Missions Deputational Ministry (1947 - 1950)
We were asked to finish a deputational tour that the Chamberlains had been unable to complete. Bro. Avery who had been on the St. Kitts and Nevis district had taken a lot of pictures for us. For these we had slides made and purchased a good screen and projector. These, along with some very nice curios, would help us in our deputational work. We were assigned a car from the missionary headquarters. We eagerly entered into this new phase of our missionary life. This tour consisted of churches in West Virginia. We were new on the job but were bursting at the seams and fresh from the field. God helped us. The pastors and people responded with interest, finances, and entertainment. We were made to feel so much at home. We returned to Indianapolis where Bro. Bolender entered the hospital for his surgery in April. He came through fine and as soon as he was able he went home to his folks. I had a few appointments by myself.
In June we started a long tour that took us through Idaho, Washington, and Oregon. We met some of our former parishioners as well as an uncle of my husband’s that he had not seen for many years -- Mother Bolender’s half-brother. God blessed as we represented World Missions, spoke and showed slides from night to night and drove hundreds of miles as Pilgrim Holiness churches were often miles apart in those days. After finishing in these states we turned south and drove down through California to Pasadena in time to help our children celebrate our first grandson’s first birthday. We had seen very little of our son-in-law since he was a young boy, so we shared a lot of getting acquainted. It hardly seemed real that our little girl was a mother and entertaining us in her home. We found little Warren Ralph a lively baby. We conducted a missionary service at the Reese Memorial Church in Pasadena. We were there for the District Conference. Rev. Paul Thomas was elected District Superintendent.
In June we started a long tour that took us through Idaho, Washington, and Oregon. We met some of our former parishioners as well as an uncle of my husband’s that he had not seen for many years -- Mother Bolender’s half-brother. God blessed as we represented World Missions, spoke and showed slides from night to night and drove hundreds of miles as Pilgrim Holiness churches were often miles apart in those days. After finishing in these states we turned south and drove down through California to Pasadena in time to help our children celebrate our first grandson’s first birthday. We had seen very little of our son-in-law since he was a young boy, so we shared a lot of getting acquainted. It hardly seemed real that our little girl was a mother and entertaining us in her home. We found little Warren Ralph a lively baby. We conducted a missionary service at the Reese Memorial Church in Pasadena. We were there for the District Conference. Rev. Paul Thomas was elected District Superintendent.
The old Chevy that had traveled so many thousands of miles in missionary work was hardly safe for travel any more so our orders were to get it back to Indianapolis. Saying goodbye to our children, we were on our way. We had been warned not to drive over 45 M.P.H. so going was slow, but eventually we found ourselves crossing Missouri. The last night we did not stop and about daybreak we drove into Castlewood and stopped the car beside a cottage. Someone looked out of the upstairs window, then Elsie came to open the door. By the time we got inside Warren was coming down the stairs with a tiny bundle in his arms, little Susanne Kay, our first little granddaughter, just five weeks old, so tiny and so helpless, yet so compellingly precious. I felt so enriched that we had two grandchildren. I remember a fine Christian lady once express her negative feelings concerning being called Grandma. I never felt that way. We stayed a few days and then continued our journey to headquarters. God had been so good. We had made the trip without trouble. Bro. Bolender drove it into the garage with a sigh of relief.
Our next project was very different. Bro. Bolender was assigned three camp meetings miles apart for one missionary service at each camp while I was to accompany Mrs. Margaret Hankens to the Owasso Michigan Camp where they asked for a missionary service each day. She drove the tiny Toyota car. It was packed. We both had a large case of curios besides literature and our suitcases. I remember in her exhibits she had a shrunken head from the Bush Negros in Surinam, formerly Dutch Guiana. She and her husband had earlier served a term in Jamaica. She was a wonderful speaker and after these 35 years I still remember some of their early missionary experiences that she related. One was the conversion of a small ragged boy by the name of Reynolds. He became a prominent leader in the church after finishing Bible School. We did not know then, but learned afterward, that our Miss Battle from Antigua became his wife.
