Archive: The Barefoot Storyteller

by Steve | Mar 1, 1990 | Archive - 1990

Archive: The Barefoot Storyteller

By Sara L. Anderson

The storyteller paces across the stage on bare feet in apparel appropriate for a Christmas-pageant shepherd or a modem Bedouin. A cherubic grin and mischievous twinkle in his eyes punctuate a significant part of his tale.

Earlier he had introduced himself to the contemporary crowd as “James the brother of Jesus” in Yiddish accents akin to those of Billy Crystal’s “uncle” in the new Diet Pepsi commercials.

“Can you imagine having a brother who never did anything wrong?” he asks his listeners. Like a time traveler adapting to a centuries-new environment James retells his Brother’s parables, incorporating enough 20th-century expressions to bring humor and understanding to modem audiences.

An approved evangelist in the Northwest Texas Conference since 1981, Putnam mixes drama, preaching and music in his unique ministry, making him a sort of UM Garrison Keillor. In the guise of James, Putnam tells the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin and the prodigal son to help people know what God is like. The evangelist shows his audience that God is like a good, searching shepherd, and we “need a shepherd real bad.” He is like the woman diligently looking for a lost coin which rolled away through carelessness. He is like the loving father running down the road—coat flying in the breeze, sandals kicking up dust—to embrace a rebellious son (“Gag me with a camel, for sure”) who’s decided a good Jew shouldn’t be slopping hogs and wants to come home. He is Someone people can begin to relate to through the down-to-earth quality of the story.

In a typical, four-day meeting at a local church, Putnam, who is also the president of the National Association of United Methodist Evangelists (NAUME) will begin the Sunday morning session with a drama to break the ice. If the church doesn’t react well to James or Gideon or Moses or other character sketches, the evangelist shifts more toward preaching and music. Usually, he’ll offer two dramas in the course of a revival.

Often the music, much of it written by Putnam himself, and the storytelling touch nerves in people not usually reached by a sermon.

Several years ago Putnam returned to a church in Tulsa where he had held services two years previously. A man stood up to testify that, after hearing “James the brother of Jesus” tell the story of the prodigal, God delivered him from alcoholism. He hadn’t touched a drop in two years.

It is rare that an itinerant evangelist hears such stories, because he or she is not in a particular area long enough to note the results of his or her ministry in individual churches. Putnam, however, doesn’t find that frustrating. “I know there’s fruit because God promises that His Word won’t return void,” he says. “Some of it is fruit where I was there to put the last little bit of water on it. Someone had planted it years and years ago, it was coming to the place where it was mature, and I was there at the right time.” Putnam has not only seen people come to Christ and be renewed in their faith through his presentations, but he has also encouraged Sunday school teachers and pastors to instruct both children and adults through drama. Some have asked for transcripts of his character sketches to use in their churches.

Although Putnam has been an evangelist for nearly nine years, he started out as a local church pastor after graduating from Asbury Theological Seminary in 1978.

During his three years in the pastorate, he began receiving outside invitations to preach and perform his music. ” I stumbled into drama,” he says, mostly through using it as a tool in children’s summer camps after becoming hooked on theatrics in college. (“Someone said I had too much ham in me to be Jewish.”) Then a friend asked Putnam to a revival in his church, on one condition: “I won’t let you come unless you promise to do a drama.”

“I was stuck,” Putnam says, chuckling. “I did it with fear and trembling, but it was wonderfully well received. We discovered you don’t have to be a kid to enjoy drama.”

As for the music, he holds his bachelor’s degree in it and has been performing his own compositions since 1978. In the pastorate he began using music to lead into a sermon or incorporated it into the message as an illustration. “People are hungry for alive worship,” he says. “I carry a lot of electronic keyboards with me, and we use contemporary choruses and some upbeat rhythms in the old hymns—we see a positive response.”

Putnam has recorded six different albums on a national label, and his recordings have been played on more than 750 Christian radio stations, some cuts hitting the top 20 in some cities. His songs reflect deep human needs and tensions—a father having spent so much time pursuing success that he didn’t take time to play with his children (“I Regret”); a believer struggling to follow God (“All My Heart”); a person rejoicing in God’s forgiveness (“Yes”). Putman also wrote the theme song for the UM Section on Evangelism’s new campaign, Vision 2000.

