The war was over. Friendly relations between countries were again established. Both missionaries had had profitable furloughs: time for rest and spiritual refreshment, and many opportunities to make known the needs, the difficulties, and the triumphs of the mission field. Then—something happened. Both men fully expected to get back to their original fields of work, to see again those dear Christians, their sons and daughters in the Lord—but neither did. Another call came to each, and neither could return to his former field. Others went instead—others who knew little about the history of the stations, or what work had been done there. What did these men find in these two fields? I think you can guess!
Mr. Beaver's station had always been supplied with plenty of money from abroad. By becoming a Christian a man could obtain a certain amount of relief money, perhaps a job, or free schooling for his children. Many had learned "the language of Zion" and had been taken into the church who had never had a change of heart. When war broke out and the missionary left, the jobs were finished, and the school closed down. There was no one to pay the evangelists, and they gradually drifted away to other places or into secular jobs. The deacons and elders had been accustomed to taking orders from Mr. Beaver and had had no real experience in looking after things themselves. Even some of those leaders were of the group that had joined the church, not because they had really repented and turned to Christ, but for the material benefits they could get.
As soon as Mr. Beaver left, they quarreled among themselves as to which one would take his place and be the "big chief." There was no one capable of taking services, because such things had always been in the hands of Mr. Beaver and his paid workers, who now were gone. None of the elders or deacons had ever preached a sermon in his life. Some tried, but their efforts did not draw the crowds, and attendance soon dwindled to almost nothing. Then quarrels about the property began. True, it belonged not to them, but to the mission board; but surely it was up to the church to look after it while the missionary was gone! Several so-called Christian families moved into the empty buildings, with or without the agreement of the deacons and elders; but then, thought they, the buildings should be occupied, and of course these people will pay us rent! (They never did.) Church services gradually ceased. A few faithful Christians remained true to the Lord, and met in a home for occasional services; but since none had been trained to lead meetings, all they could do was sing, read the Bible, and pray.
But what had happened at the other station? There the case was far different. They had gone through the sorrows of war, but they had done so with the Lord at their side. Continuing the work of the church was no problem—they had been doing it themselves all along. Money was hard to get, and many young men had to go to war; but the hearts of the people were open as never before, and they had baptisms once and again. They missed Mr. Trainer very much; but they were driven more than ever to the Lord, and found Him sufficient for their every need.
It is easy to say that one man was right and the other was wrong. But how many of us would not have followed in the footsteps of Mr. Beaver if we had not been warned? And how many of us missionaries today, even though warned, are not still in danger of making ourselves the little center around which the mission station revolves?
"It's all very well to say that the Christians should take the responsibility from the very beginning," we think; "but here it is impossible. These people are too poor! And they are too ignorant! No, they certainly would do everything wrong if I let them take the lead!" And so we go on telling everyone what he ought to do, and seeing that he does it; and in the eyes of the young believers the Christian life becomes simply a matter of doing what the missionary says.
That is not the way that Paul built churches. Great and dynamic character that he was, he so taught and led his groups of young Christians that when after a few months or a year or two he left them they were able to carry on by themselves, and even to grow. He did not put up church buildings for them, nor schools, nor give them "grants." He brought them to the place where they could function as living churches, in direct union with the Head, and not centered upon himself. His efforts were directed to building up churches that would be able to stand alone, because they stood in the strength of the One who upheld Paul.
Why is it so easy for us missionaries to think that we know how to do the work of the Lord better than any mission field convert, especially if that one has been led to the Lord by us? Doing the Lord's work is not fundamentally a matter of knowledge, training, or even experience. It may be true that I have had years of Bible training, and the little old woman with whom I am going out visiting has never been to any sort of school a day in her life; that I have traveled around the world, and she has never been thirty miles from the place where she was born; that I have heard the Gospel and studied the Bible all my life, and she has known it for only a few short years. I was born again twenty-five or thirty years ago; she has been the Lord's own for three or four years. Suppose we go to call on someone who is ill or in trouble. I get out a poster, and carefully explain the Gospel. The woman we are visiting listens to me with her mouth open; and after twenty minutes of as clear and simple preaching as I am capable of, when I am just getting to my climax, she lays her hand on my sleeve and asks earnestly, "Did you make this dress yourself?"
My heart sinks to my boots. Is that what she has been thinking about all this time? Is that why she fixed her eyes on me so intently? What's the use anyway?