In Viet Nam today no soldier is more than 35 helicopter minutes from a fully-equipped, expertly- staffed operating room. The chop pers carry blood, intravenous fluids, splints, bandages, and emergency oxygen devices. Often the “Dust-off” crew starts treat ment even before lift-off. All this . . . to save a soldier. The missionary force you and I send to the front faces a differ ent foe, but one even more cun ning than the enemy our boys in Viet Nam are fighting. One mo ment the missionary’s enemy charges him with the fierceness of a roaring lion and a second later subtly appears as an angel of light. He appears, disappears, and re-appears. This is guerrilla warfare — the most dangerous kind to fight. Satan machine guns the mis sionary with bullets of fear, un belief, and discouragement. He plagues Christ’s soldier with dis ease and accident. In the never- ending battle with the enemy, the missionary finally captures the west end of a village and plants a tiny light where once all was darkness. He has made a courage ous attack but is wounded and sick. Now he must leave the bat tlefield, and despairs because there are no replacements. Casualties run high in this spir itual warfare. Many wounded never go back. The question is, “Why?” Is the church doing less to save its soldiers than our coun try does to save hers? Too often the answer is “ Yes.” The Ameri can soldier is transported by tank or truck or helicopter from battle to battle, while some Christians don’t see why a missionary living in a city of nine million people should need a car. The American soldier is given plenty to eat ¿nd the finest equip ment with which to fight. The mis sionary usually has plenty to eat but too often little or no equip ment, and no money with which to buy it. If the missionary’s strategy is to attack the spiritual darkness
by means of an evangelistic cru sade, from what source does the $500 come to set up the crusade? He may have a large group of new converts to feed, but the printer won’t run the Bible cor respondence courses without the money to pay for them. Too often, I say, the church’s army is undermanned and ill- equipped. Even when we bring our soldier home, he experiences little of the rest and recreation he needs. We put him in a broken- down car, pack his clothes in a broken-down suitcase and his re cruiting gear into a broken-down trunk, and send him limping ten thousand miles around the United States looking for more soldiers. He is not complaining but he may not make it back to duty on the field. If he does not, it could be our fault. We are doing too little . . . to save a soldier. What then can one do? Look upon him as one fighting
our war for us and treat him accordingly! Take a personal part in provid ing his needed equipment. Cheer him with our letters. Strengthen him by the assur ance of daily prayer. Heal his wounds by sending him a well-chosen book or a good tape or sermon. Encourage him by m eeting needs mentioned in his letters rather than hoping someone else will. When he comes home, see that he gets a quiet hide-away for that rest which is three years overdue. Send him to a doctor and a den tist for repairs. Put a suit with a new cut on his shoulders so he won’t feel like a walking missionary barrel. Put a late model car under him so he won’t have to worry about making it to his next meeting. There is a lot we can do . . . to save a soldier. DU
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TH E KING'S BUSINESS
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