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About the Book
"Things Pondered" is a collection of devotional reflections written by bestselling author Beth Moore. Each entry offers spiritual insight and encouragement, drawing readers closer to God through intimate reflections on life, faith, and the struggles we all face. With warmth and wisdom, Moore shares her own experiences and insights, inspiring readers to deepen their relationship with God and find peace in the midst of life's challenges.
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.
The Very First Prayer
From the opening chapters of the Bible, God makes it clear that humanity was created to enjoy life with God, and God in life — to experience the radiance of his presence and listen to him speak “close up.” Adam and Eve walked with God in the garden, which God himself has provided for this very purpose. And they are charged to turn the whole of creation into a place where God can be known and enjoyed (see Genesis 1:28 and 2:15–16). Relating to God, for them, was natural and unhindered. After the events of Genesis 3, of course, everything gets so much harder. “From the opening chapters of the Bible, God makes it clear that humanity was created to enjoy life with God.” God’s grand plan for his people and his world remains the same, but suddenly the way to God is littered with obstacles, as the ease of relating to God is replaced with struggle. In fact, it’s not altogether clear how our first parents are supposed to relate to God as they leave the now inaccessible garden behind (Genesis 3:24). The task they were commissioned to do in Genesis 1:28 remains, but it now will be tackled against the grain of a broken creation and without the immediate presence of the Creator. Which brings us to Genesis 4. First Recorded Prayer After the exclusion of the original couple from Eden, the narrative immediately jumps to the birth of Cain and then Abel. The intriguing note of Genesis 3:15 has set us up to expect an individual who is able to undo the recently created chaos of sin. Both brothers are pictured bringing offerings to God (the awareness of our obligation to the one who made us remains intact), but the violent events which follow do little beyond showing that the hope of humanity must be found elsewhere — and yet, remarkably, God has continued to speak to his people. Cain’s evil quickly spirals further out of control, as he settles down in a city (Genesis 4:17), rather than continuing to “fill the earth and subdue it,” and then fathers a dynasty of self-reliant men, culminating in the brutality of Lamech, who boasts to his wives that if anyone messes with him, he will exact disproportionate revenge (Genesis 4:24). At this point in the tragic narrative, we find these words: And Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and called his name Seth, for she said, “God has appointed for me another offspring instead of Abel, for Cain killed him.” To Seth also a son was born, and he called his name Enosh. At that time people began to call upon the name of the Lord. (Genesis 4:25–26) Initially, Genesis 4:25 raises our hopes. Cain and Abel are not to be the sole heirs of Adam — there is another son, Seth. Eve’s own words, highlighting that he is another “offspring” (same word in Genesis 3:15), lead us to expect more detail, and hopefully a bright counterpoint to the darkness of Cain and his line. However, we get no details whatsoever about Seth. He is born, and then his sole contribution to the unfolding plan of God is to sire a son, Enosh. Like his father, Enosh makes no contribution to the narrative beyond providing a descendant. All this makes it doubly puzzling when the birth of Enosh leads people to begin calling on the name of the Lord, apparently for the first time. Why Pray Now? The phrase “at that time” in the first five books of the Bible tends to introduce significant incidents (for example, Genesis 12:6; 38:1; Deuteronomy 1:9). In this case, the striking nature of the action (calling on the name of the Lord) is a further signal that something important is going on. But it is puzzling — what could possibly have occasioned this “new start” in humanity’s relationship with God? Seth is born, but does nothing else. Now Enosh is born, and similarly, there appears to be nothing remarkable about his birth. So what are we to make of this? What prompted them to seek God in this way now? It’s theoretically possible that this is simply a chronological note. Given the fact, however, that not one word is wasted in the opening chapters of the Bible, and every phrase seems loaded with significance for the unfolding narrative, this seems highly unlikely. Rather, it seems that starting to “call on the name of the Lord” is the right response to the fact that Cain and Abel, Seth and Enosh have all shown up, but there is, as yet, no sign of the promised Serpent-Crusher of Genesis 3:15. The waiting — and the appealing to God to act — has begun. We Ask for What He Promised This is the first address to God after the fall — and it is a cry to God to act by fulfilling his promises. In the Institutes, John Calvin says, “Just as faith is born from the gospel, so through it our hearts are trained to call upon God’s name” (III XX.21). I think that’s what’s going on here in Genesis 4. The announcement of Genesis 3:15 has brought gospel hope to life, which in turn leads God’s people to ask God to act. The gospel gives birth to gospel-shaped prayer. “Prayer is a means of communion with God, but far more often it is simply asking God to do what he has promised to do.” As we look at prayers throughout the Bible, it becomes increasingly apparent that they are dominated by this single concern: to see God act to fulfill his promises as he advances his plan of redemption in our world. That’s not to say, of course, that our relationship with God can be reduced to this one thing. There are lots of activities that we are invited or commanded to engage in as part of our relationship with God (like praise, or repentance, or intercession, or lament, or thanks). When it comes to prayer, however, the Bible seems to have a much narrower focus than we would normally allow. Prayer is a means of communion with God, but far more often it is simply asking God to do what he has promised to do. Until Prayer Is Unnecessary This simple observation, which flows naturally from Genesis 4:25–26, does cut through much of the guilt and confusion we often feel about prayer. Prayer begins with asking God to do his gospel work. This is presumably why Jesus can encourage us to pray unhypocritical, to-the-point kingdom prayers (Matthew 5:5–14). Prayer isn’t primarily communing with God, let alone twisting his arm, but asking God to do what he is already committed to doing (see Luke 11:5–13). It is easy to miss the significance of Genesis 4:25–26, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a beautifully gospel-shaped clue to how people like you and me are to relate to the God who loves us this side of the fall. We are to pray — asking God to do what he has promised — until that day when prayer is no longer needed, because all things have already been made new and all his promises have been brought to perfect fruition. But until then? We keep praying like people of the day of Seth and Enosh, asking God to act for our good and his glory. Article by Gary Millar