FACE TO FACE

Brother Andrew: A Spiritual Father

Katherine Baylis

I didn’t fully realize the extent to which I love my books until I boxed them up to move a couple months ago. There were three books, however, that were packed separately in a canvas bag to keep them extra safe. They were Plato’s Republic, Dante’s Inferno and Brother Andrew’s God’s Smuggler. I don’t have any particular affection for Plato, but that copy has extensive annotations that I could never replicate. Anyone who’s spent more than five minutes around me knows I love Dante so that one is self-explanatory. But Brother Andrew’s book has a special place in my heart for entirely different reasons.

That paperback book has a beat-up vintage cover that’s so worn that the corners have become rounded. The spine is streaked with lines where it has been broken several times over from years of use. Thanks to a very kind librarian at my high school, there’s now a hard plastic piece that covers the entirety of the cover and spine to reinforce it, so it doesn’t fall apart completely. The first page of the book is reinforced with a thick, white piece of tape that keeps the book block attached to the cover. But its fragile nature alone is not what makes it so precious to me. The book belonged to my father, Douglas Edward Baylis, who passed away when I was a baby. I never knew him, but what I do have of him are stories, photos and relics like this book that give me hints at the things he cared about and held dear.

I think without realizing it, I have for many years subconsciously imagined that if I had known my father he would have been like Brother Andrew. The way Brother Andrew talks about his life and his conversations with God is warm and honest. His humor is dry, and he leads with his heart, perhaps a little too much at times. Over the years I’ve held Brother Andrew’s advice and stories about God’s provision as close to my heart as if they were advice from my own father.

Most of the scenes that are burned into my memory revolve around Andrew’s struggles to trust God’s provision in his finances. There are several scenarios that come to mind from the book, but one that I have a renewed appreciation for is his qualms about finances after entering into a theological program. This is what he prayed:

“Lord, I need to know if I can trust You in practical things. I thank You for letting me earn the fees for the first semester. I ask You now to supply the rest of them. If I have to be so much as a day late in paying, I shall know that I am supposed to go back to the chocolate factory.” (pp. 65-66)

He continues to comment,

“It was a childish prayer, petulant and demanding. But then I was still a child in the Christian life. The remarkable thing is that God honored my prayer. But not without first testing me in some rather amusing ways.” (p. 66)

This attitude towards prayer was wild to me when I first read it in tenth grade. The idea that you could ask God for practical things and that he would provide them felt fantastical. It seemed like something that only happened in the Bible or, on rare occasions, to ultraspiritual missionaries. This passage lay dormant yet still emblazoned in my memory for many years until a year ago when I tried to apply to grad programs.

“Over the years I’ve held Brother Andrew’s advice and stories about God’s provision as close to my heart as if they were advice from my own father.”

I remember sitting at my desk at work, on the verge of tears because I didn’t know if I could attend the grad program I thought God was calling me to. Brother Andrew’s stories immediately came to mind out of nowhere. He gave me the boldness I needed to ask God for help to pay for grad school. “If this is where you want me, I’ll take the step,” I prayed, “but I need a sign that this is the right direction. If you can provide x dollars for tuition, I will go and trust that you’ll help me figure the rest out.” I don’t know that I even remembered what Andrew prayed exactly, but it felt like what he would say.

When I opened my computer again, there in my email inbox was a letter from the director of my program saying that they were offering me a scholarship. I resonate with Andrew’s comment that God tests us in amusing ways because I remember looking up and muttering under my breath, “I hope you found that funny.” I’d spent the whole morning whining like a child to God and yet he still provided. I was so stunned that happy tears just started pouring down my face and I ran down three flights of stairs to tell my friend what had happened.

I hit another financial boulder a month ago and another Brother Andrew story popped into my head. Where it is in the book I could not tell you, but I remember it as clearly as when I first read it. Andrew had not yet begun his work smuggling Bibles behind the Iron Curtain. He was home in Holland, standing outside his house and contemplating how he was going to raise money to go on his next trip. He prayed that God would provide a source of money for him. Amidst his prayer, he looked down at his cigarette he was smoking and realized that as a Dutchman he smoked quite a lot. So, he begrudgingly quit smoking and ended up being able to save up enough money to make his trip. The seemingly small decision point always stuck with me because it wasn’t like the other instances throughout his life when God miraculously provided, seemingly out of thin air. A door was opened for provision, but he had to choose to give up a small comfort to walk through it. It required an act of obedience.

I recently spent over a month attempting to buy a car. If you have not tried to buy a car in the last two years, there are very few cars available and those that are available are wildly overpriced. Because of the car market, I was backed into a corner of buying a car that was a little out of my budget. Just before nine, the morning that my car was supposed to arrive, I got a call from an entirely different dealership saying that they had a car on their lot that had just become available overnight. It was not as nice as the car I had planned to buy, but after some math I realized the money I’d save was significant. It may seem over-dramatic to call getting a good deal on a car God’s provision, but it all unfolded in such a way that it would be foolish to say I just got that lucky. The obedience God asked of me was to wait and trust. When the time came, giving up a small luxury seemed a small step to take.

The reason for the waiting became clearer when a variety of bizarre circumstances led me to an hour-long car ride with my car salesman from this new dealership during which he shared with me that he was a new Christian and looking for resources to help him grow in his faith. He cried as he told me his testimony and we talked about faith and Scripture the entire drive back to the dealership. I got back to my office which has wall-to-wall bookshelves brimming with Bibles and commentaries and I realized God had used the buildup of the last six weeks for that car ride with that one car salesman. And not only that, he still provided for me far more than I could have imagined.

I have been impacted by many books and many writers, but none have seeped their way into my heart the way Brother Andrew’s book has. It’s not just his stories that have stayed with me over the years but also the fundamental lessons about how to live for Christ. He has a very simple, humble way of recounting his life that makes radical faith seem normal and less daunting.

Brother Andrew’s legacy extends beyond this book to the ministry he founded, Open Doors, as well as all the lives he touched by bringing Bibles to the unreached and the persecuted church. We rejoice that he is now home with the Lord, but I know I am not alone in saying he will be dearly missed.