God. Here were the same men who had tried to kill Harry Bollback and me 35 years ago, yet now we sat side by side, united by Christ into God’s family. The end of the three days came much too quickly. We rode the trucks back into the village for another heartwarming worship service in the little primitive church. Then all of us walked down to the banks of a little stream just on the edge of the village. There I had the privilege of baptizing ten Xavante young people, bringing the total to 430 baptized believers in that village. Most of these had been won to the Lord by the Xavantes themselves. As I stood waist deep in the water, looking back at the hundreds of Xavante Christians on the banks who were singing hymns of praise to God, my mind raced back in time. I recalled the day 36 years ago, when Harry and I hiked into the jungles and asked the Lord to give us the Xavante Indians, even if it cost our lives. And there they were today, brought to the Lord not so much through our efforts, but in a way God deemed best. These people had come to know Christ as their Savior. How incredible that might have seemed 35 years ago! Yet today, I know the full measure of God’s marvelous promise, “He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” (Psalm 126:6) • • • The silence of the jungle was suddenly broken by the piercing screams of a newborn child. The mother had thrown boiling water on her baby in an attempt to kill it. The baby was the youngest of a set of twins. According to the mother’s pagan belief, the birth of twins was an omen of evil, a displeasure of the demons, so the child
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