A Chance to Die
Page 35
I would not breathe an alien, other air,
I would be with Thee, O Thou fairest Fair.
For I would see the beauty of my Lord,
And hear Him speak, Who is my heart’s Adored.
O Love of loves, and c an such wonder dwell
In Thy great Name of names, Immanuel?
Thou with Thy child, Thy child at home with Thee,
O Lord my God, I love, I worship Thee.2
While she “went in and looked her Redeemer in the face with joy,” those she had left behind, the people who loved her, came during the morning to see her face one more time. They covered her bed with flowers. At noon she was carried to the village church where, for an hour and a half, the boys of the Family sang while the people streamed by. One of Amma’s oldest friends in India, Bishop G. T. Selwyn of Tinnevelly, led the service, with others taking part, including two Indian men who spoke of her and her work, giving glory to God. Between twelve and fifteen hundred cards were distributed, giving verses on eternal life and the way of salvation.
Barbara Osman wrote:
As the chimes in the tower rang out the tune of “Ten Thousand Times Ten Thousand,” Amma was carried to the House of Prayer and our own service was held there an hour later. The House of Prayer was filled with our men and women, school boys and girls, together with representatives from the servants and work-people, and friends from the village. The “Widow of the Jewels” was there, finding it hard not to sob aloud. Neela, who has been with Amma all through these long years, was standing erect as we joined in singing “Alleluia! The strife is o’er, the battle won.”
John read some verses—Matthew 25:21, II Timothy 4:6-8, and Philippians 1:19-21—then, after thanksgiving and prayer, we moved slowly to God’s Garden, singing all the time. It was a very long stream of people, mostly clad in white, with children among them, waving ferns instead of palms as a sign of victory.
By the graveside Devabakti read I Corinthians 15:50-58 in a gloriously clear and steady voice, though his eyes were full of tears. When Amma had been laid to rest, the boys led the way round the Garden, which we encircled, coming back to the huge old tamarind tree at the entrance, and pausing there for the end of the service.
It was Tara who led the unaccompanied singing, helped by a younger sister. Neither of them faltered. God’s grace was seen in all those who are women now (some of them grey-haired)—Chellalu, Lola, and Leela, Preena, Suseela, Rukma, and too many more to mention.
At seven o’clock we gathered once more in the House of Prayer to sing of the Heavenly Country, where many of our Family are now, safe at Home forever.
None of the graves in God’s Garden is marked by a headstone. Only one is marked at all. Under the old tamarind is a stone table for the pleasure of some of Amma’s friends, the dear birds. On the pedestal is inscribed a single word, AMMAI. It is the polite form of her mother-name. Beneath it is the date when they laid her there under the tamarind.
Bird table marking Amy’s grave.
1. Toward Jerusalem, p. 39.
2. Ibid, p. 116.
Epilogue
So she finished her course—Amy Carmichael, one of the tens of thousands of lovers of the Lord who staked everything on His faithfulness. Her life is another case in point of how grace goes to work on the raw material of individual nature. Was she a fool? Yes, for the same reason the apostle Paul was: for Christ’s sake. Were all her geese swans? Did she see stars where the rest of us see nothing but mud? Yes, they were and she did. Was she therefore deluded? Our answer must take into account that some are able to see the image of Christ in ordinary people and radiance in common things, while others cannot see either (His loved children or that pervasive radiance) as anything but common. Which are the more deluded?
“The unspiritual man simply cannot accept the matters which the Spirit deals with—they just don’t make sense to him, for, after all, you must be spiritual to see spiritual things. The spiritual man, on the other hand, has an insight into the meaning of everything, though his insight may baffle the man of the world.”1
Our enemy and God’s is always busily at work distorting our vision, throwing confusion into our minds lest we see the glory that God is waiting to show us in everything that makes up our lives—the people we love, our homes, our work, our sufferings. Deep things he makes us believe are shallow, high things low, our deep hunger for the transcendent a will-o-the-wisp. Look for proofs, he whispers. Where are the proofs? Let’s have statistics. Did it work? Was she real? Is it true? The questions are valid ones. They cannot be ignored, nor can they be answered finally except in the realm where faith operates, the Unseen. We may and we must look at the visible, but let us remember that there is far more to be taken into account. We may not always insist on visible corroborations, for they don’t tell the whole story. The gold, silver, and precious stones may be in safe deposit where we can’t get at them.
Often as I sat at her writing table in the Room of Peace, studying the carved mottoes on the walls, fingering the tattered and stained logbooks, I wondered about these things. I heard the bells from the House of Prayer, the distant voices of children, the jingle of a bullock bandy. In front of me on the tiled floor were four marks where her bed had stood. Amy had been in the presence of the Lord for more than thirty years. The room was not a museum, the compound had not been turned into a memorial park. The place was alive. Work was being done.
