We who are involved in the work of the gospel share a deep longing to see people come to know Christ and to witness the gospel’s transformative power break through in diverse corners of the world. This shared aspiration naturally leads us to ponder a profound question: why does this spiritual breakthrough occur in some individuals and communities while remaining seemingly dormant in others? Furthermore, why does the gospel resonate so profoundly in certain nations, manifesting in ways markedly different from its reception elsewhere? In navigating this complex landscape of evangelism and missions, we are constantly reminded to consider the interplay between our efforts and the sovereign work of God.
This dynamic between human endeavor and divine power is frequently brought to mind by seemingly disparate experiences. One such instance occurred many years ago at our family farm in North Carolina, where we host a summer camp for hundreds of children annually, sometimes reaching around 800 young campers. During one particular summer, five or six years prior, we found ourselves in the midst of a severe drought. For what seemed like an eternity – 36 days, if memory serves – not a single drop of rain fell, coinciding with a week of relentless 95-degree heat. The parched earth crunched underfoot, the once-green grass was brown and withered, and our livestock were reduced to consuming winter hay due to the absence of pasture.
Amidst this arid backdrop, during a snack break one afternoon, I noticed a faint glimmer of hope in the weather forecast on my phone: a mere 20% chance of isolated thunderstorms that evening. On a whim, I announced to the children that we would perform a rain dance, encouraging them to dance with all their might to implore the heavens for relief. What began as a lighthearted, almost comical endeavor, soon saw these children enthusiastically screaming, yelling, jumping, and dancing with fervent abandon. That very evening, against all expectations, the heavens opened, unleashing a torrential downpour unlike anything we had witnessed. The sheer volume of rain, falling on the dry, denuded land, caused significant erosion, and remarkably, the downpour extended all the way into town, where most of the children resided.
The following day, the children arrived at camp excitedly proclaiming the previous night’s rainfall, attributing it to their vigorous dancing. Amused by their innocent conviction, I affirmed their efforts, perhaps a bit too readily. The humor escalated when one of the fathers approached me, half-jokingly requesting a “fat dance” to address a different kind of need. It was at this point that I clarified the reality: “No,” I explained, “it was a coincidence. The truth is, I really don’t think that I can make it rain. I don’t know if you can make it rain”. While some may have attempted to make a profession of rain production, I suspect such an endeavor would be fraught with hardship.
This seemingly trivial anecdote serves as a potent illustration, particularly when juxtaposed with the reality of weather control technologies, such as cloud seeding with silver iodide, which some nations like China actively employ. Yet, this technological capacity only underscores a deeper truth, one echoed in the scriptures. Jeremiah 14:22 poignantly asks, “Are there any among the false gods of the nations that can bring rain? Or can the heavens give showers? Are you not he, oh Lord our God? We set our hope on you, for you do all these things”. This verse reminds us that ultimately, it is only God who can bring the rain. We can dance, we can strive, we can exert our efforts, but the ultimate control over the elements rests solely with the Creator.
This principle extends far beyond the physical realm of weather; it profoundly impacts our understanding of evangelism and world missions. In the great work of the gospel, God reserves certain crucial aspects solely for Himself. Just as only God can make a tree grow, or orchestrate the intricate dance of bees in their communication, so too, the conversion of a soul and the enlightenment of the mind are acts that He alone performs. Our role lies in going out, proclaiming, and doing the work He has called us to, but the power to produce spiritual life, to bring the “rain” of conversion, belongs exclusively to God.
Our years as church planters in East Asia serve as a constant reminder of this humbling truth. During our initial eight years there, we witnessed only one convert in the first year or two, followed by a prolonged period of approximately six years without seeing anyone turn to the Lord in saving faith. Throughout this time, well-meaning individuals would inquire about our potential frustration. Yet, the truth is, we never succumbed to frustration, for we understood that our primary responsibility was not to convert souls, but to remain faithful. Our task was to diligently share the gospel, as God had directed us. We trusted that God’s role was to bring the harvest, to provide the increase.
