When the Arrow Flies

In that part of Amazonia every green leaf and blade of grass is covered with chiggers - tiny red insects which burrow under the skin and set up an unbearable itch. The more the victim scratches, the deeper the pest burrows. Scratching inevitably causes inflammation; fingernails carry germs deeper into the flesh. What spots the chiggers may scorn, the wood ticks choose for lodging. They also burrow into the flesh, become engorged with blood, and set up an itching that persists for days after the intruder has been removed. These were things that made the flesh uncomfortable sometimes, but really they were not what changed a young missionary’s spirit. Harry had been used to playing in large evangelistic campaigns, travelling and preaching over the weekends, attending Bible college at the same time. So, the slow pace of life in the isolated interior made time seem heavy on his hands, in spite of the work among the Bacuris. This was the last thing he had expected. Every missionary during the important first years on the field receives frequent visits from the devil of discouragement. He settles at the elbow of God’s whispers subtle suggestions in his ear. “Oh, I say now, old chap, what did you come out here for? What you’re doing here you could have done at home. You didn’t have to cross the ocean to do this kind of thing!” “Pardon me, but maybe you have made a fool of yourself!”

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