Be still and know that I am God…I will be exalted in the earth. Psalm 46:10

My elbows rest lightly on the barbed wire fence, steadying me against the force of the wind. It is my favorite spot. Below, the water follows its daily path, goaded on by the insistent prodding of the tide.

I stand alone, the breeze and the unmistakable presence of the Savior my only companions. The gardener is nearby, but takes little notice of me; I come here often.

I look out…farther…farther. A view that pictures and paintings could never duplicate is before me. Miles of rice fields stretch across the landscape, dotted with tiny bamboo houses. Little children lead herds of gaunt cows out to greener pastures. Other children float by in boats, using their long thin poles as rudder and paddle both. Some wave when they see the strange white foreigner up on the hill, and call out a Bengali hello. Others seem to mind being watched, and return my gaze with one of suspicion.

Throughout the beautifully sunny day, many people pass by. Some are walking, huge piles of wood balanced on their heads. Others are lying still under the meager shade the awning over their boat provides.

Life is all around me, but what kind of life? Jesus said He came that we might have life and have it more abundantly. I do not see abundant life around me.

How sad that these people are close enough to see the Christian hospital and the houses of the workers, but not close enough to see the Savior we represent. Day after day the same people leave and return with the tide, so close to the message, but not listening enough to hear it.

But, past that, past the great need and my earnest desire to meet it, is the gentle melody of my Father’s voice. I stop to remember…I too must listen.

I see His hand prints everywhere; His reason, His order and perfection are clearly evident in the nature all around me. I feel His touch in the gentle wind that wraps around me. I see His beauty, His creativity, His splendor and majesty in the breathtaking colors He slashes across the sky each sunset.

Beyond me, life goes on. A little brown-skinned boy is fishing in the shallow river below. But past that, I am tasting, fully experiencing my Savior’s love. I can clearly see that the LORD, my Jehovah, my Rock, is good.

He calls to me. It is not just to the lost, the hurting, the dying, but to me He calls—to know Him. That is why I am here—not to save the world, not to do good for Him, but to know Him and to be where He leads.

When I look at the millions, I feel dejected, helpless against such an insurmountable wall of need. But when I look up, I see that He is the reason I am here. He has called me and carried me here. He will lead me and be my Guide, my Comforter, and my Friend.

And along the way, as we walk together, He will draw them to Himself, I cannot but He can through me, around me, even in spite of me.

My elbows rest lightly on the rusty barbed wire fence, my frame enveloped in a windy embrace. I am content, for I am His.


This article is a classic originally published in our early print magazines.

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