The Awakening: Revival in China: 1927-1937 by Marie Monsen

Author:Marie Monsen [Monsen, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian Life, Prayer, Religion, Christian
ISBN: 9781937428013
Google: Y7k_XwAACAAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 13252175
Publisher: Kingsley Press
Published: 2011-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

To Pietaiho

In 1929, while helping at meetings in Port Arthur in Manchuria, it was made clear to me that I was to go to Peitaiho that summer. Peitaiho is a well-known health resort by the sea in northeast China, not far from the Great Wall. Hundreds of missionaries used to gather there, and meetings were arranged each summer at which speakers from England, America and other countries ministered.

It came as a shock when the realization dawned that perhaps it was to minister that the Lord was sending me there. I was not a suitable person for that and I knew it right well, so my answer was: “Lord, if I am to go there, I leave all the arranging to Thee; I will not take a single step in that direction.”

A week later a telegram came from the leaders of the summer conference in Peitaiho containing an invitation to spend the summer there. One of the women missionaries I had met in Chefoo, one who was longing for revival, was among the leaders of the Peitaiho meetings, and had proposed my being asked.

It was not joyfully I went. The one comfort was: God is God, He is not like us, He chooses the things that are not. But it was not pleasant to be traveling towards the work there feeling a mere nothing.

The train arrived late one evening. The unhappy traveler was met by a newcomer to the mission field who was acting as the Jack-of-all-trades that summer at the Leaders’ House. He was a smartly set-up American and did not take long to size up dowdy me. Before we reached the house, he was through with me, very patently so—as was natural!

One of the great missionary leaders, who had his own reasons for having asked to sit beside me at table, came to exactly the same conclusion. He too had soon finished with me. Again, it was perfectly reasonable. I sat there feeling like a sparrow in the heron’s dance. This missionary leader was a godly man and a man of prayer. His name was known among all China missionaries, and indeed, in missionary circles all over the world. Like everyone else, I had real reverence for him, not least for his life of prayer, nor did I esteem him less later on.

He made a deliberate effort to clip the wings of the “sparrow,” and he did it thoroughly. He met with no opposition whatever, nor a single word in self-defense.

It was a help that I found at once what I needed most in this hour of need—intercessors. The first morning session was allotted to “the sparrow,” who was allowed a free choice of theme. The theme was given by the One who had sent me there.

“The clipper of wings” sat in a seat near the front right opposite the speaker. There were two empty pews between us. It felt, before the first meeting was over, as if he had turned into a mighty Himalayan mountain over which the message could not pass to reach the crowd of missionaries behind him.

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