THESE ARE WRITINGS OF MY DAD WHEN HE WENT TO AFRICA WITH A GROUP.
PSALMS 41:1-3 KJV 1.(To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.) Blessed is he that considereth the
poor: the LORD will deliver him in time of trouble.
2.The LORD will preserve him, and keep him alive; and he shall be blessed upon the earth: and thou
wilt not deliver him unto the will of his enemies.
3.The LORD will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing: thou wilt make all his bed in his
THE PRECIOUS ONES
Their team was chosen by God,
He picked the elite of our nation, transported them to African sod.
They are doing a job that is amazing,
Doing it just for their Lord---Oh, it has not been easy.
Homesick so bad they could die,
Would only last for a moment, as they turned their face to the sky.
From village to village been teaching, never a complaining note,
Wonder what they have been eating? They have switched from McDonald's to goat.
Waterbeds they now dream of as their arms hang off a cot,
Many devotions at sundown under a starry sky.Wonder what I dream of?.....A great big pizza pie.
All wore a smile on their faces as bright as the southern cross,
God put His hands on them....they now let Him be boss.
Don't worry worry about them, you may never know how they feel,
I am sure when our Saviour formed these, He cast them from spring steel.
I know we are proud of our heroes, some have walked on the moon,
But these are gathering the harvest....Jesus is coming real soon.
Silhouetted on an African skyline, as he starts another day,
Using part of his quiet time, I saw him kneel and pray.
He is now depending on Jesus as he never has before,
Here in a hostile country upon a foreign shore.
They have been sick in this wasteland, but would not stay in bed,
Ten miles beyond the Great Commission, I believe someone has said.
Wind so cold on this desert chills you down to the bone,
But over and over they give out Acts 16:31 KJV 31.And they said,
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.
When he tries to tell you and chokes up, be patient a little while,
He is remembering a sea of faces, remembering those hopeless eyes.
God will bless each one that helped send him, as sure as there is a sun,
Souls they won for Jesus, five hundred and eight one.
With the last red glow of the embers, as the thin smoke dies away.
Won some more for Jesus.....the end of a perfect day.
Waiting here in Africa one day from going home,
Had mixed feelings about coming; it is tough to be alone.
I am sure you have guessed it as I came the second time,
God wanted to bless me and send shivers up my spine.
He put me with a group of preachers as different as could be,
From a first church preacher down to fat old me.
Tell you God sent a blessing out in that dirt and cold,
The way souls came to Jesus was a wonder to behold.
There were even villages that had never heard His name,
Was like New Testament times, the way God's power came.
When they would go into a village, first thing that they would say,
"Jesus, bid old Satan...keep him out of the way."
There was demon possession, no way to deny,
They were subject to Jesus as the preachers had a try.
Montezuma made all sick, as we knew that he would do,
If you have ever been to Mexico he has probably chased you too.
Could have been the soda water or the goat,
We filled ourselves with Pepto Bismol, hoping we would not croak.
One night at Chucumba, a pastor climbed a tree,
Threw back his head and hollered bring the people out to see.
You can imagine our disgust...about two dozen cattle came charging out of the dust,
Another stood up and preached....the power of God came down,
Souls were won to Jesus while the cattle stood around.
Would never forget the view as the sun was sinking low,
The cold would soon renew....I would go and get my jacket and wish they had one too.
As the moon came up each night,
It would bathe the sandy wasteland in an eerie sort of light.
The clothes were rotting off their back, what little they had,
One of the men there said, don't send good things---just send us your rags.
On the wasteland they call the bush, the air is dry and clear,
Day is over, the stars come out---they seem so very near.
Overhead is the milky-way, the southern cross hangs low,
And quiet as falling snow.
Eight churches were formed this time,nearly a thousand decisions made,
Could tell by the glow of their faces and light in their eyes, most of them were saved.
Thanks friends for sending me, the doors are beginning to close,
But there are grounded national men, who will water what was sowed.
God will make it grow,
When you send someone you have a part you know.
God bless our nation, make us understand,
All the joys He has given us in this our blessed land.
Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord---we hear the Psalmist say,
Don't be fearful, tell your friends, see them saved today.
GOD'S MAN IN ZIMBABWE
On the South African border is a lanky son of God,
Did not want to come here, but Jesus gave the nod.
O.K. Lord, I will go there but, make it plain to me,
In just two hours I am leaving and me they will never see.
Jesus knows what He is doing, had already paved the way,
Get your self on over, He will show you where to stay.
Here comes a little lady climbing over the fence,
In an awful hurry to see what God had sent.
You are the one we prayed for, there is a house that you can rent,
We need someone to lead us, call the people to repent.
I am sure you are the one....lay out the master plan,
Smiling face with tear streaked cheeks doing everything you can,
Helping to lead a people bring Jesus to their land,
The spirit of this man is living,
As long as there are men like you.
Sure the harvest is plenty....workers are so few.
Seven churches in just one week, you lay your plans real well,
The joys of being with you are more than we can tell.
We are not leaving out your wife, she puts life back in you,
Was not for the pretty lady you would be stuck with old goat stew.
As we head for home on the airplane, I will never be the same,
We are all so happy....happy that we came.
ERNEST BOWMAN'S TRIP TO ZIMBABWE IN 1986.