The date was January 19. The year: 1888. The place: Toronto, Canada. The old, historic Knox Church was filled to capacity. Excitement was in air. The young man and his new bride were addressing their home church for the last time before being sent to an African mission field known then as “The White Man’s Grave.”
“My wife and I have a strange dread in going.” The young man spoke soberly. “We feel much as if we were going down into a pit. We are willing to take the risk and go if you, our home circle, will promise to hold the ropes.”
This brave young couple instinctively knew that they were engaging in dangerous business. They knew the stakes were high and they couldn’t do it alone. They were asking for help. In the inspiration and anointing of the moment, the people responded heroically. Everyone present promised to pray, to support, to stand with their missionaries as they attempted to advance the borders of God’s Kingdom. They committed themselves to become prayer partners for this young missionary couple. I’m sure they were sincere in their intentions to pray. Unfortunately, sincerity just doesn’t cut it on the frontlines.
Within two years, his wife and new baby were buried in “The White Man’s Grave” in Africa. When this brave young missionary contacted the same fatal fever and realized he, too, was dying, he decided to return to Canada without informing a single person. As destiny would have it, he arrived at the church precisely at the time of the Wednesday night prayer meeting. No one noticed as he slipped in and sat on the back pew. As the prayer meeting dutifully crawled to its close, he went forward. The people were in complete shock as this emaciated broken shell of a man began to speak.
“I am your missionary. My wife and child are buried in Africa and I have come home to die. This evening I listened anxiously, as you prayed, for some mention of your missionary to see if you were keeping your promise, but in vain! You prayed for everything connected with yourselves and your home church, but you forgot your missionary. I see now why I am a failure as a missionary. It is because you have failed to hold the ropes!”
Could the lack of prayer really be the reason for this dedicated man’s failure as a missionary? Could the prayerlessness of his home church really be the reason he lost his wife and child? “Holding the ropes” is serious business, especially when the gospel is being taken into hostile territory.
All of us, I am sure, have promised to hold some ropes for some young men and women who have responded literally to the command to forsake all and follow. They are giving the prime of their lives to the honor of God and the advancement of His Kingdom. Their obedience has landed them in distant and sometimes dangerous lands. They are doing their part. How about us? Are we faithfully holding the ropes?
Being a house of prayer for trivial needs is not enough. The Church is called to become a house of prayer for all nations. Dare we presume to impact nations apart from prayer? Dare we send men and women to foreign nations, lambs among wolves without proper prayer support?
If you have grown tired of holding the ropes for your missionaries, let this be your wake-up call. Their success—sometimes their very lives—depends on our prayers.
Why not take the next ten minutes and hold the ropes for your missionaries? It will be the best-spent ten minutes of your day.