God really blessed and helped us in that camp. As we went from camp to camp the summer flew by. In the Fall we were in missionary conventions and church to church missionary services until in November we were back in Indianapolis for Bro. Bolender’s second surgery. In those days patients were kept in the hospitals longer. I went to see him every day. It seemed I always had plenty to do, letters to write, etc. We were so grateful that the surgery was a complete success. We stayed at the missionary department. It was indeed small but we decided that we wanted to have the Phillippe’s boys, Paul and Marcus, with us for Christmas dinner. When their parents had gone to Antigua they were in school in Frankfort Bible School in Indiana. They seemed glad to accept our invitation in spite of our cramped quarters. We had a nice time. They were such nice young men, an honor to their parents. I had a small gift for each of them and made the dinner as Christmassy as I could. I think that perhaps we enjoyed it more than they did.
We think the E. E. Phillippe family is one of the finest examples of children upbringing we have ever known, and this year Sr. Phillippe has gone on to her reward. In the late winter we received our slates for a long tour through Pennsylvania. Most of that trip we were not together for services. If churches were close enough Bro. Bolender would take me to my appointment, leave me and go on to his. Then the next morning he came for me and we followed the same procedure. Sometimes this was not possible. Then I had to travel by bus. This was not so pleasant, but we were not on a pleasure trip. We were still missionaries and God was blessing our ministry. Most weeks as we made out our reports we had reasons for thanksgiving. As Spring came, missions conventions began. Sr. Hankins joined us and we had wonderful fellowship as we prayed and worked together. We swung into the summer camp meeting season again. 1949 camp meetings were possibly the hardest part of deputational work.
I especially remember one trying circumstance. Most pastors want and need to attend their district camps so that time is difficult to schedule deputation workers. So we followed our instructions and drove onto the camp grounds several days before our appointment to speak. When we appeared at the registration office it seemed we were not expected. Nevertheless, we were finally assigned a room in the dormitory. This was a long building with a center hall with small rooms on each side. Each room was furnished with a double bed, a shelf with a wash pan, a bucket or pitcher to carry water, and a pail for water disposal. Our room was about the middle of the building. I admit I had been in camps with not so good accommodations, for back in early days of our camp meetings for two years we women slept on straw ticks spread on the floor. But there we knew each other, sharing inconveniences and had fellowship. But here we knew no one and no one seemed to want to know us. Bro. Bolender found a place to get water. We had towels, etc., so we freshened ourselves as best we could. After awhile we heard the call for the evening meal.
We joined in the line with the crowd and ate supper, after which we went to our room to get a little rest. But soon all was commotion, youthful voices everywhere. Their day’s work finished, they were rushing to prepare for the evening service. We also prepared and when we heard footsteps we joined the others and found seats, still feeling like utter strangers. Just as the service was about to begin, we glanced to the side entrance and who did we see but our good friend Howard Busby from Kansas. Many memories flooded our minds, not only of entertaining him in the little basement parsonage in Big Bow, Kansas, but also in revivals in Elizabethtown. Afterward he came with his broad smile and hearty handshake, greeted us, and passed a few remarks. We saw others were waiting to greet the evangelist so we slipped quietly out to our room. By the time we had gotten quiet for a night’s rest people began filling the hallway. Some went quietly to their rooms but it seemed that the majority were young people filled with vigor and fun, especially the girls to our right who seemed to be trying to catch up on a whole year of excitement and fun. Sleep was impossible until far into the night. Finally, all was quiet and sleep came. Being lifetime early risers, we were out to the early morning prayer service followed by breakfast, then the morning service, after which the District Superintendent came to us, shook hands, introducing himself, and with a very sober face, bade us to make ourselves at home. We thanked him and he was gone. After three or four public services, Bro. Busby, seeing that we had not been publicly recognized, took it upon himself. When he got on his feet to preach, he asked us to stand and introduced us as the missionary representatives, briefly referring to our former associations. After that, things loosened and we felt more freedom mingling with pastors and people. Our service was scheduled for a midweek afternoon.