Will “the work” last? In Dohnavur, no. The logbooks will crumble. The House of Prayer can’t be everlasting. The children grow up and go. There will be an end to it. We may draw up a list of known results, but our criteria are restricted. What were the longterm effects in the lives of India and around the world? Some are visible. God knows the rest. None but He knows the steadiness of her obedience, the unseen struggle, the hidden offerings, the quality of faith.
If there should appear in the twentieth century one who was truly holy, a missionary who actually believed in the word of the Master and the worth of the assigned task, a Christian who never served Mammon, who, though human and failing, nevertheless kept a sense of the glory and dignity of having been redeemed and called by God—if such a person should appear, would we say “Away with him! Crucify him!”? Not out loud. There are other ways of banishing those who, because they live out the Truth, make us uncomfortable. We can deny the possibility of purity. We can refuse to tolerate superiority. If we are tempted to recognize them as true heroes, we can bolster our self-esteem by pulling them down to our level.
Was Amma “more human” when she sinned (or was sick or lonely or Victorian) than when she prayed, wrote a poem, rescued a child? All are human, the latter perhaps essentially more so in that she therein fulfilled her God-given destiny.
Make us Thy labourers,
Let us not dream of ever looking back,
Let not our knees be feeble, hands be slack,
O make us strong to labour, strong to bear,
From the rising of the morning till the stars appear.
Make us Thy warriors,
On whom Thou canst depend to stand the brunt
Of any perilous charge on any front,
Give to us skill to handle sword and spear
From the rising of the morning till the stars appear.
Not far from us, those stars,
Unseen as angels and yet looking through
The quiet air, the day’s transparent blue.
What shall we know, and feel, and see, and hear
When the sunset colours kindle and the stars appear?2
The Dohnavur Fellowship
More than fifty years have passed since Amy Carmichael’s death. The principles on which she founded the Fellowship remain the same, based on the pattern set in the Bible, but the Fellowship has moved with the times and is no longer the isolated, protected Christian community of Amy’s day.
For some years boys, for whom there are other Christian Homes in the area, have not been admitted. The last boys left in 1984 after compl
eting their education. Many of the Old Boys are active witnesses for Christ, and keep in touch and pay visits with their families.
Although the dedication of girls to the temples is now illegal, there are still many babies and young girls who, without protection, would fall into the hands of those wishing to exploit or abuse them. The Fellowship seeks out such children in order to give them a secure, happy Christian home. After completing their education and training, many marry or take jobs, and Amy’s children can be found all over India serving the Lord, often in very respectable positions. They continue to regard Dohnavur as home, and some eventually return as fellow-workers.
The leadership of the work is now almost entirely Indian. For instance, the medical superintendent of the hospital grew up in Dohnavur from infancy. The hospital treats patients from the surrounding countryside, Hindus, Muslims, and Christians (who are in the minority), rich and poor, educated and illiterate. It aims to demonstrate the love of the Lord by the standard of its medical and personal care, and it works for spiritual as well as physical healing.
There are many different facets to the work and several outposts. Always the goal is the same: “We preach Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.”
For support the Fellowship depends on the faithfulness of the Lord, who leads His children to send what is needed and Himself balances the books. Most of all it depends on prayer.
The Dohnavur Fellowship
(In the United Kingdom)
Dohnavur, Tirunelveli Dist.
15 Elm Drive
Tamil Nadu 627 102
North Harrow
INDIA
Middlesex HA2 78S
ENGLAND
BOOKS BY AMY CARMICHAEL IN PRINT IN THE UNITED STATES
Published by Christian Literature Crusade
Candles in the Dark
Edges of His Ways
Figures of the True
Gods Missionary
Gold by Moonlight
Gold Cord
His Thoughts Said. . . His Father Said
If
Mimosa
Rose From Brier
Thou Givest. . . They Gather
Toward Jerusalem
Published by Fleming H. Revell Company
Whispers of His Power
Published by Zondervan Publishing House
If
1. 1 Corinthians 2:14, 15 (Phillips).
2. Toward Jerusalem, p. 98.
Elisabeth Elliot is a popular speaker, radio teacher, and much-loved author. Her first book, Through Gates of Splendor, became a best seller, and she went on to author more than twenty-five books, including Passion and Purity and The Journals of Jim Elliot. She and her husband, Lars Gren, live in Magnolia, Massachusetts. For more information on Elisabeth Elliot’s books, please visit www.elisabethelliot.org.