PRELUDE–November 1985
If I believed in omens, I would have been worried. After nineteen months of deputation and five months of planning, buying, and packing a 40-foot metal container with supplies and household items for our “maiden” years in Liberia, West Africa, our departure date had come! November 12, 1985, was the date that we had decided on even though we realized that it was very close to Thanksgiving and Christmas, making it more difficult for our families and us. Undeterred, there was just no stopping those new missionaries who had already turned eager eyes toward our country, our people whom God had given us!
Thinking back on the night before we were to leave, I do not believe that either Jeff or I slept very well. Our hearts and minds were full. We had no idea what to expect, what we should have been feeling, how we were to deal with emotions of that magnitude; a major separation from parents, family, the only culture we had ever known, everything familiar. For all that, the promised grace of God and a youthful, resilient bent for adventure were the things to which we held tightly during those early days. In the necessary letting go of precious things in our immediate lives, it had not yet become obvious to us that this letting go would be the only way to receive the reward of other precious things: souls to present to our Savior and the reality of seeing lives transformed by the teaching of His powerful Word. Often the best things come after relinquishing the good things in our lives. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son (John 3:16).
Early on the morning of November 12, we received a phone call from our Baptist Mid-Missions field representative. Thinking that perhaps he was just checking on us, we realized that it was way too early in the morning for that; his call turned out to be for a much different reason. During the night (but early morning in Liberia as it was 5 hours ahead of EST), there had been an attempted coup (government takeover) in the capital city of Monrovia which as a result caused the temporary suspending of all airline flights in and out of that country. It seemed there was significant chaos there, so we were told that our departure had been delayed until more news about the situation could be determined. Tentatively rescheduling our departure for December 3 gave us three more precious weeks to make more memories with family and friends. This was also bittersweet because everyone involved had psyched themselves up for our November departure!
Have you ever wished you could know the future? Most of us, at one time or another, have desired to know a little about our tomorrows. That said, I am infinitely thankful that our Heavenly Father did not show us the faintest peep of what we would experience in the next few years because of the changing political climate in Liberia. We were way too young, too enamored with our call, and too ignorant of third world politics to understand the potential fallout this attempted coup could produce in that small country in West Africa.
No, I do not believe in omens, but it might have been evident to someone with more missions experience that the world dynamics were again changing. With that shift, it would become necessary to completely redefine the methods of missiology, though that kind of subtle but elaborate change often emerged slowly, progressively. This time the shift foretold of extreme political reshaping in the third world arena. No paradigm was available for what we were to experience within the next few years. Simply put, our missionary career began on the precipice of uncertain days for foreign missions.
In spite of those looming and little understood changes happening in West Africa and beyond, we did leave in early December 1985, answering a powerful and resounding call that burned within both of us. A call to carry the Gospel of Christ to the precious people of Liberia, West Africa. It had always been our honest intentions to minister in Liberia for the rest of our lives. We were young, we were excited, we were ready for all that missionary life would throw at us. Or so we thought. Having read missionary stories about those that had ministered to the same people for thirty, even forty years, we could not imagine why it would be any different for us?
Providentially, our dreams of staying in one place for our entire missionary career did not come to pass, but it has still been an amazing journey. It is a story I deeply believe is worth telling, if for no other reason than to encourage you to allow God to be God in your life no matter what is going on around you–and to dissuade you from trying to regulate His plans for your life–no matter how confused and unsettled you may feel.
This is not to say that I never questioned Him. I think the writings here are candid enough for you to see that there was enough bellyaching and complaining on my part to rival the children of Israel in the wilderness. However, in timely retrospect, God has been faithful and I am learning to trust Him with those things closest to my heart.
CHAPTER ONE
Experience is something you don’t get until just after you need it. —Unknown
Long Journey to Our New Home
Traveling anywhere with a two-year old is an ordeal that any parent understands, but packing our daughter’s toys into a large wooden box several months ahead for the long journey to West Africa was heart-wrenching. Michelle, our vivacious redheaded little girl, did not understand why we were being so mean as to take all her toys away from her. How do you explain to a two-year old about a call to carry the Gospel of Jesus Christ across the ocean? There is a video of Michelle right before we left the States that explicates her confusion and frustration better than anything else. Michelle was playing with a kitten outside my parents’ home when someone asked her where her toys were. A scowl came across her face and in one fluid movement, she flung the poor kitten into the shrubbery and said, “aprica!” She had not the faintest idea what “Aprica” was, but it had her toys and she didn’t like it.
Michelle was not planned. We knew that we were going to be traveling to churches, doing deputation, and a baby seemed too complicated right then. Nevertheless, God KNEW what we needed: Michelle Ruth Abernethy. A beautiful, redheaded, independent spitfire of a girl with breathtaking brownish-black eyes and a smile that could bring down the hardest soul–that was our first daughter.
God had designed her perfectly for our lifestyle, and that wasn’t more evident than when we boarded the airplane with her for the first time. Not once did she cower from the new adventure. She loved it! She loved the special seats that reclined back, she loved being served dinner on the trays that dropped from the back of the seats, and she loved having a window seat so that she could see the other planes on the tarmac with us. She also had no reservation in doing her “number two” business in her pants and smelling up the entire economy class section of the plane. I thought for sure we would be thrown out a window.
When we arrived at the LaGuardia airport in New York, we still needed somehow to get to the JFK International terminal. Taxi seemed the cheapest way, so we hailed one. I remember the exhilaration welling up inside me that we were finally beginning our long-awaited missions adventure. As the taxi driver helped Jeff load our luggage into the car, I tried to keep up with Michelle. It was icy that December day in New York, and for some reason, Michelle darted towards the busy street. I lunged after her and performed my very first complete split (where was that talent in high school when I tried out for cheerleading?), but I got the prize!
The dart into the street must have been too much for Michelle because she fell asleep in the taxi, and even after arriving at the JFK airport, she slept for two more hours in the terminal on a couch. It was a gift from God to these two young missionary parents who were trying to get everything together for our international flight. Before long we noticed that we were missing a piece of luggage; of course, it would be the very one that contained all of Michelle’s clothes. Because it was a new suitcase, we had overlooked it.
Thankfully, after a phone call to LaGuardia, the suitcase was located and put into a taxi so as to get it to us quickly.
The suitcase made it just in time. In fact, we were the last ones to board the plane, the ones