How he has time to be creative is amazing, since a typical year’s schedule includes 35 major bookings (revivals, camp meetings and camps); 20 concerts or one-day events; retreats, conferences and UM annual conferences. He is completely booked for 1990, and the calendar for spring of ’91 is nearly filled as well.

While most of Putnam’s ministry has been located in Texas and surrounding states, invitations have come from points farther east and south. “There’s a great demand for this type of ministry,” says Putnam, who does a number of free concerts in prisons and for children’s homes.

NAUME ranks as a high priority for the Texas evangelist (see related story), and much of the rest of his time is consumed with fund raising, which Putnam says is probably the least-favorite part of his ministry.

“It takes a lot of money to keep an itinerant ministry going,” he says. “Offerings in churches only provide one third to one half of what we need. Most of the rest comes from people who have experienced the ministry and send monthly donations.” The ministry employs one part-time secretary. The rest of the work is taken care of by the Putnam family: wife, Felicia, and sons James, 17, Philip, 15 and Timothy, 12, who travel with Putnam 10 weeks out of the year. James will be traveling with his father more this year and will host the Bible Bowl for children in kindergarten through sixth grade.

Life for the Putnams is hectic, to say the least, which could lead to exhaustion and discouragement. But vision can be a source of energy. “What keeps me going is the sense of call, that this is where God has asked me to invest my life,” Putnam says with quiet enthusiasm. “I can’t stop.”

Sara L. Anderson is the associate editor of Good News.

Archive: The Healing Graces Of Hospitality

by Steve | Jan 5, 1990 | Archive - 1990

Archive: The Healing Graces Of Hospitality

How can ministers’ wounds become sources of healing?

On the one hand no minister can keep his own experience of life hidden from those he wants to help. Nor should he want to keep it hidden. But a minister who talks in the pulpit about his own problems is of no help to his congregation, for no suffering human being is helped by someone who tells him that he has the same problems.

So how does healing take place? Many words, such as care and compassion, understanding and forgiveness, fellowship and community, have been used for the healing task of the Christian minister. I like to use the word hospitality.

Hospitality is the virtue which allows us to break through the narrowness of our own fears and to open our homes to strangers. Hospitality makes anxious disciples into powerful witnesses, makes suspicious owners into generous givers and makes close-minded sectarians into interested recipients of new ideas and insights.

But it has become difficult for us today to understand hospitality. Like the Semitic nomads, we live in a desert with many lonely travelers who are looking for a moment of peace, for a fresh drink and for a sign of encouragement so that they can continue their mysterious search for freedom.

What does hospitality as a healing power require? It requires that the host feel at home in his own house and that he creates a free and fearless place for the unexpected visitor. Therefore, hospitality embraces two concepts: concentration and community. Hospitality is the ability to pay attention to the guest. This is difficult, since we are preoccupied with our own worries. We find it hard to pay attention because of our intentions. As soon as our intentions take over, the question is no longer “Who is he?” but “What can I get from him?”—and then we no longer listen to what he is saying but to what we can do with what he is saying.

Anyone who wants to pay attention without intention has to be at home in his own house—that is, he has to discover the center of his life in his own heart. When our souls are restless, when we are driven by thousands of different and often conflicting stimuli, when we are always “over there” between people, ideas and the worries of this world, how can we possibly create the room and space where someone else can enter freely without feeling himself an unlawful intruder?

Paradoxically, by withdrawing into ourselves we create the space for another to be himself and to come to us on his own terms. But human withdrawal is a painful and lonely process because it forces us to face directly our own condition.

When we are not afraid to enter into our own centers, we come to know that being alive means being loved. This experience tells us that we can only love because we are born out of love, that we can only give because our lives are gifts and that we can only make others free because we are set free by Him whose heart is greater than ours. When we have found the anchor-places for our lives in our own centers, we can be free to let others sing their own songs and speak their own languages without fear.

