An Ode To A Cross-Cultural Missionary
Steve Jothiraj
The cross cultural missionary, I tell you, is a
dying breed today
Though once a raging fire, now in ashes lay;
Movements die, methods change, God's
ways a mystery,
Before the embers singe the sand, here is
my bouquet.
Cometh the hour, riseth the man and so they
came from town and country
In God's time they obeyed the call, to go as
a missionary;
Armed with zeal and passion for souls, no
manual in their hands,
They set out to sow the seeds of fire and see
it become a tree.
As wood on the pyre, awaiting fire, on the
altar lay their dreams,
All strewn around, college degrees and their
fat pay-cheque leaves;
With crying family, moist eyed friends
trying to squelch the spirit,
With stoic resolve they blaze the trail to the
far off mission fields.
Along came children, zesty, playful, lovely
girl and a boy
But soon they had to leave the nest,
dragging along a toy
For the Moriah altar, now asks for the child,
and who may dare deny
And so in a heap, on the altar lay, their one
and only joy.
No ram entangled in the thorns, no hand to
stay the sword
No voice this time, no provision divine,
only comfort in the Word;
With hand to the plough, no turning back,
bracing the loss they move
“He that giveth, taketh” they said, as they
reached the end of the road.
Weary bodied, weathered skin, with aching
bones and old
They returned home, empty-handed, no
laurels or medals of gold;
While singers and preachers are revered
here, no such rank they hold
Yet I only sing of these great men, whose
stories may never be told.
I wait for that day when the roll shall be
called and rewards given out
These men will rise to great acclaim and
aloud shout about;
And then shall my heart leap like a deer and
I shall proudly pout
For once on the cruel Moriah altar, I had to
lay about!
(Steve Jothiraj is the son of our retired
missionary couple Samuel Jothiraj andJeyaAnbu)
December 2018 | www.bymonline.org | page 16