Stories of Faith - Episode 67

Transformation for a Young Man in Laos

Khamla was devastated when his wife left him. One day, as he walked past the Buddhist temple in extreme sorrow, something that looked like a small bird hit him in the chest. He unexpectedly changed; he became violently strong and was suddenly unable to communicate.

His parents and the community were so fearful that they locked him in a cage. His parents made many animal sacrifices to the spirits and invited multiple witch doctors to help him, but nothing worked.

Finally, they turned to the Christians, who sent believers to pray every day. After a month of prayers, Khamla calmly told his father he was ready to leave the cage. Khamla, his parents and siblings all gave their lives to Christ after witnessing his transformation, and many others in the village began to show an interest in Christianity. This worried village authorities, and they declared that Khamla and his family could remain Christians, but no one else in the village could. They also said that Khamla and his family could not lead others to Christ. “Pray they will know what to do and that the Lord breaks down these barriers, as many saw the healing miracle of the Lord,” a VOM partner wrote.

https://vom.com.au/laos-transformation-for-young-man/

Stories of Faith - Episode 66

I Laid Down My Islamic Privilege to Preach Jesus Around the World: How a direct descendant of Muhammad met Christ on a crowded Pakistani sidewalk.

Narrated by Christopher Alam, the author of Out of Islam: One Muslim’s Journey to Faith in Christ.

I was born in a Sunni Muslim home in Bangladesh, where I learned the meaning of stern discipline from my father, a major general in the military with responsibilities in the intelligence service. We lived on different army bases in elaborate quarters reserved for officers and their families. Servants catered to our every need. The business and political elite of Bangladesh and Pakistan frequented social events in our home.

I grew up attending an Islamic madrasa (religious school), where we studied the Qur’an and learned classical Arabic from an imam. My father could trace his lineage back to the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan (the name derives from Hashem, grandson of the prophet Muhammad’s great-grandfather). His heritage qualified me as a direct descendant of Islam’s founder.

I was respected for my holy ancestry. Yet my childhood was often painful, especially after my parents divorced and my father remarried unexpectedly. I was eight years old, feeling abandoned and missing my mother.

My stepmother regularly abused me mentally and physically. Screaming curses, she would hit me with a cricket wicket or dig her sharp fingernails into my ears, which caused them to bleed. Sores peppered my body. My father ignored my pleas for help and beat me for supposedly lying about the abuse.

When I turned 13, I joined a prestigious air force college as a cadet aiming at a career like my father’s. However, I left the military in 1975 when I was 21. Unhealed wounds from my childhood sent me into a downhill spiral. Suicidal thoughts haunted me. Then a seemingly random incident changed my life forever.

Willing to die

While walking in Lahore, Pakistan’s second largest city, to buy an electric water heater, I noticed a Caucasian man on a street corner giving out gospel tracts. Wearing scruffy jeans, he looked like a hippie. He was well over six feet tall and stood out from the normal rush of shoppers, honking autos, weaving motorbikes, three-wheeler taxis, donkey carts, and pungent aromas from food vendors. Curious about his demeanor, which radiated inner peace, I approached him and asked, “Who are you, and where are you from?”

He said he was a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ from England. He belonged to a street evangelism team from the Jesus People movement, known for traveling around the world during the 1970s. From my Muslim upbringing, I had only encountered Jesus as a prophet who appeared before Muhammad. And I didn’t believe he had died on a cross—the Jews, we were told, had crucified Judas instead.

After exchanging a few words with this English man—later, I learned his name was Keith—I walked away, about 50 yards or so, before returning. Although I believed in Islam, I wanted to know more about his own faith. Keith told me Christ would set me free and give me a new life. Though I doubted his God was interested in my despair, or even existed, I bowed and prayed to receive Christ on the crowded sidewalk in front of a shoe store.

I sensed this was what I had been waiting for all my life. It felt like a huge boulder had been lifted off my back. I saw everything in technicolor, and I wanted to sing and laugh.

Keith and I arranged to meet the next morning at the Lahore YMCA so I could learn more about the Christian faith. I waited there for several hours, but he never appeared—and he didn’t show up the next day either. Returning to the YMCA on the third day, I sat in the lobby for a while before spotting a couple sorting and arranging the same tracts as Keith had. They were from the same evangelism team, I learned. When I asked about Keith, they told me he had left the country straightaway because of a family emergency. I never saw him again.

After I related my encounter with Keith, we enjoyed a wonderful conversation. They encouraged me by reading from a burgundy leather Bible and asked me to hold it. Initially, I refused because Muslims cannot touch a holy book with unwashed hands.