The minister who has come to terms with his own loneliness and is at home in his own house is a host who offers hospitality to his guests. He gives them a friendly space where they may feel free to come and go, to be close and distant, to rest and to play, to talk and to be silent, to eat and to fast. The paradox indeed is that hospitality asks for the creation of an empty space where the guest can find his own soul.

Why is this a healing ministry? It is healing because it takes away the false illusion that wholeness can be given by one to another. It is healing because it does not take away the loneliness and the pain of another but invites him to recognize his loneliness can be shared. Many people in this life suffer because they are anxiously searching for the man or woman, the event or encounter, which will take their loneliness away.

A minister is not a doctor whose primary task is to take away pain. Rather, when someone comes with his loneliness to the minister, he can only expect that his loneliness will be understood so that that person no longer has to run away from loneliness but can accept it as an expression of his basic human condition. When a woman suffers the loss of her child, the minister is not called upon to comfort her by telling her that she still has two beautiful, healthy children at home; he is challenged to help her realize that the death of her child reveals her own mortal condition, which he and others share with her.

Perhaps the main task of the minister is to prevent people from suffering for the wrong reasons. Many people suffer because they have the idea that there should be no fear or loneliness, no confusion or doubt. But these sufferings are wounds integral to our human condition. Ministry does not allow people to live with illusions of immortality and wholeness. It keeps reminding others that they are mortal and broken.

No minister can save anyone. He can only offer himself as a guide to fearful people. Paradoxically, in this guidance the first signs of hope become visible. This is so because a shared pain is no longer paralyzing but mobilizing.

Hospitality becomes community as it creates a unity based on the shared confession of our brokenness and on a shared hope. This hope in turn leads us far beyond the boundaries of human togetherness to Him who calls His people away from the land of slavery to the land of freedom. It belongs to the central insight of the Judaeo-Christian tradition, that it is the call of God which forms the people of God.

A Christian community is therefore a healing community, not because wounds are cured and pains are alleviated, but because wounds and pains become openings or occasions for a new vision. Mutual confession then becomes a mutual deepening of hope, and sharing weakness becomes a reminder to one and all of the coming strength.

This article is excerpted from The Wounded Healer by Henri J.M. Nouwen. Reprinted by permission of Image Books, New York, New York.

Archive: Fatal Attraction Part II

by Steve | Jan 4, 1990 | Archive - 1990

Archive: Fatal Attraction Part II

The Seductive Promises of Socialism Have Betrayed the Poor

By Clark H. Pinnock

(In Part I Pinnock expressed concern for how our Christian concern for the poor has been unwisely routed along the tracks of collectivist economics. If we are truly concerned for the poor, Pinnock argued, it is neither wise nor prudent to side with an ideology which has such a bad record in regard to reducing the misery of poor people. He cited socialism as one of the most powerful myths of the modern era and warned that political theology can easily be a substitute for faith rather than an expression of it. In Part II Pinnock focuses more specifically on how the poor are being betrayed by the empty promises of socialism.

A Betrayal of The Poor

Turning now from the broad picture to the more specific problem of poverty and its relief, let’s move from theory to practice. Let’s be concerned for the poor themselves, for the missed opportunities in relation to helping them, and for the harm which is done to them by means of bad public policy which feeds upon socialist myths. In this area good intentions are simply not enough. They can bring disaster upon the people we want to help if hopes are not informed by wisdom and prudence. Ignorance is not harmless; in the real world our illusions can have awful consequences.

In short, we must learn to look closely at practicalities, at real outcomes. It is a wicked thing, for example, to weaken a society which promises to raise the poor from deprivation, and it is a wicked thing to give support to a self-styled utopia which does not. Such activity is not just an intellectual error which can be brushed aside; it inflicts real pain upon those least able to bear it. A “good” ideology, like a good bridge, carries vehicles across the valley; a “bad” ideology harms people, including the poor. The system which offers freedom and opportunity for material advancement to the poor is a good system in practice. No theology deserves to be called a liberation theology unless it can be shown to produce liberation from poverty.[1]

