Before E-mail, or air travel, or television, or computers, or the Internet, or the concept of furloughs, people responded to God's call on their lives and left the comfort of everything familiar to tell citizens in other countries about Jesus. They dealt with war, danger at sea, little preparation, disease, boarding schools, and sometimes said good-bye forever to loved ones.

Venturing to the unknown to preach the Gospel has always been risky. Jesus even warned his disciples about it. But going overseas now is different than it was in Bible times, or even 100 years ago. During the 1900s, missions included a level of commitment, passion, calling, hardship, loss, facing the unknown, and persecution that most of us can't comprehend. When people sensed God leading them to the mission field, chances were strong that they would not come back.

What are the perspectives of mission work from those who were children on the field with their parents during this era, and are now adults? What can today's Christians, and those considering missions, learn from what may have been "The Greatest Generation" of missionaries? What does this reveal about the development of missions work in the Church of the Nazarene? What does this reveal about God's nature? Dean Nelson, director of the journalism program at Point Loma Nazarene University, interviewed adult "Missionary Kids"—men and women who grew up on mission fields around the world—for his book Every Full Moon Night.

On the following pages, you'll learn about their fascinating experiences and perspectives. Nelson notes, "Their stories, while coming from different continents, had some moving similarities: The call from God on the hearts of their parents and grandparents; the commitment to that call despite severe physical, financial and spiritual challenges; the joy of seeing people come to Christ; the perseverance to continue; and wonder at seeing the results today of the work their parents and grandparents started years ago." "I was encouraged, energized, and humbled by the authenticity and commitment in these interviews and accounts," he adds.

We think you'll be inspired, too.

Did You Read The Other Sheep? 

John Anderson's parents were John and Mary Anderson, who served in India from 1936 to 1970. Then the younger John Anderson and his wife, Doris, served there from 1966 to 1998.

When my father sensed a call to be a missionary, he returned to school, to Boston University, and received a master's degree in theology. He almost married a woman whose parents were missionaries in India. She wanted to follow in their footsteps, but he didn't want anything to do with India, and broke off the relationship.

How could a man who broke a woman's heart because she wanted to be a missionary to India marry someone else and become a missionary to India?

When he married my mother, she was already ordained, and had started churches in Maine. Together they planted churches in West Virginia and Ohio. Interesting that when I was nearly three they became missionaries . . . to India! How could a man who broke a woman's heart because she wanted to be a missionary to India marry someone else and become a missionary to India? The Church of the Nazarene produced a magazine called The Other Sheep. One month the publication announced that the church in India needed a missionary couple. My mother read that and said to herself, "That could be us, but I don't know about him." And my father saw it and said, "That could be us, but I don't know about her."

The next morning their breakfast dialogue happened like this:

They drove a Model A Ford to the General Assembly in St. Louis—not letting several flat tires along the way deter them—and were appointed missionaries to Central India.

Giving Shots, Digging Wells

Franklin Cook's grandparents, Frank and Lillie Blackman, began their missionary work to India in 1920. A few years later, Frank died of smallpox, and was buried in Calcutta. The Blackman's daughter, Orpha, attended Northwest Nazarene University and met Ralph Cook, who had attended Frank Blackman's Sunday School class before the Blackmans moved to India.

When I was about 12, the bubonic plague broke out in India.

Dead rats were everywhere. You would go outside and stumble over a dead rat. The fields were covered with dead rats.

We lived in a rural area filled with a lot of little villages and many Hindus. People panicked during this time and left their homes. But in the middle of all this chaos and panic, the small minority of Christians remained stable and didn't run. We got word to our hospital, which was about 80 miles and a 14-hour drive from where we lived, that we needed vaccines. When the vaccines arrived, we held prayer meetings and tried to persuade the villagers to get vaccinated against the plague. Even though I was a child and didn't really know what I was doing, I gave hundreds of these vaccinations. And over time, the disease got under control.