The couple stressed Luke 9:23–25, where Jesus explains the meaning of denying yourself and taking up your cross. They challenged me: “If you are not willing to die for Jesus, then you are not fit to live for him. He wants you to take up your cross every day.”

I did not realize that within a few weeks, those verses would seriously test my new faith.

Under house arrest

As a new convert, I joined the evangelism team. They discipled me and gave me a pocket-size New Testament to study. I sensed their love and genuine concern. While alone one afternoon, amid a grove of trees away from the congestion, I heard an audible voice: “This is what you will do for the rest of your life. I will take you around the world and you will tell people about Jesus.”

Although fear gripped me, I believed it was God speaking.

By denying Islam, I knew I was courting disgrace from my family and risking an honor killing. At the time, I lived with friends in Lahore who turned furious when I admitted I had accepted Jesus into my life. They wrote to my father, a devout Muslim who prayed five times daily facing Mecca and was discipled by a holy man. Enraged, he rushed to Lahore to confront my apostasy. He enlisted friends to harass me and force me to recant. When that didn’t work, they committed me to a mental facility.

Isolated in the hospital’s psychiatric ward for two weeks, I was sedated and guarded by soldiers. Even so, I gained comfort from covertly reading my smuggled New Testament, and I was able to lead several people to Jesus. God intervened when a psychiatrist verified my sanity and discharged me.

My father was furious. He kept me under house arrest at his home in Multan, in Pakistan’s southern Punjab region. While armed sentries stood guard outside, I was confined for several weeks before I could escape by bus to Christian friends in Lahore. When I learned the police were searching for me, I fled to Karachi to join an evangelism team. Even under duress, my faith grew as I devoured the Bible, memorized Scripture, shared my testimony, and distributed tracts.

Our street evangelism flourished until my father demonstrated his political power in early 1976. The police arrested five of us for anti-Islamic activities. Jammed into a tiny, filthy cell, we slept on vomit-caked blankets on a brick floor and shared a small can for our toilet.

Four of my Christian brothers were from other countries, and they were released within a few days and deported. But my ID card and passport were confiscated. I was warned, “You will leave a Muslim or die.”

The jailers moved me to a ward for political prisoners, where I spent almost one year. Despite the shame and isolation, the Holy Spirit sustained me along with the New Testament I had smuggled in and hidden. The glory of God filled my cell many times. I felt especially encouraged while reading Acts 16:25, which recounts Paul and Silas praying and singing hymns in prison. It was mind-blowing that God counted me worthy to suffer for Jesus.

After threatening my father with litigation in Pakistan’s supreme court, I was released to his control. Under the terms of the settlement, I remained a political prisoner and could not leave the country, own a Bible, or associate with Christians. Living with my father wore me down, especially after getting arrested again for hiding the New Testament under my mattress. (I had occasionally managed to sneak out for fellowship with Christians, despite fearing retribution.)

In 1977, with my father’s pressure to renounce Christianity as relentless as ever—he would threaten to have me beheaded for apostasy—I made the fateful decision to flee Pakistan. There was no other choice.

Underground Christians risked retaliation by hiding me and providing travel funds (I was penniless at the time). They helped me obtain a new passport and visa to Afghanistan. Although the army and police were tracking me, I was able to pass through the Afghan immigration checkpoint, aided by an army officer two Iranian diplomats. I walked across the border in old jeans, lugging a backpack and guitar. The generous Iranians drove me to Kandahar and paid my bus fare to Kabul.

During my seven-month escape journey, God always provided. Openhearted brothers and sisters supported me generously. From Kabul I passed through Turkey, Russia, Belgium, Holland, and finally to Sweden. After I endured some bureaucratic hassles, the government finally granted me political asylum.

Call to missions

Sweden became my new home. I learned the language and joined an evangelical Lutheran church where I met my wife, Brita, whom I married in 1979. I attended Torchbearers International Bible School in Holsby before moving to Uppsala, where I ministered to Muslim immigrants. Brita worked as a nurse, and I found a janitorial position in an office building. I learned God could use me even while I cleaned bathrooms and floors.

All the while, he was preparing me to fulfill the mission he had revealed back in Lahore, to preach Jesus all over the world. We moved to America for further Bible training and returned to Sweden a year later, after which I taught at the Word of Life Training Center in Uppsala for four years.

I was also active in the church and with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, doing street evangelism and praying for the sick. My call to missions solidified in 1983 in Poland. I accompanied two couples driving a van there loaded with food for needy families. I was asked to preach at Catholic youth camps. Invitations to return followed, setting the stage for large audiences and many young people making commitments to Christ.

