Chapter 38 - Another Moses

“The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he

that winneth souls is wise.”

—Proverbs 11:30

Finally, we were back in Abengourou, the place

we were supposed to be. We had rented a small
house in town for the church, and it was doing well.
I was praying for a man to whom I could teach the
Word of God and who could become the pastor of
the congregation.
    I was out early one morning getting food when I
noticed a man selling bread and coffee in front of a
boutique. I introduced myself; he in turn introduced
himself as Moses. I was dumbfounded by the perfect
English he spoke. As I have mentioned, I had
studied French in Canada, but his English was far
better than my French, not to mention that he also
spoke many other languages fluently. I thought to
myself, “Lord, this man could be a great help in the
church.” I gave him a gospel tract, and we spoke
about the Lord. Before I left that morning, he had
accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Saviour.
    I was praising the Lord for his salvation and
praying to myself, Lord, “I pray this Moses is for
real.” I asked him if he would like to study Bible
lessons, and he said he would. I told him I would
bring him one in the morning, and he said he’d be
waiting in this same spot. Little did I know what
God had in store for this man who had just accepted
His Son, Jesus, as his Saviour.
    The next morning I returned as promised, with
Bible lesson in hand. Moses was waiting for me
and said, “I’ll finish this one today, and tomorrow
you can bring me another one.” I was excited about
this new Christian named Moses and the hunger he
seemed to have for the Word of God. I left praising
the Lord for the jewel He had led me to find in this
spiritually desolate place.
    At the very next service, Moses was present and
attended faithfully as the days and months passed.
He worked his Bible lessons, read the Bible that I
had given him, and grew by leaps and bounds in
the Lord. Then one day Moses informed me that he
believed the Lord wanted him to preach the gospel.
I had been praying that the Lord would call Moses
to preach and lead the church in Abengourou, so I
asked him if he would like to attend a Bible school
near Abidjan, a two-hour bus ride away. He said he
would enjoy that very much.
    Moses enrolled in the Bible school and even
started preaching some in our church. It was
amazing how this man soaked up the Word of God.
We discovered that he had been studying law at the
university in Abidjan and had run short of money.
That was why he had been in Abengourou selling
coffee and bread when I first met him.
    Eventually, I relinquished all the preaching to
Moses, since he knew his own people better than
I did and could communicate the Word of God to
them much more effectively than I could ever hope
to. Moses was doing a great job preaching, witnessing
for the Lord, and attending Bible school,
and everybody seemingly loved this man of God.
Everything seemed to be going well, but then terror
like a bolt of lightning struck violently.
    Linda came down with a medical condition we
could not understand. An American doctor in
Abengourou tried to attend to my dear wife but to no
avail. I had to take care of some business in Abidjan
and took Linda with me. The wife of  missionary
friends, Jeff and Carla Bassett, who lived close to
Abidjan agreed to watch Linda for a couple of
hours while I attended to business. When I returned,
Carla had diagnosed Linda’s problem.
    “Jay B.,” she explained, “Linda has a chemical
imbalance in the brain. The reason I know this is
because I have an aunt who has the same problem.”
I had no idea about what she was talking. We had no
computer at that time, therefore, I could not google
it. I thanked Jeff and Carla for their help
and headed back home, pondering Carla’s
words, "Linda has a chemical imbalance in the brain."
    Linda did not get better. By this time Moses had
assumed full-time care of the church, since taking
care of Linda and the family had become a full-time
responsibility for me. We finally made the decision
to return to the United States. We packed our belongings,
turned the church over to Moses, and ask
another missionary to watch over things until the
church could get their own land and building. Then
we flew back to the States to obtain medical attention
for my bride of twenty-three years. Little did I
know we would not return to West Africa.
    I kept in contact with what was happening in
Abengourou, and then one day I received some sad
news the church in Abengourou had closed because
of the war. Moses then moved to the Bible school
and taught there for a while. Eventually the Lord
blessed him with a godly wife, and he and his wife
were missionaries in Burkina Faso for a few years
but now are ministering, as Associate Pastor, faithfully
in a church near Abidjan the capital city of the
Ivory Coast, West Africa.
    The Lord has greatly used Moses, and still is, to preach and
teach the Word of God. I remain thankful that I had
the privilege of meeting Moses and introducing him
to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. When I hear or
see anything about Africa, my heart still aches to be
there winning the African people to Jesus. If there
were any way I could, I would go back to Africa on
a second’s notice. But God’s ways are not our ways,
so I cherish my memories and look forward to what
lies ahead.

