Peter Hone
“What makes this story so thrilling for me is that it represents the new wave of missions in the world.”
—Charles Colson former special counsel to President Richard Nixon and founder of Prison Fellowship Ministries
“God took a couple of lay people who decided to live this big life … they had no idea what God would do with them. But what a journey it has been.”
Peter Hone
—Mike Huckabee former governor of Arkansas and 2008 Republican presidential candidate
“Big Life is doing what the Apostle Paul did …”
—Lieutenant Colonel Oliver L. North political commentator and New York Times best-selling author
A BIG LIFE
“I welcome this book. The story of Big Life needs to be told.”
—David Kerrigan General Director, Baptist Missionary Society (United Kingdom)
A Big Life: The Story of an Extraordinary Ministry tells the story of how thousands of believers, from suburban America to the jungles of the subcontinent of India, Pakistan, and beyond, were brought together in a phenomenal work of God. No Christian was more ordinary than John Heerema, but he was obedient. God took him on an extraordinary, emotional, and often painful journey, shaping him to be a new kind of missionary on a new kind of mission. It was a simple strategy, a strategy not new after all, but ancient, because He had first shown it to us two thousand years ago. Over the next nine years, hundreds of obedient believers were grafted into an unbelievable ministry that has brought the salvation of Jesus to tens of thousands. The book of Acts has been put into action once again in the ministry of Big Life. A Big Life is a must for everyone who wishes to see how God responds today to the obedience of his people.
most of his life in South Africa. For the last six years, Naples, Florida, has been his home. He shares it with his wife, Elize, and his two boys, Danny, sixteen, and Rupert, fifty-six in doggie years.
and
enterprises, llc
LIFE Foreword by Charles Colson and Afterword by Mike Huckabee
Religion, Christian Church, Growth
$ 19 . 9 9 PRINTED IN THE USA
tat e P u b l i s h i n g
BIG
Ordinary People Led by an Extraordinary God
Peter Hone was born in London, England, and has lived
978-1-61346-647-6
A
Peter Hone
A
BIG
LIFE
Ordinary People Led by an Extraordinary God
Foreword by Charles Colson and Afterword by Mike Huckabee
tat e P u b l i s h i n g and
enterprises,
llc
Prologue
Pakistan
H
e raised the small plastic cup to his lips and sipped gingerly, holding it delicately between thumb and forefinger because the tea was scalding hot, steam rising and swirling even on this blistering hot day. It probably wasn’t good tea, but it tasted good to Faizal. When you have just returned to the city after months in the mountain wastes of Afghanistan training to be a Taliban freedom fighter, any tea tastes good. They had first approached him outside the mosque where many young Muslims were recruited. The clerics told of the fatwa announcing the call to arms. He was excited and surprised to find he was no stranger to them. They knew all about his family’s standing in the community, his strong religious education at the Madrassa, the Koranic school, and his strict upbringing as a devout Muslim. They said they wanted him, and they were calling him in the name of jihad. He was to be a warrior for Allah, given the honor of fighting to expel the infidels from Afghanistan. His father, a prominent Pashtun leader, was so proud. To have a son called to jihad in this manner was a privilege. When the war had begun a few years ago and the Taliban fighters were driven back from Kabul, many had been conscripted to fight; but they were poor fighters, poorly trained, and they were defeated. But now the Taliban had regrouped, they were organized, and they chose their soldiers more carefully, selecting men who were strong in mind as well as body—men who understood the holy vision of the Koran, obedient men with passion who would never accept defeat. Faizal became skilled in modern weaponry and in the art of guerilla warfare that has always been so successful in the maze of mountain strongholds that is 19
Peter Hone
Afghanistan. He learned to kill efficiently and to hate the arrogant, invading infidel and everything for which he stood. He was comfortable handling both light and heavy weapons and many kinds of explosives, most of which he could improvise himself. He could blow up a bridge or a railway track in minutes. He was taught hand-tohand combat, survival techniques, communications, and how to set up spy networks. He learned to assess the weak points in different kinds of enemy aircraft and armored vehicles and to master the weapons that were effective in destroying them. And he learned how to conceal a device on his body if he was ever given the honor of being called to be a suicide bomber. He had no fear of death, knowing that his reward in paradise was assured. He was a Muhajid, a warrior called to jihad.
