Stand Still and See!

I love missionary stories. I love missionaries. I look forward to missions month at my church each year. I very much enjoyed my missions classes in Bible college. I also love poems. I not only like to write them, but I enjoy reading them. So it's no surprise that the poem I am going to share here is one of my favorites. It was written by a woman who made the ultimate sacrifice on the mission field. Elizabeth Stam and her husband John were Baptist missionaries to communist China. One day they were taken by soldiers Through her heroic efforts their baby daughter Helen was hidden from the Communists and days after their brutal murder she was found and returned to her grandparents, and later her aunt and uncle.



Wikipedia records their martyrdom; "the Stams were forced to march 12 miles with the soldiers, to the town of Miaosheo. The group stopped for a night, and Betty was allowed to tend to Helen; but in fact, Betty instead hid her daughter in the room inside a sleeping bag. The very next morning, John and Betty were being marched down the streets of Miaosheo to meet their deaths. Curious onlookers lined both sides of the streets. A Chinese shopkeeper stepped out of the crowd and talked to the Communists, trying to persuade them not to kill the Stams. The soldiers ordered the man back into the crowd, but he wouldn't step back. The soldiers then invaded his house where they found a Chinese copy of the Holy Bible and a hymnbook. He was then led alongside the Stams to be killed as well, for being a Christian. After marching for a short while longer, John was ordered to kneel, and he was beheaded. Betty and the shopkeeper were killed moments later."

A recent article in the Baptist Vision (a publication of Temple Baptist Church and Crown Baptist College) was about the Stams and records the letter John Stam wrote to his mission board.

Here is one of Betty's poems from a book of mine. It's my favorite of hers.

Stand Still and See

I'm standing Lord:
There is a mist that blinds my sight.
Steep, jagged rocks, front, left and right.
Lower, dim, gigantic, in the night.
Where is the way?

I'm standing Lord:
The black rock hems me in behind.
Above my head a moaning wind
Chills and oppresses heart and mind.
I am afraid!

I'm standing Lord:
The rock is hard beneath my feet;
I nearly slipped, Lord, on the sleet.
So weary, Lord! and where a seat?
Still must I stand?

He answered me, and on His face
A look ineffable of grace,
Of perfect, understanding love,
Which all my murmuring did remove.

I'm standing, Lord:
Since Thou hast spoken, Lord, I see
Thou hast beset--these rocks are Thee!
And since Thy love encloses me,
I stand and sing.

Elizabeth Scott Stam