(Copyright by Jay B Ayers)

Chapter 37 - Obedience Is Better Than Sacrifice

“…Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to

hearken than the fat of rams.”

—1 Samuel 15:22

It was in 1987 that we were headed back to Ivory

Coast from the United States. Another missionary
family was due for furlough, and arrangements
had been made for us to go to Grand Bassam,
about forty-five minutes from the church in Aboisso
to take care of their church while they were gone
for a year. While taking care of this church, I could
also keep an eye on the church in Aboisso and help
there if needed. I agreed to this arrangement, but I
would soon discover that I should have gone back
to Abengourou and continued ministering there.
    Upon arriving in Grand Bassam, we helped the
missionary family get to the airport and watched
them head for home. Back in Grand Bassam, our
container of belongings arrived, and we set up
house. I thought all was well; we would take care
of the church in Grand Bassam for a year and then
return to Abengourou, where I believed the Lord
wanted us; However, all was not to be well.
    A few weeks later I came down with a bad earache,
Having never experienced one before. I was
trying to deal with the pain the best I could. While
suffering with that earache, one of our children
came running into the house one day screaming
that Jr. had cut his foot. We ran outside, and sure
enough, there he sat on the porch, blood gushing
from his foot. We wrapped a towel around it to slow
the bleeding and headed for the capital city, about
thirty minutes away.
    The pediatrician examined Jr. and said he would
need stitches. When she instructed us to hold him
down, I suggested she give him something to numb
the pain. However, she refused, saying, “The boy
must be strong.” She began stitching, and Jr. started
screaming. The more he screamed, the less he
sounded like a small boy. I could practically feel
every stitch myself. Before the ordeal was over,
we were all crying, except the doctor, who insisted
it was not really that bad. After Jr. finally stopped
crying, the doctor told us to take out the stitches in
about two weeks.
    I hesitated to say anything else, but I reluctantly
mentioned my earache to the doctor. She ordered me
to lie down on the table and lay my head to one side.
I closed my eyes and felt something cold go into
my ear and touch my eardrum! She warned, “Hang
on now,” and then—wham!—she pierced a hole in
my eardrum. I almost had a fit but soon regained
control and started to get up. My head began spinning
and the doctor ordered, “Lie down until I tell
you to get up.” She returned in about thirty minutes
and instructed me to rise slowly. I did, and surprisingly,
I have never had another earache to this day.
At first I thought this doctor was a quack, but I later
admitted that she did know a little something.
    As we headed home, we were discussing the
events of the day, and I pondered to myself, What
else can happen? The answer came sooner than I
liked. I was working on screening the porch to keep
out the mosquitoes when suddenly the electricity
went off. “No problem,” I said. I brought out the
generator, fired it off, and had all the power I needed.
Chris was a small tot then and as cute as a button as
he toddled around. As I continued working, a heart
wrenching scream filled the air. Turning around, I
saw Chris standing by the generator. Linda came
running out of the house, screaming, “What happened?”
and there was Chris holding his little hand
as it turned red. He had grabbed hold of the hot muffler
of the generator.
    We rushed to the car and raced to the doctor
again; she said Chris had suffered a rather serious
burn. She gave us some cream for the burn and told
us to keep his hand wrapped, assuring us the burn
would soon heal. After two weeks, however, the
hand had not healed; we took Chris to the pharmacy
and asked a woman working there what we could do
to facilitate healing. She said, “Let me take a look at
it to see what I can do.”
    First, she cut the dead skin off and cleaned the
area well, then sprayed Chris’s hand with white
powder. She told us to keep the hand clean (difficult
with a two-year old!) to leave it unwrapped
and spray it twice a day with the powder. In about
a week Chris’s hand was looking much better. To
prevent this from ever happening again, I enclosed
the generator in a safety cage and was praying that
all would go smoothly now, but that was not to be.
    Soon after, Linda, Angie, Joy, and I were traveling
to the capital city for the day. A lady in the
church was babysitting Jr. and Chris. As we were
riding along, Linda fretted, “Honey, did you tell Jr.
not to play with the slingshot while we were away?”
I assured her that even though I had not specifically
told him that, he would not play with it while we
were gone. There was nothing to worry about, I
insisted.
    Oh, but I was so wrong! We had a great day in
Abidjan and headed home, oblivious to the nightmare
that awaited us. Sure enough, Jr. had played
with the slingshot, and it flew out of his left hand
and backward into his left eye. When we arrived, he
had an ice pack on it, and it did not look good. Lord,
what are you trying to tell us?
    We piled into the car and headed straight to the
Canadian hospital in Abidjan. They took one look
at Jr.’s eye and immediately admitted him. The doctors
wanted to give him a shot in the eye and then
operate on it. Twice I refused, but they kept insisting
it was necessary to save the eye.
    Thinking that perhaps I did not understand,
they asked me to call someone who spoke better
French. I called another missionary who had been
speaking the language for twenty-five years. When
he arrived; the staff explained to him what they had
already told me. I again refused to let them operate
but finally agreed to the shot in the eye, which, they
said, would keep the retina from detaching.
    It was now evening, Linda stayed with Jr. while
I headed home with the other children. The doctors
wanted to keep Jr. for a few days for observation
and also in hopes that I would give them permission
to operate. What don’t these people understand
about the word “No?” I thought.
    On Saturday night another missionary came by
the hospital to check on Jr. He happened to mention
that a Flying Eye Hospital out of New York had
arrived that day and told me the name of the motel
where the doctors were staying. The next morning I
went to the motel, but while I was trying to find out
their room number, they left for the day. I sat down
in front of their room, waiting for them to return. It
was hot enough to fry an egg, Nevertheless, I was
determined. When they returned in late afternoon, I
told them of my son’s accident, and they instructed
me to bring him to see them in the morning.
Rejoicing, I returned to the hospital, and the next
morning, with French siren blaring, we were off to
the Flying Eye Hospital.
    When we arrived, the doctors examined Jr. right
away. The American physician said it was good we
had not let the doctors at the hospital operate on Jr.’s
eye, since there was too much blood for them to
be able to see anything. The eye specialist gave us
drops for Jr.’s eye and advised us to take him back
to the United States for six months. I thanked the
doctors for their help and started making plans for
our return home. Within three days, we were back
in the States. We immediately took our son to an eye
specialist who advised us to continue with the drops
and to wait for healing. In six months the eye was
healed enough for us to return to Africa, but this
time we went back to Abengourou to continue the
church there.

