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THE

EVANGEL

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Volume VI, Issue 4

A Messenger of the Kodiak Baptist Mission

Winter 2006

“And Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to Me and do not hinder them; for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.’” – Matthew 19:14

Has the innocence and power of a child’s prayer ever brought you to tears? This has been my experience many times over as I teach the 4 and 5 year olds at Sonshine Christian Preschool. It is such an honor to be able to teach these little ones about the God who created them, who died for them and who loves them unconditionally. We have a Bible circle time every day where we sing songs, read a Bible story and pray. In the last few months our time has come alive with God’s Spirit. We now start off our Bible time by asking for prayer requests. Almost every child’s hand shoots up and they can barely stay sitting as they ask to pray. We’ve talked about how much God loves to hear us pray and how it makes Him smile. One day during prayer time one child said proudly, “God is smiling right now!” Most of our children come from non-Christian homes and it’s so inspiring to hear them talk about their love for Jesus. Another day we made an “All about me” book on our favorite things. One boy filled in the ‘I love’ part with “God…because He is so powerful!”

My uncle has terminal cancer and is in the last few months of his life. I told the kids that he is very sick and asked them to pray for him. That was over 2 months ago and the children have remembered to pray for him everyday, without any prompting from me. They say “Lord, please be with Miss Becca’s uncle. Please take away his sickness and make him happy. Show him Your love. In Jesus Name. Amen.” I called my uncle to tell him that the children pray faithfully for him everyday. My uncle started crying when

I told him. The children’s prayers are so pure and inspiring that many times I have been found overwhelmed. Not from sadness but for the privilege to teach these little ones the name of the Almighty God and to see their love and faith grow day by day. I have learned much from them in these times and often wonder… why am I called “the teacher”?

“Heather will go with us. Won’t you Heather? Come on it will be something different. You’ll have a lot of fun.”

Having just walked into the office from cleaning up some things following the end of Day Camp, these words, spoken by Trevor Jones, the Executive Director of KBM and therefore my boss caught me a little off guard. Seeing the doubt register on my face, Trevor repeated himself with a big grin. (Now how was I supposed to respond to that?)

As Trevor explained, my mind came up with all kinds of reasons not to go. I really had a lot of work that needed to get done around the mission…there was the after-school program to get ready for, and… what about my family that I was finally getting to spend some time with after a busy summer? I looked at Trevor, realized he was serious and thought of Joyce Smith.

Early the next morning, dressed in my ratty Carhartts, work shirt and old sweatshirt, I found myself in a chain gang loading the Diakonos for the trip to Ouzinkie. Trevor was making one more trip to get Baker Cottage Joyce’s house, ready for winter. There was a porch/deck to put the platform on, stairs, and painting the side of the house over the chapel addition. I joined other mission staff on this expedition. We had an opportunity to participate in a work group and do something to help somebody else, instead of being on the receiving end of someone else’s hard work.

A work trip to Ouzinkie is not an easy proposition. Materials are loaded onto trucks at the Mission, then unloaded at the boat launch to the Diakonos. Travel time to Ouzinkie is about an hour and a half. Then someone has to track down a truck that can be borrowed to haul the supplies the half-mile to Joyce’s house. Ouzinkie has two options for docking a boat: the old cannery dock that even at high tide would involve hauling materials up a ladder ten feet overhead, or the small boat harbor with no vehicle access thereby necessitating a meandering half-mile haul of all the materials to the road. Trevor had come up with a third option. Carefully pulling the boat up to a rocky point, a ladder was set up at one of the most insanely crazy angles you can imagine and fifty yards up the embankment the truck was parked. Chain gang style we unloaded deck planks, ladders, six 50 lb bags of cement,

buckets of tools and our lunch. Finally, two and a half hours later, we were actually working on the house.

The work progressed smoothly with most of the men on the carpentry jobs. That left three women and Trevor to the painting. It was satisfying to watch the side of the house gradually covered in a coat of fresh white paint with dark green window trim. Conversation ebbed and flowed in a gentle manner. Our perches were precarious and it was time consuming to have to move the ladders when your arms became too short.

Eventually, we noticed it was rather quiet at the front of the house. About that time, one of the guys came out to say lunch was on. Lunch was a time of sweet fellowship. Stories were swapped about the morning’s work, and the prospect of fishing on the way home. I looked over at Joyce during lunch and while she said she wasn’t feeling very good that day, she had a glow about her. Friends had come to visit. Later, we invited her out onto her new porch. Someone asked her what she thought. She said, “I can honestly say I never dreamed I would have a porch like this, because I honestly thought I would never have a porch on my house.”

