to run my own life. As the months passed, I discov ered that it takes more than a trip to the altar to make a missionary. Becoming a missionary seemed unreal and far away. I tried . . . I failed . . . so why not forget the whole thing? I soon eased back into the main current of high school life. Now and then I experienced a twinge of conscience. I had made a vow to God and had gone back on it, but so, I told myself, had millions of other people. Strangely, I found it easier to cloud God from my thoughts than to wipe China from the horizon. The great cosmopolitan city of Shanghai intrigued me. Its multiracial populace promised more oppor tunity and excitement than any city in the world. I dreamed. When high school days were over I would leave home, cross the Pacific, and drop out of sight amidst Shanghai’s colorful multitudes. Ten years later I would reappear, a bright star out of the East, to dazzle my parents with the fame and fortune I gained in Cathay. Wild dream! Of course! But God condescend ingly mixed a large portion of His plan with a little of my plot. Before my story ends you will see how I went to China with Him rather than alone. My part was to become restless and to go to California. Although I loved my parents, I rebelled against a little town, a little church and little peo ple. I would go to a big city like Los Angeles and be big with it. God’s part was to get me from Los Angeles to Shanghai. Now between Los Angeles and Shanghai there is a lot of water and between my dream and God’s design were two hundred and eight weeks and twice that many miracles. The first big miracle took place one Sunday eve ning in the Church of the Open Door in Los An geles. My twin brother had entered Biola to pre pare for the ministry. So to be with him I also had entered Biola, so we were both in church that night. At the altar, the Holy Spirit brought to my heart the peace that comes only with the assurance o f sal vation. Now I grew excited about discovering God’s will for my life. I determined to find it — and to obey. God’s first gracious move was to teach me something o f a walk of reliance upon Him. “ Faith without works is dead,” and work I did. To me each job came as an answer to prayer. On the day I was about to go without eating a restau rant called for a bus boy. Or a lady gave me work waxing her kitchen or pruning her fruit trees. I proved God faithful. The teaching at Biola was not simply academic. Men of God presented the Scripture in such a way that it took on flesh and blood. I felt that I must be a missionary now —not at some future date. There were plenty of opportunities, and I took many of them . . . Sunday school classes . . . street meetings
. . . jail services . . . rescue missions . . . Gospel teams . . . and preaching assignments. I could-not take in the, rich truths of the Gospel without giving them out. Otherwise I should have burst. I was getting more than lessons and theology. I was encountering a Person face to face and meet ing Him impels one to introduce Him to others. What happened to the China dream? I was too busy to think about China. After all, I was a mis sionary of sorts in Los Angeles. Honesty forces me to admit that the sight o f a lovely girl also played a part in making a foreign land less attractive. I first saw her at a Biola ban quet. “Did you notice that attractive, smiling bru nette sitting across from you, Ken?” I asked. “Notice her? You guess I did, Dick. Couldn’t take my eyes off her.” After a little spy work, Ken reported, “Her name is Margaret Humphrey. She is eighteen, a serious Christian, and a good student. As of this moment she is not going with anyone.” Whether she had a boy friend in her home town of Yakima, Ken did not know. I had gone with girls, some of whom I liked, others I didn’t. But from that night on I could not get Margaret off my mind. I watched her in class. I used any excuse to get close enough to talk with her. Sitting in my squeaky study chair, her pretty face would flash before me and I would dream. I managed one date—tennis together—before she started going with a friend. Now my only ave nue became prayer. I wrote her name on the top of my prayer list and asked God to give her to me. She became my one concern. She was more impor tant than China or the man across the street . . . more important than anything. Then God used a class on Romans to force me to face squarely up to the fact that I must be con cerned about the man across the sea as well as the one across the street. As the class moved through the first three chap ters of Romans, the Holy Spirit so illuminated the truths that it was like coming out o f the long night o f an Alaskan winter. First, the awfulness of mil lions being lost without Christ set up such a men tal conflict that for a time I questioned that “God is love.” But as I struggled and studied, the Holy Spirit took me to the Hill of the Skull. There I realized that the love and holiness, the wrath and justice of God, are simply part of His perfect immutable char acter. Does Calvary speak of unsurpassing love or
Dr. Hillis is founder and director of Overseas Crusades, Inc. The mission is headquartered in Palo Alto, California.
JANUARY, 1967
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