“Be still and know that I am God.” That was a little theme we had at our church camp this year, and I thought it was a lovely way to lead into what I want to share with you tonight.
God speaks to us when we take time to be still and listen. I have found this to be true, and tonight I want to share a couple of my own experiences of God speaking to me and leading me.
I grew up in a Christian home, and God was always part of our lives. Every night Dad would read us Bible stories and lead us all in prayer. I have always tried to do what God wanted me to do. At my baptism, I promised that I would follow wherever God would lead me.
After I left home and came to Melbourne to live and work, I attended Canterbury Baptist Church. Several ministers in the Melbourne area got together and invited a couple from the Church of the Saviour in Washington, D.C., Don and Gloria McClanen, to come and share with us the life of their little church and what they were doing. I went along to a couple of their meetings and was impressed by their story, so when a weekend seminar was arranged, I signed up.
That weekend I heard about a trip Don was planning, taking a group from America to see how some of the poor in our world really live, and to meet them and get to know them as real people. I was so impressed by the idea that I told him so later. He replied, “Why don’t you come? I think you would have a lot to contribute.” I was amazed, because the trip had been advertised for wealthy, influential American businessmen. It turned out to be a group of ordinary people like us.
Then I thought, well, I am a nurse, and if we were going to places like India, Thailand and Hong Kong, maybe my nursing skills would be useful. I said I would think about it and let them know. After much thought and prayer, I agreed to go.
I met up with the group in Hong Kong, a lovely mixed group of people. Over the next few days we visited villages and refugee camps in Thailand, and then we set off for India. I was deeply moved by the plight of the people we had met, especially the refugees in Thailand, and I kept wondering how we could help them.
In India we were to meet and work with the Missionaries of Charity. During our time there we even met Mother Teresa herself. When she greeted each of us, she looked you directly in the eye, and you felt as though you were the only person in her world at that moment. After she had greeted us, she looked at us and asked, “Now tell me, have you seen Jesus in the poor?”
On the day we arrived, after settling into our accommodation, we visited the three places where we could volunteer: the home for the dying, the home for children, and a home for the sick, elderly and homeless called Shishu Bhavan. They all have names, but I must admit I’ve forgotten the others.
For some reason I was drawn to Shishu Bhavan. It was heart-wrenching. It was an old factory with iron walls, a tin roof and high windows. There was no privacy, just wire beds with coconut-fibre mattresses and no sheets. This was all these people had, and they wouldn’t have had even that without the Missionaries of Charity. I was crying inside for them.
That evening, when we were asked to choose where we would work, I chose Shishu Bhavan. But how could I help? What could I do? The question disturbed me all night. The next morning, instead of joining everyone else at the morning service with the sisters, I stayed in my room and had my quiet time. I was very worried. I had so little experience, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to help at all.
In my quiet time I read from Isaiah 43:19: “Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” Suddenly it struck me: this was God’s work. God would do the work. I just had to be there and allow God to work through me. You don’t know what that message did for me. I felt alive, and I felt ready.
Let me share just a couple of my experiences there. One morning in Shishu Bhavan I sat on the bed beside a lady. She didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak her language, but she would chatter away to me, and I would nod and reply, “Yes, I don’t speak your language at all, I only speak English.” She would smile at me, pat my hand, and chatter away again. We had a lovely morning together.
Another time I went with a medical team out to the villages. Because I was a nurse, they thought I might be able to help, which pleased me. When we arrived, they set up five stations: one for dressings, one for medicines, one for injections, and so on. I was put in charge of injections. But perhaps because I looked so strange to them, nobody would line up for me. They all went to the other stations, until the sister in charge came over and said, “Give her something to do. She knows what she’s doing. She’s a nurse.” So one or two people came to me, and then all of a sudden I looked up and there was a mile-long line in front of me. I think it was probably because I knew how to give an injection without it hurting quite as much! It was a great experience just being out there. There were medical conditions I won’t describe, but I did what they were asking of us.
On the bus trip home I sat with Gloria, and in our conversation she suggested that if I was ever in America, I could visit the Church of the Saviour, attend some of their workshops, and stay with them.
I came home full of the question: what did God want me to do in the future? I prayed for discernment and talked the possibility over with friends. Then the thought came to me: if I bought a round-the-world ticket, I could go to the United States and see the work there, then perhaps revisit India, Thailand and Hong Kong. Maybe I would find where God was calling me. So I bought my ticket and set off for America.
I was drawn to this little church that believed in and lived out what they called a balanced inward and outward journey: an inward spiritual journey together with an outward journey of mission, mainly with the poor and homeless who lived in the neighbourhood around the church. It all seemed so right, and I soon became involved, visiting different missions and going on workshops and retreats. I even went to visit the Missionaries of Charity in Haiti, to see whether a trip like my first one would be possible there, and reported back to Don.
After almost twelve months of living in this vibrant community, I felt I wanted to stay. But was this just the euphoria of being in such a place? Was God really calling me there? My round-the-world ticket was nearly expired, and I felt I needed to come home, catch up with family, and see whether that was where God was calling me. I had already made inquiries about becoming a registered nurse in the US so that I could work there if I returned. There was a course I had to complete before I could sit the final exam.
So I came home to pray and discern. I talked the idea over with a few people, and I thought and prayed a lot. Then one day a letter arrived in the mail telling me there was a place for me in the next course. To me it was God saying, “Yes, go back to the Church of the Saviour.”
So I went, and I stayed twelve years. I learned so much in that time. It grew me and changed my outlook. I discovered the importance of community, the joy of working together in mission, and the wonderful and surprising things God can do when we are open to hearing God’s word and obeying it.
After twelve years, I felt I had to decide: do I stay in the US and make my home there, or return to Australia and make my home here again? After months of prayer, I suddenly heard a voice — not an audible voice — saying to me, “Glennys, I can use you in Australia. I can use you in America. You choose.”
That was the hardest decision I have ever had to make.
God bless you.