(Copyright by Jay B Ayers)

Chapter 36 - The Collect Call and $3,000

“Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall

strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.”

—Psalm 27:14

We were at a local church in Cumming,

Georgia, to present our ministry to Ivory
Coast. I showed slides and preached, and our family
sang a couple of songs. We even had a question and
answer time. It was a great service. The pastor
closed the service and arranged for us to lodge with
Brother  Gilstrap and his wife that night. They were
a great host and hostess. They fed us and took really
good care of us. We had a great time of fellowship
with them that evening.
    The next morning it was snowing in Cumming.
Brother Gilstrap fixed us a delicious breakfast, since
his wife had to go to work early. We loaded up our
luggage, thanked him for his hospitality, and headed
off driving into the snow. That was the last time we
saw Brother Gilstrap.
    During the month of December, my wife and I
wrestled with the thought that maybe the Lord did
not want us to return to Africa as missionaries. We
were on furlough and due to return to Ivory Coast
as soon as we accumulated the finances for the trip.
At the same time, a church was considering me for
pastor, and we were torn between the two decisions.
Should we stay in the States and pastor, if the church
called, or should we go back to Abengourou and
restart the church that had closed when we returned
to the United States on medical furlough? We asked
the Lord to show us what to do.
    On January 1, New Year’s Day, I received a collect
call from Georgia. I wondered who would be
calling me collect from Georgia and, I will admit,
thinking that whoever it was probably had more
money than I and surely could have called me
on their own dime. I reluctantly accepted the call
and recognized the voice of Brother Gilstrap. We
greeted each other, and then he said the sweetest
words: “The Lord has impressed upon our hearts to
give you three thousand dollars to help with your
shipping to Africa.”
    Right then we had our answer from God: get
back to Africa! As a family we all praised the Lord.
I thanked Brother Gilstrap and his wife and said
good-bye. We now had peace like a river that the
Lord did indeed want us to return to Africa to spread
the gospel of Jesus Christ.

