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The Scribe: Silas The Scribe: Silas

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  • Author: Francine Rivers
  • Size: 929KB | 220 pages
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About the Book


"The Scribe: Silas" by Francine Rivers follows the journey of Silas, a scribe tasked with recording the teachings of the apostle Paul. As he travels and learns from Paul, Silas undergoes a transformation in his faith and understanding of the message of Jesus. Through hardships and challenges, Silas discovers the power of forgiveness, redemption, and the importance of sharing the gospel with others.

David Livingstone

David Livingstone "[I am] serving Christ when shooting a buffalo for my men or taking an observation, [even if some] will consider it not sufficiently or even at all missionary." With four theatrical words, "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"—words journalist Henry Morton Stanley rehearsed in advance—David Livingstone became immortal. Stanley stayed with Livingstone for five months and then went off to England to write his bestseller, How I Found Livingstone. Livingstone, in the meantime, got lost again—in a swamp literally up to his neck. Within a year and a half, he died in a mud hut, kneeling beside his cot in prayer. Berlin Congress spurs African independent churches The whole civilized world wept. They gave him a 21-gun salute and a hero's funeral among the saints in Westminster Abbey. "Brought by faithful hands over land and sea," his tombstone reads, "David Livingstone: missionary, traveler, philanthropist. For 30 years his life was spent in an unwearied effort to evangelize the native races, to explore the undiscovered secrets, and to abolish the slave trade." He was Mother Teresa, Neil Armstrong, and Abraham Lincoln rolled into one. Highway man At age 25, after a childhood spent working 14 hours a day in a cotton mill, followed by learning in class and on his own, Livingstone was captivated by an appeal for medical missionaries to China. As he trained, however, the door to China was slammed shut by the Opium War. Within six months, he met Robert Moffat, a veteran missionary of southern Africa, who enchanted him with tales of his remote station, glowing in the morning sun with "the smoke of a thousand villages where no missionary had been before." For ten years, Livingstone tried to be a conventional missionary in southern Africa. He opened a string of stations in "the regions beyond," where he settled down to station life, teaching school and superintending the garden. After four years of bachelor life, he married his "boss's" daughter, Mary Moffat. From the beginning, Livingstone showed signs of restlessness. After his only convert decided to return to polygamy, Livingstone felt more called than ever to explore. During his first term in South Africa, Livingstone made some of the most prodigious—and most dangerous—explorations of the nineteenth century. His object was to open a "Missionary Road"—"God's Highway," he also called it—1,500 miles north into the interior to bring "Christianity and civilization" to unreached peoples. Explorer for Christ On these early journeys, Livingstone's interpersonal quirks were already apparent. He had the singular inability to get along with other Westerners. He fought with missionaries, fellow explorers, assistants, and (later) his brother Charles. He held grudges for years. He had the temperament of a book-reading loner, emotionally inarticulate except when he exploded with Scottish rage. He held little patience for the attitudes of missionaries with "miserably contracted minds" who had absorbed "the colonial mentality" regarding the natives. When Livingstone spoke out against racial intolerance, white Afrikaners tried to drive him out, burning his station and stealing his animals. He also had problems with the London Missionary Society, who felt that his explorations were distracting him from his missionary work. Throughout his life, however, Livingstone always thought of himself as primarily a missionary, "not a dumpy sort of person with a Bible under his arms, [but someone] serving Christ when shooting a buffalo for my men or taking an observation, [even if some] will consider it not sufficiently or even at all missionary." Though alienated from the whites, the natives loved his common touch, his rough paternalism, and his curiosity. They also thought he might protect them or supply them with guns. More than most Europeans, Livingstone talked to them with respect, Scottish laird to African chief. Some explorers took as many as 150 porters when they traveled; Livingstone traveled with 30 or fewer. On an epic, three-year trip from the Atlantic Ocean to the Indian Ocean (reputedly the first by a European) Livingstone was introduced to the 1,700-mile-long Zambezi. The river was also home to Victoria Falls, Livingstone's most awe-inspiring discovery. The scene was "so lovely," he later wrote, that it "must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight." Despite its beauty, the Zambezi was a river of human misery. It linked the Portuguese colonies of Angola and Mozambique, the main suppliers of slaves for Brazil, who in turn sold to Cuba and the United States. Though Livingstone was partially driven by a desire to create a British colony, his primary ambition was to expose the slave trade and cut it off at the source. The strongest weapon in this task, he believed, was Christian commercial civilization. He hoped to replace the "inefficient" slave economy with a capitalist economy: buying and selling goods instead of people. The ill-fated Zambezi expedition After a brief heroic return to England, Livingstone returned to Africa, this time to navigate 1,000 miles up the Zambezi in a brass-and-mahogany steamboat to establish a mission near Victoria Falls. The boat was state-of-the-art technology but proved too frail for the expedition. It leaked horribly after repeatedly running aground on sandbars. Livingstone pushed his men beyond human endurance. When they reached a 30-foot waterfall, he waved his hand, as if to wish it away, and said, "That's not supposed to be there." His wife, who had just given birth to her sixth child, died in 1862 beside the river, only one of several lives claimed on the voyage. Two years later, the British government, which had no interest in "forcing steamers up cataracts," recalled Livingstone and his mission party. A year later, he was on his way back to Africa again, this time leading an expedition sponsored by the Royal Geographical Society and wealthy friends. "I would not consent to go simply as a geographer," he emphasized, but as biographer Tim Jeal wrote, "It would be hard to judge whether the search for the Nile's source or his desire to expose the slave trade was his dominant motive." The source of the Nile was the great geographical puzzle of the day. But more important to Livingstone was the possibility of proving that the Bible was true by tracing the African roots of Judaism and Christianity. For two years he simply disappeared, without a letter or scrap of information. He reported later that he had been so ill he could not even lift a pen, but he was able to read the Bible straight through four times. Livingstone's disappearance fascinated the public as much as Amelia Earhart's a few generations later. When American journalist Henry Stanley found Livingstone, the news exploded in England and America. Papers carried special editions devoted to the famous meeting. In August 1872, in precarious health, Livingstone shook Stanley's hand and set out on his final journey. When Livingstone had arrived in Africa in 1841, it was as exotic as outer space, called the "Dark Continent" and the "White Man's Graveyard." although the Portuguese, Dutch, and English were pushing into the interior, African maps had blank unexplored areas—no roads, no countries, no landmarks. Livingstone helped redraw the maps, exploring what are now a dozen countries, including South Africa, Rwanda, Angola, and the Republic of the Congo (formerly Zaire). And he made the West aware of the continuing evil of African slavery, which led to its being eventually outlawed.

