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Gentle Conquest is Published Monthly by Charles Carrin |
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May 2002 Issued Monthly BRUCHKOA TEENAGE AMERICAN, STONE-AGE INDIANS, AND THE HOLY SPIRIT I have had the privilege to establish a deep relationship with some of Gods great servants. That recently happened again. Stephen Strang, publisher of Charisma Magazine, whom I have known many years, invited me to the Board Meeting of Christian Life Missions in Chicago and the surprise 90th birthday celebration for our mutual friend Robert Walker. Bob Walker is the founding editor of Christian Life Magazine, now part of Charisma, an original member of Pat Robertsons CBN Board, a guiding influence in the early years of Tyndall House Publishing Company, and a man whose personal literary career has impacted thousands. Students he taught at Wheaton College are now successful Christian publishers around the world. More than fifty years ago, Bob was the first Christian editor to interview Billy Graham. And it was Bob who became excited about my book, The Edge Of Glory, and ushered it through to completion. At the birthday party, I unexpectedly met Bruchko and in a few minutes time, this quiet, unassuming man had changed my life forever. During our visits we discovered a kindred brotherhood in the other and bonded in a wonderful way. We promised to stay in touch. Later, in Chicagos Midway Airport, I had to put down his book and walk away from my seat. I didnt want others to see me cry. Many Americans know Bruchko only as the missionary captured by Communist guerillas in Columbia, South America, held hostage and tortured nearly a year. During that time, his hands were tied to a tree behind his back, he was plagued with hunger, dysentery, exposed to blood-thirsty mosquitoes, drenched in rain, and burned by the sun. His faith in Jesus never wavered. The guerillas wanted him to join their cause, rally the Indians behind them, and help overthrow the government. He refused. Finally, they stood him before a firing squad. They fired. He remained standing. The bullets had been blanks. That mock killing had been their ultimate, desperate attempt to make him yield. It failed. His capture brought such an international outcry that he was released. But when he finally walked away, more than 60 of his captors--including the leader-- had accepted Christ. But there is much more to his story than that. And Bruchko is his Indian name. To others, he is Bruce Olsson, a tall, blonde American of Norwegian descent, who, in 1959, as a nineteen year old, walked out of the snow of Minnesota into the interior of South American jungles. When God spoke to his heart, calling him to give his life to the stone-age Motilone Indians, he packed and went. His wealthy Lutheran parents were furious and accused him and the church he had begun attending of being emotional holy rollers. Going to South America was absurd. The Motilones had murdered every person--white or other tribal Indian--who came into their territory. No stranger entered their domain and lived. Bruce went anyway. Bruce had no training, no financial support, no knowledge of the languages he needed, and when he arrived in Caracas, no one met him. Missionaries who earlier promised help had changed their minds. They disapproved of his lack of denominational credentials. He was abandoned. Alone and penniless, he wandered the streets, thinking of his parents fierce opposition to his mission and the failure they had prophesied on his work. His father even locked him out of the family home in the sub-zero winter nights, forcing him to walk miles to another house for protection. But, in South America as in Minnesota, Bruce had the presence of the Holy Spirit hovering over him. That presence would not turn loose. The Holy Spirit would not go away. He had no choice but to be obedient to the call. Several years after his arrival in South America, Bruce finally crossed the towering Andes Mountains on foot, forded violent jungle rivers, and arrived in Motilone territory. That significant day, the one for which he had prayed, sacrificed, struggled, and which he believed God had ordained, came with terrifying pain. The Motilones shot him with an arrow. Writhing in agony, he fell to the jungle floor with the shaft buried in his leg and found himself surrounded by naked, fierce-looking warriors, with bows aimed at him. One of them finally approached and jerked the arrow out backward, tearing his muscle and flesh on its barbs. Grabbing him up, they forced him into a three-hour mountain-climb to their village. Here, they dropped him before their drunken Chief. Another battle followed and more arrows tore into his flesh. Tied and imprisoned alone in the hut, he went for days without food. When it came, and he ate, it was a bundle of five-inch long, live grub-worms. The next moment, he vomited them up. With that reception, Bruce had