We enjoyed the services, thankful to again enjoy the ministry of our friend and to share in praying around the altar. God helped us again as we presented World Missions. We had planted the seed and trusted the Lord for the harvest. The next day we were on our way to another camp.
Why I have written this account of this particular camp, I am not sure, but it reminded us of some warnings we had been given. “Just wait until you are in deputational work,” suggesting how boring and how tiring it was. We traveled for almost two years, held conventions, spoke at camps and one-night services in churches from the Atlantic coast states to the Pacific, in twenty two states, and we enjoyed it immensely. Only one other time do I recall a real trial. Our tour was in a district that had a large number of churches, so Bro. Bolender took me to my appointment. After arriving at the parsonage, he took my cases to the door and I followed. The pastor answered the bell. He invited us in, but Bro. Bolender explained that he must drive on to his announced service. So I went into the reception hall and, given a chair, the pastor excused himself and left. I sat waiting. Finally I heard him talking on the phone. He seemed perturbed. Then I heard him say something about the missionary, then very clearly, “I don’t know what we are going to do. We have only two bedrooms, and we can’t take ____ (their little three year old daughter) out of her room.” I clearly understood what his worries were. Being of an independent nature, I was sorely tempted to step into the other room and quietly tell him not to worry, that I would gladly sleep on one of the church pews. The Holy Spirit rebuked me and I quietly waited. After a while the wife came and spoke and showed me where the bathroom was, saying lunch would soon be ready. After eating, the pastor took my cases into the church which was attached to the parsonage. I arranged my display and had time for meditation and prayer before people began gathering for the service. My heart was lifted as eager people accepted literature and asked questions about curios.
The service was free and followed by a good offering. After the service the pastor introduced me to a pleasant couple, saying I was to be their guest. On the way to their home I was informed that my host was the church janitor. We can never forget those precious people. First she showed me to my room where my things were placed, then we had a light lunch, visited a bit, had prayer together, and retired. Oh, how good that bed felt. Sheepishly I thought of the church pew but soon fell asleep.
Bro. Bolender came the next morning. They received him with open arms and hearts. After some questions they learned that we had Monday nights off, so they insisted that we stay with them. They were probably in their middle 60’s. He had a workshop that intrigued by husband, while she and I enjoyed flowers and vegetables and women’s interests. That night we showed them slides of our work on the islands. She was a wonderful cook. On Tuesday morning we loaded the car and took our leave trying to express our deep appreciation for their hospitality.
I could have written a small book about our two years of deputational work and travels that included glorious scenes from the east coast where we gazed on the monuments of Pocahontas and Captain John Smith, our capitol in Washington, D. C., the solemnity of the Lincoln Memorial, the tomb of the unknown soldier with the beat of the change of the sentry guard, all have left their lasting impressions. I recall that Sr. Hanks had been with us for a missionary convention which had just preceded May 30th holiday. We had that night free and were in the area and decided it a good opportunity to see our national capitol. The Pocono Mt. region was beautiful, it’s clear crystal streams, with many deer leaping gracefully through wooded sections, skirting highways. On one tour we were very close to Niagara Falls and had time for a ride on the Maid of the Mist, then crossed over into Canada.
Our next project was very different. Bro. Bolender was assigned three camp meetings miles apart for one missionary service at each camp while I was to accompany Mrs. Margaret Hankens to the Owasso Michigan Camp where they asked for a missionary service each day. She drove the tiny Toyota car. It was packed. We both had a large case of curios besides literature and our suitcases. I remember in her exhibits she had a shrunken head from the Bush Negros in Surinam, formerly Dutch Guiana. She and her husband had earlier served a term in Jamaica. She was a wonderful speaker and after these 35 years I still remember some of their early missionary experiences that she related. One was the conversion of a small ragged boy by the name of Reynolds. He became a prominent leader in the church after finishing Bible School. We did not know then, but learned afterward, that our Miss Battle from Antigua became his wife.