How God Impacts Our Money and Stuff

The love of money is more than dangerous — it’s spiritual suicide. The consistent warning of Scripture is that the people of God better watch their backs when it comes to the allure of financial gain (Matthew 6:24; 1 Timothy 6:10). Earning a stout salary can be a good thing, but what we do with those earnings is all important — and the writer to the Hebrews can help us. In a list of practical exhortations, he writes, Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5) This is a simple verse, but the line of argument is astounding. Notice the first two lines. The commands parallel one another: keep your life free from the love of money and be content with what you have. Contentment and Freedom The commands look like different angles on the same posture. We are exhorted to free ourselves from the love of money (and its siren call to acquire more), and then, in the same spirit, we’re exhorted to be content with what we currently have. This latter command (“be content”) functions as a sort of development from the former. In order to really keep ourselves free from the love of money, we have to sincerely believe that what we already have is enough. There’s food on the table and clothes on our back. We’re going to be all right (1 Timothy 6:8). If we lack contentment — if we are always thinking about what we want next — then our orientation on money creeps along from value to veneration. Money becomes our ticket to more. It becomes our gateway to that thing that will give us what we think we’re missing, which means it becomes a hero. And anytime we attribute savior-like qualities to something, however subtle it might be, our affections are sure to follow. If we keep dreaming about what we don’t have, we’ll soon be doing an adulterous rendezvous with the revenue. The most vehement traction against this slippery slope is too simply be okay with what you have. The writer to the Hebrews says to be content. We’re good. We’ll be okay. We can pause our panting for more. And then he tells us why. He Is There Keep your life free from love of money and be content with what you have, for [God] has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” The command for us to be free and content is grounded in God’s promise to always be there. The quotation here is taken from Joshua 1:5, but now carries an amplified meaning after the ascension of Jesus. In the Commission to his disciples, Jesus says clearly, “I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). And as he told us about the Holy Spirit, “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever” (John 14:16). We have the Trinitarian surety that wherever we are, God is there. Whatever circumstance, whether we have abundance or want (Philippians 4:11–12), God is there and he’s not leaving us. This might seem like a strange influence on our financial situation, but it’s really not. The presence of God, as with so many other things, drastically alters our perspective on money and stuff. We don’t love money, and we are content with what we have, because we have God. We don’t love money, and we are content with what we have, because we have God. We can always say, no matter the state of our earthly assets, that “we have a better possession and an abiding one” (Hebrews 10:34). God is our portion (Psalm 73:26). He is a feast for our souls (Psalm 63:5). “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” he says. Our treasure — the most desirable Being in the universe — is irreversibly committed to keeping us close forever. So yeah, money is just money, and what we already have is plenty. Article by Jonathan Parnell

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