Whoever gives to the poor will not want, but he who hides his eyes will get many a curse. — Proverbs 28:27

“Why should anyone hear the gospel twice before everyone has heard it once?  The light that shines farthest shines brightest nearest home.” — Oswald J. Smith”

Tears of the Saints

“If we have not enough in our religion to share it with all the world, it is doomed here at home.” — David Livingstone

Did You Know?

If you are interested, you can find these videos and a lot of other important videos and information about global mission work here…

• The Joshua Project
• Voice of the Martyrs
• Mission Aviation Fellowship
• HeartCry Missionary Society
• Desiring God
• Global Recordings Network

On June 10, 1535, a special proclamation was made, giving the decree that anyone who had baptized others and refused to recant would be put to death by fire. And any who aided the Anabaptists with hospitality would beheaded, or in the case of women, drowned… all of this to the end desire that the Anabaptists might be exterminated. And so, hundreds were being burned, beheaded and/or drowned.

One day a 14 year old lad joined a crowd who were watching an Anabaptist being executed at the stake. The man was chained, but he had an obvious expression of peace, if not actual joy, on his face. With a clear voice he affirmed his faith in Christ; and as the tormentors were about to light the fire, the man prayed:

"O Father and LORD, endue me with thy Spirit for this trial. Do not punish these who mistreat me today, but bring them also to the faith of Christ. Accept me now in thy grace." — And so, he died a martyr for Christ.

As the 14 year old lad left that scene, he was awed by the man’s faith.  Not long afterwards, this lad, Cornelis Aertsz de Man, found a gathering of the Anabaptists and he joined them for evening Bible Study. "Their witness of faith, their serious study of the Word of God, their joy in life, and their concern for love and moral integrity, all excited him."   Soon, Cornelis was converted to Christ. His family was alarmed; but soon they could only admire his gracious disposition, the love and purity of his life, His diligence in studying the Scriptures and the joy with which he shared his new relationship with Christ.

By age 17, Cornelis’s faith was so strong that the religious authorities of the Roman Catholic institution felt they had to stop him. So, he was arrested. And they sought diligently to get him to recant and return to Catholicism. On a particular day, the Roman Catholic leaders lined the courtroom and promised Cornelis future position and honor if he would renounce the simple Bible-based faith of the Anabaptists.  Calmly, Cornelis replied:

"There is no higher position than to be a child of God and no greater honor than to be a voice for Him."

Ultimately, they tortured young Cornelis to the extreme and finally at age 21, he was burned.

It is not uncommon to hear of Christians even incorporating it in their wedding vows, as they begin their lives together as evangelists and church planters in lands where conversion to Jesus as Lord is a capital offense.

In some bible schools in India, graduating students must take the Martyr’s Oath publicly during the commencement, or they will not receive their diploma.

At the climax of the ceremony, these graduates rise to their feet, raise their hand, and repeat similar words to these:

TODAY, I stand as a dead man. I declare that in Jesus Christ, I am saved by His blood, and thus I am dead to sin, and no longer dead in my sin. TODAY, I stand and declare that I surrender my will and my life, to His will and His life.

I shall go where He sends me, without asking questions. I shall go to whomever He sends me, without seeking fame. I shall preach to everyone, even if they hate me. I am an Ambassador of the Cross, and must deliver the Message. I shall pour my life out to reach my family, my friends, my neighbors, and my city.

I embrace the shame of the Cross, and I fear nothing but God. I welcome suffering, shame, persecution, beatings, imprisonment and death, but I will not be silenced.

If I am killed,  I  pray that my blood should be a harvest for souls. This is my city. I dare not do less.

Following their being graduated, each student is given three items, and only three items. As they walk across the stage and receive their diploma following their oath, each graduate takes into his possession:

• a new bible
• a new bicycle
• and a one-way train ticket to their field of service

They have no “Plan B.”

