Seek Ye First … What?!?

I am a total goofball. Always have been. Ask anyone who knows me. I am a spaz. So, falling into a lake shouldn’t have been a complete surprise to me. Things like this happened quite often, if I’m honest.

It was my third trip to Finland. I made some really good friends there on my maiden voyage two years earlier. People in the Finnish Christian community were so kind to me and took care of me whenever I passed through heading in or out of Russia. A sweet group of Believers asked me to speak at their annual missions conference held every summer just outside of Helsinki in a rustic Christian camp. I, of course, jumped at the opportunity and was thrilled they’d even asked.

I got to the camp early the first morning. I was staying in the city because of other ministry I was doing there, but I took a bus out to the camp each morning. I got there about 8 o’clock to check the place out and maybe bum a cup of coffee from someone in the kitchen. I was scheduled to speak on China at 10 AM. There was a huge group attending the camp. Mostly families. The gathering was much bigger than I expected. They’d asked me to challenge the campers to consider China as a possible place of calling. My girlfriend Marja had shown me a book about Finnish missionaries to China dating back as far as the early 1800s. I knew from that book the Finnish church was no stranger to China. People seemed eager to hear all about what God was doing there. It was 1988.

Praise and worship time was to start around 9 o’clock that morning. I got a cup of coffee and decided to walk around the big golden lake near the camp. Finland has the most unusual landscape. Flat rocks slip into amber-colored water. Even though it was summer, Finland was cold! I was wearing a new white long-sleeved blouse and a cotton navy mid-length skirt—very conservative, because I knew the Finnish church (at least at that time) was very conservative.  

Imagine me, walking around the lake with the breeze blowing against my face. I looked up at the clear blue sky marveling at how great God’s creation was. (Birds were singing, the sun was shining—much like a scene from a film). I was walking along the banks of the lake when BAM! In a millisecond—in a flash—I slipped on a moss-covered rock and fell smack dab into the water! It was over my head. You may wonder, “How’d that happen?!?” But people who know me, completely get it.  

The water was freezing and there was no one around. I’m a good swimmer, but I struggled with the weight of my clothing and the cold temps of the water. All the campers were doing their Christian duty getting ready for the meetings. So, there was no one to help me get out of that lake.

I tried to climb out, but the moss on the rocks was so slick and slippery that I couldn’t grip anything. I struggled and struggled. I’d make progress, lifting my body out of the water and then slide right back in. I couldn’t touch the bottom to spring off, so I felt very stuck: I couldn’t go down and I couldn’t go up. Panic set in. “Lord,” I prayed, “You need to help me.”

After several attempts, I finally swung my leg onto a rock and pushed myself up on the bank. I was exhausted, cold and mildly in shock! I took a moment to calm down and then I assessed the damages. My brand-new white cotton blouse was completely covered with mucky muck. Brownish, greenish gunk covered me from my neck down to my ankles. I was soaked and I was dirty. Well, filthy. And I had that lake smell—fish and deterioration.

I had to speak in less than two hours. I was a mess.

Dripping wet and looking ridiculous, I went around to the back of the building and came in through the kitchen door. Finnish women of all ages were in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast dishes and starting lunch. When I walked in, they all stopped what they were doing and literally (yes, literally) sucked the air out of the room. They started shouting orders in Finnish. None of which I understood. Then they attacked me with dishtowels and dishcloths and handkerchiefs and spit and water and anything they could find. There were ten of them doing their very best to clean me up, but unfortunately, they didn’t make a dent in the soiled clothing or my muddy face.

The thing I love about Finns is that not one of them laughed. No one made fun of me. I looked ridiculous and yet they were all very kind and sympathetic. But the situation looked hopeless.

First order of business was finding me another blouse. The moss and mucky muck had completely ruined mine. The problem was my size. I am a big girl and none of those Finnish sisters were my size. Unless someone could sew a couple of blouses together, I was out of luck. Then one of the Finns remembered the old-maid missionary from England. Maybe she had something. We rushed up to her room and, praise God, she wasn’t as small as the others. She graciously invited me into her room, smell and all, and started going through her few items of clothing to find something that might fit me. She lent me a blouse that was about two sizes too small and I stretched it until it finally did the job. I was scheduled to speak in about 45 minutes! She asked, “What’s that smell?” I replied, “Oh, it’s me with stinky lake-fish-muck smell!” It was bad. Armed with a hairdryer and some clean towels, the old-maid missionary and I did our best to get me ready for the pulpit. Let me say it wasn’t my best look.

That morning with a too-small blouse and a skirt smelling of lake water, I shared the tremendous spiritual hunger in China. I told stories of everyday Chinese people who were disappointed by their government, disillusioned by communism, and looking for a new basis for hope. I taught in China from 1983-1988. My stories were current and my experiences were fresh. The response from the church was good and they didn’t even mind my appearance. We had a time of prayer for China. The message was very well received. I was grateful.

Then we all went to the cafeteria for lunch. I sat next to the British missionary who lent me the blouse. She had served most of her life in Finland in Christian service. She was also a trained nurse.

For some in the Christian world, singleness is a scary thing. Corrie ten Boom (my all-time hero) used to say, “Some people choose singleness, others are born to it, and some have it thrust upon them against their wills. But regardless of how it comes about, God is able to give His children peace through it.”

Two questions I personally struggled with in my singleness were, “Who will take care of me when I am old?” and “Will I die alone?” 

