By Missionary Clint Vernoy in Paraguay

The Scribe asked Jesus, “Who then is our neighbor?” Many people today are asking a similar question of missionaries: “Haven’t we gone far enough?” Let me answer that question just as Christ did…with a story.

After working in the cities of Venezuela as a missionary for almost nine years, God changed our location. We went from the city, deep into the jungles of Venezuela. God gave us a wonderful opportunity to live in the village of Chajurana. We lived in an Indian’s house when we first arrived in the village. It would take us nearly six months to get just the shell of our new home built. There was no electricity or running water. Our only contact with the outside world came through a small shortwave radio and the missionary plane that came once a month.

Our first few months were very difficult. My wife, son and daughter all came down with malaria. The hardships were very new to us and I began to wonder if we were wise to be in the village with so few modern things. Quite a few people had said things like: “Why go there?” Or, “Is it really necessary?” Our phrase when things went wrong was, “It is God’s will for us to be here, so….”

After a few months one of the Christians in the village invited me to accompany him to another village up river where he had family. When we got there, I was left alone to wander the village while my friend went to visit his family. No one in the village would come near me since I was a stranger. I couldn’t speak their language even if they did come close. I began to ask myself, “What am I doing here?” It seemed sort of useless, but God had other plans.

Eventually, a young girl came walking up to me. And even more surprising…she spoke to me. A friend from Chajurana translated. “Are you a missionary?” She asked. “Yes, I am,” I replied. “Are you a Gospel missionary or a Catholic missionary?” Surprised by the nature of her question I said, “I am a Gospel preaching missionary.” She said, “Follow me. My grandmother wants to talk to you.”

We followed her into a little grass hut, where we found a very old and frail grandmother. She proceeded to ask me the same questions. “Are you a missionary?” “Yes, I am.” “Are you a Gospel preaching missionary?” “Yes, I am.” Once she settled on who and what I was, she began to unfold her story.

“I am from Brazil. I know that I will be dying soon, so I came here to see some of my family that I haven’t seen in years…to say goodbye. I saw you out there and I had to know who you were. When I was a little girl, a missionary visited our village once and taught us many things. He did not speak our language very well and I was so young I do not remember much of what he said. But this is what I do remember, he said there was once a man, who was also God…that man loved me and died for me. Do you know that story?” she asked. With tears in my eyes I answered, “Yes, I do.” “Could you tell me why He died for me—and could you tell me His name?”

Over the next hour, I told her the story of Jesus Christ, of why He came…and died…and rose again. She became my sister in Christ that day. I got back into the canoe and went back to our village. Two weeks later, I learned that she had died. She went to Heaven—to see the one who loved her enough to die for her. She knew his name. And He knew hers.

How Far Is Far Enough?

Thursday, September 9, 2010

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

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