Shortly thereafter, I founded Dynamis World Ministries, a precursor to conducting mass evangelistic meetings in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. In 1993 we moved our headquarters to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Over the past 40 years I have been privileged to preach in more than 75 nations and plant churches in Asia, Eastern Europe, and Africa.

In the account from John’s gospel of Jesus miraculously feeding the 5,000, the original loaves and fishes come courtesy of an unknown boy (6:9). The story reminds us that God can use even the smallest things—and the unlikeliest people—to dramatic effect. When I first became a Christian, my only ambition was doing street-level evangelism and giving out tracts. I’m humbled to see how God has multiplied these efforts, ensuring that more and more people can taste the Bread of Life.

Source: https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2021/april-web-only/christopher-alam-direct-descendant-muhammad-islam.html

Stories of Faith - Episode 65

William Tyndale: Father of the English Bible

How many Bibles do you have in your house? For most of us, Bibles are easily accessible, and many of us have several. That we have the Bible in English owes much to William Tyndale, sometimes called the Father of the English Bible. 90% of the King James Version of the Bible and 75% of the Revised Standard Version are from the translation of the Bible into English made by William Tyndale, yet Tyndale himself was burned at the stake for his work on this day, October 6, 1536.

William Tyndale was born near the Welsh border of England in 1494. Forty years earlier, two important events occurred in Europe which would have a great impact on Tyndale's life and work. In May, 1453, the Turks had stormed Constantinople, and the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire fell to the Moslem invaders. Greek scholars fled westward and brought with them a scholarship which had been almost forgotten in the West. Greek language studies of the classics increased, and the Scriptures began to be studied in the original Greek, rather than the Latin Vulgate. The invention of the printing press in 1454 was a second important development. The printing press would eliminate copyist errors and make the Scriptures more easily available in quantity editions. But to have the Bible in English was illegal.

In an attempt to restrain the influence of Wycliffe's followers, in 1408 Parliament had passed the "Constitutions of Oxford" which forbade anyone translating or reading a part of the Bible in the language of the people without permission of the ecclesiastical authorities. Men and women were even burned for teaching their children the Apostles' Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments in English. William Tyndale, however, had an unquenchable passion to make the Bible available to every Englishman.

Back in the fourteenth century, John Wycliffe was the first to make (or at least oversee) an English translation of the Bible, but that was before the invention of the printing press and all copies had to be handwritten. Besides, the church had banned the unauthorized translation of the Bible into English in 1408.

Over one hundred years later, however, William Tyndale had a burning desire to make the Bible available to even the common people in England. After studying at Oxford and Cambridge, he joined the household of Sir John Walsh at little Sudbury Manor as tutor to the Walsh children. Walsh was a generous lord of the manor and often entertained the local clergy at his table. Tyndale often added spice to the table conversation as he was confronted with the Biblical ignorance of the priests. At one point Tyndale told a priest, "If God spares my life, ere many years pass, I will cause a boy that driveth the plow shall know more of the Scriptures than thou dost."

It was a nice dream, but how was Tyndale to accomplish this when translating the Bible into English was illegal? He went to London to ask Bishop Tunstall if he could be authorized to make an English translation of the Bible, but the bishop would not grant his approval. However, Tyndale would not let the disapproval of men stop him from carrying out what seemed so obviously God's will. With encouragement and support of some British merchants, he decided to go to Europe to complete his translation, then have it printed and smuggled back into England.

William Tyndale Follows God's Will to Germany

Tyndale went to the Bishop of London, Cuthbert Tunstall, to seek permission to translate the Bible into English. Tunstall refused. But while in London Tyndale came into contact with several merchants who were smuggling into England some of Martin Luther's writings from Germany. They encouraged Tyndale to go to Europe to translate. They would help smuggle the Bibles back into England.

In 1524 Tyndale sailed for Germany. In Hamburg, he worked on the New Testament, and in Cologne, he found a printer who would print the work. However, news of Tyndale's activity came to an opponent of the Reformation who had the press raided. Tyndale himself managed to escape with the pages already printed and made his way to the German city Worms where the New Testament was soon published. Six thousand copies were printed and smuggled into England. The bishops did everything they could to eradicate the Bibles -- Bishop Tunstall had copies ceremoniously burned at St. Paul's; the archbishop of Canterbury bought up copies to destroy them. Tyndale used the money to print improved editions!

