God's Smuggler (Brother Andrew)

from an email September 2, 2004

I hope you all had an awesome summer… I think we’re all some what sad and happy to see it over. I’m really pumped about my second year at Mac but I’m also a bit nervous to see how stuff works out and how I’m gonna spend my time.

I was able this past month to get into a classic book written by Brother Andrew that a staff worker from Campus Crusade had given to me. “God’s Smuggler” was originally written in like 1967 but they’ve added a prologue and epilogue about what he’s doing today. Basically ‘Brother Andrew’ is his code name because he was smuggling Bibles into closed countries back in the 50’s and 60’s. The book was awesome… the first few chapters of the book were background and weren’t as interesting but the last 10 chapters I was hooked… the Los Angeles Times were right when the said “Tension builds page by page in this remarkable true document… more thrilling than a spy story with its numerous near escapes and mounting climaxes of danger.”

Listen to part of what the back of the book says!!!

As a boy, Brother Andrew dreamed of being an undercover spy working behind enemy lines. As a man he found himself working undercover for God. His was a mission filled with danger, financed by faith, supported by miracles. Told it was impossible to minister behind the Iron Curtain, Brother Andrew knew that nothing was too hard for God. Crossing “closed” borders, he prayed, “Lord, in my luggage I have Scripture I want to take to Your children. When You were on earth, You made blind eyes see. Now, I pray, make seeing eyes blind. Do not let the guards see those things You do not want them to see.” And they never did.

Here’s a few other quotes from the book… it had everything! Adventure, love, excitement, and emotion. Its definitely one of the best biographies I’ve ever read. I guarantee you that the last quote listed below will cut to your heart and stir a thankfulness within you for the freedom we have in Canada and His perfect Word which we possess!

Pg 43 - “The rest of the house was asleep. I lay on my back with my hands under my head staring at the darkened ceiling and all at once, very quietly, I let go of my ego. With a new note in the wind yelling at me not to be a fool, I turned myself over to God – lock, stock and adventure. There wasn’t much faith in my prayer. I just said, “Lord, if You will show me the way, I will follow You. Amen.” I was as simple as that.”

Pg 69 “I turned through the gate at the [Bible college]. Above me was the reminder “Have Faith In God.” That was it! It wasn’t that I needed the security of a certain amount of money, it was that I needed the security of a relationship [with God].”

Pg 114-115
“Hello”, said the driver. “I believer I know who you are. You’re the Dutch missionary who is preaching tonight.”
“That’s right.”
“And this is the Miracle Car?”
“The Miracle Car?”
“I mean the car you pray for each morning.”
I had to laugh. I had mentioned the prayer in a previous meeting; the word had obviously gone on ahead. “Yes”, I admitted, “this is the car.”
“Mind if I take a look at her? I’m a mechanic.”
“I’d appreciate it.” I had put gas in that engine, and that was literally all since I had crossed the border. The mechanic went around to the rear and lifted the hood over the motor. For a long time he stood there, just staring.
“Brother Andrew,” he said at last, “I have just become a believer. It is mechanically impossible for this engine to run. Look. The air filter. The carburetor. The sparks. No, I’m sorry. This car cannot run.”
“And yet it’s taken us thousands of miles.”
The mechanic only shook his head. “Brother,” he said, “would you permit me to clean your engine for you and give you a change of oil? It hurts me to see you abuse a miracle.”
Gratefully we followed the man to his village. We pulled behind him into a little courtyard filled with pigs and geese. That night while we preached he took the engine apart, cleaned it piece by piece, changed the oil and by the time we were ready to leave the next morning, presented us with a grinning new automobile. God had answered our prayer.

Pg 120 – “Lord,” I said one morning, “I’ve got to pray just one more time about this bachelor life You plan for me. Now I know about those children You promise the desolate, but Lord You also promise the desolate a home!” I quickly found the verse in Psalm 68, as though to refresh His memory: “God gives the desolate a home to dwell in.” It isn’t that I don’t thank You for this room above the tool shed, Lord. Just because it’s dark and dank and mildewy and – doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. But, dear God, it is not a home. Not really. A home is where there’s a wife and children – real ones.

Pg 157-158 – Petroff and his wife lived in this single room… “I’ve heard,” I said “ that both Bulgaria and Rumania are desperately in need of Bibles. Is that so?”
In answer, Petroff took me over to his desk. On it was an ancient typewriter with a sheet of paper in it, and next to the typewriter a Bible open to Exodus.
“Three weeks ago I was extremely lucky,” said Petroff. “I managed to find this Bible.” He showed me a second volume on the small dining talbe. “I got it for a good price too. Only a month’s pension. The reason it was so cheap is that the books of Genesis, Exodus and Revelation have been cut out and -”
“Why?” I interrupted.
“Who knows? Perhaps to sell. Or perhaps to make cigarettes with the thin paper. At any rate I was lucky enough to find it and have the money to purchase it. Now all I have to do is fill in the missing parts from my own Bible – and I have another complete book! I ought to be all finished in another four weeks.”
“And what will you do with the second Bible?”
“Oh, give it away.”
“To a little church in Plovtiv,” said his wife, “where there’s no Bible.”
I wasn’t sure that I understood. No Bible in the entire church?
“Certainly,” said Petroff. “And there are many such churches in this country. You’ll find the same in Rumania and in Russia. In the old days only the priests had them; ordinary people couldn’t read. And since communism, it’s been impossible to buy them. It’s not often I have a piece of luck like this.”
My sense of excitement mounted. I could hardly wait to show Petroff the treasure I had waiting for him in my car.
That night I drove up to the apartment, checked the street to make sure it was empty, and then took inside the first of many, many cartons of Bibles I was to deliver to this many over the years. Petroff and his wife watched me put the box on their one table, their eyes wide in frank and open curiosity.
“What’s that?” Petroff asked.
I lifted the top and took out a Bible. I put it in the trembling hands of Petroff and another into the hands of his wife.
“And – and in the box?” Petroff asked.
“More. And still more outside.”
Petroff closed his eyes. His mouth was working hard to control the emotion he was feeling. But two tears rolled slowly out from between his closed lids and fell on the volume in his hands.