House arrest 2
the master of antiwar!
When I could do nothing, even sitting was more difficult.
The conflict between despair and hope made my heart beat irregularly.
To calm my forcibly pounding heart, I lay down quietly, pressing my eyes with one arm.
The creaking sound of the charpai as I moved continued to irritate my ears.
There was no time to blame anyone. I was most resentful of my inability to express myself clearly in the local language. I couldn't ask people passing by on the street, nor could I confront the police outside.
The time of waiting quietly, doing nothing, was
the greatest training for me.
Church members who heard about our situation did their best to ensure our safety and meet our needs.
The more difficult the time, the more it seemed that the passive community suddenly became active and united.
A few days passed, and one day someone knocked on the front gate.
Startled, I hurriedly opened the door to find the police.
They said they were lifting the house arrest by order from above.
The police cars and officers surrounding the house all left.
I felt an exhilarating happiness, as if blood was flowing through my entire body, and I suddenly wanted to run outside.
I had desperately hoped for such a day, and though I knew it would come, hearing it directly made my legs go weak.
My husband, the missionary, and I rejoiced, saying, "God did this!" We shared the encouragement and assurance we felt when we prayed together a few days ago.
How can we give up mission work
when God directly performs miracles like this?
We encouraged each other, happily went to the market for the first time in a while, and were joyful.
That day, a church evangelist came and explained how we were released.
All the church members and villagers praying for our situation gathered and wrote a petition declaring our innocence to the government officials.
During our house arrest, their petition went through various processes and reached the court and the police, receiving approval.
Through this shocking time, we experienced a miracle, and more importantly, we gained precious friends.
The missionary's dedicated life had touched everyone around and brought many changes to the entire village.
So all the locals united to untangle the legal mess beautifully for the wronged missionary.
In every country where missionaries work, misunderstandings arise due to cultural and linguistic differences.
Especially the financial support used for missions always becomes a source of misunderstanding for local workers.
When we were working, we were actually poorer than the local workers.
What could people, who came with just one bag, know or possess in an unknown land?
What could people, who didn’t know the culture or language well, enjoy?
At that time, bank conditions were unimaginably slow compared to now, and there were many bank accidents, so just receiving funds safely on the due date was a miracle. So, not only mission funds but also living expenses made us tense every month.
But who would know the inside story if we didn’t speak up?
We went there to share everything we had… What more could we ask for?
The house arrest situation occurred due to a misunderstanding by the local pastor.
It was a painful time as we couldn't meet and talk to him in detail, and even the local leaders we worked with felt sorry.
All the fearful situations suddenly disappeared like an ebbing tide.
It felt like God was watching from heaven.
I felt that God was seeing us, who knew nothing, helping the missionary build bricks one by one.
Thus, the foreigners became friends living together with the locals.
The time we stayed there was short and intense.
Even now, in my middle age, just thinking about it makes my heart race…
And the school that the next missionaries started very small under a tree gradually formed grades, then a middle school, a high school, and now it is said to have a university.
The village that lived in poverty saw many changes, and the passionate dedication of the local church members led to the establishment of several more churches.
The time of incomprehensible persecution and suffering for the missionaries…
Watching our local colleagues grow more beautifully as we lived through it with patience and tears to solve the situation with love.
And believing that only the dedication to run without fearing death for the love of someone could become the living driving force to pass on for the next generation to run more wonderfully.
Those painful times became a joyful medal for the missionaries.
