Through Gates of Splendour [antikvár]

J ^^ "I Dare Not Stay Home" "The Santa Juana is under way. White stars breaking through a high mist. Half moon. The deep burn of phosphorus running in die wake. Long, easy rolling and the push of steady wind." It was hot in the Uttle cabin of the freighter. Jim Elliot, who was later to become my husband, was writing in the old cloth-covered ledger he used for a diary. It was a night in February, 1952. Pete Fleming, Jim's fellow missionary, sat at a second desk. Jim continued: "All the thriU of boyhood dreams came on me just now outside, watching the sky die in the sea on every side. I wanted to sail when I was in grammar school, and well remember memorising the names of the sails from the Merriam-Webster's ponderous dictionary in the library. Now I am actually at sea—as a passenger, of course, but at sea nevertheless—and bound for Ecuador. Strange— or is it?—that childish hopes should be answered in the will of God for this now ? "We left our moorings at the Outer Harbour Dock, San Pedro, California, at 2.06 today. Mom and Dad stood together watching at the pier side. As we shpped away Psalm 60:12 came to mind, and I called back, 'Through our God we shall do valiandy.' They wept some. I do not understand how God has made me. Joy, sheer joy, and thanksgiving fill and encompass me. I can scarcely keep from turning to Pete and saying, 'Brother, this is great!' or 'We never had it so good.' God has done and is doing all I ever desired, 13