The blouse lender was 80 years old. She had a very quick and clear mind. She had one of those beautiful British voices. You know, the kind you hear on Masterpiece Theater, or an Emma Thompson movie? We talked about her years of service in Finland and the unique peculiarities of serving the Finns. I found her quite fascinating. 

“I have a question for you.” I leaned in as if it was some kind of secret that only the two of us could know.

“Don’t you ever worry about old age? Like, who will take care of you and help if you have health problems?” I was very serious and yet she chuckled and grinned big!

“Teri! I’m already old!” She smiled at me and patted my knee as if I was a little girl. “Let me tell you a story...

Sister Margaret Nelson became a missionary nurse at the age of 19. She spent some time in other countries, but in her early 30s she felt a call to Finland. She worked hard to learn the very difficult language. Her ministry was to street people and drug addicts. She loved and cared deeply for the Finnish people. For thirty years she ministered there. Her family and friends urged her to return to England worried that she wouldn’t qualify for a pension—Britain’s form of Social Security. But Sister Margaret took it to the Lord and what He spoke to her carried her throughout her missionary life, “You focus on Me, Margaret, and concern yourself with the things I am concerned with, and I will perfect the things concerning you.”

She paused and she looked me straight in the eye, “And well, Teri love, that has been my motto all my life.”

When Sister Margaret hit 65, her health failed her and she needed more and more medical attention. With great sorrow she left her beloved Finland and returned to England. Because she hadn’t been paying into the British system all those years, she had very little to draw from it. She read an ad in the London paper for a caretaker and live-in companion for an older gentleman. Sister Margaret applied, and though the family was not thrilled with her age, they did like the fact she had medical training and she was cheap. She got the job.

The old man she cared for lived on the outskirts of London in a beautiful old Victorian mansion. The family was very, very wealthy. However, the greed of the children and the bitterness of the old man prompted all the family members to constantly remind Margaret that there would be nothing in it for her. “When I die you get nothing!” the old man would say almost daily. He’d harass her with threats each time she brought him meals, or delivered his medicines: “You’ll get nothing when I’m gone. Pack your bags! You’ll be on the streets when I die!” Every day she heard these words and she admitted that some nights the fear kept her awake. But then she’d remember the Lord’s promise, “I will perfect the things concerning you.”

The children and grandchildren were just as bad as the old man. They told Margaret early on that she better have her bags packed and her belongings together because the moment the old man died, Margaret had less than 24 hours to be out of the house. Even with her faith, this constant cruelty weighed on Margaret. It would have for me too. It was unnecessary brutality.

“Not the warmest environment I have ever worked in,” Margaret told me smiling. The story was sad and cruel. 

After nearly 11 years of working for the old man, he died peacefully in his sleep. Margaret notified the family immediately and then began packing up her things. In less than 24 hours, Margaret was keeping her promise to the family to leave immediately upon the old man’s death.

“I was heading right out the front door with my two big suitcases when the barrister stopped me in the hallway. He said, ‘Miss Margaret, will you please come into the study?’”

Margaret said she was scared to bits. She was afraid the family was going to accuse her of stealing or breaking something. “I thought surely I was in a heap of trouble.”

All those hateful children were present and about half the spoiled grandkids were there too. The barrister told Margaret to have a seat. Of course the family was furious at her presence and tried to give her the evil eye!

“It seems,” said the barrister, “your father indeed did have a kind bone in his body despite what most of us believed. Last year I witnessed a revised version of your father’s will. He decided to leave the house and its contents to Miss Margaret Nelson with enough sterling in the bank to cover taxes and insurance each year for as long as she lives.”

“So,” continued Sister Margaret, “the will was quite solid and the old man had added a clause that if any of the children tried to contest the will, they would be immediately disinherited. The house was mine, the furniture was mine, and there was enough cash on account to cover my taxes and necessary insurance. A few months after the estate was settled, my dearest friend from missionary training school came home after 40 years of missionary service in Africa. She had no place to go and no place to stay, so she came to live with me in the big old house God had provided. Soon we discovered we each needed our own space. We had our own particular ways of doing things. A donor in Holland heard of our situation and gave us a financial gift, and with a little money we’d both saved, we put up a lovely wall straight down the center of the house. We installed a new kitchen and bath and made ourselves a lovely duplex. We have a lovely vegetable garden in the back, with flowers too, and we are as happy as two peas in a pod. Our home is open to anyone who needs a temporary place to stay and we host a Sunday supper each week for women from our church—mostly widows.”

“You see, dear Teri, God provided all that we needed. The promise is true. When we focus on the things that concern Christ, He will perfect the things concerning us. ‘Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you’ (Matthew 6:33 KJV). God’s words are true and trustworthy. And don’t ever forget that, Teri. Don’t ever forget that. God will take care of you.”

I turned 67 this year, about the same age as Margaret when she left the mission field. I never had kids of my own. My husband is a bit older than I and we’ve never had much money. I worked overseas for so many years and I have very little Social Security each month. I don’t fixate on it, but occasionally a thought runs through my mind, “What’s going to happen when I can’t take care of myself?” And then I remember Margaret’s word, “He will perfect the things concerning us.” And He has. And He does. And He will.

Psalm 37:25 (NKJV), “I have been young, and now am old; yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his descendants begging bread.” Never. Peace.

— Teri

Teri with Marja's daughters in Halli, Finland (1988)