(Copyright by Jay B Ayers)

Chapter 35 - Hidden Money Saves the Day

“It is a good thing to give thanks unto the LORD,

and to sing praises unto thy name, O most High: to
shew forth thy loving kindness in the morning, and
thy faithfulness every night,”

—Psalm 92:1–2

Clyde, Ohio, was a long distance from Winston-

Salem, North Carolina. We had never been
there, but we had a mission conference to attend
where we would present our ministry in Africa. We
loaded up and headed off early to get there in one
day.
    When we arrived, we were informed that we
would be staying with the mission pastor and his
family. Going to a mission conference is stressful
enough without having to lodge with the mission
pastor and his family, but now we would really have
to be on our best behavior because we were there
not only to be a blessing but also to raise monthly
support. We sighed with relief, however, when we
learned that the mission pastor’s children were near
the same ages of our children. I knew we were all in
for a good time and that I could relax a bit.
    The mission conference was going great. There
was one day set aside for recreation, and we were
all going to King’s Island Theme Park in Cincinnati,
Ohio. We left early in the morning. Upon arriving,
the teens went one way, and the adults and children
went another. We all agreed to meet at a certain
place and time. It was a long, hot day, but everybody
said they had a wonderful time and would like
to do it again someday.
    The mission conference ended, with the church
taking us on for support, and we said our farewells.
The church also gave us a generous love offering,
but I was unable to get the check cashed before we
left town. I thought we had enough money and gas
to make it home, but I was wrong. About seventyfive
miles from home, I ran out of cash, and the gas
tank was nearly empty.
    I asked my wife and children if anyone had any
money, but they all said no. I asked them to look
around the car for any money that we had dropped
or misplaced. They all searched diligently. Then
Angie said, “Let me look in my waist purse.” There
was some money in it. When all the teens had gone
to the theme park, the mission pastor’s children had
asked Angie to hold their money for them in her
purse. Fortunately, they didn’t spend all the money,
and Angie had forgotten to return it. I was very glad,
for there was enough money to allow us to buy fuel
to get home.
    We were rejoicing in the Lord that He had supplied
this need. The next day I called the mission
pastor and explained to him what happened and said
I was going to send the children’s money back by
mail that day. The pastor objected, “Don’t you do
such a thing. You keep that money. I believe it was
meant for you.” I thanked him, and we said our farewells.
The Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn’t
He?

(Copyright by Jay B Ayers)

Chapter 34 - Starvin' Marvins

“...Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?

And this he said to prove him: for he himself knew
what he would do.”

—John 6:5–6

The Ayers were traveling again—this time to

Chattanooga, Tennessee. We were on furlough,
and the mission board liked for its missionaries on
furlough to attend candidate school and freshen up
on any recent changes. We had left home in North
Carolina late in the evening after an outstanding
meal but had enough money for gas. Unless the
Lord intervened, there would be no more food or
place to lodge upon arrival.
    Since the evening was getting late and we were
growing too tired to drive any farther, we pulled
over and slept in the van, arriving in Chattanooga
the next day. When missionaries visited the mission
board, they were expected to provide for their
own food and lodging. We had no idea where we
would get the funds necessary for these things. At
the mission board, I was told there was no available
lodging in town because so many missionaries were
in. I explained our situation to them, but to no avail.
How could I go back to my wife and children
and explain such a predicament? I was supposed to
be their provider, but that day I felt I had let them
down. I prayed a silent prayer, Lord, I sure do need
your help at this moment, and then headed back to
the van. I informed my wife and children that we
had no place to lodge for the next two nights, but
they did not say a word. Thinking they were upset
with me I hesitantly asked, “Does anyone have a
suggestion?”
    Surprisingly, they spoke up and said, “We’re all
hungry. Let’s go get a steak.” I knew they wanted
to go to Bonanza Steakhouse because that restaurant
had a $1.99 lunch special. I calmly explained
that we did not have any money, but my wife was
grinning from ear to ear. Then Linda said, “Honey,
you will not believe this, but while you were inside
the office, a man came over to talk with us. As he
was getting ready to walk away, he gave me some
money and said, “The Lord has impressed upon my
heart to give you a hundred dollars.” With that, she
handed over the prettiest hundred-dollar bill I had
ever seen!
    I know there were tears running from my eyes,
even though I knew, of course, that men are not
supposed to cry! How could I have ever thought
the Lord would let us down? By now we were all
rejoicing and praising and feeling like the richest
people in the world. We headed over to the Bonanza
Steakhouse and relished a great meal, the $1.99
special. You know, food seems to taste much better
when you are really hungry.
    With the remainder of the money, we were able
to get a motel room, buy food for the next two days,
and even have enough left to purchase fuel for the
trip back to North Carolina. You must remember,
back in the eighties, a hundred-dollar bill went a loo-
o-o-ng way.