Now he was back home. He would work in his father’s business until he was called again—this time not for training, but for war. He would pray that this would be soon because his purpose and his destiny were rapidly approaching. Faizal knew this because he could feel it in his heart. Something was about to happen. As he sipped his tea, he looked around this busy, open tea stall. No one paid him any attention. He smiled, wondering how they would regard him if they knew he was a Taliban soldier. His mind drifted back to his training. It had been difficult sleeping five hours a night on the hard ground in a thin tent, a loaded weapon constantly at his side. Some nights he froze, not sleeping at all, and the food had been pitiful. But Faizal’s heart stirred as he remembered the commander’s address the day he left to return home. He recalled the set of the man’s jaw and the steel in his eyes as much as he recalled the passion in his words: “The infidels are ruling this world, and they are bent on the demonization of Islam. They are terrorists, and it is the duty and the holy purpose of all Muslims to take up arms and crush those who would oppress and murder Muslims throughout the world. They must be killed, slaughtered, and annihilated wherever we find them.” Faizal had wept as he cheered. He was ready to fight, ready to kill, and ready to sacrifice. 20
A Big Life
A welcome breeze lifted the fringe of his hair, and he lifted his face and closed his eyes to enjoy the momentary relief from the heat. As he opened them again, he saw a dust devil a little way off, red sand rising and twirling as it danced in circles a foot above the ground, slowly moving toward him. In among the red was a flash of white, and he watched until it died, and a scrap of paper landed at his feet. He reached down and picked it up. It was a part of a torn page of a book, but a very thin and fragile page. The words were printed, very small, but clear. He read it. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Faizal looked away for a second, and then he read it once more. He had no idea what it was, but he knew it was not the Koran so he crumpled it in his fist, intending to throw it away. But even as he raised his arm to toss it, he knew he could not. He had to finish reading it. Opening his hand, he smoothed out the paper and read on. “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” Something inside him stirred. Mercy? There could be no mercy for his enemies. Mercy had no part in his recent training. And surely the kingdom of heaven is for the strong, not the poor in spirit. He could not accept this. But as he read the words over and over, he felt their power, and he knew with his whole heart and his whole mind that this was truth. From where did this teaching come?
Some weeks later, he received the call to jihad. He packed up his things, bid his proud father farewell, then left his home. But he did not report to the Taliban because he could not. Instead, he stayed at the home of a close friend, hiding out from his family, the Taliban, and the world. Faizal was in an agony of doubt. It was not fear that had changed him because Faizal was no coward. No, it wasn’t fear; it was something else, something that he did not yet understand. He carried the scrap of torn page everywhere, and he kept looking at it, reading it, and wondering why it was so powerfully affecting him. What else could prevent him from responding to the call for jihad when it had been his 21
Peter Hone
Afghanistan. He learned to kill efficiently and to hate the arrogant, invading infidel and everything for which he stood. He was comfortable handling both light and heavy weapons and many kinds of explosives, most of which he could improvise himself. He could blow up a bridge or a railway track in minutes. He was taught hand-tohand combat, survival techniques, communications, and how to set up spy networks. He learned to assess the weak points in different kinds of enemy aircraft and armored vehicles and to master the weapons that were effective in destroying them. And he learned how to conceal a device on his body if he was ever given the honor of being called to be a suicide bomber. He had no fear of death, knowing that his reward in paradise was assured. He was a Muhajid, a warrior called to jihad.
