May-June 1977

In the darkness beneath warm, damp earth, life emanates from death. Dormant seeds sprout, and green shoots push upwards, forcing their way through dirt and sand. The path for some is strewn with rocks making the climb more difficult. A seed only has enough nutrients for two weeks at most, and if they can’t break free in time, they die. To give up is certain death. God designed seeds to be indomitable, and sometimes, the most tiny of seedlings break granite to gain a root hold. The agony of growth makes them strong, and they burst through the brown dirt and paint the world green. It is spring, and all things are new.

I have often wondered what goes through the “mind” of a flower as it grows. What does it think when it runs head-on into a rock? How does it feel when, at last, it is free from its prison of sod–free to breath and free to catch the sun — then it is trampled underfoot? Does it get discouraged? Is it tempted to give up? I think not, for even the most ragged and broken bud will bloom and add its colors to the canvas on which it grows.

All over God’s green earth there is room for missionaries to grow. True, some countries pull then up by the roots and throw them out of the fields as if they were unwanted thorns or crabgrass. That is what is happening in Colombia. The soil of souls, men, and women without Christ, cry out for the nutrient of the Gospel. Yet so few Christians are willing to go to the hot tropics, or the frigid north to dish out the salubrious Good News!.

I am not a rose! What ‘s that? A pansy? Well, I leave that to your own surmisal! Even weeds germinate somewhere. Colombia is where I want to sprout, but alas, I am between a rock and a hard place. No visa, no go! I ask myself the question, “Why, when I am willing to go, and wanting to go does the door remain shut?” It is discouraging, but even a weed, if it gives up, dies! Perhaps, God would have me go around the stone and come up in Bolivia or Bora Bora. It is still indefinite, but these thoughts occupy my mind. Maybe a return to language school would be in order, to cultivate Spanish, a fallow ground overgrown with thistles of “gringo” pronunciation.

In the meantime, “Bloom where you grow.” I just completed 81 hours of Emergency Medical Technician Training. It was a partial review of the field medicine course I had in language school. My biggest take away was, “Stop the bleeding and transport,” a course of action that may not be possible or practical in the jungle. I hoped for more!

At times it seems as if my whole future is up in the air, and I am left hanging. I think, “If my feet don’t touch the ground, I can’t take root.” That is when it is discouraging, but that is when I need to remember that it is God who holds the other end of the rope. He does not want me to quit. His cry still rings in my ears, “Go ye into all the world.” Someday I want to stand on some distant shore, a blossom swaying in the breeze, radiating the light of His glory and the fragrance of His love to a people the world forgot.

Philip Burns
Rt. 1 Box 117A2
Victor, Montana 59875 Adapted from my May-June news letter of 1977

2022

When I graduated from Prairie Bible Institute in 1973 I wanted to go to Colombia, South America as a missionary. Time, the passage of almost half a century, allows me to confess that desire was all for the wrong reasons. But, that is another story for another time. Less than one year after graduation, I was in missionary training in Fredonia, Wisconsin.

There, one of our morning class periods was devoted to praying for our missionaries around the world. We were assigned to a group that prayed for certain countries and after a number of weeks the groups were rotated so that we were exposed to more countries, our missionaries there and what God was doing in each place.

I started out in the group praying for Bolivia. After a while, the groups were rotated, but I was placed in the Asia group, far from Colombia. Later, for some forgotten reason, the groups were reorganized and I was again praying for Bolivia. I spent three semesters in the training and never once got rotated to the group that prayed for Colombia. I was frustrated!

In my third term I was made a group leader, and in one or our leader/staff meetings I complained to the staff member that I never got to be part of the group that prayed for Colombia, but had spent most of the past year praying for Bolivia. All he said was, “Maybe God wants you in Bolivia!”

If God was speaking, I wasn’t listening and continued with my desire to go to Colombia. It was only after finishing language school that reality started to set in and like a seed sprouting in rocky soil I found I was bashing my head against a stone and wasn’t going anywhere. Colombia had closed the door on new missionaries and would not grant me a visa. My partner, Matt Castagna and I waited for over a year and a half hoping God would change the minds of officials in the Colombian government and that they would grant us a visa. It never happened!

It was sometime during this period of waiting that Matt attended a missionary conference held at Camp Awana in Wisconsin. It was there he met, Dick Wyma, field chairman for the mission in Bolivia. While we were waiting for visas, Mr. Wyma encouraged us to go to Bolivia, temporarily, of course, and help on the Yuqui contact team. There, we would be working to befriend a group of nomadic jungle dwellers that were being killed off one by one as “civilization” encroached into their territory through logging activities and the building of a new railroad.

We ended up in Bolivia planning on staying one year. At the end of that time, Matt returned to the States, but I stayed on for a second year. That is how I ended up in Bolivia.

Almost four years later, I took my bride, Jackie, five months pregnant, back to Bolivia where we spent the next 20 years, most of that time working with the Yuqui people group.

When things seem bleak, when we don’t see the results we want, when our life seems nothing but a shamble, when waves of disappointment threaten to sink our flimsy craft of life, it is hard to walk by faith. It is most difficult to keep our gaze on Jesus. Instead, we want to quit! To give up! So many times, I wanted to!

Often in life, we are like broken stalks with torn leaves and tattered flowers. We are not pretty to look at. However, if we don’t give up, our bloom can still show a splash of color to the world around us, and even mangled flowers can give off a sweet smell that attracts bees and other insects. God is pleased when we don’t quit, and the closer we walk with Jesus, the sweeter the aroma that attracts other people and wafts all the way to heaven, pleasing God.

Whether we are a seedling just sprouting or a flower fast fading, God has a purpose for us. We will only reach our potential and purpose if we keep going, even through the difficult times. Don’t quit! Don’t give up!

Bloom where you are!