King Henry VIII, then in the throes of his divorce with Queen Katherine, offered Tyndale a safe passage to England to serve as his writer and scholar. Tyndale refused, saying he would not return until the Bible could be legally translated into English. Tyndale continued hiding among the merchants in Antwerp and began translating the Old Testament while the King's agents searched all over England and Europe for him.

Tyndale fled England to translate the Bible on the Continent. Even there he had to be careful to avoid English spies and informers, as well as European opponents of the Reformation. His whereabouts are often difficult to determine, but he spent time in Hamburg, Wittenberg, Cologne, Worms, and Antwerp. In 1525 his New Testament was printed and smuggled back into England. It was the first translation of the Bible from the original Greek into English --indeed, it was the first translation of a Greek book into English.

Tyndale's Betrayal and Martyrdom

In 1534 Tyndale was betrayed by a false friend near Brussels, arrested by imperial forces, and thrown into prison. Tyndale was finally found by an Englishman who pretended to be his friend but then turned him over to the authorities. After a year and a half in prison, he was brought to trial for heresy -- for believing, among other things, in the forgiveness of sins and that the mercy offered in the gospel was enough for salvation. He was accused of maintaining that faith alone justifies.

In August 1536, he was condemned; on this day October 6, 1536, he was strangled and his body burned at the stake. His last prayer was "Lord, open the King of England's eyes." The prayer was answered in part when three years later, in 1539, Henry VIII required every parish church in England to make a copy of the English Bible available to its parishioners.

Source: https://www.christianity.com/church/church-history/timeline/1501-1600/translator-william-tyndale-strangled-and-burned-11629961.html

Stories of Faith - Episode 64

Paul Gindiri, as he was popularly known in northern Nigeria, was a confrontational preacher from his conversion to his death in 1996. He saw himself as an Apostle Paul to his generation. As such, he hardly used his surname, Gindiri, the name of his hometown, or his native name, Gofo, given to him by a Fulani neighbor.

Paul Gindiri was one of the greatest Christian revivalists of all times in northern Nigeria. His revivalism came at an auspicious time. The Gindiri spiritual revivals of the 1970s spread like wildfire on the Plateau and throughout central Nigeria. The churches were hungry for the Word and huge crowds gathered at Paul Gindiri’s crusades. Many Christians in northern Nigeria owe their spiritual renewal to these crusades.

Paul Gunen Gindiri was born to Gunen Saidu Sedet and Magajiya Naru on March 3, 1935 in Punbush (Kasuwan Ali), a village near Gindiri among the Pyem of Mangu Local Government area of Plateau State in central Nigeria. Magajiya Naru was Sedet’s second wife. Paul Gindiri was the second son among fourteen children (seven boys and seven girls). Both parents were traditionalists.

The Pyem (or Fyem) are proud of their history. They consider themselves immigrants from Gobir in Sokoto emirate in the northwest of Nigeria. They emigrated from there and settled in Bauchi but then the jihad spearheaded by Usman dan Fodio in the early nineteenth century pushed them out of Bauchi. They then settled in Pyangiji and dispersed to various other locations. One of their principal settlements is Gindiri where the SUM missionaries began to settle in 1934. In the pre-colonial period, the Pyem were middlemen in the slave trade between their immediate neighbours, especially the Maghavul and the Ron, and the Hausa/ Fulani of the Bauchi emirate. Paul Gindiri’s father and his siblings had Maghavul names because their ancestors had moved out of Gindiri and settled among the Maghavul in Kumbun. Later some of Paul Gindiri’s clan returned to Gindiri while the others stayed back and were assimilated into the Maghavul ethnic group. Before Paul was born, his father had moved from Gindiri and resettled in Punbush.

Paul Gindiri probably heard the gospel from the first Pyem converts, Akila Wantu Nachunga and Mallam Tagwai. He enrolled in the mission primary school where he studied for only four years because his father refused to continue to pay his school fees, preferring that he stay at home and help him on the farm. After Paul dropped out of school he took an appointment in the mission compound as an apprentice mason. Richard Bruce has shown how the Pyem converted to Islam or Christianity through social contacts in colonial times. We are not certain if Paul Gindiri became a Christian through his apprenticeship in Gindiri but, in any case, permanent spiritual transformation took place later. Not satisfied with his apprenticeship, Paul confided to his mother that he was going to the city to learn driving. He arrived in Jos in 1949.