God really blessed and helped us in that camp. As we went from camp to camp the summer flew by. In the Fall we were in missionary conventions and church to church missionary services until in November we were back in Indianapolis for Bro. Bolender’s second surgery. In those days patients were kept in the hospitals longer. I went to see him every day. It seemed I always had plenty to do, letters to write, etc. We were so grateful that the surgery was a complete success. We stayed at the missionary department. It was indeed small but we decided that we wanted to have the Phillippe’s boys, Paul and Marcus, with us for Christmas dinner. When their parents had gone to Antigua they were in school in Frankfort Bible School in Indiana. They seemed glad to accept our invitation in spite of our cramped quarters. We had a nice time. They were such nice young men, an honor to their parents. I had a small gift for each of them and made the dinner as Christmassy as I could. I think that perhaps we enjoyed it more than they did.
We think the E. E. Phillippe family is one of the finest examples of children upbringing we have ever known, and this year Sr. Phillippe has gone on to her reward. In the late winter we received our slates for a long tour through Pennsylvania. Most of that trip we were not together for services. If churches were close enough Bro. Bolender would take me to my appointment, leave me and go on to his. Then the next morning he came for me and we followed the same procedure. Sometimes this was not possible. Then I had to travel by bus. This was not so pleasant, but we were not on a pleasure trip. We were still missionaries and God was blessing our ministry. Most weeks as we made out our reports we had reasons for thanksgiving. As Spring came, missions conventions began. Sr. Hankins joined us and we had wonderful fellowship as we prayed and worked together. We swung into the summer camp meeting season again. 1949 camp meetings were possibly the hardest part of deputational work.
I especially remember one trying circumstance. Most pastors want and need to attend their district camps so that time is difficult to schedule deputation workers. So we followed our instructions and drove onto the camp grounds several days before our appointment to speak. When we appeared at the registration office it seemed we were not expected. Nevertheless, we were finally assigned a room in the dormitory. This was a long building with a center hall with small rooms on each side. Each room was furnished with a double bed, a shelf with a wash pan, a bucket or pitcher to carry water, and a pail for water disposal. Our room was about the middle of the building. I admit I had been in camps with not so good accommodations, for back in early days of our camp meetings for two years we women slept on straw ticks spread on the floor. But there we knew each other, sharing inconveniences and had fellowship. But here we knew no one and no one seemed to want to know us. Bro. Bolender found a place to get water. We had towels, etc., so we freshened ourselves as best we could. After awhile we heard the call for the evening meal.
We joined in the line with the crowd and ate supper, after which we went to our room to get a little rest. But soon all was commotion, youthful voices everywhere. Their day’s work finished, they were rushing to prepare for the evening service. We also prepared and when we heard footsteps we joined the others and found seats, still feeling like utter strangers. Just as the service was about to begin, we glanced to the side entrance and who did we see but our good friend Howard Busby from Kansas. Many memories flooded our minds, not only of entertaining him in the little basement parsonage in Big Bow, Kansas, but also in revivals in Elizabethtown. Afterward he came with his broad smile and hearty handshake, greeted us, and passed a few remarks. We saw others were waiting to greet the evangelist so we slipped quietly out to our room. By the time we had gotten quiet for a night’s rest people began filling the hallway. Some went quietly to their rooms but it seemed that the majority were young people filled with vigor and fun, especially the girls to our right who seemed to be trying to catch up on a whole year of excitement and fun. Sleep was impossible until far into the night. Finally, all was quiet and sleep came. Being lifetime early risers, we were out to the early morning prayer service followed by breakfast, then the morning service, after which the District Superintendent came to us, shook hands, introducing himself, and with a very sober face, bade us to make ourselves at home. We thanked him and he was gone. After three or four public services, Bro. Busby, seeing that we had not been publicly recognized, took it upon himself. When he got on his feet to preach, he asked us to stand and introduced us as the missionary representatives, briefly referring to our former associations. After that, things loosened and we felt more freedom mingling with pastors and people. Our service was scheduled for a midweek afternoon.