We said goodbye dodging raindrops and headed for the boat with a few less supplies to load and promising to return to finish the stairs. We left Joyce with a smile on her face waving from her new porch. My muscles ached from having used them in a different way, but I was smiling too. There’s something to be said for good old fashioned physical labor with a group of friends. I had been blessed and Trevor was right, it was fun.

Hello, my name is Joel Kirk North, son of Travis and Carol North of Pomona, California. Somehow, in the world of transition between the younger years of yesterday and adulthood, life begins to change. Of course this often takes place in rather small

ways and at each moment, a timeless window into the world of life is opened and seen. This takes place in no particular order and often occurs in the most subtle of ways. One more grey hair on the old head, a reminder of a thought, “I remember when….”

It was the beginning of the Kodiak Alaska Learning Activities Center (KACLAC) at Main Elementary. My fellow partner, Cherie Woitel, and I presented ourselves before a mixture of cultures on the first day. A conglomerate of some forty 2^nd through 5^th graders filled the cafeteria floor. Suddenly it happened, a thought of “what are they to call me?” Throughout the summer day camp months I had gone by Mr. Joel, but for some reason it seemed the name Mr. North was in order. This had always been my father’s title, not my own I thought. “I’m not my dad, he is Mr. North, not me” ran through my mind. It was a sacred title, reserved for adults, an honor reserved for Dad. Yet that was about to change as an unseen transition into the adult world revealed itself before our after school kids.

That Monday afternoon, in the cafeteria of Main Elementary, I took the step into adult life. I became Mr. North. It took some time to get use to and I would have to remind myself quite often that the kids were talking to me when they said

Mr. North. However, as it sunk in I began to realize the great heritage it represented.

What then is our heritage in Christ? We were adopted into the Kingdom of Heaven and how much more does our Heavenly Father smile when we call him Abba or even when He watches one of his children mature into an adult?

I can picture my dad reading this with a smile on his face, knowing that I am taking ownership of my last name. My mind is taken back to the summer of 1997 when I rededicated my life to Christ. I am not only Mr. North I am a Christian and I can picture my Heavenly Father smiling down on me. It’s funny how the Lord uses the small simple things, like a name, to help us fill into these shoes of life.

This fall season I have stayed busy as ever baking cookies for our upcoming annual Currier and Ives old fashion Christmas celebration we put on for the community of Kodiak. As this big event approaches I have a great deal of food to prepare for the program, so getting the cookies out of the way is a big help.

This fall I also had the opportunity to do two formal dinners. The first was for high school students from the villages and the second was for our faithful volunteers in the Food Bank and Thrift Store. I also prepared the meats for the Thanksgiving celebration at the Pre School. This used to be the slow time of year, however, it seems there is always something new to do. I praise the Lord for all the opportunities he’s given, to bring glory to Him through this gift He has given me.

I thank you for your prayers from my last letter. As you know the Lord saw fit to bless me with a new commercial range and I am now seeking a commercial refrigerator. The unit will cost $2039.00 (the list price is $5181.00). Someone has already pledged $1039.00 towards the purchase. Praise the Lord for answered prayer once again.

Also in my last letter I asked for prayer for Eileen; she was diagnosed with colon cancer, and was scheduled for an operation to remove the cancer September 30th. I would like to excerpt a portion out of a thank you card I received from her a while back;

“Thank you so much for praying for me during my colon cancer surgery. I appreciate it so much! God’s peace was there for me the biopsies all came back that I am cancer free!!! Praise God!!! Thank you again and God bless you and your Lion Tamers and mission work there in Kodiak.”- Eileen

It is incredible to see what God is doing through your prayers for the Lion Tamers, the Kodiak Baptist Mission and for me personally. Please continue to pray fervently that I may remain obedient to the Lord’s commands and for my health that I may be able to continue to respond to His call.

Please continue to pray for our Jesus Video Project. It had slowed down somewhat during the summer, but now that we have switched over to the DVD’s they are being taken more quickly. Since discontinuing the Saturday morning breakfast (for health reasons) the funds have slacked considerably. Please pray that the Lord will provide what’s necessary to purchase more DVD’s. Someone has offered to purchase these DVD’s at a reduced rate, however we still need the funds.

Finally, I have a heavy burden for people who are in bondage to substance abuse and also sexual abuse. I especially am burdened for people living in the villages around Kodiak Island. These folks are living in a closed environment, where help is not readily available. Most importantly these villages are very dark due to the lack of the Lord Jesus in their lives.

