"I'll go where you want me . . . "

On at least one other occasion I blogged about the magical thing that happened to me as a boy. My interest in reading gained traction in the early elementary school grades and weekly bike rides, more than two miles round trip, to the Ben Franklin Branch of the Detroit Library. Biography was my interest. The magic happened as my parents began introducing biographies from some unknown source. The lives of C. T. Studd, D. L. Moody (I began to think that Godly people only had initials.) and David Brainerd captivated me. And, the appearance of the books is still a mystery because my parents’ reading was limited to their Bibles and the newspaper.

Missionary biography stirred me. As I read of the voluntary selflessness of Brainerd who gave his life for Native Americans or the renouncement of inherited wealth by C. T. Studd, I wondered if I were willing to live as unselfishly. The life of other missionaries caused deep introspection as I contrasted their world views with the lives of military heroes, presidents and other historical figures whose stories I also read.

Simultaneously my boyhood church reinforced my growing interest by inviting a long list of Pentecostal missionaries to present their ministry. Many of those who formed my thinking were first-generation Pentecostal messengers. Each had a table full of ever-present "curios," snake skins, juju fetishes, big game tusks and grotesque masks that followed me home and made me restless at bedtime. Nearly all of the missionaries had 35mm slides, lots of them, with interesting stories about the people whose images were before us.

The formula for a "missionary service" was simple. We sang a song or two about the call of God and the needs of lost people. The pastor introduced the missionary, slides were shown and the missionary made an appeal for the youth to answer the "call of God." An offering was received and then we were urged toward the altar with the following tune.
It may not be on the mountain’s height,
Or over the stormy sea;
It may not be at the battle’s front,
My Lord will have need of me;
But if by a still, small voice He calls,
To paths I do not know,
I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in Thine,
I’ll go where You want me to go.
Refrain:
I’ll go where You want me to go, dear Lord,
O’er mountain, or plain, or sea;
I’ll say what You want me to say, dear Lord,
I’ll be what You want me to be.
Perhaps today there are loving words
Which Jesus would have me speak;
There may be now in the paths of sin,
Some wand’rer whom I should seek;O Savior, if Thou wilt be my guide,
Though dark and rugged the way,
My voice shall echo the message sweet,
I’ll say what You want me to say.

There’s surely somewhere a lowly place,
In earth’s harvest fields so wide,
Where I may labor through life’s short day,
For Jesus the Crucified;
So trusting my all into Thy care,
I know Thou lovest me,
I’ll do Thy will with a heart sincere,
I’ll be what You want me to be.
Those biographies that I had been reading made the walk to the altar seem so serious. What if God decided that I ought to go to the Philippines where crucifixions were reenacted every year on Good Friday? The 16mm movie showed blood gushing from the nail wounds. (I still become faint at the sight of blood.)The demonic dances in another place were frightening. (I had a couple of nightmares about the dances.)

The parable of Matthew 15 reinforced seriousness of the altar response. "Don’t fool around with the call of God," was the message.
"What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’
"‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.
"Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go.
"Which of the two did what his father wanted?"
"‘The first,’ they answered."
The few steps to the altar seemed to take forever. So much was at stake! I may never be the same after this encounter. And, I wasn’t! Each conversation with the Lord of Harvest refined my understanding of God’s plans for me. I began to understand that "willingness" was the first qualifier for pleasing God. If I would consistently say, "Yes!" God could trust me with the place for which He designed me.

On occasion I still awaken to the tune of "I’ll go where you want me to go," and offer myself to service in which I can be of use. "No," is never the appropriate answer when responding to God’s assignments. Excuse me. I am on my way to an altar where I will answer God’s "Will you?" another time.