Collection › The Lutheran Pioneer (St. Louis) › Vol. 54 (1932) › Page 101
The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1932, Page 101
front matter 1
Page 1
Page 2
Page 3
Page 4
Page 5
Page 6
Page 7
Page 8
Page 9
Page 10
Page 11
Page 12
Page 13
Page 14
Page 15
Page 16
Page 17
Page 18
Page 19
Page 20
Page 21
Page 22
Page 23
Page 24
Page 25
Page 26
Page 27
Page 28
Page 29
Page 30
Page 31
Page 32
Page 33
Page 34
Page 35
Page 36
Page 37
Page 38
Page 39
Page 40
Page 41
Page 42
Page 43
Page 44
Page 45
Page 46
Page 47
Page 48
Page 49
Page 50
Page 51
Page 52
Page 53
Page 54
Page 55
Page 56
Page 57
Page 58
Page 59
Page 60
Page 61
Page 62
Page 63
Page 64
Page 65
Page 66
Page 67
Page 68
Page 69
Page 70
Page 71
Page 72
Page 73
Page 74
Page 75
Page 76
Page 77
Page 78
Page 79
Page 78
Page 79
Page 80
Sheet 84
Page 82
Sheet 86
Page 84
Page 85
Page 86
Page 87
Page 88
Page 89
Page 90
Page 91
Page 92
Page 93
Page 94
Sheet 98
Page 96
Sheet 100
Page 98
Page 99
Page 100
Page 101
Page 102
Page 103
Page 104
Page 105
Page 106
Page 107
Page 108
Page 109
Page 110
Page 111
Page 112
Sheet 116
Sheet 117
Page 115
Page 116
Page 117
Sheet 121
Page 119
Sheet 123
Page 121
Sheet 125
Page 123
Page 124
Sheet 128
Page 126
Sheet 130
Page 128
Sheet 132
Page 130
Page 131
Page 132
Page 133
Page 134
Page 135
Page 136
Page 137
Page 138
Page 139
Page 140
Page 141
Page 142
Page 143
Page 144
Sheet 148
Page 146
Page 147
Page 148
Page 149
Page 150
Sheet 154
Sheet 155
Page 153
Page 154
Sheet 158
Page 156
Page 157
Page 158
Page 159
Page 160
Sheet 164
Sheet 165
Page 163
Sheet 167
Page 165
Page 166
Page 167
Page 168
Sheet 172
Page 170
Page 171
Page 172
Page 173
Page 174
Page 175
Sheet 179
Sheet 180
Sheet 181
Sheet 182
Page 180
Sheet 184
Page 182
Sheet 186
Page 184
Page 185
Page 186
Page 187
Page 188
Page 189
Page 190
Sheet 194
Page 192
Concordia Seminary Library, St. Louis (scholar.csl.edu/lutheran_pioneer/54)
⤓ Download page image (full resolution)
Transcription machine transcription, uncorrected
THE LUTHERAN PIONEER
101
matician. It is night. He writes in his diary for
that day, December 12: “This day last year, Liv-
ingstone died, a Scotsman and a Christian, loving
God and his neighbors in the heart of Africa. ‘Go
thou and do likewise.’ ”
He has been absorbed all day in Stanley’s book
How I Found Livingstone. He has read of the
great missionary’s gentleness and hopefulness; of
“his Spartan heroism, the inflexibility of the Ro-
man, the enduring resolution of the Anglo-Saxon.”
Like Stanley, his heart says, “The man has con-
quered me.”
But he is not through yet for the night with the
voices of Livingstone and Stanley. A newspaper
lying on the table attracts his attention by the
words “Central Africa.” He reads the thrilling
call of Stanley from Uganda, which just then
stirred Great Britain from end to end.
“King M’tesa of Uganda has been asking me
about the white man’s God. ... Oh, that some
practical missionary would come here! M?’tesa
would give him anything that he desired — houses,
land, cattle, ivory. It is the practical Christian
who can cure their diseases, build dwellings, teach
farming, and turn his hand to anything like a
sailor—this is the man who is wanted. Such a one,
if he can be found, would become the Savior of
Africa. ... Where is there in all the pagan world
a more promising field for a mission? Here, gentle-
men, is your opportunity; embrace it! The people
upon the shores of the Nyanza call upon you.”
These piercing words are not all that Mackay
reads this night. In the newspaper before him is
a call from the Church Missionary Society for men
to respond to the call of Uganda, the country to
the northwest of Victoria Nyanza, the great inland
sea. He is ready. He lets not an hour pass before
writing to the society. This is what he writes:
“My heart burns for the deliverance of Africa, and
if you can send me to any one of these regions
which Livingstone and Stanley have found to be
groaning under the curse of the slave-hunter, I shall
be very glad.”
Within four months Mackay sailed from South-
ampton for Zanzibar.
Uganda, but time was not lost. He built 230 miles
of road while waiting. Then, in November, 1878, _
after incredible hardships and discouragements, he —
reached the capital of King M’tesa, long his objec-
tive. It was a sinister place, despite the fact that
the king allowed Mackay to hold service each Sun- |
day at his court. Dark forces were at work against _
Illness delayed his reaching
the evangel which the intrepid soldier of Christ
‘had brought, but he lived and toiled on among them
undaunted. Three major menaces darkened every
day, besides the minor ones- of which he took no
account. Always around the king were the slaves,
his pages, some of them, Christians now, destined,
alas, ere long to pass through a fiery furnace to
their death for their faith. And always there
hovered near the shadow of the Arab slave-hunter ;
there were many Mohammedans, devotees of the
Crescent, stealthily at work against the Cross. Ro-
man Catholic priests were on the ground before
him, bitterly opposed to his simple Gospel; and it
was not easy to forget that the king had put 2,000
innocent persons to death on one occasion in a
single day:
But Mackay, the “white man-of-work,” as the
Baganda (adjective for people and language of
Uganda) folk called him, kept on creating the
Baganda language and alphabet, reducing it to let-
ters and words, translating and printing the Scrip-
tures, making his own tools, his own type, digging
wells for pure water to combat fever, working at
his lathe, his forge, and his grindstone, all for the
love of Christ and the barbarous people around him.
It was hard to explain to them why a man
should labor with his hands unless forced by a
taskmaster to do so. Very slowly the conception of
the Carpenter of Nazareth, who chose to become
a servant for the sake of mankind, found a lodg-
ment in the savage minds and hearts. Mackay was
very humble and childlike on his knees in prayer,
men said.
“Hosts of people come daily for instruction,”
he wrote. In 1882 five converts were baptized; in
1884 the native church numbered eighty-six mem-~
bers. His prayers were not forgotten before God.
He even exerted an influence with the old King
against slave-hunting.
M’tesa, the brutal and wholly hostile king of
Uganda, died in 1884 and was succeeded by his
young son M’wanga. He, weak and cruel by nature,
proved a ready tool in the hands of the worst
elements of the court. The jealous suspicion that
the white foreigners were coming to “eat up”
Uganda was played upon by the crafty Arabs; the
slumbering opposition to the new “way” broke
out in acts of fiendish persecution of the Baganda
Christians. All such were endured with fortitude
according the annals of martyrdom.
On. one day of terror, M’wanga was worked up
_, to8 ‘pitch of insane frenzy, in which he threatened