Written by: Rev. Ed Boon
2/12/2010 12:48 PM 

 GARDENS IN THE DESERT

"Now change your mind and attitude to God and turn to him so he can cleanse away your sins and send you wonderful times of refreshment from the presence of the Lord." Acts 3:19  Living Bible.

At the end of our first missionary furlough from Africa I had the opportunity do some hiking in the Adirondack Mountains in upper New York State. As I stood at the top of Mt. Marcy looking down on thousands of acres of trees and the many beautiful lakes I tried to imagine myself back in Mali. I couldn't do it, I just couldn't do it. My mind just could not transform the magnificent landscape of upper New York State into the hot, dry, dusty plains of Mali so great was the difference.  Nevertheless, I paused to reflect back on my experiences of the past four years.

Ironically, when we first arrived in Mali it was in the midst of the rainy season.  Everything was green.  The grass was as high as the car, and the crops of millet seed stood well over six feet high. But, about a month later and right on schedule, the rains quite abruptly stopped. The crops were harvested and the grass dried up. For several weeks the sky was filled with smoke as the fields of grass burned. The landscape stood out: flat, dry and barren. The contrast was striking. 

Initially following the rainy season is a period of a couple of months which we found relatively cool and comfortable, albeit dusty. The prevailing winds blowing down off the desert in the north were somewhat refreshing, but carried an incredible amount of dust. Anything recently dusted would be wearing a new coat of dust within five minutes. Just when you were thinking you could no longer stand the dust, the wind shifted from north to south and the heat moved in. The temperature in the shade in the daytime ranged between 120 and 130 F. In the evenings the temperature in our house dropped to about…105 F.   Everything you touched felt hot. The humidity was very low. Water evaporated behind the mop as we washed the floors. The air was so hot it burned as it passed through the nasal passages. People who have grown up in the desert areas of the south western United States are perhaps used to that type of weather, but I had never known anything like it. There was no electricity in the city so there was no possibility of having even a small fan, much less an air conditioner. We are often asked what you do in a situation like that. The answer is simple, you sweat! However, your body can only take a couple of months of those temperatures before it starts to wilt. You feel your strength ebbing away, and with it your moral. Like it or not, I was forced to admit that there was often a close relationship between my physical and my spiritual well being. 

Obviously, the best solution was to get away from the heat. Following the advice of some friends we camped a couple of times at the side of a very picturesque and crystal clear river. We heard, however, that there was an even better place for a vacation. It was located in the mountains in the extreme south west corner of the Côte d'Ivoire. It was a three day trip over bad roads, but one year we decided to try it. The first day’s trip from Mali to Bobo-Dioulasso in Burkina Faso was on paved roads, and our little car with its two cylinder air cooled motor covered the distance with apparent ease. The next day the real difficulties began. The hard packed earthen highways in that area usually presented three major problems: Washboard, dust and potholes. All three usually ganged up on you together. You learn very quickly that to drive on washboard, you must drive at least 50 mph. At that speed the car tends to run over the tops of the ruts. When you traveled any slower the wheels would slam into the ruts with a tremendous jolt. Obviously, when driving at those speeds on that type of road, the noise and vibrations were incredible. Your car seemed to cry out for mercy and you had the feeling that at any instant it would disintegrate. The dust trailing from the back of the car could be seen for miles. If there was no wind blowing, it would rest suspended for an extended period of time. On those occasions when you found yourself trailing a truck in that dust, the visibility was similar to that of a dense fog. Passing was extremely dangerous. It was at those times that other obstacles, such as potholes, could catch you by surprise. The potholes came in all sizes. Some were small quite small, while others were large enough to swallow a small car. Toward the end of our second day of travel one of those holes caught us. When we came out the other side, we no longer had a muffler. The transformation in that little car was amazing. Our little pussy cat had turned into a roaring lion. We arrived that evening, partially deafened, and with only darkened eye sockets peering out through the thick layer of red dust. 

After a shower and a good night’s sleep we set out the next day for the final leg of our trip. I had once thought I would never tire of traveling. Those African roads changed all that. I would have given anything at that moment to "rise up with wings like eagles". That, however, was not an option. We "roared" off heading south and then west into the heart of the Côte d'Ivoire rain forest. The trucks we passed were now mostly logging trucks, each one carrying three or four huge redwood trees. Every now and then you would see some of these trees lying at the side of the road. It was obvious what had happened. The chains holding them to the truck had broken. We now began to wonder each time we passed one of those trucks, will this be the moment? If it ever had happened the result was inevitable; the car, and its occupants, would have resembled a crepe suzette. It was perhaps not all that likely to happen, but it was hard on the nerves. 

As we continued west the road began to take on the configuration of a small roller coaster at a local amusement park, continually rising and falling. Now a new sound developed under the hood. Each time we went over a rise, there was a thump under the hood. We stopped and looked, but could find nothing. It wasn't until a few weeks later when we got the car to a garage that we discovered the problem. One of the two motor mounts was broken. We didn't know it at the time, and perhaps it was a good thing we didn't, but we were coming quite close to losing our motor. 

