By J . ARTHUR MOUW A t told to Anne Hazelton
t T WAS December 7, 1941, Saturday ■ 'in Borneo. War clouds were gath- I ering swiftly, but in the dark jun gles o f. Borneo we were unaware of their nearness. The day was like any other to. me, like the twenty or more days each month I spent walking the tangled paths, witnessing to the heathen Dyaks and ministering to the Christians. It was green dusk on the trail. Over head, tall palms and gutta-percha trees met with interlacing branches, effectively shutting out the sunlight, even at noonday. High up in the trees a score of monkeys quarrelled. Ten .years earlier, the Lord had called my wife and me to be His wit nesses in Borneo, one" of the. two or three largest islands in- the world, which rises in a hump of huge, moun tains densely forested. It was through these forests that we picked our way now, and toward evening we reached our goal. Emerging from ■the dense jungle, we stood in a clearing before a fine church building and saw its seven hundred or more members gath ering for thè evening service and for worship on the following Lord’s day.' As always, my heart lifted to see this evidence of the work of God, where but a few years before there had been no single witness to the Lord Jesus Christ À Borneo jungle church boasts no electric lights. This one was illuminat ed by six kerosene lanterns, suspended from the rafters by means of old cords.' The church was crowded, and I could not see all of the congregation be cause of the dim lights, but I knew they were there for every once in a while some one f r o m a m o n g the shadows would say, “ Amen,” or “ Praise the Lord.” The people were present, not in body only, but in mind and spirit« as well. We slept that night—the night of the memorable December 7—in a little hut provided for our accommodation, and were on our way back to the
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