Miraculously, this very small group had a strong Christian witness in a very large Hindu area. In the following weeks, the church experienced considerable growth, because of the new faith of the people. My father always operated by prayer and action. I always felt a little conflicted when I saw groups gather to pray for something, while my dad was out working on the answers to those prayers. A group would pray, "Oh Lord, help us find water," while my dad was out digging a well. About a month later the group would gather and say, "Oh Lord, thank you for helping us find water," and I knew my dad had been out there digging for it.

Your Contract is with God 

Harmon Schmelzenbach is a third-generation missionary to Africa. His grandfather, Harmon, had two sons who became missionaries. Paul served one term and died of a tropical intestinal infection. Elmer was Harmon's father. Elmer was born in Africa and spent most of his life there, taking on an African identity that would be unusual by today's standards. Harmon's parents became missionaries in 1936 and served in Africa for approximately 40 years. Harmon and his wife Beverly became missionaries in 1960, and served for 41 years in Africa as missionaries at large until they retired.

It is difficult to portray a world in which letters took four to five months to reach the field, sometimes with news of the passing of parents or loved ones. Phones were of little use, and only in the last years of my parents' ministry could they place an international call from the post office. They had to schedule the time for the call in advance. Then, the quality of the connection was so poor that they could understand very little. In 1917, my grandmother received news that her father was gravely ill. But the letter had taken six months to get to her. She immediately wrote to the denomination's headquarters requesting a short furlough. The correspondence and postwar passage took more than two years, and her father was long dead when she finally reached the States in 1920. During my parents' era on the field, all of the missionaries acted as a family unit, so we missionary children referred to all adult missionaries as "uncle" or "aunty." Very little escaped the attention of this extended family, so most missionary children grew up well disciplined and supervised. The missionaries shared personal concerns and prayers and were very closely knit.

We were all quite happy no matter where my folks' calling took us. We were happy because they were happy in fulfilling their assignments to build the Kingdom.

When my son felt he was being called into missions, I told him, "Your contract is with God—not with the Church of the Nazarene or anyone else. So put together a contract that makes God happy and it will make you happy." If your contract is with God, that's all that matters.

The Rock of Salvation

Ted Esselstyn was born in Swaziland and grew up in southern Africa, with his parents William and Margaret Esselstyn, who began as missionaries there in 1928. Margaret died on the mission field, and so did Ted's brother. He came back to the U.S. for college in the 1950s, and returned as a missionary in 1968. More than half of his assignment was in developing schools, and he was the regional education coordinator for all of Africa.

My dad's introduction to the work in Africa was to build a coffin for Harmon Schmelzenbach Sr., who had been very ill. After Harmon died my dad wrote that he would go up to the place where Harmon used to pray—he would stand there and commit to carry on the traditions that Harmon had started. The depth of Harmon's commitment was contagious, and influenced Mom and Dad's lives. The place where he would pray was a rock, on a hill up above the mission station. It had an Old Testament feel to it. Both Harmon's son, Elmer, and my dad went there for a time of recommitment. A lot of Old Testament ambiance filled the early missionary efforts. It was the same feeling you got when you read God telling the prophets, "You do this." The things he told the prophets, and the early missionaries, to do were difficult. 

That quality of obedience to God was very much part of the early missionary lives. Nothing counted more for them than to be and do what God wanted.

I saw that in a lot of people—especially in my parents. I saw the result of their commitment in a region that was a very difficult area for us. The mission there was isolated, and had seen no real progress for 30 years. The people were deeply committed, but still, nothing was happening there. After their civil war, we went back there again. This time we had to build a bigger church, and more than 700 people crowded into it. The overflow crowd outside of the church got angry when the ushers didn't come outside to collect their offering. So they started to throw offerings through the windows! Now there are several districts in that area. A sociological change in the country after the war enabled us to expand. But that expansion wouldn't have happened if we hadn't already laid a foundation there before the war. You have to be prepared. Then when the harvest is ready, you can move in and reap the harvest.

Dean Nelson is a prolific author and director of the journalism program at Point Loma Nazarene University. Read similar stories in his book, Every Full Moon Night, to be released by Beacon Hill Press, June 2005.

Holiness Today, September/October 2004

Please note: This article was originally published in 2004. All facts, figures, and titles were accurate to the best of our knowledge at that time but may have since changed.