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The Blood Of Lambs: A Terrorist's Journey To Jesus Christ. (Part Two) by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Monday, December 27, 2010
Rated "PG" by the Author.
The young missionary continues to try to minister the gospel to some rather intimidating and scary people, not sure where this is going to lead her.
I again found myself face to face with this group of people who looked like they wanted to do me in. There were about twenty of them, mostly men, who were part of some terrorist organization (or so the biggest one, a guy well over six feet tall and three hundred pounds, claimed).
They were also not Believers. I don't know what religion they were or what they believed, but one thing was certain: they did not believe as I did. I was scared that if I said the wrong thing or made a wrong move, they would string me up and have me for lunch (or worse).
It didn't help that I was only 4'6" tall and weighed (maybe) eighty pounds soaking wet. I was the smallest member of the missionary team that I was a part of. Our group had come to Somalia, in Africa, to minister the gospel of Jesus Christ to people, and to help build houses, maybe even a church, perhaps.
A lot of the people we had encountered in this country were of the Islamic faith. There was also the ever-present threat of terrorist attacks, if not from organized terror goups, but also from bands of pirates, perhaps even a lone stranger. We were literally taking our lives into our own hands by venturing to this dangerous part of the world.
Again, I tried to proclaim the gospel to this group of people. They just stared blankly at me, but the biggest man glowered hate in my direction. I knew he would rather be somewhere else than in this room with this strange American woman who looked to be no bigger than a child.
I don't know if these people understood what I was trying to tell them, but I tried my best. I'm just glad I had a translator with me; he translated my words in English into Somalian, so these people could understand what I was trying to tell them. I could tell that some of the group of people were getting nervous because they shifted uncomfortably in their seats or on their feet.
All I could do was pray in the Holy Spirit, asking God to give me the right words to say to this group of people, and pray Psalm 91 as I ministered to them. I prayed that the group of people couldn't see that I was nervous, but I could feel my entire body shaking and sweat dampening my brow and hair.
I once invited the manager of Somali Airlines--Cairo, 1978-- to share dessert with me in a French restaurant where we were both eating alone. He was tall and handsome, better looking than Sydney Pointer, and dressed in a black Western suit and tie--I was in a leisure suit.
We had great conversation. I am so sad to see where Somalia has fallen, into anarchy and religious strife. I often think of him, knowing that he and his family got out and may even be living here. I hope, like Lebanon,, that the airline survived, and the good people from there, like Iman, will bring their country back.
This exceptional book, Celebrating the Gift of Being Alive, has the perfect thoughts and words for birthdays, graduations, engagements, marriages, and any life celebration or family tradition.