finally arrived at Gods destination. Strangely, the Motilones let him live and begrudgingly accepted him into the village. He was the first. No one else had ever entered their society and survived. Once when oil company engineers went into their part of the jungle they were killed solely that Motilones could use their helmets for cook pots. The vermin, filth, unspeakably bad sanitary conditions in the villages at times overwhelmed Bruce. At that point, he could hardly have imagined that for the next 40 years he would voluntarily live as a Motilone, learning their ways, speaking their language, and slowly bringing them--and surrounding tribes--to a life-changing encounter with Jesus Christ. In time, Bruce learned surprising things about the Motilones. Buried in their strange theology, they believed that in the remote past, a false prophet had deceived their tribe and God had departed from them. Because of Gods departure, they were subject to demons and darkness. But they also believed that someday One would come who would take them to the trail that led to the horizon. That expression, the trail that led to the horizon was their way of expressing hope in finding the approach back to God. Even the witch doctor talked about it. To jungle people, trails were very important. More than anything else, they wanted to find that most important, lost trail leading to the sky. Surrounded by high mountains and thick rainforest, these people had never even seen the horizon. Yet, they knew somewhere in the far distance it was there. But they didnt know how to find the trail that led to it. In their innocent, naive way, they also told Bruce that someday God would come to them from a banana stalk. Apparently, someone in the past had seen this strange banana stalk--or what looked like it. They were absolutely convinced they were right. To Bruce, the legend made no sense at all. Once, when traveling through the jungle, Bruce came upon two men, howling in grieving anguish. Their wailing was frantic. One was in a tree, the other, who had dug a deep hole in the ground, was yelling into it, trying to get his dead brother to respond. The brother, Bruce learned, had died out of Motilone territory and now his spirit could not return. When the men failed to retrieve the lost spirit, they dropped to the ground in total despair. It was because they had been deceived by the false prophet. The false prophet was the explanation for all their problems. God had departed. As they talked, one of the younger men in a moment of frustration chopped a small section out of a nearby banana plant and tossed it on the ground in front of them. Banana trees are very soft, layered like an onion, and usually filled with water. Once cut, the layers separate easily. A moment later, the one with the machete hit the banana section lengthwise and it fell apart. When it opened, the layers in the banana trunk separated like pages in a book. For a moment they all stared at it. Suddenly, truth broke through! Bruce grabbed his Bible and held it open beside the banana. This was it! The Motilones had been waiting for God to come to them from a book! The Bible! When one of the men saw the Bible and banana together the light of truth suddenly flashed into his darkness. Snatching the Bible from Bruces hands, he ripped pages from it, stuffed them into his mouth and frantically began eating them. He wanted the God who was in the Book to come into him! From that moment on, Bruce had an open door to speak to the Motilones about Jesus Christ. Six years after his arrival in South America, Bruce had his first convert. A young man by the name of Bobarishora, Bobby, had a genuine, life-changing, regenerating encounter with Jesus. Bobbys method of sharing the experience with others was that he explained his conversion in a song. His song, non-stop, to which the entire village listened intently, lasted fourteen hours. Like fire, the song quickly passed to other Indian encampments. The effect was revolutionary. They believed it and were saved. The God who had departed, had returned! It was the testimony of their own Motilone brother that led them to Christ. During Bruce Olssons cold winter nights in Minnesota, when he wrestled with the Holy Spirit about reaching this tribe, he knew nothing of their longing for restoration with the God they believed had departed from them. Nor could he have imagined how God would use a banana tree and a fourteen-hour song to open their hearts to the miracle of salvation. Bruce Olsson is considered one of the great Missionaries of Christian history. He recognized the fallacy of imposing American culture on the Indians instead of integrating the gospel into their own culture. Indians had always built round houses. Many missionaries insisted that church buildings be square. When missionaries demanded that natives dress in American style and sing Gentle Conquest May 2002
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