who are in Christ. God now invites us to come to him as Father, and to come to Christ as husband â the deepest and nearest of human relationships â not to make requests, get what we want, pivot, and go back to life apart from him, but to come closer, and nearer, through prayer, and discover again and again that he himself, in Christ, is the great reward.