The Good Fight

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Today I was reading a poem titled The Soldier’s Prayer by Amy Charmichael (a famous missionary to India in the 1800’s). A friend of mine had written it, and a prayer, out for me as I had left the USA for the first time to move overseas. At the time she had given it to me I had thought how incredible Amy Charmichael must have been, how much I had to live up to, how mature and advanced her relationship with the Lord must have been as I pondered the intense words of the poem. But as I read it today it struck me, that the bold words of Christian “heroes of the faith” may not actually have been the current spiritual state of said “heroes” but instead the words they penned may have instead been their heart cry, their aim, their hope.



Every once in a while, I have this bad habit (or maybe not so bad) of pulling out my old journals and reading them. Sometimes it centers me and refocuses me, and sometimes it just plain discourages me. But I noticed one thing as I flipped through a journal from my college years. My rambling writing, my heart cry, has been very similar to the heart cry of those I have always called “heroes.” That’s not to equate myself with them, because I’m certainly not them or anywhere near where they eventually ended up spiritually, but it is encouraging to know that I’m on the same track, that who and what they were is not unreachable.


So, as I list up my perceived “wins” and “fails” I think I’m starting to get a better perspective on what it looks like to be a “successful” missionary. It really has very little to do with “success” at all and very much to do with a heart that yearns for more of God, to be more like Him and to bring others close to him as well, however small, large, perfect or imperfect the trying.

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