Yesterday I did something that impacted me very deeply. I had the honor of accompanying Uncle Garreth Wiederkher to the grave of his oldest son, who died in Sierra Leone in 1975, the same year, incidentally, that my family and I came to Sierra Leone. "Uncle" Garreth is not really my uncle, but as missionary kids (MKs) we called all adults either Uncle or Aunt. This was for two reasons. One, it was more respectful than calling an adult by his or her first name, and is less formal than Mr. or Mrs. Secondly, when you have left all of your family half way around the world in an age in which there are no phones or internet and letters take months to arrive...if they come at all...well, the other missionaries become your family.
Uncle Garreth and Aunt Treeva were dorm parents at the MK school that I later attended. In fact, Uncle Garreth was the one who came up with the famous "Persuader". The "Persuader" was a wooden paddle with holes in it that was used for punishing those who truly deserved it. Now, please don't worry...I am NOT talking about child abuse here. However, when you are parenting 30 + children... especially MKs... well, let's just say that being able to "Persuade" is absolutely essential. The "Persuader" was rarely used...but OFTEN talked of in hushed and reverent tones...so reverent in fact, that the dorm parents, whomever they may be at the time, had to do very little. See, the big kids would tell all the new, incoming, first graders that the holes were to let the blood out...and well, we were all scared enough at the sight of it that it was almost never needed.
BUT, I digress...what I witnessed first-hand today was sacrifice. This precious man of God...and I do NOT use that term for very many people...has been talking to me about the power of prayer, and the fact that very few people understand the burden, the vision, and the sacrifice required of an intercessor. Uncle Gareth has not been in Sierra Leone for more than 30 years, and yet he has never forgotten the people of Sierra Leone and their need to hear of the gospel. He carries that burden as an intercessor to the throne of God... and even more than that...he has a vision to reignite the American church with a passion for prayer and an understanding of the cost of being an intercessor. I wish that you could talk to him and hear story after story of his upbringing with praying parents, of the way that God protected him in WWII, and of the power of God in his life as he served as a missionary and an intercessor.
I cannot express to you in words...they fail me...the humble awe that I felt...standing in the African sun...surrounded by 15 foot high elephant grass...and watching as this man... this intercessor who understands the incredible cost...knelt at his own sons grave. A grave with no name...as the rebels took off the engraved plate during the war...a grave lost in the bush and surrounded by overgrowth...a grave that he had not been able to visit in over 30 years...the grave of his son who died while he served God wholeheartedly...half a world away from family and friends. And yet...no word of complaint or regret ever came from his lips. WOW! Could you do that?
God did... His only Son died...
for YOU!
And THAT folks, is why we are here.