or “No room for self-pity.”
It was fall in Southern Kazakhstan. At our Bible School/Orphanage in the foothills of the Alatau Mountains it was cold at night and barely warm in the day. We did not have the money to buy coal for the 8 furnaces that warmed our buildings so we bundled up and drank a lot of coffee and tea.
One of our young students had been born again a few years before and was ready to go with his young wife and his cousin back to his hometown to preach the gospel. I had promised to take them in my “NIVA” (a small Russian jeep modeled on the American jeep of World War 2). They lived an hour beyond Naryn, in Central Kyrgyzstan.
He had come to us after hearing that his cousin was with us, studying the Bible. He had been a member of the elite Presidential Bodyguard of Kyrgyzstan, and at one time had been a hand-to-hand combat champion. He had many scars, including an ear that was just a lump of scar tissue.
He came to try to talk his cousin into leaving. He had asked me if he could stay, his hostility clear on his face. I told him he could, as long as he didn’t make any trouble. He spent his time arguing for Islam and trying to convince his cousin to go home with him. She refused.
A few weeks after he arrived, his cousin trusted Christ in our living room. This really upset him. He told me directly that he wished us dead. I laughed and told him neither he or anyone else could lift a finger to touch us unless it suited God’s purpose and in that case it would be a good thing for the Gospel. He just fumed.
About three months after arriving (yes, he stayed that long, I believe he was secretly searching for the truth), he trusted Christ as his Saviour during a Sunday worship service. His conversion greatly influenced many others that were “on the fence.”
After about a year, during which time he studied the Bible, he married a Kazakh girl that had also trusted Christ. She had lost her University slot and her family’s approval in order to become a Christian. They fell in love and I married them.
He came to me a while after this to tell me he wanted to go and preach the Gospel to his people, his relatives and friends in his home town. I counseled him to pray and seek God’s clear leading. His home town was very hostile to the Gospel and his father was a violent tyrant. He said they were sure so I agreed.
We ordained him as an evangelist and promised to help any way that we could. I made plans to move him, his wife and his cousin back to their home town. When the day came to move them, I asked another Kyrgyz Bible student who knew the area to go with me.
There are five seats in a NIVA jeep. We loaded up early one morning and piled their belongings on the roof, along with the spare tire. I always carried two spares in Central Asia. I averaged about 4 flats per month. The NIVA tires had inter-tubes and could be fixed on the side of the road if need be.
We were loaded heavy but began our slow trip. The trip would take us 5-6 hours to the Kazakh/Kyrgyz Border, then 8-9 hours to Naryn, then another 1-2 hours to Baetovo. I planned to unload them and turn around and head back. Baetovo was a hostile place to spend the night as a foreigner.
The trip to the border was uneventful. After crossing the border it was necessary to go through part of Bishkek before turning east out of the city towards Naryn. Right after the turn east our problems started. As we were leaving the city, the car suddenly felt out of gear (The NIVA is a manual transmission). It was in gear but acted as if it was out of gear. I was accustomed to losing a gear every once in a while (and drove for a few months with just 1st, 3rd and 5th) but I had never lost them all at one time! It was weird. I coasted to a stop and eventually figured out that the transfer case was not in gear. It shifted between LOW and HIGH but was in the middle, neutral. It would not stay in either. I called the evangelist over and told him he was going to sit between the seats and try to hold it in LOW by pulling back with all his strength. I need to get up a little speed to get a kilometer or two back to where I had seen a car repair shop. He did and we were able to get up to 15-20 miles per hour. I’d gas it a little and it would pop out, he would pull it back in and I’d gas a little more. We made it to the repair facility.
By the Lord’s provision the repair facility was a GAZ official repair depot (GAZ factories built the Niva). We coasted to a stop and I walked in to talk to them. Inside were a group of Russian mechanics standing around (business was slow) and one Kyrgyz Mechanic. The Russians were obviously imported specialists.
I told them my problem and they rolled their eyes. “Those things go out all the time and we don’t fix them. We never break them open. We just install new ones.” I asked if they had a new one and they said they had one left. I asked them how much and they told me a price equal to $180. This was a problem. I didn’t have $180. I asked them to try to fix it and they dismissed me. They just walked away. I walked outside to think and pray.
The Kyrgyz mechanic had been silent during the conversation but now came outside and walked up to me. “I don’t know if I can fix it or not, but if you have no options, I can try.” He said. His breath reeked of vodka. “How much will that cost me?” I asked him. He told me a sum equal to $20. I told to go ahead. He told us to come back at 5pm.
