CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Infinite Adaptability
Ever since their college days, Jim Elliot and Ed McCully had wondered if someday they might work together on the mission field. When Ed, his wife Marilou, and their towheaded toddler Stevie arrived in Quito in December, 1952, it seemed that their hopes would be realized. The McCullys planned to stay in Quito for their required Spanish study and then join Jim and Pete in Shandia. In June, 1953, Ed left his family in Quito and made a quick trip to his future home in the jungle. He wrote to his folks in the States of the scenes he had witnessed:
"1 have just returned to Quito, after spending twelve days in the jungles with Jim Elliot and Pete Fleming among the lowland Quichua Indians. If the Lord permits, we hope to be located there in a few months. During these twelve days, after viewing the Indian boys in school and the endless line of people seeking medical aid, after visiting Indian homes, after hearing the weird chant of witch calling, and the hopeless cry of the death mourners, I praise God for bringing us to this land to work with these people. I pray that we might be faithful to our calling and that God will use us to bring many of these Indians to Himself.
"I stood by the bed of an eighteen-year-old Indian boy in the eastern jungle. I watched him vomit blood and in a few minutes I watched him die. In that hour, as I stood looking at his lifeless form lying on bamboo sticks on the dirt floor of the hut, I was to realize more fully what Paul meant in I Thessalonians 4, 'Ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.' I will not soon forget the screamingchanting wail of these heathen folk as they beat their breasts and mourned for two days and nights. It was a pathetic picture of 'no hope.' Tonight I pray a peculiar prayer ... that God will spare the lives of these Indians until He enables us to bring to them the message of hope, of eternal life, of salvation in their own language."
Oldest son of a Milwaukee bakery executive, Ed McCully grew up in the Midwest, in a home which knew something of sacrifice for the work of the Lord. Ed's father was active in preaching, traveling throughout the United States, speaking of Christ to his business associates at every opportunity, and to Christian groups in many places. When Ed entered Wheaton College in the fall of 1945, it was not with the idea of becoming a foreign missionary. He chose business and economics as his major.
Six feet two inches tall, weighing one hundred and ninety pounds, he soon distinguished himself as star end on Wheaton's championship football team. His surprising speed for so big a man made him a track star as well. His track coach, the national champion miler, Gil Dodds, tells of an incident in Ed's senioryear. Ten 440yard men were in training for a special meet in Boston; from the ten, five would be picked to go. Ed wanted to go to Boston. So, in spite of the fact that he was a 100-220-yard man and had never run a 440 in his life, he asked if he could try out with the others. It was typical of Ed that he made the relay team by one-tenth of a second. "He was always coming through with the impossible when the chips were down," was Dodds' concluding comment.
Ed was at his best on the platform. His simple, direct approach to his audience enabled him, with no formal training whatever in public speaking, to win the 1949 championship in the National Hearst Oratorical Contest in San Francisco, a competition in which over ten thousand students had competed. His essay on Alexander Hamilton was nearly memorized by his classmates, who insisted on his reciting it at every class gathering. When he came to the climax,
"And like a silver clarion rung,
The accents of that unknown tongue,"
the class would rise simultaneously and shout with Ed,
"Excelsior!"
Such was the spirit which Ed, senior class president, had generated. Of his election my brother Dave wrote: "Ed was elected (or shouted in) without a contrary vote. I frankly doubt if anyone even entertained the idea of proposing anyone else for the position. It was a foregone and unanimously accepted conclusion."
The following year Ed McCully, having turned his thinking toward the bar, entered the law school at Marquette University. At the beginning of his second year there he took a job as hotel clerk at night, intending to spend the time studying. But God, who ordains men of His own choosing and moves in them to the accomplishment of His eternal purposes, had other plans. Ed told his Wheaton classmate Jim about it in a letter dated September 22, 1950:
"Since taking this job things have happened. I've been spending my free time studying the Word. Each night the Lord seemed to get hold of me a little more. Night before last I was reading in Nehemiah. I finished the book and read it through again. Here was a man who left everything as far as position was concerned to go do a job nobody else could handle. And because he went the whole remnant back in Jerusalem got right with the Lord. Obstacles and hindrances fell away and a great work was done. Jim, I couldn't get away from it. The Lord was dealing with me. On the way home yesterday morning I took a long walk and came to a decision which I know is of the Lord. In all honesty before the Lord I say that no one or nothing beyond Himself and the Word has any bearing upon what I've decided to do. I have one desire now-to live a life of reckless abandon for the Lord, putting all my energy and strength into it. Maybe He'll send me someplace where the name of Jesus Christ is unknown. Jim, I'm taking the Lord at His word, and I'm trusting Him to prove His Word. It's kind of like putting all your eggs in one basket, but we've already put our trust in Him for salvation, so why not do it as far as our life is concerned? If there's nothing to this business of eternal life we might as well lose everything in one crack and throw our present life away with our life hereafter. But if there is something to it, then everything else the Lord says must hold true likewise. Pray for me, Jim.