I would like to express a burden I have through a prayer to our Father in heaven. I hope you could come into agreement with me and send your prayers along with mine to our Lord.

Dear heavenly Father, I come to you with a great burden that I have for all the people living in all the villages around this great island of Kodiak. I see all kinds of people who are in bondage to all kinds of addictions. Whether it is drugs, alcohol, sexual abuse, and other kinds of debauchery, Satan has had his way in these villages long enough. Lord, I see people dying from overdoses and children committing suicide and also children being abandoned while th

eir parents are partying for days.. There is so much darkness in these villages Lord, simply because you are not being preached there. Lord, I thank you for Joyce Smith from Ouzinkie who, for well over 50 years, has kept your light burning there. I thank you for Mark and Heather Overbeek in Old Harbor who you recently have placed there. Your work through them is already being seen in this village. Bless and strengthen them Lord. I pray for all those who are doing your work, bless and strengthen them also. Lord as I type this prayer I am seeing you already at work in the villages. So I take this as your invitation for me to join you. Thank you Father. I wish to do exactly that. Lord I pray the Lord of Harvest to raise up more workers. I claim all of the villages for you Lord Jesus, Amen

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, please pray for me to be obedient to the Lord’s leading in relation to this prayer. I expect to receive a lot of flak from the evil one; as a matter of fact I already am receiving spiritual harassment. I covet your prayers in this matter. Now as I close, I pray our Lord Jesus Christ bless you with great peace and joy as you celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas. May our Lord richly bless you and your families.

The snow began to fall Tuesday near the conclusion of our chapel time for the After School Recreation for Kid’s. Although we live in Alaska, Kodiak does not see much snow throughout the winter months, mostly just cold, ocean rain and wind. So the change of weather was a welcome surprise.

The white snow flakes were beautiful as they gracefully fell from the sky and onto the ground. I found myself looking up, opening my mouth and trying to catch the flakes on my tongue as they slowly fell. As I glanced back down at the children I noticed many of them doing the same as they shared in my excitement of the snow. It was not long before the kids and I found ourselves bundled up and running around outside enjoying the light dusting we were receiving.

The next morning the light dusting of snow had become a thick, white blanket. The small flurries of flakes had become a down pour of white, clouding any such view out my window. I marveled at the accumulation, and at that moment I became so very anxious for the children to arrive; they were my excuse to play in the snow. Once all the kids were safely at the Mission we headed directly to the yard. The beautiful blanket of snow soon became scattered with foot, hand, and even body prints. Snowballs were thrown, snowmen were made, and sledding was done. The

air was filled with shouts of excitement, giggles, screams, and of c

ourse laughter. Chapel time came and it was a welcome break to warm our fingers, feel our toes, and receive a little spiritual food before returning to our winter wonderland.

As the darkness fell upon the afternoon the white light from the ground and spruce trees illuminated the yard. The children gathered for some hot chocolate and took a minute to regroup, share funny stories from our afternoon and enjoy the activity the Lord had provided for day.

As I headed home from work I was exhausted, wet, and sore but overcome with thanks that although I was a “grown up” I felt so much like a child. The next few days were filled with even more snow and fun, until one morning the flakes quit falling. The air cleared and a beautiful picture was painted across the ocean onto the pure, white mountains. The spruce trees had been trimmed with a heavy white coat and I wondered if anything could be more beautiful. But as the children arrived and I saw their shining faces, heard their laughter and received their hugs, I knew there are things much more beautiful: God’s children, children who can make a grown up feel like a child, children who make a cold snow ball in the face feel wonderful and children who love without holding back. Nothing could be more beautiful than that.

Recently I was speaking with a friend of mine who severely broke her leg in January. She has a rod in her right tibia, half a dozen screws and a couple of plates holding her ankle together. She had an appointment to see the doctor and discuss the possibility of removing some of the hardware in her leg. On the day before she left for Anchorage we were talking and she said she was praying that when the doctor looked at the X-ray he would say “What metal? It’s all gone. We don’t need to take anything out.”

I found myself shaking my head. How could she pray for something so fantastic? It just seemed like that was asking too much. I told her I would pray that the doctor would look at the X-rays and say the bones were all healed and the metal could be taken out.