With no money to pay for driving tutorials, Paul took a mining job in the Amalgamated Tin Mines of Nigeria (ATMN). While working there he enrolled in the driving school and not only learned driving but also automobile mechanics, skills which were invaluable assets to him later on. He got his driving certificate in 1951. As a motor mechanic/driver, it was not difficult for him to get a job. He worked for big organizations such as the National Institute of Trypanosomiasis at Vom, a few kilometres southwest of Jos, and later the Tin Mining Association, a tin mining camp southwest of Jos with headquarters in Barikin Ladi.

Paul Gindiri was a good mixer; he soon got involved with non-Christians, especially Hausa/Fulani Muslim youths. His association with these Hausa youths helped him to improve his Hausa, which he spoke more fluently than his mother tongue. He probably became a Muslim himself, though probably only a nominal one because he also became a heavy drinker. Paul also had problems with womanizing, smoking, and occult practices.

In 1960, Paul decided to marry Lami, his fiancée, whom he had courted for six months. He brought Lami to Jos. Lami had been raised in a strong Christian home, so as soon as she realised that her husband was not a Christian, she started to pray for him intensely. Paul Gindiri did not attend church, but Lami began to attend the Evangelical Church of West Africa (ECWA), the first ECWA church in Jos called “Bishara 1” (in Hausa) which was close to their home.

Eventually Lami was baptized in the church and became very active in the women’s fellowship. Every fellowship period, Lami would ask the other women to support her in prayer for her husband. The turning point in Paul Gindiri’s life occurred when he was working with British Engineering West African Company (BEWAC) as a driver and a salesman. He had gone to Minna, one of the major towns in northwestern Nigeria. The first night in a hotel in Minna, Paul Gindiri, under the influence of alcohol, almost killed a rival over a prostitute by smashing his head with a bottle. Luckily, the man did not die; otherwise Paul might have spent the rest of his life in jail.

When he returned to Jos, Paul Gindiri vowed not to drink. The resolution was perhaps strengthened by a dream he had one night. In the dream he saw Jesus who told him,

Listen. I am Jesus. I had earlier appeared to you and called you to become mine. Now I am appearing to you for the second time. I was the one who brought to life the man you hit to unconsciousness in order to give you a chance to repent. From today onward, you should never again drink alcohol beverages. All the sins you have been committing must be stopped forthwith. Failure to repent will make me appear a third time and I will take your life and cast you into hell fire.

Paul Gindiri took the message of this dream very seriously, and his life never was the same after that.

After the dream, Paul Gindiri bought two Hausa Bibles and two Hausa hymn books, for his wife and himself. ECWA Bishara 1 had a revival service and Lami invited her husband. The preacher that day seemed to speak directly to Paul who thought Lami had gone and talked to the preacher about him. The next Sunday another preacher said similar things that convicted him. He could hardly wait for the altar call and was the first and only one who raised his hand in response. After his conversion, Rev. Kure Nitte, the pastor of the church, discipled him. To show his conversion was genuine, Paul Gindiri publicly confessed his involvement in occult practices. One particular Sunday, Paul Gindiri brought all the objects he had used in his occult practices and they were burned on the church premises. Turning to Muslim passers-by who had stopped to watch the fire, Paul Gindiri roared at them, “It is your religion that has cheated me and led me into all these evil deeds. Your religion has no truth and unless you repent, you are bound for hell fire!” Paul Gindiri was subsequently baptized into the ECWA Bishara 1 in 1962. He became an elder in the church ten years later and acted most of the time as treasurer until his death.

Later Paul Gindiri enrolled for private tutoring in evangelism under Rev. J. A. Jacobson, an SIM missionary. He was trained in basic Arabic. With this basic training, he began to preach in the streets of Jos specifically to Muslims. On weekends, Paul Gindiri would preach in Muslim communities and in the Jos market where there were many Muslim traders. He was glad to learn that there was an SIM missionary, Dr. Andrew Stirrett, whose passion was the conversion of Muslims and who had made the Jos market his preaching center from the 1920s until his death in 1948. Paul Gindiri also found the newly established New Life For All (NLFA) suitable for his type of ministry to Muslims. The NLFA was founded by the Rev. Gerald Swank, another SIM missionary, for mobilisation of all church members in the churches in northern Nigeria for evangelism, especially to Muslims. Paul Gindiri founded the Gospel Team as a branch NLFA and which was under his control. NLFA became synonymous with Paul Gindiri to such an extent that he was called Sabaon Rai (i.e. New Life). A song was created and sung at all preaching sessions. This song became Paul Gindiri’s favourite. In Hausa

Rai domin kowa (Life for all)

Ku zo ku karbi Sabon Rai (Come and receive New Life)

Kaka ni ma zan yi domin (What shall I do)