We enjoyed the services, thankful to again enjoy the ministry of our friend and to share in praying around the altar. God helped us again as we presented World Missions. We had planted the seed and trusted the Lord for the harvest. The next day we were on our way to another camp.
Why I have written this account of this particular camp, I am not sure, but it reminded us of some warnings we had been given. “Just wait until you are in deputational work,” suggesting how boring and how tiring it was. We traveled for almost two years, held conventions, spoke at camps and one-night services in churches from the Atlantic coast states to the Pacific, in twenty two states, and we enjoyed it immensely. Only one other time do I recall a real trial. Our tour was in a district that had a large number of churches, so Bro. Bolender took me to my appointment. After arriving at the parsonage, he took my cases to the door and I followed. The pastor answered the bell. He invited us in, but Bro. Bolender explained that he must drive on to his announced service. So I went into the reception hall and, given a chair, the pastor excused himself and left. I sat waiting. Finally I heard him talking on the phone. He seemed perturbed. Then I heard him say something about the missionary, then very clearly, “I don’t know what we are going to do. We have only two bedrooms, and we can’t take ____ (their little three year old daughter) out of her room.” I clearly understood what his worries were. Being of an independent nature, I was sorely tempted to step into the other room and quietly tell him not to worry, that I would gladly sleep on one of the church pews. The Holy Spirit rebuked me and I quietly waited. After a while the wife came and spoke and showed me where the bathroom was, saying lunch would soon be ready. After eating, the pastor took my cases into the church which was attached to the parsonage. I arranged my display and had time for meditation and prayer before people began gathering for the service. My heart was lifted as eager people accepted literature and asked questions about curios.
The service was free and followed by a good offering. After the service the pastor introduced me to a pleasant couple, saying I was to be their guest. On the way to their home I was informed that my host was the church janitor. We can never forget those precious people. First she showed me to my room where my things were placed, then we had a light lunch, visited a bit, had prayer together, and retired. Oh, how good that bed felt. Sheepishly I thought of the church pew but soon fell asleep.
Bro. Bolender came the next morning. They received him with open arms and hearts. After some questions they learned that we had Monday nights off, so they insisted that we stay with them. They were probably in their middle 60’s. He had a workshop that intrigued by husband, while she and I enjoyed flowers and vegetables and women’s interests. That night we showed them slides of our work on the islands. She was a wonderful cook. On Tuesday morning we loaded the car and took our leave trying to express our deep appreciation for their hospitality.
I could have written a small book about our two years of deputational work and travels that included glorious scenes from the east coast where we gazed on the monuments of Pocahontas and Captain John Smith, our capitol in Washington, D. C., the solemnity of the Lincoln Memorial, the tomb of the unknown soldier with the beat of the change of the sentry guard, all have left their lasting impressions. I recall that Sr. Hanks had been with us for a missionary convention which had just preceded May 30th holiday. We had that night free and were in the area and decided it a good opportunity to see our national capitol. The Pocono Mt. region was beautiful, it’s clear crystal streams, with many deer leaping gracefully through wooded sections, skirting highways. On one tour we were very close to Niagara Falls and had time for a ride on the Maid of the Mist, then crossed over into Canada.
On a trip to the Northwest we traveled miles and miles of desolate dry territory in Nevada and Utah. Late Saturday night we came to a tiny town with a service station and a primitive hotel. We stopped for gas and inquired how far it was to the next town. The answer was over sixty miles. When we asked where we could find the nearest church where we could attend church the next day, we were told over sixty miles ahead and forty-five miles back. We took a room in the motel, setting the clock to ensure early start. We retired early. Soon after, the place came alive. People had come for miles around for the Saturday night shindig. We had planned a good night’s rest, but they danced, drank, and yelled till nearly midnight. Our hearts were heavy. Here, we were travelling over the U.S.A. in behalf of missions and who needed the gospel more than those in that community. We might have dressed and gone out to witness for the Lord if no more than to distribute tracts, but Bro. Bolender did not feel that it was safe for us to go outside our room. I have wondered what Peter Cartwright would have done. We had a full schedule ahead of us and many miles before reaching our next church. We left tracts in the room and with the sleepy-eyed young attendant at the gas tank. As I write this in 1984, I wonder if we may have missed an opportunity of giving personal testimonies that night to that carousing crowd. If so we can only leave our failure in the hands of a compassionate heavenly Father. We arrived at a Nazarene church in time for Sunday School that morning and enjoyed Christian fellowship with the saints. That afternoon we traveled on, for we were many miles from our next appointment. On Monday morning we drove into Salt Lake City. We took time to visit the Mormon Tabernacle and hear the great choir sing. We viewed the great temple, but not being Mormons, we were not allowed inside. How thankful we were that God had surrounded us both from childhood with the fundamental truth concerning the scripture and redemption and had been led to a definite experience of holiness.