In the year A.D. 320, in a vain effort to impede the growth of the church, the Roman Emperor Valerius Licinius decreed that all civil servants and members of the military must offer sacrifice before the local gods. One cold, winter morning, the order was read to the Twelfth Legion, stationed at Sabaste in Armenia, and the soldiers were called upon to demonstrate their loyalty to Caesar through the prescribed offering. But there were forty Christians in the ranks of the legion, who informed their captain that they could not sacrifice on a pagan altar.

The commander was dismayed. Dare these men defy the emperor? Yet, knowing they had proven their bravery many times on the field of battle and not wanting to inflict punishment upon them, he ordered the Christian soldiers placed in confinement overnight, to reconsider their decision. Next morning they were brought forth and again commanded to worship the pagan gods. Again they refused. “We have made our choice,” they said, “We shall devote our love to our God.”

At this, the captain grew angry and ordered the men bound over in custody of the jailer, to await arrival of the general who would pass sentence. During this period of imprisonment, often the soldiers could be heard singing psalms of praise to their God. When the general arrived, the men were informed that if they did not obey the emperor’s decree, they would be delivered over for torture. Unshaken, the Christians replied: “You can have our armor, and our bodies as well. We prefer Christ!”

Early the following morning, sentence was pronounced. The men were to be led to the shore of a nearby frozen lake, and there, at sundown, they were to be stripped and escorted out to the middle of the ice, to await death by freezing. Because of their high reputation for valor, however, the general had ordered that they be given the privilege of recanting at any time. To encourage this, a heated bathhouse on the shore was readied for any of the soldiers who were willing to renounce their faith and return to the comfort of the world.

A bitter wind whipped over the lake’s surface as the men were driven out, shivering in the dusk. Guards were posted on the shore, among them the jailer in whose custody they had been kept during their days of imprisonment.

Then one of the forty soldiers lifted his voice out on the lake and began to sing. He was soon joined by the others:

Forty soldiers for Christ! We shall not depart from You as long as You give us life.

We shall call upon Your name Whom all creation praises. On You we have hoped, and we are not ashamed.

Powerfully they sang, while the ice chilled their feet. The night air resounded with one song of praise after another. But as the hours passed, their songs grew more feeble, until finally they could not be heard by the men on shore.

Then a strange thing happened. One of the forty was seen emerging from the darkness, staggering toward the shore. The guards posted there were dozing, except the jailer, who through the night stood motionless, peering out upon the lake, his ears straining to hear the mumbled prayers of the dying Christians.

“Thirty-nine good soldiers of Christ,” came a thin faltering voice from the distance. The jailer watched the man fall to his knees and crawl into the bathhouse.

At that moment, something happened in the heart of the jailer. Only he and God will ever know what it was. But the guards reported hearing a shout that woke them from their sleep. Opening their eyes, they saw the jailer wrench off his armor and run to the lake. Lifting his right hand he cried, “There are forty good soldiers of Christ!” Then, marching out on the ice into the darkness, he began to sing:

We shall not depart from You as long as You give us life. We shall call upon Your name Whom all creation praises.

On You we have hoped, and we are not ashamed.

In the morning the forty men, including the jailer, were found in the middle of the lake, huddled together in a frozen heap. As the captain watched their bodies being carted away, suddenly he turned to one of the guards and demanded, pointing to the jailer, “What is he doing there?”

“We cannot understand it, captain,” replied a guard. “It was far into the night, when all of a sudden he jumped to his feet, shouted something, stripped off his armor, and ran out on the lake.”

“Was he bewitched?” the captain asked.

“Probably, sir. Ever since those Christians came under his care, we have noticed something different about him. At times he would be singing under his breath. It was a bad sign, we decided. Too much music is bad for soldiers. Makes them strange. Don’t you think so, captain?”

Yes, too much singing in the Spirit does seem odd, in a world that has no lasting joy. Such happy troubadours of song are earth’s misfits, but they are no strangers in heaven. And one cannot be around them long, before sensing a tug, something of that pull of another world, where joy unceasingly erupts from love, and praise to the Lamb never ends.