This is the fourth in a series of stories from my brother, Edward, about my mother, Elaine Knadle, and her missionary trips to Indonesia.
I’ll get to that “nearly killed” part in a minute, but as long as I live, I’ll never forget what happened the first night in the village. The people there had one scrawny rooster in the whole village, and they killed that one lonely chicken the first night we were there in order to feed us a nice meal. It is to this day one of the most humbling moments in my entire life.
We stayed in that village several days, and preached quite a few times. The people were so nice and attentive. I even baptized a few people in the river. At most of the villages, we had to have two interpreters. Pastor Nainggolan would translate from English into Indonesian, and then another interpreter would interpret into the local native dialect.
One evening as we headed toward another village, the canoe came into a raging surf in an inlet, an inlet filled with incredibly huge logs that the tide and winds had whipped into a frenzy. It was twilight, and we simply couldn’t see what was happening until we were right in the middle of it. The diameter of some of the logs was at least 10 to 15 feet. We prayed fervently, and God delivered us from what looked like a sure death.
We got out on the beach praising God, but then had to walk in the dark through a jungle with only two small flashlights for quite some time until we came to the village we were to visit. That walk through the jungle seemed equally as difficult as our landing had been.
After about a month overseas, we were now back in Medan; and my heart was telling me I needed to get back to Charlene and our three young boys (Stephen had not been born yet), but mother said she was not done preaching in Indonesia. She was on assignment. There were more souls to save. So she stayed behind, and went off with more of her missionary zeal to win souls in that island nation as I flew back to the states.
I left Medan with $20 in my pocket, and nothing else but a plane ticket, but it got me all the way home to DFW in Dallas. The big 747 was in the air eighteen straight hours between Hong Kong and San Francisco on the return flight, and I remember praying hard the whole flight back.
Just before we landed, the Lord spoke clearly to me, and told me there were three levels of correction in man. The first is when we allow our outward sins (overt) to be washed in the blood of the Lamb. The second level is when we allow Jesus to get at the causes for our sins, the things deep inside, the things mentally, emotionally and spiritually that have caused our outward sins to manifest.
So, I asked the Lord, what is the third level? And He didn’t tell me. I prayed for months for the answer, until I heard myself preach it one night at the jails in Fort Worth. As I preached, I heard myself say by the Holy Ghost that God wants us to GO INTO ALL THE WORLD AND PREACH THE GOSPEL TO EVERY CREATURE, and that the sin of omission is knowing to do right, and not doing it.
There it was, the third level, the sin of omission. God showed me that all of us must continually examine ourselves to ensure that we are not missing the incredible opportunities to minister what God has given us.
We must let God wash us in the blood of the Lamb for all the apathy and inactivity we have allowed in our lives up to now, and then purpose to be His servant from now on. So now, a part of my daily prayer is to pray the Lord of the Harvest, that He will thrust out laborers into the harvest, for the laborers are few, and the fields are white for the harvest.
Pray the Lord of the Harvest, that He will thrust out laborers into the harvest, for the laborers are few, and the fields are white for the harvest.