On one trip we were told of a beautiful scenic spot not far from our route as we were visiting churches in the Northwest. This was Mirror Lake. The trail had only been cleared of the heavy snow the day before, but when we reached the lake far up the mountain we found quite a group of tourists. The scene was almost breathtaking. There we were, far up among mountain peaks in a small valley and never had we seen a body of water so clear, so quiet, the reflection of the giant evergreen trees. The azure blue skies were so perfect a reflection that a slide picture could by mistake be shown upside down with good effect. In fact, we made that mistake more than once when showing slides to friends. We could spend but little time at this gorgeous display of natural beauty for we must be on time for our next missionary meeting. As I remember that lake I think of John’s vision of the river of life, clear as crystal.
Along with the beauties of nature that we enjoyed in our travels our lives were made richer by meeting thousands of God’s children who share in missionary work by prayer and financial support. Then there were the faithful pastors and wives who so loyally entertained us, many times discomforting themselves in order to make us comfortable. It might be of interest to say that in Kentucky, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado and Nebraska, we visited churches that we had pastored, renewing friendships. In the state of Washington one pastor’s wife was the former Ruth Stapleton who over twenty years before had been one of our most spiritual young people at Oshkosh, Nebraska. She had very high ideals in her attitudes and conduct, very quiet but never compromising her convictions. Naturally she suffered some humiliation but, to the surprise of some, she won the honor of being the valedictorian of her class.
When we went to Big Bow, Kansas, who should welcome us but Rev. and Mrs. H. L. Solter. We had entertained them as deputational workers back in 1931 after they had returned from India. At that time we were living in the three room basement apartment. Now they were enjoying the nice parsonage built over the basement. You may remember that they entertained us for three days in the mission home on Trinidad as we were on our way to Barbados. Truly we are workers together with God whether on foreign soil or in our homeland.
One special answer to prayer came as we represented missions in a New York church pastored by Rev. Andrew Whitney. We told of the large open air Sunday School at Gray’s Farm, Antigua and of renting the building even though it was too small, for it was the only thing we could find after many months of searching. We mentioned that they needed an organ. Bro. Whitney felt led to ask his people to buy that organ. The response was enthusiastic. The organ was on its way in a few days and two weeks after it was loaded in New York it arrived in Antigua. Sr. Philippe wrote me that when the people at the mission saw it they began to clap their hands praising the Lord and said, “God has given us an organ, now we know He will give a church.” In a few months a lot was purchased, a church built, and a full time pastor installed. This was a thrill to us.
For some months Bro. Flexon had been asking Bro. Bolender when he would be ready to return to the mission field. Bro. Bolender hesitated. I knew he felt reluctant about leaving his aged parents again. His father past 90 and blind, his mother in her eighties and totally deaf were still living alone in their home, but the older son who lived on the home farm not far away, looked after them.
