This Is His Work, Why Am I Making It Mine?

I remember one point during the early days of GFA when I was traveling full-time for the ministry, and the strain was taking a heavy toll both on my family and on me. I was starting to burn out; I almost hated the work.

Two factors were wearing me down:
I felt like a beggar.
It is hard on the flesh to be traveling and asking for money day after day and night after night. It was almost becoming a sales operation for me, and I stopped feeling good about myself.

I was discouraged by the poor response — especially from churches and pastors. Many days I called on people for hours to get only one or two new sponsors. Pastors and mission committees listened to me and promised to call back, but I never heard from them again. It always seemed as though I was competing against the building fund, new carpets for the fellowship hall or next Saturday night’s Jesus rock concert.


Despite the solemn message of death, suffering and need I was presenting, people still left the meetings with laughter and gossip on their lips. I was offended at the spirit of jocularity in the worship places; it wounded me.

So many times they went out to eat after I had just shared the tragedy of the thousands starving to death daily or the millions of homeless people living on the streets of Asia. Because of this, I was becoming angry and judgmental.As I felt uglier and uglier inside, depression settled in.

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