The sham has strong support among self-styled liberation theologians who link the gospel and socialism in an exclusive way. The definite preference for socialism and keen distaste for democratic capitalism among them is obvious.[2] It might be unrealistic to expect some theologians to be proponents of market economics, but we should not tolerate total blindness to the failure of Marxist economics. Whatever may be the perceptions of market economics from the South American standpoint, the fact remains that Marxism has been tried and found seriously wanting. The verdict is in; socialism is a utopian vision which in practice betrays the poor, and for this reason it ought to be repudiated. Precisely for the sake of the poor, we must stop dreaming and begin to accept economic reality.[3]

Why Centrally-Planned Economies Fail To Produce

It seems almost necessary to shake some churchmen and say, “Don’t just look, see!” —See how centrally planned economies fail to be productive. All the countries in the Soviet empire prove the point, as do all those unfortunate African states which have tried Marxism. China has had all the problems also but is now adopting some market strategies that are beginning to work. The basic reason for socialism’s failure is clear. It shackles the dynamic creativity of people (which is the source of wealth creation) and replaces it with a vast bureaucracy which is notoriously inefficient. Instead of serving the people at large, it serves the “nomenklatura,” or the ruling class, in the system.

It is important not to lose sight of this point. Socialism does serve a group of people very well, namely the functionaries of the state apparatus. Socialism is hard to dislodge because this large, ruling class has a strong, vested interest in maintaining the status quo. Significantly, the semi-socialist welfare states of the West run on the same principle: Welfare state policies intended for the poor primarily increase the material well-being of the administering bureaucracies. The rhetoric may be social justice, but the reality is economic payoffs to the politically favored.

Marxist systems hurt most people because they make economic calculation impossible. Nothing can rival the efficiency with which the market sets prices and indicates priorities. Central economic planning simply cannot compete with the way the system of private property rights (this is what capitalism really is) encourages efficiency and growth. Democracy is also not possible under Marxism because neither political nor economic liberties can be tolerated if the system is to work. It is all very well to protest and say that the Soviet Union is not the model of socialism one wishes to follow—but wishes are not facts, and the fact of the matter is that the theory of central planning itself implies the Soviet practice or something very like it.[4]

Market Economies Have Raised Living Standards

Market economies, on the other hand, have been remarkably and even spectacularly successful in raising the standard of living of whole populations. No system has ever been so effective in wealth creation and productive power.[5] That is true not only of the Western powers in general, but true also in modern Asia where Japan has, in 40 years, become a giant economic power, where South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore are all booming economically, and where Mainland China itself is throwing Marx away in favor of market incentives. Pointing to these Asian countries is very important here because their experience proves that recently poor countries can even now raise themselves from poverty, not by opting out of but by entering into the world capitalist system.[6]

Again, it is obvious why this is happening. Liberal economies have the ability to make full use of knowledge and human creativity. In an open system, anyone can try out a new product or approach to see if it will work. If the idea is a dud, the market will blow it away just as quickly as it appeared, with very little waste of resources. But if the idea is a winner, people will vote for it when they decide to buy the product or service. There is simply no way that a centrally planned, top-down economy can perform this function in a comparable way. Socialism may sound good in theory and look good on paper, but it simply does not work. The simple truth is that wealth is more effectively generated within a market economy than a state-owned economy. [7]

Market Economies Realistic About Human Nature

To put it in different terms, the market approach works well because it is realistic about human nature. Socialism works poorly because it presupposes saints. The market puts people in a position where it is to their own advantage as well as to ours that they serve us well. The baker will try to produce a fine loaf—not because he is morally good (he often is), but because we will shop elsewhere if he does not. Thus, his prosperity depends on serving us well. The system requires him to perform politely and capably, whatever his mood or his morals. In this way the system makes the best of a fallen world and operates shrewdly and well within it.

At the same time, it’s important to add that the exchange economy presupposes a degree of truthfulness and honesty in the making and keeping of agreements. It presumes upon a measure of moral character which lies in the province of religion to foster. To function well a market economy requires certain human qualities such as self-discipline, honesty and a belief in the future. If those qualities are absent or in decline, the market system is in danger. But those traits are not utopian. They can be acquired in various ways—most completely through Christian conversion.