Nima in sami Sabon Rai (To receive this New Life)

Idan ka mutu ka kare (If you die, you are gone)

Ina zaka? Gidan wuta (Where would you be? Hell fire)

Ni na tuba zan bi Yesu (I have repented I’m following Jesus)

Yesu bani Sabaon Rai (Jesus, give me New Life)

Paul Gindiri was so full of zeal to preach the gospel to everyone, especially to Muslims, that he resigned from his job with BEWAC and began his own private transportation business. The transportation business was so successful that it gave a birth to a stone crushing company, which developed into a multi-million naira venture. This self employment gave Paul Gindiri the opportunity to preach whenever he wanted rather than just on weekends. The business also provided him with the financial resources to fund the activities of the Gospel Team. For instance, virtually all the motor vehicles used by the Gospel Team for outreach were bought by Paul Gindiri.

Paul Gindiri was a polemicist. Whenever he preached to Muslims, he had the Bible in one hand and the Qur’an in the other, trying to prove to them that Islam was a false religion. Sometimes Muslims would listen to him in silence, sometimes they would react violently. Paul Gindiri was always happy when he was “prosecuted” by Muslims because that made him a modern apostle Paul. Like the Paul of the Bible, Paul Gindiri would triumphantly list the number of times Muslims had persecuted and stoned him. Most of the time when he was in Muslim dominated cities, Paul Gindiri would ask permission to preach on the premises of the emir’s palace. His requests were often granted, but soon his confrontational preaching would invite violent attacks from Muslim extremists.

Many Christian leaders opposed Paul Gindiri’s method of evangelism which they felt was not diplomatic or tactful. But in spite of his tactless preaching, Paul Gindiri had Muslim converts, one of them Mohammed Davou Riyom, who wrote Paul’s biography. Most Muslims in Jos and elsewhere in northern Nigeria might have disliked Paul Gindiri’s manner of preaching but they admired his honesty, his transparency in business, and his high moral integrity.

Christian leaders also disagreed with Paul Gindiri’s refusal to obey the government’s ban on public preaching made to curb inter-religious violence. According to Paul Gindiri no government could stop the preaching of the gospel of Christ. He further argued that if any preachers needed to be banned, it was the Muslim preachers, especially the members of the Izala sect, who instigate trouble while preaching.

Paul Gindiri was also a critic of inept governments and institutions in Nigeria, especially the military. He was fearless in his attacks against corruption in government and in the church. He was agitated by what he saw as the government’s manipulation of religious sentiments to create tension and by the plans by Muslim military leaders to turn the country into an Islamic state. So his messages to Muslims always oscillated between their depravity and need for salvation through Jesus and a condemnation of evil government machinations to Islamicize Nigeria. His fearless attacks on falsehood and dishonesty in government and the church earned him respect and admiration from many, Christians and Muslims alike.

Paul Gindiri and Lami had seven children named Musa, Iliya, Dauda, Yakubu, Joshua, Victoria, and Wudeama. Their only daughter, Victoria, was killed in a motor accident while traveling with her father to one of his preaching outreaches in November 1990. Musa, Paul Gindiri’s first son, has not only taken over the family’s business, he is also an evangelist (2004).

Paul Gindiri enjoyed good health until March 31, 1993 when he had a stroke which paralyzed him. He recovered but while he was undergoing physiotherapy he was diagnosed with prostate cancer that led to his death on April 8, 1996. At his funeral, Nigeria’s Head of State was represented by the second most powerful person in government, Lieutenant General Jeremiah T. Useni, among other top government functionaries. Lami Paul Gindiri also had a stroke on April 6, 1999 and died April 27.

Culled from https://dacb.org/stories/nigeria/gindiri-paul/

Stories of Faith - Episode 63

My name is Daniel and when I was 16 my stepmother held my arm and my cousin put a needle in it. That was the first time I got high, and I liked it. My childhood with my father’s side of the family made Jerry Springer look like Leave It to Beaver, and drugs were my coping method.

I was a functioning addict. After my divorce, I raised my kids by myself. I spent 30 years in the restaurant business, even becoming an executive chef. But I got tired of being told that I was great but they could only give me so much money because I didn’t have my degree. That fueled my addiction even more.

At last my desire to work abandoned me but the addiction didn’t. I tried to quit, but I would always look back. I wasn’t using to get high; I was using just to function.

I decided to kill myself. I went to see my kids one last time. They didn’t know what I was thinking. And then I found Open Door Mission Houston.