"Man, to think the Lord got hold of me just one day before I was to register for school! I've got my money put away and was all set to go. Today was registration day so I went over to school to let them know why I wouldn't be back. I really prayed like the apostle asked the Ephesians to pray, that I might 'open my mouth boldly.' I talked to all the fellows that I knew well. Then I went in to see a professor I thought a lot about. I told him what I planned to do, and before I left he had tears in his eyes. I went in to see another professor and talked to him. All I got was a cold farewell and a good luck wish.
"Well, that's it. Two days ago I was a law student. Today, I'm an untitled nobody. Thanks, Jim, for the intercession on my behalf. Don't let up. And brother, I'm really praying for you too as you're making preparation to leave. I only wish I were going with you."
Ed's period of boot-training came when he went with Jim Elliot to Chester, Illinois, in the winter of 1951. Besides the tent meetings and children's classes which they held in an attempt to preach the Gospel in that town, Ed frequently preached on a weekly radio broadcast which he and Jim shared. As the Apostle Paul wrote, "I am debtor both to the Greeks, and to the Barbarians; both to the wise, and to the unwise. So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the gospel to you that are at Rome also. For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth...." So Ed believed and so he preached.
On May 16, 1951, he used civic law as an illustration in one of these radio messages. Ed's sermon explains better than most theological statements the belief shared by all five of the men who were ultimately to combine forces in Operation Auca.
"The fate of the criminal," Ed said, "is to fulfill the condemnation by being punished-for some this means serving a term of years, for others it means imprisonment for life, for others it means death. God's condemnation upon all sinners is death. 'The wages of sin is death....' One sentence, and one punishment for those who do not believe.
"But, you say, God is a God of love. He will not punish anyone eternally. It is true that He is a God of love. And His condemnation does not in any way alter the fact. God is not willing that you or I experience the punishment we justly deserve. Therefore He offers us an escape, if we choose to accept it. At the price of His only begotten Son, God provided pardon.
"This is the simple, plain, and clear Word of God from His book, the Bible. 'He that believeth on My Son,' says God, 'is not condemned, but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he has not believed on my only begotten Son."'
As in the days when the Lord Himself walked on the earth, the results were not startling. A few wrote to the radio station for further information. A handful of people professed conversion as a result of the meetings held in school auditoriums and tents. But Ed knew that he had been obedient to God in the work of those months. Just prior to going to Chester, Ed had accepted an invitation to speak at a young people's banquet in Pontiac, Michigan. God had more in mind than Ed had imagined. It was there that he met Marilou Hobolth, a pretty dark-haired pianist in the church where he was to speak. During the months in Chester, Ed sent more letters, no doubt, to Marilou than he had posted to others in several years. Early in the correspondence he wrote:
"I'm praying definitely for two things: first, that the Lord will give us wisdom in our relationship-even in the business of letter writing. Second, that as long as we've got anything to do with each other, that each of us will be an influence upon the other for closer fellowship with the Lord. I don't mean that we'll be preaching to each other-but just that our attraction for each other will be a means of attracting us more to the Lord. I know that's the way you feel too."
Their friendship ripened fast and in April Ed and Marilou became engaged. A few days later Ed wrote her:
"When you pray, ask the Lord definitely to show us where He wants us to spend our lives, and that we'll be willing to spend them there, even anxious to."
Ed's love for the girl he was going to marry was wholehearted: "When anybody speaks to me, it takes everything I've got to stay with them in conversation. It's the craziest sensation! I'm beginning to believe everything the poets and songwriters have to say about love!"
On May 29, 1951, he was writing: "One month from today you will have lost all your freedom and will be subject to my iron rule, my unflinching law, and my cruel command. You have exactly thirtyone days to reconsider. Do you think you'll really be able to put up with me for the rest of your life? It won't be easy. There'll be plenty of times you'll wonder why on earth you married me. Have you reconsidered? Now, let me tell you that I love you with all of my heart."