A comparison of socialism and capitalism with respect to their abilities to supply political liberties and material abundance shows capitalism to be the clear winner. It is far from perfect, of course, but it is the most truly revolutionary force yet discovered in relation to the realization of material well-being. Consequently, capitalism is and ought to be the natural ally for any liberation theology which is serious about liberty, both political and economic.

The dynamics at work here transcend merely theoretical ideology. Again, a good mechanic is the one who can fix my brakes, and a good economic theory is the one which in application makes the best use of scarce resources and generates the most wealth for the greatest number without doing injustice to others. For this practical reason I think it is obvious that Christians ought to give their qualified support to the practice of capitalism and the market economy. For years left-wing churchmen have sung the praises of such disastrous experiments as Ghana and Cuba. It is now time for us to give at least two cheers for capitalism. Why is it wrong to give due credit to a system which delivers freedom and prosperity, when a failed theory has been praised for decades?

Capitalism And the Peril of Prosperity

Christians should speak on behalf of the market approach, because poor societies are looking for good advice and even depend upon it. Our support for capitalism has to be qualified. Our societies in North America and Europe are badly flawed, partly because of the harm which material abundance does when it is selfishly consumed. The success of the market in supplying people’s needs can also be their downfall morally and spiritually. Ironically, the prosperity of the West (which is due to its Christian, capitalist heritage) is the very thing which Satan, the beguiling serpent, now uses to jeopardize the vitality of the churches. But at least in a free economy individuals have the opportunity to make responsible use of their resources, since they have an opportunity to invest in the kingdom of God and on behalf of those in need. In Marxist economies the opportunity is taken away.

It is important for church leaders to speak out on behalf of peace and justice. Their witness can be the inspiration and source of hope for millions of Christians. But it is also important, when ministers wish to address specific issues, that they make use of the expertise required to do so convincingly. Good intentions are not enough if the actions selected do more harm than good. It might even be wise as a matter of principle if professional theologians would stick to declaration of biblical principles, while laypersons with the requisite economic training and experience work out the implications and implementations. A preacher may be right to say we ought to assist the poor in a certain place without pretending himself to know how best to achieve that, apart from sacrificial assistance to relieve the immediate necessities. We have had more than enough uninformed rhetoric from church bureaucrats in recent years in support of policies which have proved ruinous.[8] The pursuit of utopia is a betrayal of the poor.

Conclusion: Political Salvations A Deadly Myth

Statism is one of the great idols of the modem world. Political redemption or salvation through the gargantuan state, presented under the guise of “social justice,” is a deadly myth which Christians ought to oppose.[9] We need to see reality: Facts are facts, and facts dictate that any society with a social conscience should adopt a market approach, with whatever refinements its citizens wish to introduce along the way.

“Liberation” theology has been helpful in reintroducing hope for history into the Christian perspective again after a century of gloom and doom pessimism. Like the old Reformed post-millennial eschatology, some theologians of the left actually dare to believe that Christ is Lord and can bring the nations under His righteous rule. They spoil that achievement by relying on Marx’s theory rather than on Jesus’ word and power, but they do deserve credit for reminding us that “in Abraham’s seed shall all the nations of earth be blessed” with peace, justice, and prosperity. And indeed, all the nations will be, thanks be to God!

Dr. Clark H. Pinnock is professor of theology at McMaster Divinity College, Hamilton, Ontario, and the author of Reason Enough, Set Forth Your Case and other books. This article was excerpted from Freedom, Justice, and Hope, edited by Marvin Olasky, 1988. Used by permission of Good News Publishers/Crossway Books, Westchester, Illinois 60154.

[1] Michael Novak places his criticism of liberation theology precisely on this issue of praxis: Freedom with Justice, Catholic Social Thought and Liberal Institutions (San Francisco, Calif.: Harper & Row, 1984 ), chap. 10. See also Novak, editor, Liberation South, Liberation North (Washington: American Enterprise Institute, 1981).

[2] Deane William Ferm, op. cit., pp. 107-115.