And indeed, He did. Even in the highlands where, by human metrics, we had seen “no converts,” the Lord, in His perfect timing, brought many to faith soon after our departure. Today, a thriving church stands in that region, proclaiming the name of Jesus where it was previously unknown or unproclaimed. Did our efforts initiate this church? Not in the ultimate sense. God Himself started His church; He makes the converts; He produces the great work. However, He graciously honored the faithfulness we demonstrated over those ten years. This encapsulates a fundamental theological principle underpinning both evangelism and missions: understanding the mysterious interplay between our faithfulness and God’s sovereign power in the genesis of new life.
Our experiences across over 30 different countries have consistently reinforced this understanding. Despite employing similar methods and delivering the same biblically-based, practically applied message, we do not witness uniform responses in every location we visit. This variability serves as a constant reminder that we have not discovered a secret formula for mass conversion. We go forth with the truth, but the level of reception is ultimately beyond our control.
Our recent trip to Honduras exemplifies this reality. While it was my first visit, others on our team had been there previously. Several years prior, a team had ministered in two cities, and we recently returned to those same two locations. On that initial trip, and as far as we know, there was no lasting, significant response. In fact, despite having visited Honduras at least twice, with possible additional trips by other team members, we have had little to report in our newsletters or social media updates. This is not due to a lack of effort, but rather a recognition that we can build a fire, but we cannot bring the fire; God alone provides the flame.
Our return to Honduras felt, in many ways, like a first encounter. None of the individuals, churches, or Christians with whom the previous team had connected played a discernible role in our recent endeavors, even though we were in the same cities. In one city, Tealpa, we taught in a church with a modest but encouraging turnout of 50 to 60 people who responded with enthusiasm and engagement. In San Pedro, a training session at an evangelical seminary drew a slightly larger group of 60 to 80 individuals who also seemed receptive, with some expressing a desire to become involved in our work. Yet, in the grand scheme, there was nothing particularly remarkable or distinct from the general types of responses we often encounter in various locations.
This observation underscores a crucial point for those who grapple with the question of differential receptivity to the gospel and the phenomenon of revival in some regions but not others. There is no magic formula. As Jesus Himself taught, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit”. This powerful analogy constantly humbles us, reminding us that while we are called to diligently proclaim and teach the Word, the Spirit of God, in His sovereign power, reserves for Himself the prerogative of igniting the fire of response. In some places, our efforts may seem like merely striking matches with limited immediate impact, while the question remains whether a sustained fire will ignite and spread.
Our experience in Vietnam offers a compelling contrast. Initially, those with whom we worked and taught in Vietnam displayed a generally positive response. However, what followed was remarkable. They formed small groups to delve deeper into the Scriptures, specifically concerning abortion and the sanctity of life. This dedicated Bible study continued weekly for approximately six months, equipping them with a robust understanding and confidence in God’s Word. Subsequently, they felt empowered to begin teaching these principles throughout the country. Within a remarkably short period, roughly two years, we received a photograph commemorating the 20,000th individual in Vietnam to sign up for their training program. This explosive growth occurred even though our initial on-the-ground experience in Vietnam did not suggest such a widespread impact. They took what we shared, diligently studied God’s Word, and God, in His power, ignited a zeal that propelled the movement across the nation, a movement that continues to this day.
Interestingly, even within the flourishing work in Vietnam, there have been different dynamics at play. Often described as two halves of an apple, there’s the strong emphasis on the biblical teaching and theological foundations concerning life and abortion, and the practical application of this theology through rescuing babies and ministering to mothers and families. For a significant period in Vietnam, the practical application side was somewhat weaker compared to the strong emphasis on teaching. This highlights the diverse ways in which the gospel can take root and develop in different contexts, sometimes with an initial focus on one aspect over another.
Our experience in China presented yet another distinct scenario. Upon our very arrival, the “fire showed up,” so to speak. During a two-day teaching session with 75 pastors, I shared our four key questions on the sanctity of human life and the issue of shedding innocent blood on the first day. My plan was to conclude on the second day with the themes of experiencing God’s forgiveness and the call to rescue and love pregnant neighbors. However, on that second day, some of the pastors returned with a pregnant neighbor, declaring, “We have heard the word of God that you taught us yesterday, and we’re committed to rescuing every baby that we can”. They had spent the entire night ministering to this woman and her husband, even in the face of legal restrictions concerning a second child, affirming their commitment to helping her carry her baby to term, echoing the bravery of the midwives of Egypt. A year later, upon our return to China, these same individuals shared the joyous testimony of the baby’s birth, the husband’s conversion, and the burgeoning impact within their community. From the very first day, a powerful response was evident, a stark contrast to our experiences in Honduras or even the initial stages in Vietnam.
