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after hearing a few sentences like “He
is a fair dinkum bloke and he lost a stone
in a fortnight,” I realized it definitely
was not American English.

T he only place we could find to rent to
start a church was a place called Mt.

Gravatt Show Ground Hall, and my description of it
was the same as my description of the “flat” where we
lived. UGLY, UGLY! Also, we had to share it with a
men’s group called the Royal Order of the Buffaloes.

They were there on Sunday afternoons and obviously
spent a lot of time consuming huge kegs of beer. When
we arrived for our Sunday evening service, the building
“reeked” with the smell of cigarettes and beer.

We prayed, witnessed, passed out literature, and
knocked on doors and within a short time, we had a small
congregation. In the back room of the Show Ground
Hall, which of course, had no air conditioning, I had the
challenge of trying to teach a dozen unruly children who
had never been to Sunday school before and who had no
concept of how to sit still or how to behave.

Day by day, the heat, the culture
shock, and the homesickness
began to affect me physically,
emotionally, and spiritually. My
days became filled with thoughts
of what we had left behind, our
family, our friends, our church
that my husband had pastored, and
our country. I could feel all the
happiness that I had ever known
gradually seep away until one day
it was completely gone. I dutifully
did all the things I was supposed
to do, but I felt like a robot. I had
no joy, no laughter, and no beauty
in my life.

16 O
ne day, James asked if I
would sing a solo in church
the following Sunday. I consented
to do it. However, deep in my heart
I did not want to because I felt like the
Israelites who hanged their harps on the willows
and said, How can we sing the Lord’s song in a
strange land? During the week, I flipped through
the pages of songbooks, looking for a song. To me,
it did not matter because I was only doing what I
was asked to do. Finally, I decided which song I
would sing and put it out of my mind until it was
time to do my duty.

Life Gate Baptist, Brisbane
1 st Anniversary



S
unday came and I stood before the congregation in that old dilapidated community
center. The accompanist played the introduction and I began to sing.

Born among cattle, in poverty sore, Living in meekness by Galilee’s shore,
Dying in shame as the wicked ones swore: Jesus, wonderful Lord!
C horus
Wonderful, wonderful Jesus! He is my friend, true to the end;
He gave Himself to redeem me–Jesus, wonderful Lord!
Weary–yet He is the world’s only rest, Hungry and thirsty–with plenty has
blest, Tempted–He promises grace for each test: Jesus, wonderful Lord!
Friend of the friendless–betrayed and denied, Help of the weak–in Gethsemane
cried, Light of the world–in gross darkness He died: Jesus, wonderful Lord!
Something precious happened as I was singing. The
Holy Spirit whispered to my heart and said, “Mary, I
know everything is different, but Jesus is the same
wonderful Jesus here as He was in America because He
is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” Suddenly, my
eyes were lifted above my circumstances. The shabby
old show ground hall became a palace. God was there.

His presence was real. Before I had finished the song,
the joy of my salvation had been restored.

In time, the Lord provided a more suitable home for
our family, and the congregation was able to purchase
their own property. We were blessed to be able to win
people to the Lord whose memory we still cherish, and
the light of the Gospel has been shining from Life Gate
Baptist Church in Brisbane, Queensland
— for
over 50 years.

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