Now he was back home. He would work in his father’s business until he was called again—this time not for training, but for war. He would pray that this would be soon because his purpose and his destiny were rapidly approaching. Faizal knew this because he could feel it in his heart. Something was about to happen. As he sipped his tea, he looked around this busy, open tea stall. No one paid him any attention. He smiled, wondering how they would regard him if they knew he was a Taliban soldier. His mind drifted back to his training. It had been difficult sleeping five hours a night on the hard ground in a thin tent, a loaded weapon constantly at his side. Some nights he froze, not sleeping at all, and the food had been pitiful. But Faizal’s heart stirred as he remembered the commander’s address the day he left to return home. He recalled the set of the man’s jaw and the steel in his eyes as much as he recalled the passion in his words: “The infidels are ruling this world, and they are bent on the demonization of Islam. They are terrorists, and it is the duty and the holy purpose of all Muslims to take up arms and crush those who would oppress and murder Muslims throughout the world. They must be killed, slaughtered, and annihilated wherever we find them.” Faizal had wept as he cheered. He was ready to fight, ready to kill, and ready to sacrifice. 20
A Big Life
A welcome breeze lifted the fringe of his hair, and he lifted his face and closed his eyes to enjoy the momentary relief from the heat. As he opened them again, he saw a dust devil a little way off, red sand rising and twirling as it danced in circles a foot above the ground, slowly moving toward him. In among the red was a flash of white, and he watched until it died, and a scrap of paper landed at his feet. He reached down and picked it up. It was a part of a torn page of a book, but a very thin and fragile page. The words were printed, very small, but clear. He read it. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Faizal looked away for a second, and then he read it once more. He had no idea what it was, but he knew it was not the Koran so he crumpled it in his fist, intending to throw it away. But even as he raised his arm to toss it, he knew he could not. He had to finish reading it. Opening his hand, he smoothed out the paper and read on. “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” Something inside him stirred. Mercy? There could be no mercy for his enemies. Mercy had no part in his recent training. And surely the kingdom of heaven is for the strong, not the poor in spirit. He could not accept this. But as he read the words over and over, he felt their power, and he knew with his whole heart and his whole mind that this was truth. From where did this teaching come?
Some weeks later, he received the call to jihad. He packed up his things, bid his proud father farewell, then left his home. But he did not report to the Taliban because he could not. Instead, he stayed at the home of a close friend, hiding out from his family, the Taliban, and the world. Faizal was in an agony of doubt. It was not fear that had changed him because Faizal was no coward. No, it wasn’t fear; it was something else, something that he did not yet understand. He carried the scrap of torn page everywhere, and he kept looking at it, reading it, and wondering why it was so powerfully affecting him. What else could prevent him from responding to the call for jihad when it had been his 21
Peter Hone
life’s ambition a month ago? He finally showed it to his friend who thought he recognized “the kingdom of heaven” as Christian. A week later, Faizal met with a Christian, a former Muslim, on the outskirts of the city. The Christian was stunned to be contacted by this man who revealed after some questioning that he was a Taliban fighter, and he agreed to meet but insisted that it be in the back room of a café in the Christian part of town. “You can’t meet him there. He is a Christian. It is dangerous to trust him—suicidal,” said Faizal’s friend. But by now, he was focused on only one thing: a small scrap of paper. Faizal found the Christian friendly but unsure of him. Their small talk was awkward, so Faizal took out the scrap of paper and just handed it to him. “What is this? Is it Christian?” he asked bluntly. The man read it then nodded. “Yes, it’s Jesus,” he replied. “It’s about Jesus, Jesus the prophet?” Faizal asked, frowning. “No, this has been torn from a Bible. This is not about Jesus. These are the words of Jesus.” The Christian stared into Faizal’s face defiantly. “And Jesus is not just a prophet. He is God, and the Savior of the world.” But Faizal was not listening to this. He was thinking of what the Christian had said before. The words of Jesus? The words of Jesus? Everything seemed to stop. Suddenly, there was nothing in Faizal’s existence except the realization that Jesus Christ had spoken to him. He recognized instantly that he had been called in pure love, and then he fell to his knees and cried out in utter despair at the brutal awareness of his own sin. The Christian also fell to his knees, putting his arms around Faizal, comforting him. After some minutes, he led him in a prayer of repentance, forgiveness, and acceptance—a prayer of salvation.