The more I thought about it, the more my response bothered me. Why couldn’t I ask for a miracle? I’ve witnessed the power of prayer many times. Every year as I get ready for Day Camp God provides enough staff for our program. Daily I have the strength to carry out the work I have been called to. On a Teen Missions trip as a 16 year old prayer was an important part of daily life. One day towards the end of our time in Finland the cooks were preparing lunch and needed some jelly to go with the peanut butter. There were three #10 cans left. The labels had come off during our travels and time at the work site. The crew lifted up a simple request, “Lord we’d like some jelly for our peanut butter sandwiches.” Then they picked a can and opened it. It could have been peaches or green beans; it was jelly.

I think my struggle was with the “what if’s.” What if it wasn’t gone? What if it was? I knew deep in my heart God was capable of doing this. It would be nothing for Him to make all that metal disappear. I wanted to believe it. I wanted to pray with confidence. I decided that I would try to lay aside my doubts and pray for the metal to be gone. All weekend, several times, I prayed for my friend, even after I knew she had already met with the doctor.

On Monday I went to visit her after school and thanked her for a challenging weekend. She explained her ability to make such a request by saying, “It’s all up to God. If He wants me to be healed like that, why shouldn’t I ask?” Such a simple answer. I was reminded that God is sovereign. Ultimately He is in control. Focusing on the request or the prayer isn’t important. I need to keep my heart and my head focused on the one who is able to accomplish anything. If He chooses not to answer in the way I have asked I know He will provide another way that is better. Believing His purpose, His path, is my task.

I imagine I’m not done with this topic. There will be more to add at a later time. That’s the beauty of being a Christian. Until I meet Jesus face to face, my journey will never be complete. There will always be room to grow. I’ll be praying for the fantastic a lot more. After all big or little, when the God of the universe takes time to answer my petition, isn’t that fantastic?

Oh, and about my friend, the doctor said her leg was healed well enough… the metal could all come out.

“When does your dad get home, Monica?” Samantha asked. “Next February,” Monica replied. “No, I mean for vacation.” “Oh, next week sometime, It’s going to take a while for him to get back though, because he’s in Iraq and it is so far away. If you think about it he’s on the other side of the world, and right now its morning there while it’s night here!” Monica confidently replied.

Monica, an eight year old and her seven year old brother Eric have been part of the Kodiak Baptist Mission since preschool. They both have graduated into the after school program and rarely miss a day. Monica is a Daddy’s Girl, (no doubt about it) and Eric wants to be a soldier just like is father when he grows up. Eric always talks about the army and soldiers, in fact just that day I had made his name in bubble letters and colored it in with “army print”. Both of these children have a very special place in my heart and I’m thankful for the opportunity to work with them each day.

Monica is not the crying kind of kid. She is one tough cookie; however, this summer I saw her cry for the first time because she missed her dad. These two children have not seen him since February and it was now October. For a seven and eight year old that is a major loss.

About a half an hour later when chapel was over, I began my normal routine of helping Monica with her homework. Other ARK kids were lining up preparing to go to the gym. As the kids began to go out the door, Luke, one of Monica’s classmates came running back into the room. “Monica, you’re dad’s here!” he shouted to her from the door. “Her Dad?” I asked thinking it was just their ride here early, and I was a bit disappointed because I wanted to help her finish her homework. “Yes, her Dad!” Luke shouted persisted. I felt a sudden shake at the table and looked over at Monica’s seat only to find an empty chair. I looked toward the window, where she had pulled herself up about six inches off the ground, to see if her dad was truly just outside.

Monica then said, “That’s not my dad.” I was once more disappointed, but the feeling was quickly gone, “Oh wait! It

is my dad!” she shouted. I then watched her dad walk into the room and tears filled my eyes. Monica ran to him faster than I have ever seen her run, he scooped her up and Eric stood silent, caught off guard by the sudden excitement that had filled the room. . “Hey Eric!” their dad finally said. “Hey Dad! Look, I have to show you this; I made the tallest tower ever for my army!” Eric replied with extreme excitement. “Okay Eric,” their father replied.

I looked at him listening attentively to his son, while Eric was telling him all about his plastic tower. For a second I wanted to hug him, I wanted to say thank you, I wanted to ask him about the war, I wanted to tell him how wonderful it was to know I was working with his kids while he was fighting for America. But most of all I wanted I wanted to tell him how often his children told me they missed and loved him. Instead I sat there and watched. I watched the look of joy on their faces, which I had never seen before. I saw the deep love for them his eyes expressed. It was then I realized, that in an instant the world can seem perfect and that moment, in time, can last forever. I am so thankful the Lord makes moments like these possible.