Finally after thought and prayer and explanation of a need on Trinidad where Rev. Ives was serving and felt he could no longer remain because his wife had passed away, Bro. Bolender agreed we would go to Trinidad. So plans began. We received our last [deputational tour] of 1950 for upper New York State. I will not dwell on this town but all went well. We were keeping in touch with headquarters. Our visas and passports came through. I vividly remember my last night’s service in a country church. I prepared my display as usual with missionary literature to give away and some for sale. The service began with missionary songs and prayer followed by an introduction by the pastor. When he took his seat and I started to make some introductory remarks, all at once, just like a shower of rain from a perfectly blue sky, the floodgates of divine blessing flooded my soul. The Holy Spirit had taught me to not resist or stifle His leadings. I stood there praising God, while tears of joy flowed down my cheeks. I certainly made no apology when the heavenly breezes calmed and I continued with my missionary message. That night I did not understand. Never before had anything of that kind occurred. Missionary services were usually times of some stress. My heart was touched anew with a burden for a lost world, with a prayerful attitude that God would help me to present the need in a way to move others to action. This, my last service, I did not worry, but I certainly did not understand.
Bro. Bolender had a service in a nearby city and called for me the next morning and we were to return to Indianapolis and soon be on our way back to the mission field. After I was in the car and we were started Bro. Bolender told me that an air mail letter was awaiting him when he arrived at the pastor’s the evening before. It was from Rev. Flexon. He handed it to me. The gist of the letter was, “I regret to inform you that, beyond any control of my own, it has become necessary to cancel your appointment to Trinidad. He clearly expressed his disappointments, but made no explanation. To say it was a shock is very mild, but clearly the voice of the Spirit whispered, “This is what I was preparing you for last night.” With that came a calm resignation even though we both felt some underhanded influence was responsible. We continued our trip to headquarters where we turned in our department car. It was good to be able to leave the Foreign Missionary Department with a clear record after seven years, lacking a few months. Bro. Flexon refrained from pinpointing any individual responsible for the change, nor did Bro. Bolender press for information. We believed Romans 8:28. Our hearts have been made glad many times down through the years by letters from both preachers and workers from both Barbados and Antigua expressing appreciation of what the Lord helped us to do while we labored among them.
We continued our interest in Foreign Missionary work through the local churches. Where we have pastored also I have had the privilege of serving as W.M.S. President in several churches, District W.M.S. Treasurer and W.M.S. District President. I have served at different times as missionary zone chairman and on committees. It has always been a joy to be even a small part of those fulfilling the great commission. And now as we are so near the end of the journey and I pen the lines, I look at the pictures of our prayer partners who are at the front battle lines and feel the missionary fires are still glowing. Amen and amen.
Before we left for the West Indies, we put our membership in the Elizabethtown, Kentucky church, so Bro. Bolender wrote Rev. L. S. Houston, the Kentucky District Superintendent, informing him of our termination from the Missionary Department and that we were open to accept a pastorate on the district. We were staying with Father and Mother Bolender, finding real fulfillment in helping them in many ways, and it was always a delight to Bro. Bolender to get back on the farm in time of harvest, trimming or spraying the beautiful orchard.
Along with the beauties of nature that we enjoyed in our travels our lives were made richer by meeting thousands of God’s children who share in missionary work by prayer and financial support. Then there were the faithful pastors and wives who so loyally entertained us, many times discomforting themselves in order to make us comfortable. It might be of interest to say that in Kentucky, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado and Nebraska, we visited churches that we had pastored, renewing friendships. In the state of Washington one pastor’s wife was the former Ruth Stapleton who over twenty years before had been one of our most spiritual young people at Oshkosh, Nebraska. She had very high ideals in her attitudes and conduct, very quiet but never compromising her convictions. Naturally she suffered some humiliation but, to the surprise of some, she won the honor of being the valedictorian of her class.
When we went to Big Bow, Kansas, who should welcome us but Rev. and Mrs. H. L. Solter. We had entertained them as deputational workers back in 1931 after they had returned from India. At that time we were living in the three room basement apartment. Now they were enjoying the nice parsonage built over the basement. You may remember that they entertained us for three days in the mission home on Trinidad as we were on our way to Barbados. Truly we are workers together with God whether on foreign soil or in our homeland.