We came back and walked into the shop. That transfer case was open and occupying two table with small pieces. The other mechanics were poking fun at him for trying something everyone knew he could not do. He was hard at work, though with fresh vodka on his breath. An hour later we were on the road. Note: I drove that NIVA for another 4 years and never had another problem with the transfer case.
This time we drove without incident, arriving in the middle of the night to Baetovo. We unloaded the Evangelist, his wife and his cousin and turned around to head back. It was beginning to snow.
The road between Bishkek and Naryn crosses a line of mountains through a pass. The pass was at 10,200 feet. In those days it was an unpaved dirt road of barely two lanes. I knew that if it was snowing at Baetovo, it was for sure snowing in that pass. That pass could block with snow for up to a week. I wanted to get through it while it was open.
We passed through Naryn and turned up into the mountains. The snow was falling steadily and accumulating. Watching the road at night with no lines or guardrails was exhausting and I was already tired. I woke up the Bible student I had with me and told him he had to keep me awake. It was a waste of time. He was asleep in 15 minutes. I rolled the windows down to let the very cold air blow in. He woke up then.
We were driving about 25-30 miles per hour and I was having to watch very carefully. The sides of the road drop off up to 600 feet in places and it was hard to see where the edge was in the falling snow. By this time it had accumulated up to about 3 inches where we were.
As I was driving, I began to throw a pity party. I was tired, frustrated and worried. I began to think about all the battles I was fighting, trying to raise support for the orphans and the Bible school, trying to hide from the Authorities what we were doing, trying to manage the evangelists, trying to be a husband and a father, teaching 25-30 Bible students daily, leading a Church and generally trying to “wake” Christians in America up to the vast need of Central Asia and the open door in front of us. I began to “Reason” (ie. complain) to the Lord. I told him I needed help. I explained to him that I and my family should not have to sit in a cold house with no hot water while American Christians were so comfortable. I explained just one good Bible teacher could help tremendously and I did not understand why He didn’t send one. I really let Him have it. Of course, the problem with a pity-party is that you are usually you are the only one that shows up to it.
I began to fall asleep. I had closed the windows and the Bible student was wrapped up in my blanket in the back seat. “Young people!” I muttered…”Borderline useless…” As we wound our way to the top of the pass, I grew sleepier. There was no place to stop. We reached the top and began to go down. I was losing the battle to stay awake.
“BAM!” The loud sound, the lurching of one corner of the car upward and jerking of the wheel in my hand woke me right up. In my haze I hit the brakes and felt the car slow and stop but I could tell the driver’s side front tire was flat. I remember the depressing feeling of realizing that I was going to have to change a tire on a narrow dirt road (sloped downhill) and in what had become a very heavy snow (with about 5-6 inches on the ground). My self pity changed to resignation. I got out of the car after waking up my student companion. If I had to suffer, so did he!
I got my flashlight out of the glove box when I got out and surveyed the situation. The first thing I noticed was that I had stopped about 4 feet from the edge of the road. The edge at that point dropped sharply off a few hundred feet. I realized that I had barely avoided disaster. I then looked at the tire. The rim (cheap Russian aluminum) was caved upward and I knew the inter-tube was torn. I went back to look at what I had hit.
In the middle of what had been the opposite lane sat a rock. It was the size of a small suitcase. It was laying on its side with about 6-8 inches sticking out of the snow. It was also covered on top with snow. I had glanced off of the front corner. I walked my car tracks backward and realized that I had been turning in a curve but had not turned enough. I had dozed off. My tracks led in a curved line out of my lane into the opposite lane and straight towards the edge of the road. That is when I had hit the rock perfectly. If I had hit the rock on it’s left side of I would have have turned over the edge in my sleepy state. I would have probably died.
At this moment the Lord began to answer my earlier complaints. I don’t know how He talks to you, but I know how I believe He talks to me and this was one of those occasions. “You see? Yesterday evening I rolled this rock off the cliff above you and I put it right there. I placed it perfectly because I knew I would have a whiny, immature child coming down this road feeling sorry for himself. I needed to remind you that I know exactly what I am doing. You can take anything I put on you. I am always aware and always doing what is best. Now shut up and change your tire.” I did.
The rest of trip was very different. I was still talking to the Lord but the conversation was me thanking Him for the privilege of serving Him. I thanked Him for walking up Calvary’s hill. I thanked Him for enduring the cross alone and for the blood on the Mercy-seat. I began to remember all the times He had delivered us and I thanked Him for my family sleeping safely at home.
“Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness…” Hebrews 12:11
Stories From My Life 