[3] A recent example of the continuing romance with socialism even among evangelicals is Andrew Kirk, The Good News of the Kingdom Coming (London: Marshall, 1983).

[4] See Sven Rydenfelt, A Pattern for Failure, Socialist Economies in Crisis (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1984), pp. 117-124.

[5] See Paul Johnson’s contribution to Will Capitalism Survive?, Ernest W. Lefever, ed. (Washington: Ethics and Public Policy Center, 1979), p.5.

[6] This is one of several unique features of Berger, The Capitalist System, chap. 7: “East Asian Capitalism.”

[7] Brian Griffiths, The Creation of Wealth (Downers Grove, lll.: lnterVarsity Press, 1984), chap. 2.

[8] A call for prudence is one of the valuable features of J. Brian Benestad, The Pursuit of a Just Social Order, Policy Statements of the US Catholic Bishops, 1966-80 (Washington: Ethics and Public Policy Center, 1982).

[9] This is a central concern of Herbert Schlossberg’s book, Idols for Destruction (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1983).

Archive: All But Martyred

by Steve | Jan 3, 1990 | Archive - 1990

Archive: All But Martyred

By Dierdra DeVries Moran

He didn’t even flinch. The tension—the fear—had so gripped him that when he looked back into the eyes of the 18 guerillas aiming their submachine guns at him he didn’t even move a muscle.

His friend Camilo was among them. “I’ll be with you till the end,” Camilo had whispered to him when disease had nearly killed him weeks earlier. Bruce Olsson was now directly in the line of fire, and one of Camilo’s bullets could be the one to end his life.

It was only six months ago in the jungles of Colombia, South America, that communist revolutionaries shackled Olsson to a tree and raised their weapons to execute him. When you consider all that Olsson has accomplished in the South American jungle, it is no wonder that the National Army for Liberation (the ELN) wanted him dead. Even some of its own guerillas had capitulated to Olsson’s cause.

Twenty-nine years earlier, at 18 years of age, Bruce Olsson had responded to God’s call to leave his home in Minnesota and go to South America. Though no organization had sponsored him and even his parents were against his decision, he arrived in Venezuela with 70 dollars and a heart full of faith.

A friendly college student ran into Olsson at the airport and took him to his home. After a series of remarkable events Bruce Olsson got his first look at the deep green jungles on the border of Colombia and Venezuela.

He was looking for the Motilones—the only Indian tribe the Colombian guide for tourists refers to as cannibals. No one had known a white person who had come in contact with the Motilones and lived to tell about it.

While picking his way through the jungle with some of the less hostile Yuko Indians about a year after he arrived in South America, Olsson at last made contact with the Motilones—but not in quite the way he had hoped.

His companions had stopped suddenly in their tracks, turned and fled. Olsson wheeled around to follow them, but he felt a sharp pain bite into his thigh, and he fell to the ground. He looked down to find an arrow in his leg and a pool of blood gathering around the wound. Looking up again he found himself encircled by nine dark-skinned, naked men with eyes as black as night. Each of them held a loaded bow aimed directly at Olsson.

“Friend!” he cried out in Spanish. Getting no response he tried again in Latin: “Friend!” Not taking their eyes from his, the men slowly lowered their bows. One of the natives moved toward Olsson, bent and yanked the arrow from his leg. The pain took his breath away.

The man poked Olsson repeatedly in the back with the arrow, at last prodding Olsson to his feet. The Motilones marched Olsson through the jungle to a large, egg-shaped, palm-thatched structure, one of the tribal homes in which 60 to 150 men, women and children live together. They kept him there for days.

Delirious and weak with hunger (they hadn’t fed him at all), Olsson stole away from the camp one night when the others had fallen asleep. Limping, he hiked for days through the vines and trees back to civilization where he received much-needed medical attention. But as soon as he could he returned to the jungle.

He camped out in the forest near another Motilone home and left gifts on a trail for the Indians to find. Many days went by, and the gifts were undisturbed. At last, though, Olsson found they were missing, so he placed more presents on the trail. When he returned to see if they had been accepted, however, a cold chill ran down his spine. Four arrows were stuck in the ground where the gifts had been; it was the Motilone warning that he should run for his life. Bruce Olsson knelt in prayer and arose with conviction. He knew what he should do.