One special answer to prayer came as we represented missions in a New York church pastored by Rev. Andrew Whitney. We told of the large open air Sunday School at Gray’s Farm, Antigua and of renting the building even though it was too small, for it was the only thing we could find after many months of searching. We mentioned that they needed an organ. Bro. Whitney felt led to ask his people to buy that organ. The response was enthusiastic. The organ was on its way in a few days and two weeks after it was loaded in New York it arrived in Antigua. Sr. Philippe wrote me that when the people at the mission saw it they began to clap their hands praising the Lord and said, “God has given us an organ, now we know He will give a church.” In a few months a lot was purchased, a church built, and a full time pastor installed. This was a thrill to us.
For some months Bro. Flexon had been asking Bro. Bolender when he would be ready to return to the mission field. Bro. Bolender hesitated. I knew he felt reluctant about leaving his aged parents again. His father past 90 and blind, his mother in her eighties and totally deaf were still living alone in their home, but the older son who lived on the home farm not far away, looked after them.
Finally after thought and prayer and explanation of a need on Trinidad where Rev. Ives was serving and felt he could no longer remain because his wife had passed away, Bro. Bolender agreed we would go to Trinidad. So plans began. We received our last [deputational tour] of 1950 for upper New York State. I will not dwell on this town but all went well. We were keeping in touch with headquarters. Our visas and passports came through. I vividly remember my last night’s service in a country church. I prepared my display as usual with missionary literature to give away and some for sale. The service began with missionary songs and prayer followed by an introduction by the pastor. When he took his seat and I started to make some introductory remarks, all at once, just like a shower of rain from a perfectly blue sky, the floodgates of divine blessing flooded my soul. The Holy Spirit had taught me to not resist or stifle His leadings. I stood there praising God, while tears of joy flowed down my cheeks. I certainly made no apology when the heavenly breezes calmed and I continued with my missionary message. That night I did not understand. Never before had anything of that kind occurred. Missionary services were usually times of some stress. My heart was touched anew with a burden for a lost world, with a prayerful attitude that God would help me to present the need in a way to move others to action. This, my last service, I did not worry, but I certainly did not understand.
Bro. Bolender had a service in a nearby city and called for me the next morning and we were to return to Indianapolis and soon be on our way back to the mission field. After I was in the car and we were started Bro. Bolender told me that an air mail letter was awaiting him when he arrived at the pastor’s the evening before. It was from Rev. Flexon. He handed it to me. The gist of the letter was, “I regret to inform you that, beyond any control of my own, it has become necessary to cancel your appointment to Trinidad. He clearly expressed his disappointments, but made no explanation. To say it was a shock is very mild, but clearly the voice of the Spirit whispered, “This is what I was preparing you for last night.” With that came a calm resignation even though we both felt some underhanded influence was responsible. We continued our trip to headquarters where we turned in our department car. It was good to be able to leave the Foreign Missionary Department with a clear record after seven years, lacking a few months. Bro. Flexon refrained from pinpointing any individual responsible for the change, nor did Bro. Bolender press for information. We believed Romans 8:28. Our hearts have been made glad many times down through the years by letters from both preachers and workers from both Barbados and Antigua expressing appreciation of what the Lord helped us to do while we labored among them.
We continued our interest in Foreign Missionary work through the local churches. Where we have pastored also I have had the privilege of serving as W.M.S. President in several churches, District W.M.S. Treasurer and W.M.S. District President. I have served at different times as missionary zone chairman and on committees. It has always been a joy to be even a small part of those fulfilling the great commission. And now as we are so near the end of the journey and I pen the lines, I look at the pictures of our prayer partners who are at the front battle lines and feel the missionary fires are still glowing. Amen and amen.
Before we left for the West Indies, we put our membership in the Elizabethtown, Kentucky church, so Bro. Bolender wrote Rev. L. S. Houston, the Kentucky District Superintendent, informing him of our termination from the Missionary Department and that we were open to accept a pastorate on the district. We were staying with Father and Mother Bolender, finding real fulfillment in helping them in many ways, and it was always a delight to Bro. Bolender to get back on the farm in time of harvest, trimming or spraying the beautiful orchard.