Elisabeth Elliot: "Oh, Betty dear," she said, "you think of all the things that you wish you had said to them. And then you think about all the things that you wish hadn't said. And I looked up to the Lord and I said, 'Lord, why didn't you show me?' And He said, 'Because you weren't ready to be shown.'"

Lisa Barry: That was Elisabeth Elliot quoting a woman who had a profound impact on her life. Oh, she wasn't some prolific author or nationally known speaker, but she listened to God. Elisabeth called her Mom Cunningham. She's one of those dear people we all hopefully had in our life at one time or another.

For me it was Aunt Rose. For you, someone else. But they represent a gentle, quiet spirit that was always seeking to serve others. The type who were willing to be there with a kind word and a warm cup of tea. What would life be without these saintly individuals? Today, Elisabeth Elliot continues looking back on the women who have most influenced her life. I hope you'll do the same. Let's get started.

Elisabeth Elliot: "You are loved with an everlasting love." That's what the Bible says, "and underneath are the everlasting arms." This is your friend, Elisabeth Elliot, continuing my talks today with the story of dear Mom Cunningham.

Mom Cunningham was a Scottish lady whose husband, I think, was the manager of the furnaces of at Prairie Bible Institute (PBI). I went to PBI after I finished college and it seemed a very long way from home. I was way out in the prairies of Alberta and feeling rather homesick one day--I suppose I'd been there for several weeks--when there was a knock on my dormitory door.

I opened to door to find a radiant, pink-cheeked face. It was a sweet lady who spoke in a Scottish accent. And she said, "Are you Betty Howard?" And I said, "Yes." And she said, "You don't know me, but I've been prayin' for ya for many weeks. And I thought perhaps that you were a little bit homesick and so, if you'd like to have a cup of Scottish tea and scone, just pop down to my little apartment and we'll put the kettle on and we'll have a little time together."

Well, do you suppose that I refused that invitation? There was many a bitter winter when I made my way down to that little, tiny cramped basement apartment where Mom Cunningham and her husband lived. And always she would put the kettle on. We would sit down in the little tiny living room, sitting room, that she had--was so small that you had to be sitting practically kneecap to kneecap. And she would open her Bible and she would talk to me about something that the Lord had been speaking to her about, before that.

And one day, as we were sitting there, I was telling her about my great sorrow--Jim Elliot, the man that I had fallen in love with in college, was still there, he was still a student and as far as I knew, God was never going to bring us together. It didn't look as though there was any possibility of that. Jim was headed for South America; I was headed for Africa, I thought at the time.

So she prayed with me and she reminded me of Romans 15:13, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing." Another translation says this, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope, by the power of the Holy Spirit." And I don't think that Mom ever wrote me a letter from then on without including that verse.

She wrote to me as long as I was a missionary in Ecuador, she wrote to me until she herself died. And I think of her as such a dear spiritual mother. And these women that I've been talking about last week and this week, in some sense each one has been a spiritual mother, although I didn't know them all personally. I didn't know several of them very well, but I had met each of them in some way.

Years after my Bible school days at Prairie, I was back up there for a conference in the spring and Mom Cunningham and I had both been widowed at approximately the same time, I think it had been about four years before I was visiting her again. And we were talking about what it's like to lose a husband. And she said to me, "Oh Betty dear," she said, "you think of all the things that you wish you had said to them. And then you think about all the things that you wish you hadn't said. And I looked up to the Lord and I said, 'Lord, why didn't you show me?' And He said, 'Because you weren't ready to be shown.'"

I want to be ready to be shown and how I thank God that He has taught me through so many different mediums, so many different people. Through books, through my parents, through my teachers, through the wonderful women of God that He has allowed me to meet in person--people who have left with me a deep impression of godliness. And I think almost every one of them has left some unforgettable words and dear Mom Cunningham was certainly one of those.

And then there was Corrie ten Boom. She came to Gordon College, here in Massachusetts, many years ago and when I saw the advertisement, you can be sure that I rushed out to make sure that I got a ticket for the banquet that they were going to have and then to hear her speak. And she was all that I was longing to see. I had seen The Hiding Place but I was longing to see her in person. It was not the only opportunity that I had. There were some other opportunities after that.

But on that particular occasion, to my utter astonishment, she invited my daughter and me to come and visit her during the following week. She was staying with a family in Boston. And so, of course, we accepted the invitation. We arrived at the door and her assistant, a young woman who was acting as sort of a secretary and also the woman who traveled with her all over the world, met us at the door. And she said, "Corrie is in bed, upstairs. She's not ill, but the doctor has said that she must take one day out of every seven and spend it in bed, if she insists on tramping for the Lord all over the world. So this happens to be her day of rest."

So the lady escorted us upstairs into the bedroom and there was Corrie, in the bed, in purple silk pajamas. And she greeted us with such warmth and enthusiasm and then she had her secretary bring in some tea and we sat and had a lovely time. And in the middle of the time, Corrie suddenly jumped out of bed, walked across the room, opened her suitcase and took out of the suitcase a square of satin with what looked like a totally meaningless jumble of threads, which she held up for us to look at.

She said, "Now look at this jumble of thread. It doesn't seem to have any meaning to it whatsoever." But then she turned it to the other side, and on the other side was a beautiful embroidery depicting a golden crown. And then she repeated for us the lovely words by Grant Colfax Tuller:

You can imagine it was unforgettable for Valerie and me to be in the presence of that great woman, who because she and her family had sheltered Jews during World War II in Holland--where, of course, it was forbidden and the Germans had taken over--she lost her father. I think, actually on route to the concentration camp. And her sister, Betsy, starved to death there.

And she also told us how years later, when she was speaking somewhere in Germany, she saw in the audience one of the guards that had been responsible for her sister's starving to death. To her great consternation, when the meeting was over, she saw this man move down the aisle, toward her with hand outstretched. She said to the Lord, "I cannot shake this man's hand. I hate him. Lord, give me grace." And she said, "In that split second, grace was given." Her hand shot out and in that physical gesture, she was able to welcome that man. And of course, they shook hands and it was then that she learned that he had become a Christian since then.

Life comes out of death. The apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4, that we are to die in order that life may be revealed. And he himself said, "I die daily. We who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that His life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you."

Only God knows the deaths that have been died in the spirit of these women about whom I have been speaking to you during last week and this week. They are certainly people who had to die to themselves and probably like Paul, had learned to die daily. But it was out of their deaths that life came for people such as I.

Lisa Barry: And the life continues to be spread to you and me through this program. I wonder how many of you were lovers of poetry before you became a listener of Gateway To Joy. I am one of those baby boomers who never took an interest in poetry. I also thought the only people who liked it were Lit majors or librarians. But I'm also thankful that my naive assumptions were corrected by Elisabeth's thoughtful placement of poetry on this program. One of her favorite poets was Amy Carmichael.

Of course, there is certainly more to know about Amy than just her poetry. The truth is, she had a zeal for God that permeated every aspect of her life. Don't you long for that kind of commitment? Well, I can't think of a better way than by watching a lover of God in action. You can have that opportunity through the book called A Chance to Die. It's the life story of Amy Carmichael. We are making this book available today for a suggested donation of $20.00 for those of you who request it.

Our toll-free number, 24 hours a day, is 1-800-759-4JOY. That's 1-800-759-4569. Or, you can write to:

Gateway To Joy, Box 82500, Lincoln, NE 68501. Or, visit us on-line at gatewaytojoy.org. Gateway To Joy is a production of Back to the Bible.

Be with us again tomorrow when Elisabeth talks about Amy Carmichael, one of the most powerful influences of her life. That's next time on Gateway To Joy.