It was clear that this immediate and profound response in China was not a result of exceptional human skill or persuasive ability. Rather, it was a sovereign act of God. While we certainly pray for such breakthroughs and encourage others to pray, recognizing that prayer aligns God’s people with His will and often serves as a catalyst for His sovereign actions, the timing and intensity of the response remain in His hands.
Our repeated trips to Colombia further illustrate this principle of God’s timing. For perhaps six, seven, or even eight visits, we witnessed very little significant response. There were moments of discouragement, such as a gathering in Bogota where a planned attendance of 75 leaders dwindled to a mere 15. For an extended period, the impact seemed minimal. However, in God’s perfect timing and power, a dramatic shift occurred. It was as if the Spirit of God intervened, moving hearts and engaging people in a remarkable way.
I vividly recall a woman in Medellin who stood to give her testimony, overcome with weeping as she shared her regret over a past abortion. While expressions of remorse are not uncommon, what followed was extraordinary. Her heartfelt testimony ignited a chain reaction. One after another, individuals – both women and men – rose to share their own stories of regret and repentance. Ultimately, the leader of all the pastors present, a man of significant authority and stature, stood and publicly wept, lamenting not only the guilt of shedding innocent blood but also the culpability of remaining silent. He confessed his past tacit approval of abortion with profound humility, a display of repentance that deeply affected the other pastors present. When leaders demonstrate such repentance, it often has a rapid and transformative effect on others. This pivotal moment, after a prolonged period of seemingly little impact, led to an extraordinary and lasting transformation.
Those pastors, deeply moved, organized their own massive, self-replicating training initiatives. In Bogota, Medellin, and Cali, they collectively agreed to teach our four core questions to an astounding 84,000 people within the following four weeks. The level of organization and the scale of impact were remarkable. When we returned approximately nine to ten months later, we witnessed further momentum, with plans to train an additional 340,000 Colombians. Today, we have multiple ministry partners on the ground in Colombia, more than in any other Latin American country. They are actively utilizing ultrasound units, producing fetal models, and establishing pregnancy centers, all as a direct result of the transformation that began in God’s timing. The Lord, in His time and in His way, accomplished what He had purposed all along.
Reflecting on these diverse experiences, it becomes clear that lasting success in ministry is not solely dependent on human effort or strategy. There is a constant temptation, especially when experiencing growth, for leaders to succumb to pride, which can ultimately lead to a fall. However, the foundational theology that God is the one who brings the rain serves as a vital safeguard against such pride. Recognizing our dependence on His sovereign work protects us from claiming power that is not our own.
As we consider our recent trip to Honduras, we recognize that the lack of immediate, widespread impact does not signify failure. As Zechariah reminds us, we must not despise the day of small things. We are not ready to conclude that our time in Honduras was wasted simply because the initial trips did not yield flashy results. In fact, these experiences have been valuable in highlighting areas where we can refine our approach and improve our part in the process.
For instance, in the seminary training in San Pedro, we did not provide specific advertising materials. While the seminary created their own advertisement, its focus may not have effectively appealed to the intended audience of pastors. This has taught us the importance of proactively offering guidance and resources for effective communication and outreach, ensuring that our efforts are as well-directed as possible. This reflects the crucial understanding that even though God’s intervention is essential, we are still called to strive for excellence in our own responsibilities. We must diligently attend to the human side of the equation – preparation, communication, setting appropriate expectations – ensuring that we do not hinder the work through our own shortcomings.
Often, the interplay between God’s work and our efforts becomes so intertwined that it is difficult to distinguish between the two. The relationships we build, the trust we establish – these are part of our faithful obedience, yet they can also be the very ground upon which God chooses to work. While we may not always see immediate or dramatic results, the beauty of missions lies in its inherent unpredictability. The wind of the Spirit blows where it wills. Our calling is to faithfully proclaim the truth, trusting that sometimes we will witness remarkable stories of impact, and at other times, we will not, for ultimately, God is in charge, and to Him belongs all the glory. Amen.
This article is adapted from the episode transcript.