India
A
When Faizal was praying later that night, he could think only of the finality of his life that would accompany his new faith. But this was only the beginning of everything, and soon Jesus was leading him to new life and directing him to the work he had for him to do. Soon, Faizal was talking not of death, but of mercy, and directing Muslims to the kingdom of heaven. Soon, he was serving his God through a ministry named Big Life.
s the sky grows darker, there is a growing anticipation in the balmy evening air. The cacophony of incessant insect noise is interrupted by the rude bass calls of the frogs from the nearby river. Maybe a hundred and fifty villagers are slowly gathering in groups, having made their way to the north of the village, where the children play and the adults meet and talk. The women’s saris reflect bright colors as they move, even in the dim yellow glow from the bare light bulbs that hang in the trees. The men stand toward the back of the semicircle of onlookers, aloof and watchful. Children of all ages, being children, sit at the very front, cross-legged, squeezing shoulder to shoulder into any available space. They jabber to each other, their smiles shy and nervous, but they intend to miss none of the excitement. Wide eyes shine as they stare up at the large white canvas sheet, secured by ropes between the branches of two tall trees. It ripples gently in the warm breeze. The low hum of a generator is replaced by the whine of the projector as it comes to life, and then there’s the harsh clack, clack, clack of the movie reel until it catches onto the empty spindle. The children wave, shout, and point, unable to contain their joy as the canvas sheet becomes a movie screen and the ancient box speaker, somewhere in the branches above, explodes with loud and uncertain orchestral music. Everyone reacts at once, chattering and shouting to his or her neighbor. What is this? But as the movie begins and the characters speak in Bengali, they settle down to listen and to watch. Soon, as the story progresses, these Hindu villagers will learn the true story of a man who died terribly on a cross so that they could know the living God. Even as they watch, the Indian men of the Big Life ministry who brought this
22
23
Peter Hone
life’s ambition a month ago? He finally showed it to his friend who thought he recognized “the kingdom of heaven” as Christian. A week later, Faizal met with a Christian, a former Muslim, on the outskirts of the city. The Christian was stunned to be contacted by this man who revealed after some questioning that he was a Taliban fighter, and he agreed to meet but insisted that it be in the back room of a café in the Christian part of town. “You can’t meet him there. He is a Christian. It is dangerous to trust him—suicidal,” said Faizal’s friend. But by now, he was focused on only one thing: a small scrap of paper. Faizal found the Christian friendly but unsure of him. Their small talk was awkward, so Faizal took out the scrap of paper and just handed it to him. “What is this? Is it Christian?” he asked bluntly. The man read it then nodded. “Yes, it’s Jesus,” he replied. “It’s about Jesus, Jesus the prophet?” Faizal asked, frowning. “No, this has been torn from a Bible. This is not about Jesus. These are the words of Jesus.” The Christian stared into Faizal’s face defiantly. “And Jesus is not just a prophet. He is God, and the Savior of the world.” But Faizal was not listening to this. He was thinking of what the Christian had said before. The words of Jesus? The words of Jesus? Everything seemed to stop. Suddenly, there was nothing in Faizal’s existence except the realization that Jesus Christ had spoken to him. He recognized instantly that he had been called in pure love, and then he fell to his knees and cried out in utter despair at the brutal awareness of his own sin. The Christian also fell to his knees, putting his arms around Faizal, comforting him. After some minutes, he led him in a prayer of repentance, forgiveness, and acceptance—a prayer of salvation.