He pulled up the arrows, laid them flat and placed more gifts on top of them. The peace offering was understood. He had won his way back into a Motilone camp.

Olsson lived with the Motilones from that day on. He gradually won their trust, and the Lord opened many opportunities for him to help the Indians.

He scribed the fascinating tonal Motilone language (Motilones can communicate with one another simply by tones created through whistling) and taught the Indians to read and write. He taught them to plant corn and store it for use during the  “hunger seasons.” He introduced medicines to their witch doctors, enabling them to cure some of the “evil spirits” that had often plagued the tribe. And Olsson brought the compassions of Jesus Christ to the Motilone people. Today Olsson says 99.9 percent of the 200,000 Motilones are Christians.

The Motilones began to spread the things Olsson had taught them to other jungle tribes along the River of Gold (the river which runs along the Colombian/Venezuelan border). With them they brought the Good News of Jesus Christ. But their movement attracted the attention of the ELN.

The army had moved in and planned to take control of the Indian people of the jungle, but Bruce Olsson and his Motilones were standing in its way.

At 11 a.m. on October 24, 1988, Bruce Olsson and 15 Motilones were canoeing on the River of Gold. They had been repairing a solar energy plant in a settlement at the head of the river. The current was rapid, and the sun was hot. As the men pushed ashore on the tree-lined beach one of the Motilones leaned over and whispered to Olsson, “Guerillas!”

The soldiers were perched on the bluff at the edge of the beach bearing submachine guns. Olsson kept his back to the guerillas, but a mist of bullets ripped open the side of the canoe. “Bruce Olsson,” one of the 40 guerillas shouted, “you are captured by the National Army of Liberation. All of you put your faces to the ground.”

The Motilones refused to obey and marched toward the guerillas. Olsson tried to move away but was stopped by another spray of bullets. The guerillas ignored the Motilones and closed in on Olsson. One of the guerillas shoved him to the ground and pushed the cold barrel of a machine gun against the back of Olsson’s neck. Bruce held his breath as he waited for the shot, but it did not come.

His captors forced him to his feet and shackled him; for three days they led him on foot along abandoned jungle paths toward their base camp. They traveled only by night.

They kept him shackled for several weeks. Two armed guerillas followed his every move, and anywhere from 28 to 80 guerillas guarded the camp where he was held. The ELN had convinced the guerillas that Olsson was dangerous.

Olsson prayed constantly that God would enable him to reach out to his hostile captors, and gradually opportunities became available.

Olsson learned that the guerillas, though they were quite intelligent, did not know how to read or write. He persuaded his captors to allow him to teach classes on literacy. He was a talented cook as well, and he would wake up at 4:00 each morning to help the cooks prepare the day’s meals for the camp. He taught them to ferment sugar to make yeast, and he taught them to make bread. He showed them how to use roots, insects and larvae to make delicious sauces. Soon Olsson’s captors had become his friends.

The superior officers (called responsibles) grew concerned about Olsson’s growing popularity. They felt he was usurping their power and causing division among the guerillas, so they kept moving him to different camps. Olsson’s reputation preceded him, however, and the guerillas at each camp to which he was transferred (he stayed at 12 different camps while in captivity) were eager to know and learn from Bruce Olsson.

In his sixth month as a prisoner Olsson contracted a deadly disease that plagued him with excruciating abdominal pain, high fevers, chills and nausea. One day he began to hemorrhage and lost nearly three quarts of blood.

His guerilla friends begged the responsibles to fly Olsson out of the jungle for medical help, but the responsibles refused. Instead, they brought in a doctor, who ordered a blood transfusion. Eighty guerillas argued over who would be allowed to give his blood for Olsson. Three were chosen.

After the transfusion, while Olsson was resting on a hammock, one of the guerillas who had given his blood came to him. “Do you know who I am?” he asked Olsson.

“Yes, you are Camilo,” Olsson replied.