You have to understand, I was so mad at God. I knew He didn’t care about me. If He did, He wouldn’t have let that stuff happen to me and my siblings. Sometimes, when I was little, I would stay with my grandmother and she would take me to church. It was so intimidating. I was in a living hell, but then there was this place where I could just be a kid and I didn’t know how to do that.

But I thought trying the Mission first would somehow justify my death later. When I learned more about the program I also thought how great it would be to graduate from something. I had never graduated from anything before. It wouldn’t matter much, of course, because I was planning to kill myself, but I wanted to belong somewhere.

For the first three weeks, I never smiled. The other guys bet against me because I was always so angry and aggressive. My counselors told me to be honest, so I was honest. I told them that these groups didn’t make me feel like a shot of heroin did.

Then John Molina from Lakewood Church came to speak at our Celebrate Recovery class one day and told the story of Jesus and the lepers. I felt like I was standing with those lepers and all I had to do was reach out. Things changed after that.

The Mission taught me that I could talk about my anger and not hold onto it. I could talk about my grief; that was beaten out of us as kids. And when I read the book of Jonah I learned you could talk to God that way too. One day I went out to the prayer garden on campus, and I got real with God. I told Him I didn’t appreciate the things that happened to me when I was little. Then I took Him at His word, that He could change me.

I graduated from the Mission in May 2016. The guys I came in with, we bonded, and we called ourselves the greatest graduating class in the history of the Mission. And my mom came! I always wanted a relationship with her but my anger wrecked things. Mr. Freeman at the Mission told me to write her a letter every week while I was here, and that restored the relationship.

Today I’m working at a bagel shop full-time and going to school full-time. During the program, I was valedictorian of my class in the hospitality certification program at the University of Houston. Now I’m working on a “ bucket list” goal of learning college algebra, and I’ve got a 3.8 GPA. I’m in the honor society. I’m not used to positive things and at first it was hard to accept that I do belong there, but I’m building on what I learned at the Mission.

My ultimate goal is to complete my culinary degree. I want to use my talents as a chef to serve God, like in a food truck that ministers to lost teenagers or teaching missionaries to cook the food of the culture they’re serving.

I go back to the Mission on Thursday mornings when my mentor does the devotions. I’m tied to the Mission, my church, and the place where I’m living. I never belonged anywhere before. Now people would miss me if I wasn’t there. My favorite verse is Ephesians 3:7 in the NIRV translation, “I now serve the good news because God gave me His grace. His power is at work in me.”

I’ve always lived in fear of tomorrow and been tormented by the past. Today I have peace, and that’s because of what donors and supporters of Open Door Mission helped give me. I learned everything about the way I’m living now from the Mission. It wasn’t easy, but what they said would happen has happened.

Source: https://opendoorhouston.org/never-graduated/

Stories of Faith - Episode 62

Simon had to teach at some discipleship classes in the Northern part of Ghana. Before he left on this trip, he noticed a slight waist pain. But he was determined to embark on that journey. Simon had been to the North of Ghana severally. He was very familiar with the rugged deteriorating roads he was to pass through, but he never envisaged what that journey was going to do to his already ailing waist bones.

As the bus he was travelling in kept galloping in and out of the gaping holes (created by erosion) that filled this road, the pains shot through his entire body. The pains at a point were becoming unbearable, yet he endured. After one jump in and out of a particularly dangerous ditch, Simon felt a dislocation at his back. He could not help wincing and groaning out loud.

He never knew that a terrible damage had been done to his ailing waist. It was when he arrived at his destination that he discovered he could not walk again. It appeared he had a partial stroke but the doctors who examined him called it Lumberosis…

“It is going to be a difficult journey back to Accra”, I said to myself when the brethren called to tell me of his condition. It was so hard for me because he had gone to represent me there. I later spoke to Simon on phone, trying to console him. I also tried to persuade him not to worry about the meetings when he expressed his concerns about them.

On that day as the time for the meeting approached, the brethren were so sure, they had no guest speaker for their well-advertised meetings. Simon was in such great pains and they did not mince words in telling him he could not go to preach. Simon was of a different opinion altogether.

“I am going to take the meetings even if I have to crawl there” He said to them point blank.

Given the way he cringed under the pains each time he moved himself, the brethren still could not believe he could do that. When it was close to the time however, they had to convey Simon to the venue of the meeting when they saw he was really ready to crawl to the meeting!

They had watched him as he climbed down from his bed and painfully began to crawl on his hands and buttocks out of the house. Sam actually crawled to the car, but could not climb into the car. He just could not. The brethren on seeing his determination teamed up and carried him int the car. At the venue, Simon was also carried out of the car. He again crawled in. When it was time to preach, he was lifted to the stage where he sat down and taught the Bible studies.

