About the Book
"House Of The Forest" by Diana Wallis Taylor is a historical fiction novel that follows the story of a young girl named Tamar, who is determined to uncover the secrets of her past and find her true identity. Set in ancient Israel, Tamar's journey leads her to the House of the Forest, where she discovers the truth about her heritage and the importance of faith and forgiveness. Through Tamar's experiences, the novel explores themes of love, loyalty, and the power of redemption.
Lilias Trotter
Long before the concept of the 10-40 window was invented or became a popular term in missions circles, a thirty-four-year-old promising artist named Isabella Lilias Trotter (1853â1928) landed in North Africa in 1888 along with two of her friends. They had neither mission agency support nor training but immediately began studying the Arabic language with the intention of sharing the gospel as widely as they could for as long as they could.
For the next forty years, this creative, dynamic woman poured out her life, her artistic abilities, and her linguistic skills to make the gospel known amid many difficulties. Her journals tell of her daily experience of desperately depending on the divine resources of the Holy Spirit.[1]
âThe life of Lilias Trotter challenges the worldâs meaning of success, potential, and fulfillment.â
The life of Lilias Trotter challenges the worldâs meaning of success, potential, and fulfillment. Through Trotterâs art, writings, and life story come glimpses of Christâs power in the prayers of his child and faithful witness. Her day-by-day, decade-by-decade journals reveal a life characterized by trust in her Savior and inward rest in his power for victory over sin and darkness.
Her success should not be measured numerically, but rather in the fact that Lilias succeeded in learning about prayer and love for Muslims. Her life attests to the exceeding value of knowing and preferring Christ above all else. Her personal devotion to Jesus Christ is exemplary and instructive not only for aspiring missionaries but for all who desire to live wholeheartedly for the glory of God.
Laying down Her Life
Lilias was born into a wealthy Victorian family, and they considered the value of walking humbly before God to be of first importance. A talented artist, she attracted the attention of John Ruskin, the noted Victorian art critic and Oxford lecturer. Some of her paintings and leaves from her sketchbook can be found in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, England.
In 1874, Lilias attended a six-day convention that emphasized the importance of the daily application of Scripture in her quest for deeper intimacy with God. She experienced a renewed vitality in personal and corporate worship. Her call to wholeheartedly follow Christ in obedience came during a call to prayer. She wrote of this in her journal: âTo bear His name with all that is wrapped up in it of fragrance and healing and power, to enter into His eternal purpose, is the calling for which it is well worth counting all things as loss.â [2]
From then on, rather than invest her extraordinary life in the things of this world, Lilias was compelled by a strong yearning for her Savior and the world he loves. In radical obedience, she left the promising artistic career that Ruskin offered her and the comforts of England for a life of missionary service in Algeria.
âIn radical obedience, she left a promising artistic career and the comforts of England for a life of missionary service in Algeria.â
Praying with Passion
Trotterâs intercession for Algerians provides inspiration to those who desire to see all peoples worship God. She spent lengthy, frequent sessions of retreat in the hills overlooking the city of Algiers. She prayed and turned her eyes on Jesus, his Word, and his revelation in creation. As she watched the broken waves pushed by the heart of the ocean crashing on the shore of the bay, she waited with faith to see âGodâs high tideâ sweep across the Muslim world.
Lilias was a contemporary of the great missionary to Muslims, Samuel Zwemer. She learned much from him about the power of prayer to pierce the veil of darkness shrouding the Muslim hearts and to engage in the spiritual battle for souls of those held captive by the adversary. Her example of perseverance in prayer is an encouragement for those today who are interceding for Godâs high tide to fill the earth and sweep away the veil of darkness.
The writings of Lilias Trotter recognize the work of the adversary to hold nonbelievers captive through their unbelief and his power to keep the life-giving truth from reaching them. She pled for Christians to ask God to do a new work among âhard-bound peoples and to generate a fire of the Holy Spirit to melt away though icy barriers and set a host free!â [3]
Proclaiming Godâs Word in Power
Courageous and innovative in her witness to the Algerians, Lilias observed and learned to witness effectively to her neighbors. In 1919, Trotter began writing tracts for Nile Mission Press. She assisted a Swedish missionary in translation and editing the gospels of Luke and John in colloquial Arabic, âinto a language that the Arab mother could read to her child.â[4] She also wrote stories in parable form that appealed to her audience, and she creatively illustrated them in Eastern style, the results of which gained wide circulation.
The story of Lilias Trotter continues to inspire and mobilize those who long to worship around the throne of Christ with all peoples. She laid down her life and talents and allowed Christ to use her in creative and innovative ways. Her life was one of passionate prayer, dependence on Godâs overcoming power, and confidence in proclaiming the life-giving Word of God. Her story encourages others to follow in her footsteps and consecrate their life to the âhardest work and the darkest sinners.â [5]
Paula Hemphill and her husband, Ken, have shared fifty years of ministry together. The stories of missionary pioneers in North Africa captured Paulaâs heart as a young pastorâs wife, calling her to a lifetime of prayer for Muslim peoples. The Hemphills have three married daughters and twelve grandchildren.