Marilou did not reconsider. They were married in June in her home church, the First Baptist of Pontiac, Michigan.
Ed's decision to become a foreign missionary led him to enroll at the School of Missionary Medicine in Los Angeles, where he spent a year of intensive study in tropical diseases and their treatment, obstetrics, dentistry, learning the fundamentals in order not only to be of help to the Indians, but also to keep himself and family in shape.
On December 10, 1952, with eight-month-old son Stevie, Ed and Marilou sailed for Ecuador, the country where God had indicated He wanted them to spend their lives.
In the jungle, Jim and Pete had been looking forward to the day when the McCullys would join them. They were building a house for them, along with other mission buildings. In the meantime, the McCullys were living in a stucco house in Quito with an Ecuadorian family, learning Spanish. It was not an easy life and they found themselves subject to discouragement and a sense of uselessness. "We ask in prayer that we might have aptness and accuracy in the studies, and grace to carry us over the 'hump' so we will be able not only to converse but also speak the Word of Life." Ed wrote to friends who had promised to pray for them. He and Marilou were eagerly looking forward to having their own home down in the jungle, and to getting into the work which they longed to do. One day Ed was called to the short-wave radio.
"I didn't read that transmission too well-did you say all of the buildings?" he asked. "Over."
"All of the buildings at Shandia have been destroyed by flood. All of the buildings at Shandia have been destroyed by flood. Jim and Pete would like you to come down as quickly as possible. Over."
"Okay. Okay. Tell them I'll be right down."
Ed McCully handed the microphone back to the short-wave operator. The message had been relayed to him from Shell Mera. Jim and Pete had sent a runner to Dos Rios, a mission station six hours' walk from Shandia. The missionaries there had informed Shell Mera by radio of the flood.
Ed was dazed. He walked over to the window and stood looking out across the valley of Quito, toward Antisana, the mighty snowcap between him and the little mission station he had visited only a few weeks before.
The mission station at Shandia had been wiped out. In one day of thunderous rising water, followed by a nightmare that lasted through the long hours of darkness, the rampaging river destroyed everything. Five hundred hand-planed boards-each representing one full day's work for one man-stacked up for a new house, a new clinic, and a new school kitchen had disappeared in the night. Most of their personal belongings were saved but Jim and Pete's invaluable Quichua vocabulary manuscript was strewn all over the ground and tracked in mud. Three hundred and thirty feet were sliced off the end of the airstrip. It was a poignant reminder to the men of the temporal quality of their present "city."
Just as they had instinctively sought Ed's help, so now he turned to Marilou. "Babe, the whole station at Shandia has been destroyed by flood!"
Marilou was incredulous. Ed told her of the disaster and of Jim and Pete's having asked him to go down to the forest. She agreed immediately that this was the right course of action.
"But-what about you and Stevie?" he asked.
"Oh, we'll be fine," Marilou replied. "We'll just stay right here, and you let us know by radio whatever you plan to do. I'm sure it'll work out okay."
As usual, Ed was cheered by her spirit, and began making preparations for the trip. "Elliot," he had said one day to Jim, "I've married an efficient wife. She plans-and she makes me plan. And we get it done!"
She got him ready in record time, and soon thereafter he was seated on a canvas chair in the tent which Jim and Pete had pitched in Shandia. Discouragement gave way to planning and the young men quickly turned to rebuilding the mission station and getting things ready for the McCullys. As soon as possible, Ed went to Quito to move his family down. An excerpt from Ed's diary tells of their first days in the rain forest:
"September, 1953. We are well settled by now. Life gets to be a routine of buying, selling, treating sick, fixing kerosene and gasoline appliances, trying to learn a language. It's a fight to try to get time for the latter. Also time for Bible study and prayer. It's hard to stay on top of it all, hard to keep rejoicing, hard to love these ungrateful Indians. It's hard to keep our primary purpose in view when we get so swamped with secondary things."
The life of a missionary calls for infinite adaptability-from winning a national oratorical contest to struggling with an unwritten language ... from starring on the college football field to teaching a bunch of small Indians to play volleyball ... from prospects of a law career in a North American city to a life in the jungle of South America. Marilou, who had been director of music in a large church, slowly and carefully taught Indian children to sing two-line songs which she and Ed had written in the Quichua language. With all this, they were ready. They were fully prepared to be "fools for Christ's sake."