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Left to right: J. R. Faulkner, Lee Roberson, Bob Jones Sr., John R. Rice. Four great men—but they never knew they were
great. They considered themselves servants of the most High God reaching their generation for Jesus Christ.

“I believe that in each generation God has called
enough men and women to evangelize all the yet
unreached tribes of the earth. It is not God who
does not call. It is man who will not respond!”
— Isobel Kuhn, Missionary to China
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by Mary Ray
Mary Ray Singing in Australia
T he sound of someone banging on the side door awakened me out of a deep sleep.

Startled! I sat up in bed and wondered who it could be. Then, I remembered that
it was Monday and oh, yes, it would be Harry, the landlord. I never understood
why he had to come so early, but every Monday morning he was there with his hand outstretched waiting for the
rent money. My husband, James, would place the cash in his hand and he would be on his way. He never said a
word: no “good morning,” no “thank you,” no “goodbye.”
I sleepily made my way into the kitchen to try to
light the burners on what must have been the first gas
cooking stove that was ever invented. I looked at my
surroundings and concluded that Harry, the landlord,
must surely own the ugliest “flat” in Australia. Instead
of doors, the bedrooms had some old threadbare
curtains that provided no privacy. There was no sink in
the bathroom which meant we had to go to the laundry
room to wash our hands. There were no screens on the
windows so the flies and mosquitoes came and went
as they pleased. The mattresses and beds were ancient.

Our four-year-old son fell off his bed every night for
two weeks until he discovered the art of “holding on.”
Then, of course, there was that gas cooker!
like this to live.” No matter how many conversations I
had with myself about being content, I always ended up
with the same thoughts about the apartment. It was just
ugly and inconvenient.

We had just arrived as missionaries to Australia. During
our deputation, we had presented our ministry in a
hundred churches in nine months. In every church we
had been described as Sacrificial Servants of the Lord
and Heroes of the Faith. With those words still ringing
in my ears, I realized that my life was not going to be
quite as adventurous as I had anticipated, and I certainly
did not feel like a Hero of the Faith. Everything was
different. The seasons are reversed, so Christmas is in
the middle of summer. When going north, it gets hotter
I tried to be grateful by saying, “There are probably some and when going south, it gets colder. Australians drive
missionaries in Africa who would love to have a place on the other side of the road. They speak English, but
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