Endnotes: For more on Lilias Trotter, see Many Beautiful Things: the Life and Vision of Lilias Trotter (Oxvision Films, 2016) or read the excellent biography by Miriam Huffman Rockness, A Passion for the Impossible (Discovery House, 2003).
[1] One journal entry later became the inspiration for âTurn Your Eyes upon Jesus,â a popular hymn written by Helen H. Lemmel: âTurn your soulâs full vision on Jesus and look and look at Him, and a strange dimness will come over all that is apart from Him and the divine attributes by which Godâs saints are made, even in the twentieth century, will lay hold of you.â (I.R. Stewart, The Love that Was Stronger: Lilias Trotter of Algiers (London: Lutterworth Press, 1958), 54.)
Are You a Friend to the Poor
Godâs heart is for the least of these: the suffering, lost, and lonely. "Do you know the name of a poor person?" a young man in his twenties who was sharing about his experiences as a missionary in Moldova posed the question to me in church. His phrase was tricky because if he'd said, "Do you care about the poor?" I might have tossed it in that drawer where you keep all the stuff you've heard a million times and are supposed to ponder but probably won't do much with. When he asked if I knew the name of a poor person he exposed a glaring gap in my Christianity: Whose name did I know? Not whose face had I passed on 21st Street on my way to grab coffee; not what homeless man had I handed a dollar for the paper he peddles at the stoplight; not what anonymous tsunami victim had received an online donation I'd made. Whose name did I know? I was left to consider this very important question because if I didn't know the name of a poor person, I didn't really know a poor person. (This is one of the biggest problems with going to church â the possibility of getting all convicted and stuff.) I always knew that if God's heart was for anything it was for the least of these: the suffering, sick, needy, uneducated, foreigner, lost, lonely â this much was clear. And it's true that these were people I cared about, prayed for, and on whose behalf I tithed, but how many of them called me friend? Who had my phone number, been to dinner at my house, or sat beside me at church? Without condemnation, I had to recognize that I was someone who cared for the poor mostly from a distance but who had yet to intimately involve herself. My first step: Learn a name. In the Law of Moses God commanded the Israelites to leave their extra sheaves, olives, and grapes for the alien, fatherless, and widow â for all the people who didn't have what the Israelites had and who didn't have the means to get what they had. At the end of this recurring command the Lord gave His people an intriguing reason for why He required this, "Remember that you were slaves in Egypt. That is why I command you to do this" (Deut. 24:22, NIV). Didn't God want them to leave their excess food for the poor and outsider because these people were hungry, because they needed community, because they couldn't provide for themselves, because He loved them? Wasn't that why? Oh I'm sure those were all reasons, but I believe God first had to deal with that sneaky mind-set, the one that tries to trick us into thinking that when we step over a stalk of wheat to leave it for the poor we're doing something really noble, plain over-the-top gracious. That we're going above and beyond by giving away what is rightfully "ours." The Lord was staving off this kind of thinking by saying, "Hold your fancy horses. Remember you used to be slaves too! Don't forget to tap into what that felt like." The Israelites were no strangers to poverty, oppression, or powerlessness as ones who had once been enslaved in Egypt. It was only because of God's deliverance they were now free, only because of His goodness they were blessed with flourishing fields and bursting branches. By remembering their once low estate, they were poised to welcome the foreigner, fatherless, and widow, not out of self-righteousness, guilt, or duty, but out of the love God had shown them. Last night I served dinner to an Iraqi couple and their 2-year-old daughter, a family some of my friends and I have gotten to know. I'd hoped that chicken, broccoli, and couscous were safe selections to serve these well-dressed Middle Easterners, though I sensed I may have been pushing it with the hot apple cider. I was going for the American autumn experience, and judging by their first and only sip, this went over moderately. As we settled around the table I asked them why they'd left Baghdad to come to America. The husband replied, "Because there are less car bombings here," and then he broke out into hysterical laughter. (Safwat's a sanguine.) His wife was less buoyant, confiding that the war had been devastating and that they'd fled here as refugees hoping to find jobs but so far without any success. My eyes welled up as she spoke because her suffering was not that of a nameless Iraqi, but it belonged to her, a real-life woman with a name, Rida. As the adults carried on, Rubaa fingered the icing on her cupcake and tapped her shoes on the hardwood floors, just like any other baby girl in a bright red dress who wanted the room to be enchanted with her â some things are the same everywhere. When it was time for them to leave, Safwat shook my hand, Rubaa blew me a kiss at her mother's urging, and Rida kissed my right cheek, left cheek, and then back to my right cheek again (it's that third one I always forget). As we said our good-byes I realized what a privilege it was to know their names, because knowing their names meant I was getting to know their stories. And knowing their stories reminded me in deeply spiritual and emotional places that I, too, was once a foreigner outside of God's kingdom, but because of Christ, I am now a daughter. Kelly Minter