It was such a great marvel to all who knew what pains he had been through before the meeting and how he was carried up to where he sat at the moment teaching. The most amazing of all was the grace God released to the brethren. Many were converted and restored as they trooped out when he gave the altar call.

Simon did not just insist on preaching the first day; he preached on all days for which the meeting was billed; and in all the locations in spite of his pains. The brethren were all so thoroughly blessed wherever he went. When I heard about this from the brethren who called to tell me what God was doing in their midst, I was shocked, but overjoyed. I however still wondered how he was going to travel back to re-join his family.

God still did this for us as I gathered brethren in Accra and we joined hearts and hands to pray for a miracle. It was when God brought him through those very rugged roads again and we had a doctor examine him at Accra that we knew this brother was a bundle of miracles. The doctors told us categorically that he might not be able to walk again.

At this point, the brethren and I spent more time in fasting and prayers. We were determined to have our brother back to his feet and in good health again. To God’s glory, Simon is on his two feet today still running with great zeal in the services of our great God.

Simon’s courage during those painful days in the North of Ghana and how God honoured his faith given the final outcome of those meetings have remained a challenge to me. From Simon’s example I have confirmed that what God seeks each time he is working on a life is to produce unbendable arrows he can shoot into the camp of the enemy.

My wife and I had being through those rugged roads from Accra to Northern Ghana very many times since we came to Ghana. We know the turbulence and how our own bodies have suffered. If Simon had given up, he would not have seen the work God did in the lives of his listeners.

Culled from "Shake Well Before Use" by Samuel Shittu

Stories of Faith - Episode 61

Narrated by Samuel Shittu

I would like to mention just a few of the supernatural things I have seen in my work and walk with GOD ALMIGHTY…

One that readily comes to mind is an encounter I had with an Ogboni man in Makurdi (Ogboni is the name of a satanic cult). I was out that day for street evangelism. I chose a spot and started preaching. I had a megaphone to help me amplify my words.

Unknown to me, the members of the notorious and locally dreaded indigenous occult group were holding a meeting nearby. In those days, majority of the top politicians, lawyers, top government officials or the ‘who is who’ in the Nigerian society were said to belong either to the Ogboni fraternity or Rosicrucian Order (AMORC). Belonging to these groups was said to enable them wield powers that would protect them and dispose their enemies.

Anyway, I was alerted of the ongoing meeting when someone walked up to me with message that the chairman of the meeting said I should be warned to move away from there, because I was disturbing them. I refused to move. After all, I did not know they were there before I started preaching. I went on with my preaching. This occult man who came to warn me was wearing a dangerous ring on his finger with which he pointed at me threatening death. He was expecting some harm to come on me. I challenged him back there and then saying:

“You can’t point an accusing finger at your Creator!” And I continued preaching.

The next day, I was passing by the same street and saw a crowd. I drew near, only to discover that the man that threatened me the previous day to whom I had spoken was dead. He had died in the night. Apparently what he had planned to happen to me had happened to him instead. God had spared my life contrary to his threats the previous day.

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There are several healing testimonies I have witnessed. A memorable one that brought so much joy to me as a person took place in one of my own crusades. I was an older preacher by now. I finished preaching and decided to pray for the sick., I had just finished praying for people to be healed of their ailments, when I heard a voice in the crowd cry out:

“Aondo bughum ashe!!!” It was too instantaneous.

From my little understanding of Tiv language I knew this meant “God has opened my eyes.” By the time the person came to us on stage, those blind eyes were totally healed. And I had not touched him. But Jesus of Nazareth, that merciful Savious and LORD had. There had been several blind eyes opened in the course of our crusades, but the way this man screamed was very memorable. The joy and surprise he exhibited were unforgettable. When he testified amidst others who had received a miracle that day, his joy was infectious.

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In my early years as a Christian, I remember going to the streets to preach and meeting a mad man. So that he will not be a distraction to the people I was preaching to, I decided to pray for him. Miraculously this man was healed. This was my own first time of praying and healing a mad man. The hair on his head was overgrown, dirty and entangled. I called for a pair of scissors and razor blade. With those I cut and scrapped off his hair, so he could look neat.

A friend of mine saw this and went to try it on another mad man. He got the beating of his life. Only God saved him from being killed by the mad man. Yet, the power of God is so real to heal the tormented and the sick. And what joy it brings when a man who had been sick gets healed.

Culled from "Shake Well Before Use" by Samuel Shittu