book & testimony

I sit on an air mattress in the bedroom my brother had when we were growing up. The huge window on the south side of the 8x10 foot room presents flawless blue skies. Beautiful pictures line the shelves and walls. My sister’s photography captures her many worldwide mission trips. There are two framed paintings on tree bark that I purchased in Uganda in the summer of 2005 and beneath them is Betsy Killin’s prayer card reminding me to lift her up to our Lord this summer. …And, there are spears. Spears and a bow have been mounted at the top of the walls. They are from a tribe of people in Venezuela to whom some old missionary friends of ours brought Jesus. Definitely out of context in this American, Californian, San Diegian, upper class suburban home. But they remind me of a global reality. People need Jesus.

Some brief highlights of God’s workings: I didn’t know what I wanted to do but I did know that I never wanted to teach. Graduating from college automatically invited questions asking what the next step in my life would be. My urban ministry preparation class had aroused in me a compassion for the poor in inner-city Los Angeles. But after a month and a half in Uganda after graduation, God sent me home. Not easily, I learned to wait on God. And then He surprisingly asked me to go teach high school in Chuuk, Micronesia. Me? Teach? High school? You’ve got to be kidding me. I obeyed, wanting to follow the God that saved my soul but keeping in my mind that it was all preparation for my future ministry in downtown Los Angeles. That was the city God had given me a heart for, right? My initial commitment to Chuuk was only for six months. But God gave me an unbelievable love for my students. I committed for another year. When the time was coming to think about what God had next for me, I looked into a lot of different things. I was about to begin my application for San Diego State University’s Applied Linguistics Master’s Program when an alumna of CIU said that I should look into her alma mater. I did. I applied. I was accepted. I went. …I was proud of California. I was excited about the plans that I definitely thought God had worked out so beautifully in my life – finish CIU in two years and move to LA where I would teach university level ESL courses to pay off CIU, high school level ESL students who were my true heart’s desire, and other miscellaneous ESL classes through churches and various ministries. What a beautifully planned life! …A few months into my classes, someone commented in random conversation, “Katie, maybe God only gave you a heart for LA and ESL to bring you to CIU. Maybe God is going to show you other things for you to do now that He has you here. Don’t plan your life too tightly. God will do anything He wants.”

I knew that I would enjoy my linguistics classes. What I didn’t know is that I would work hard at them, be amazed at the course work, and just absolutely love it (okay, maybe I don’t love prepositions…) The day before a Wycliffe dinner theatre night, a friend off-handedly told me that she had an extra ticket. I was mesmerized the entire evening.

This summer I e-mailed some different people and asked for some good books to read. If I couldn’t go overseas this summer, I was determined to pray for the people that were (in fact, have my prayer life grow in every way) and read books that spurred me on to abide with Christ. Because of the array of books, for the first time in ten years I went to my church’s library and checked out two books. One of them quoted a missionary several times that was so heart-wrenching I thought I would look for his biography the next week. As I was scanning the biography section the word “linguist” popped out at me. The title? Called to Die. “Don’t know if I’m called to die,” I thought to myself. “I’ve never heard of this missionary.” Oh, well. I don’t have to pay to check it out. So I picked up the book and set about the rest of my day. Later that evening I began to read “The Story of American Linguist Chet Bitterman, Slain by Terrorists.” …I couldn’t put it down. Late last evening, I was reading about Chet’s senior year of high school. He was sitting across from his girlfriend talking about the future and said, “You know I’ll be going to Columbia Bible College next year.” I ran into my parents’ room, the book flailing in my hands. Linguist. CBC (now CIU, for those who didn’t know.) Later, Wycliffe Bible Translators and The Summer Institute of Linguistics. This afternoon, with tear-streaked cheeks, I finished the book.

“In the early morning darkness of January 19, 1981, seven armed terrorists burst into the SIL guest house in Bogota, Colombia. Herding the sleepy occupants together, they demanded the SIL director. He wasn’t there. The terrorists pointed to Chet Bitterman. ‘We’ll take you.’ The young father walked over to the couch and for a moment held baby Esther, who was crying. He kissed three-year-old Anna, turned to Brenda, and asked her to be calm for the girls’ sake. A gunman urged him into the rear office and he was gone.

In this, the authorized biography, the whole story of Chet’s kidnapping, his seven weeks in the hands of Colombian terrorists, and the final – and futile – negotiations for his life are set down in dramatic sequence.

It is the story of what happens when terrorism confronts Christianity. It is also the story of how God can use an ordinary person in an extraordinary way.

Yet another drama parallels the telling of the kidnapping by terrorist extremists: that drama is the narrative of Chet Bitterman’s life, the story of the winsome character who was an inspiration in life as well as in death. This is the story of Chet the adventurer, with the Tom-Sawyer knack for living; Chet the prankster, with his bag full of tricks in college; Chet the idealist, who struggled to feel adequate as a linguistics trainee; and Chet the man’s man, who joked with his abductors, even during his final days. Called to Die transcends the tragic end of Chet’s life story, however, as it focuses on the inspiring events that followed his death.” (The back of Called to Die, by Steve Estes.)

Of course God would use Chet Bitterman’s initial death to draw Colombians to Himself and to draw Christians everywhere to missions. But I wondered if Chet’s parents and his widow Brenda (who is now remarried, still with Wycliffe, and serving in PNG) would have ever guessed that Chet’s life would be a call to me over twenty five years later.

I still don’t know what the future holds. But I know who holds the future. Too cliché? I remember someone that I respected saying that when churches say that their goal is “to know Christ and make Him known” that it’s just too simplified and not as easy as that. I could never buy that. God’s not simple but I sure am. I went to a discussion group the other night with four other people that are covered in Christ’s righteousness and afterwards there was incomprehensible joy from abiding in Jesus, speaking truth, building each other up. I just want to abide with Jesus. I don’t want to be a missionary or a teacher or a lover of people for self-gain. I have nothing to gain but Jesus. But to share Jesus with people for God’s glory which involves my joy and theirs? What could be greater?

Maybe someday I will see tribal spears in their correct context. Maybe someday the people who hold spears like these will see the Bible in their own context. May Jesus be praised forever!