I’m continuing to read and be inspired by the lives of protestant missionaries.  My current favorite is a book by Isobel Kuhn, a missionary to the Lisu people in China in the 1940’s.  The book is entitled In the Arena and basically recounts the challenges she faced in her daily life as a married woman and mother living in, in all reality, the outskirts of the world, high in the mountains.  Here is her account of  “one of those days.”  A little background: she was about to start a Bible School for some of the natives, her husband was out of town, the missionary, Charles, who came to help her came down with rheumatic fever, and it was the rainy season.

It was a Sunday, Eva [her helper] had gone to church.  I was going to go to bed early but had a feeling that I should go down to Charles’ cabin first and see if he needed any help.  He did.  The rheumatic fever was getting under way now, and he was in such pain that he needed a shot of morphine.  So back up the slippery path I went to sterilize the hypodermic needle.  Behold, the charcoal fire in the kitchen was almost out.  With much blowing and coaxing I got a few coals hot enough to boil it the ten minutes required.  Then down the mountainside I went again with the pot and needle.  But I had never given an injection before this as John [her husband] had always done it for me.  Charles was suffering yet I hated to experiment on him.  I felt I must confess my inexperience to him.

“Oh, it’s easy,” said Charles, picking up the needle and fitting it on the syringe.  “You just want to make sure there is no bubble,” and to show me how, he held the syringe up, pressed the plunger and shot my carefully sterilized needle through the open window into the wet mud of the dark mountainside!  I had no other needle so had to take a lantern and search for that one.  Then I trudged up the mountain to our kitchen only to find that the fire was out!  I forget what happened after that.  Probably church was dismissed and Eva came to my rescue, for lighting charcoal fires was never where I shone!  My first lesson in giving an injection!

She and Charles would joke later: “Oh, it’s easy.  All you do is–shoot it out the window!”

Isobel goes on to say:

Small harassments; they come to everyone.  What are we to do with them or in them?  Seek a promise from the Lord.  Nothing is too small but that He will respond to comfort or to guide . . . .

“When did I licht ma auld lantern?” asked a Scottish deacon.  “Was it no when I was comin’ frae the lict o’ ma ain hoose along the dark road tae the licht o’ yours?  That is where tae use the promises–in the dark places between the lichts.”  Stumbling down the mountainside in the rain with a tray for a sick fellow worker–from ma hoose tae your hoose–that is where to use your light.