Chapter 33 - There Goes My Hundred Dollars

“But this I say, He which soweth sparingly shall

reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully
shall reap also bountifully.”

—2 Corinthians 9:6

We had not been on furlough long when I

heard about a meeting at  Freedom Baptist Church in
Rural Hall, North Carolina, featuring a well-known
evangelist. We did not live far from the church, and
my wife and children planned to attend with me.
However, when the day for the meeting arrived,
my wife and children were unable to go. I attended
alone and arrived a bit early. The evangelist was
outside setting up his travel trailer. This evangelist
had no legs, having lost them in the Vietnam War,
yet he moved around as easily as anyone else.
    Since the meeting took place around July 4, it
was aptly named “The Freedom Rally.” The church
was packed to the brim with perhaps more than a
thousand in attendance, and the singing by different
groups were a tremendous blessing. I had never
heard this particular evangelist preach, and what a
preacher he was! It was such an encouragement to
hear from a man of God who had faced so many
adversities in his life.
    The singing and preaching were soon over, and
the invitation drew to a close. It was time to worship
the Lord with a love offering for the speaker.
I thought to myself, “He’s a great preacher.” I will
give a twenty-dollar offering.” I had the money in
my hand as a prayer was offered and the offering
plates passed down the first row. I was seated on the
third row.
    Suddenly the Lord seemed to say to me, “I want
you to give a hundred dollars.” I turned to see if
someone was speaking to me, for I could not believe
what I was hearing. I had no problem giving my
tithes and offerings at my church, but this was a large
amount of money for me. The offering plate Being
passed down the second row. The Lord nudged me a
second time, “I want you to give a hundred dollars.”
    I made my choice and removed the remaining
four twenty-dollars bills in my wallet and placed
a hundred dollars in the offering plate. I literally
watched the plate pass all the way down the row.
I remember thinking, “There goes my hundred
dollars.”
    That money was God’s now. Almost immediately,
the Lord impressed upon my heart that He
was going to give it back to me, plus some. In 1987
a hundred dollars was a large amount of money,
especially for an old country boy like me. I hoped
the Lord would give it back to me very soon, and I
was particularly looking forward to the “plus some”
part.
    While on furlough, I had been doing some
painting with Brother Jimmy Bates, a good friend
of mine, to help make ends meet. The next day I
was to finish a job at a new home. You know what
was on my mind, the hundred dollars and when and
how the Lord would give it back to me. After about
three or more days of working and thinking about
this, my wife called me to tell that we had received
a letter from some people in Maine, whose name I
recognized right away.
    While we were attending school in Sherbrooke,
we had gone to Maine to present our ministry in
some local churches. At one particular church, a
family had asked us to come over for a time of fellowship.
At the appointed time we arrived at the
home and enjoyed an hour of great fellowship. We
left and had not heard anything from this family
until now.
    Curious, I asked my wife, “Well, honey, what
does the letter say?”
    Reading slowly, she said, “The letter says, Would
you please accept this check for your ministry?” I
had no problem accepting checks for our ministry,
as long as they were not “rubber” checks!
    “Honey, how much is that check?” Before my
wife could answer, the Lord impressed upon my
heart that this was what I was getting back for giving
the hundred dollars the other night.
    “Honey,” Linda responded, “this check is for
$1,400.”
    We both had a shouting-and-praising-the-Lord
time right there on the telephone. I was glad no one
else was around because they would have thought
we had won the big lotto.
    We had won more than a big lotto; we had gained
much more faith in the Lord. Before this incident
we had given small amounts. when prompted by the
Lord, but from that time on, we had no problem with
giving any amount the Lord laid upon our heart.

(Copyright by Jay B Ayers)