“Yes, but do you know who I am?” the man insisted. As a seven-year-old boy little Camilo had attended a school Olsson had opened for Spanish speaking land settlers along the River of Gold. When Camilo’s mother needed an operation, Olsson had paid for it. When his brother was badly wounded in a jungle accident, Olsson had treated him. “We guerillas are not going to allow anything unjust to happen to you,” Camilo vowed. “And I will be with you until the end.”

Camilo’s words put him in great danger; he could have been executed for having demonstrated such disloyalty to the cause of the ELN.

As Olsson was recovering, the national level of responsibles was collaborating on what to do with him. Because of his good work among the guerillas, they decided they wanted him to become one of them; he would be responsible for community development and social services. When their national director spoke to Olsson about this he refused, saying, “I cannot work with people who are killing innocent Hispanics or that dominate Indians and bring them into a white man’s war.”

The director was enraged. The leaders trumped up charges against Olsson, and a few days later the national director presented the verdict: “We have found you guilty, Bruce Olsson.”

“Of what?” Olsson asked.

“You are guilty of crimes against humanity,” the director explained. The revolutionaries had found him guilty of killing 6,100 Indians and of bringing in Colombian troops by helicopter to fight against the revolution. Because he was so dangerous, they told him, he would be executed in three days.

Olsson was surprised at the charges, but he prepared himself to die. If God had been with him along the way—and Olsson was convinced that God had indeed led him to this point—then this may be the time for him to die. That he would leave in God’s hands.

The morning he was to be executed his guerilla friends refused to eat with him. They were too emotionally involved, they said. They were too broken with grief to be with him in such a way on his day of execution.

In the late morning the guerillas came and shackled him. They led him to a tree and tied him to it. Backing away, the soldiers retrieved their weapons. Eighteen guerillas, many of them his friends, raised their guns and pointed them at Olsson. He caught Camilo’s eyes, but they were empty. If any one of the soldiers did not follow orders he would be executed as well.

The command was given to shoot, and the contents of 18 submachine guns were fired at Bruce Olsson. When the smoke cleared the men could see Olsson still shackled to the tree. And he was still looking at them. The responsibles had loaded the guns with blanks.

Olsson watched as understanding crossed the guerillas’ faces—understanding and great relief. Their friend was still alive. They were all too exhausted to shout for joy.

Olsson later learned that, while he was being held captive, Indians from more than 50 language groups across the jungles had joined together on his behalf. Four hundred representatives of the 500,000 Indians of the land had met with the guerillas to demand Olsson’s release. The guerillas were backed into a corner. They had hoped that because of Olsson’s capture the Indians would submit to the ELN’s power, but they had instead risen up against the army. For the first time in the history of Colombia its jungle peoples had joined together for a common cause. The force of their unity was more than the ELN could stand against.

Deciding to release Olsson, the responsibles had staged his mock execution as a last-ditch effort to frustrate the Indians. They had hoped to psychologically derange Olsson so that the Indians could no longer trust him. Miserably, they had failed. On July 19, 1989, Bruce Olsson was released from captivity.

Along with the powerful new unity among the tribal Indians, the guerillas were faced with an even more pressing betrayal. About 60 percent of the base guerillas Olsson had befriended had become Christians and had begun to question their affiliation with the ELN. Six hundred guerillas separated themselves from the national movement.

The ELN leaders’ plans had backfired, so they moved out of the area and ended their attempts to control the Indian people.

Bruce Olsson says, “That I have been released is not the victory. The victory is that Christ lives and that He is conforming us daily into His image. The victory is that the Gospel is preached in the jungles of South America.”

The victory, Olsson says, is found in the words of Colombia’s president Cirvilio Barco: ‘We see a beacon of light. We see Motilones who know truth, who are resurrected in Christ. We must align ourselves up with God’s holiness. We must walk in the Motilone example.”

Bruce Olsson came to the United States in July and visited some of the nine United Methodist churches that support his work. He returned to Colombia in November, and he and the Motilones will take the Gospel of Christ to the people along the River of Gold that are now ready to hear of the compassions of Christ. 

Dierdra Moran is editorial assistant for Good News.