Finally we arrived at our destination town. There was nothing left now but to take the road out of town which climbed the mountain--the highest in the Côte d'Ivoire. We started off running along in fourth gear, then gradually shifting down as the road climbed, to third, then second and finally first. Running along in first with the accelerator pedal pushed all the way to the floor, I watched in anguish as the speedometer needle dropped slowly towards zero and I cried out “No Lord no, it's not possible to get this close and not make it.” I considered throwing out anything indispensable to lighten the car, but my wife refused to jump. Finally with a final gasp, we pulled into a parking spot near the cabin where we would stay. We had made it. After unloading the car I stepped out of house and stood there by the front door--exhausted, filthy, and very discouraged. It was night, the stars were out, a gentle breeze was floating up the side of the mountain. The air was sweet, clear and cool. I breathed in deeply and could feel the strength flowing back into my body right down into my finger tips. I took another deep breath and I thought: "O Lord, can't you work out a transfer?" "I could evangelize here in these mountains. I'll spend the rest of my life working for you here." Then I had an even greater thought. "Lord if it's true that faith can move mountains, maybe you could just take these mountains and move them up into those hot flat plains of Mali." In the silence of that moment the Lord very gently reminded me that in a sense he had already done that.  I realized that I had had the privilege of being there to see it happen!

Historically, Mali had been a hot, dry, thirsty land not only in a physical sense, but also in a spiritual sense. Since the first missionaries had entered in 1924 men and women had labored faithfully over the years often with few results. It was in the 1970's that God began to work in a very special way and we had been there to see it happen. 

I thought back to a recent youth group meeting. After giving a rather lengthy explanation of the four spiritual laws I asked if there was anyone there who would like to receive the Lord. Of the thirty young people in the room that afternoon, about twenty five put up their hands. I was sure  they hadn't understood what I was asking of them. I had them lower their hands and I went over the message again. When I gave the invitation the second time I tried to be very precise making it clear I was not speaking of a recommitment to the Lord but rather a definite decision to receive Him. The same hands went up. I closed the meeting with prayer somewhat perplexed, sure that I had done something wrong, but really sure  what it was. There were just too many who had responded. I thought about it all week. At the next meeting I again gave a clear presentation of the gospel. This time at the end, however, rather than asking for raised hands, I told them that those who wanted to receive the Lord should come forward one at a time to receive a tract I had for them. They were to come one at a time and after receiving the tract they could go back to their seats. One by one they came. Coming forward were not only those  who had raised their hands the week before, but also a couple of others who previously made no response. It was an amazing experience. God had worked in a very special way, and He had allowed us to be part of it. But would it last?

One of the young people who had made a decision was a young man named Abel. He in fact was one of the last to come forward. Able was the proverbial prophet of gloom. His father, who had two wives, did not often spend time in our city. He lived a good ways off with another wife and only occasionally came our way for a visit. Abel grew up wandering the streets. There was not much Able hadn't already tried in his life and he was a very unhappy young man. Mali is a country that is supposed to have 340 days of sun every year, but whenever Abel walked into our mission station the clouds rolled in. He wore a large straw hat pulled down over his face and he quite simply radiated gloom. He had such a negative effect on our youth group I really hated to see him show up. A few days after the meeting when he had given his life to the Lord, he stopped by our house for a quick visit. When he left my wife asked me who was that who just left? When I told her it was Able she exclaimed: "I didn't even recognize him, he looked so different." It was true he did look different. I have never seen anything like it before or since. The gloom that he had radiated had been replaced by the faintest trace of a smile. He was indeed a changed person. 

About a year after that experience we left Mali for a year's furlough. When we returned to Africa we were stationed in another area. Almost three years had gone by before we were able to see some of the young people from that Mali youth group. The occasion was a youth rally and Bible quizzing contest. What a thrill it was to be reunited once again with the young people from our old youth group. The biggest thrill of all was seeing Able. There he was, captain of his quiz team, and president of the youth group. The change in his life had been real. It really did last.

Another person who received the Lord at that youth meeting was a young girl named Madeleine. Madeleine was an attractive  girl who certainly looked no different after the meeting than before. She had always come faithfully to the meetings and you might indeed have asked if anything had happened in her life, or indeed if she really needed to change. The day we left Mali, she stopped by the house to say goodbye, and as she was leaving she handed us a letter. This is what she wrote. "Dear Ed and Karen, before you leave, there is something I wanted to share with you. A few years ago I left our town to go back to my home village. It is the custom in my tribe when a girl comes back after an extended absence that the young men of the village come for her. I went with them and for I time I forgot all about my Lord and my faith. When I returned to the city I discover I was pregnant. Frightened and not knowing what else to do I went to a marabou and had an abortion. From that time on I lived with a sense of guilt, and the certain knowledge that God never could and never would forgive me. It was at that youth meeting when I came forward to take the tract that I realized that God had forgiven me for everything. I wanted you to know that whatever happens in the future, I will live my life for Him." 

So I realized as I stood there in the darkness by that mountain cabin that God had indeed allowed me to take part in a miracle. In a spiritual sense I had in fact seen a desert transformed into a luxurious garden. I learned that God’s work done in God’s way will produce the results that God intended.  It was up to me to do what God had called me to do whether I understood it or not, and the rest was up to God.  What I realized later but not at that moment was that God had blessed me in a special way by placing me in that country right at the beginning of a long term revival.  Miraculous things were happening and I was a spectator to them.  I was actually seeing in person the fulfillment of what the prophet Isaiah had proclaimed: "With this news bring cheer to all discouraged one. Encourage those who are afraid. Tell them, "Be strong, fear not, for your God is coming to destroy your enemies. He is coming to save you. And when he comes, he will open the eyes of the blind, and unstop the ears of the deaf. The lame man will leap up like a deer and those who could not speak will shout and sing! Springs will burst forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. The parched ground will become a pool, with springs of water in the thirsty land." Praise his name. Isaiah 35:3-7 Living Bible 

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