The Hopevale Martyrs

I’ve mentioned my recent visit to Central Philippine University in a previous post. This college was started by American Baptist missionaries.  Some of the missionaries serving at CPU and in nearby regions were martyred during World War II.  Monuments were put on campus in their memory.  Below is their story, directly quoted from one of these monuments:

When Japanese forces invaded Panay in April 1942, eleven of the 18 American Baptist Missionaries on the Island chose not to surrender. Aided by Filipino friends, they evacuated to Katipunan, Tapas, Capiz, and then to a mountain hideout located in a narrow ravine deep within the forest. For twenty long, difficult months they lived in this retreat (which they named “Hopevale”) and continued serving the Lord. They built an open-air chapel, a “cathedral in the glen,” and held regular worship services attended by some 75 to 100 people from the surrounding areas.

Then, on Sunday morning, 19 December 1943, Japanese troops suddenly came with orders to kill. The Amercians tried to escape, but when the women and children were overtaken, all surrendered. They pleaded for their lives and the Japanese commander radioed for final orders. He got the reply at noon the next day, ordering him to execute the captives. The missionaries asked for a period of prayer and after about an hour they came forward singing a hymn. One by one they were led to a mountaintop and killed—martyrs to the Christian faith, freedom, and democracy.

Dust and White Flags

It’s been a pretty good week for the most part.  I visited a couple of campuses, had a mid-week worship/fellowship time here at the apartment, recorded the radio show, and managed to train in the gym.

But today was not so good.  I had insomnia last night.  My mind started racing as soon as my head hit the pillow.  This happens to me every once in a while.  Maybe it’s because of my personality type.  I’m an INTP, which means I have a tendency to analyze and process things–to live inside my head, so to speak.  I vaguely recall being awake until two or three in the morning, waking up periodically, and finally getting up around eight.

Not long after waking I realized just how little sleep I had last night.  This was a problem: sleep deprivation has always been my Achilles heel.  I can keep up with energetic college students as long as I get six or seven hours of shut-eye.   But lack of sleep destroys me.

I didn’t make it to campus.  I was just too mentally and emotionally drained–I had to raise the proverbial white flag.  I did introduce myself to a group of students waiting for a bus, but that was about the extent of my face-to-face ministry today (I was on the way back from grocery shopping).

It’s kind of funny it happened this week. Wednesday afternoon we studied Psalm 103 (one of my favorite chapters in the Bible). Here’s one of the verses:

For he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.

-Psalm 103:14

I’ve been thinking about this verse all day.  Wednesday we talked about Adam being formed “from the dust of the ground” (Genesis 2:7).

But it became really personal today.  My God knows just how weak and frail I am.  He knows a sleepless night can transform me from campus evangelist to lethargic couch potato.

He loves me anyway–even on days when I have nothing to offer (not that He’s impressed with what I have to offer in the first place). 

Thank you, Lord, for knowing me and loving me anyway.