India
A
When Faizal was praying later that night, he could think only of the finality of his life that would accompany his new faith. But this was only the beginning of everything, and soon Jesus was leading him to new life and directing him to the work he had for him to do. Soon, Faizal was talking not of death, but of mercy, and directing Muslims to the kingdom of heaven. Soon, he was serving his God through a ministry named Big Life.
s the sky grows darker, there is a growing anticipation in the balmy evening air. The cacophony of incessant insect noise is interrupted by the rude bass calls of the frogs from the nearby river. Maybe a hundred and fifty villagers are slowly gathering in groups, having made their way to the north of the village, where the children play and the adults meet and talk. The women’s saris reflect bright colors as they move, even in the dim yellow glow from the bare light bulbs that hang in the trees. The men stand toward the back of the semicircle of onlookers, aloof and watchful. Children of all ages, being children, sit at the very front, cross-legged, squeezing shoulder to shoulder into any available space. They jabber to each other, their smiles shy and nervous, but they intend to miss none of the excitement. Wide eyes shine as they stare up at the large white canvas sheet, secured by ropes between the branches of two tall trees. It ripples gently in the warm breeze. The low hum of a generator is replaced by the whine of the projector as it comes to life, and then there’s the harsh clack, clack, clack of the movie reel until it catches onto the empty spindle. The children wave, shout, and point, unable to contain their joy as the canvas sheet becomes a movie screen and the ancient box speaker, somewhere in the branches above, explodes with loud and uncertain orchestral music. Everyone reacts at once, chattering and shouting to his or her neighbor. What is this? But as the movie begins and the characters speak in Bengali, they settle down to listen and to watch. Soon, as the story progresses, these Hindu villagers will learn the true story of a man who died terribly on a cross so that they could know the living God. Even as they watch, the Indian men of the Big Life ministry who brought this
22
23
Peter Hone
movie to them are earnestly praying in the darkness that the Holy Spirit will move among these people. They know that it is a matter of life and death.
Part One 1959–2010
24
25
A
BIG
LIFE
Peter Hone
“What makes this story so thrilling for me is that it represents the new wave of missions in the world.”
—Charles Colson former special counsel to President Richard Nixon and founder of Prison Fellowship Ministries
“God took a couple of lay people who decided to live this big life … they had no idea what God would do with them. But what a journey it has been.”
Peter Hone
—Mike Huckabee former governor of Arkansas and 2008 Republican presidential candidate
“Big Life is doing what the Apostle Paul did …”
—Lieutenant Colonel Oliver L. North political commentator and New York Times best-selling author
A BIG LIFE
“I welcome this book. The story of Big Life needs to be told.”
—David Kerrigan General Director, Baptist Missionary Society (United Kingdom)
A Big Life: The Story of an Extraordinary Ministry tells the story of how thousands of believers, from suburban America to the jungles of the subcontinent of India, Pakistan, and beyond, were brought together in a phenomenal work of God. No Christian was more ordinary than John Heerema, but he was obedient. God took him on an extraordinary, emotional, and often painful journey, shaping him to be a new kind of missionary on a new kind of mission. It was a simple strategy, a strategy not new after all, but ancient, because He had first shown it to us two thousand years ago. Over the next nine years, hundreds of obedient believers were grafted into an unbelievable ministry that has brought the salvation of Jesus to tens of thousands. The book of Acts has been put into action once again in the ministry of Big Life. A Big Life is a must for everyone who wishes to see how God responds today to the obedience of his people.
most of his life in South Africa. For the last six years, Naples, Florida, has been his home. He shares it with his wife, Elize, and his two boys, Danny, sixteen, and Rupert, fifty-six in doggie years.
and
enterprises, llc
LIFE Foreword by Charles Colson and Afterword by Mike Huckabee
Religion, Christian Church, Growth
$ 19 . 9 9 PRINTED IN THE USA
tat e P u b l i s h i n g
BIG
Ordinary People Led by an Extraordinary God
Peter Hone was born in London, England, and has lived
978-1-61346-647-6
A