In the days before Google maps, weather apps, and Wikipedia information pages, my wife and I set out for North Africa. Jillian and I were already across the Atlantic for a missions conference in Scotland, so we decided to take a vision trip south of the Mediterranean while we were there.
We looked at a world map and figured North Africa was close to Europe. If we went south, we’d get there eventually. Since our destination was close to Spain, we hoped we’d be able to get around using the Spanish we’d both learned growing up on the mission field in South America. And we thought it was always hot in Africa, so we didn’t pack any cold-weather clothes.
We managed to make it to North Africa, and I bought bus tickets to our next destination within the country. Only I didn’t know where the tickets would take us.
Jillian shivered despite the five dresses she had layered against the Mediterranean’s brisk December winds. Putting her hands on her hips, she frowned at me. “I thought you knew what we were doing.”
“Me?” I clutched the tickets printed in an Arabic script I couldn’t read. “I don’t know what I’m doing or where we’re going, but I think we should get on the bus because it’s leaving soon.”
Praise God that I married someone willing to follow His call. She climbed up the steps and sat in the seat next to me.
As the Mediterranean coast swept past, I recalled a conversation with Jillian’s father months before. We’d been talking about our desire to join God’s work in planting churches among unreached people groups.
“You know,” my father-in-law said to me, “the church already exists among every unreached people group in the world today.”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes twinkled as he explained what he meant. God promised that people from every nation, tribe, and tongue will worship Him. So people from every unreached group will be part of the church. They just don’t know Jesus yet.
With this promise in mind, Jillian and I had set our sights on finding the church among an unreached mountain people of North Africa.
As we caught buses to different locations throughout the country on our vision trip, we discovered that the landscape, culture, and language were different than what we’d expected. And we weren’t even allowed to visit the people we wanted to minister to. Foreigners were restricted to the coastal cities and forbidden in the mountains.
Finally, the trip ended, and we boarded the plane for our flight home. We were tired. We were frustrated. And we had fleas.
I dropped into the airplane seat and turned to Jillian. “It’s settled, then.”
She eyed me. “What’s settled?”
“Let’s move to this country to plant churches among the mountain people.”
I offered a smile. She returned it.
Months later, after a flurry of preparation and training, we were back in Africa with a small team. This time, we were wearing seasonally appropriate clothes and had a few local phrases under our belts. Some of our friends and family had told us returning was the worst idea we’d ever had. But finding the church among the unreached and telling them about Jesus was the dream that God had given us, and we were going to pursue it.
Our ministry in North Africa wasn’t easy. In fact, it took years to find the community we had prayed for. We waded through setbacks, conflict, cultural faux pas, and discouragement. But we did find people who were open to the Word of God and grew to love Jesus.
My father-in-law was right. While we dreamed of life overseas, took a flea-ridden bus along the coast, and floundered in our attempts to share the Gospel, the people who would become the church were there. We didn’t know what we were doing at first. They didn’t know Jesus yet. But all along, Jesus knew them.
Pray:
- Ask God to continue to call field workers to North Africa.
- Praise God for opening hearts among the unreached.
- Pray that the church in this region would continue to grow.
Story Trade:
**This account comes from a long-term worker. Names and places have been changed for security.**
Main photo on iStock
Original article: https://frontiersusa.org/blog/they-dont-know