I DARED TO CALL HIM FATHER
Remembering the Flower Lady
SYNNØVE MITCHELL
I remember the day as clearly as if it were yesterday: Thursday, November 24, 1966. David, my husband, was leaving shortly for Kabul, Afghanistan, and I would be alone with our two small children, Jonathan and Joy, in an old mud-brick Army barracks built by the British during worid War I. For the past year we had been living in this small town, two miles from Wah Village, out, side the gate to the Wah Cement Factory, on the road between Rawalpindi and the Khyber Pass.
I was spiritually desperate. David and I had both grown up in India as missionary children so we had felt at home immediately when we first came to Pakistan in 1961. I was born in India and except for eight years in Norway during World War I, had lived all my formative years on the Indian subcontinent. David and I loved living here. It was home. But we were not here just to feel at home; we were here to share the good news of the Kingdom of God.
But I was desperate because God was dealin g with me, showing me clearly that, on my own, I did not have what it takes to share the Good News in Pakistan.
Early in the morning of November 24, I fell on my knees before God. His Holy Spirit, I knew, is the only One who can work deep in the heart- especially in the heart of a Muslim -to reveal the need for a Savior, the need for Jesus. I needed a fresh touch from Him myself, and confrmation that He kew where I was lving and where I was spiritually.
So I cried out to Him, asking Him t o do a work in me through which I would know He loved me personally, deeply. First I asked Him to let me know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He wanted me in this mud-brick Army barracks; and second that would not be able to explain away His work; and third, that throug h this work our neighbors and others living around us would see the reality of Jesus and His power to bring people to God. As a postscript to this prayer, Iadded, "O God, do this soon, or I will have to pack up and leave.
As I said, I was desperate. But poor David!lI told him of my prayer just before he set out on his journey to Kabul. He had no idea when he left what state he would find me in when he returned. He knew only God Fimself could meet my need.
Five days passed. I continued to lay my requests before God. Then came the day for my weekly Bible study. As many as fourteen women from a nominal Christian background gathered each Tuesday in our living room. But because of the dryness in my own soul, I had nothing fresh to share.
"O God," I prayed, "unless Your Holy spirit speaks to me through Your word, there will be no life in what I share. Please, Father, open up something from Your Word that will give life to these dear, illiterate women who don't have a chance to read the Bible on their own, or I'll have to can cel the meeting"
After that prayer I began to sense the Lord telling me, Share with them the story of the wise men. So I opened my Bible to Matthew 2. The simple story of wise men from the East in search of the King of the Jews, a story I had known since childhood, now opened up to me with freshness Here were men who knewiittle about God but who had a deep hunger to worship Him. They knew so little that they went to Herod, a godless, ruthless Gentile ruler, to find out where to find this King who was worthy of worship.
Herod recognized them immediately as men of wisdom an d stature, because not only he but al of Jerusalem was perturbed at their news and questions. King Herod gathered the Jewish leaders to find out where the Messiah would be born. Having a thorough knowledge of the Scrip tures, they gave the right answer, Bethlehem. But they ret urned to the daily routine of their lives. In contrast, Matthew writes of the wise men, "When they saw the star, ,they rejoiced exceedingly
with great joy!" (Matthew 2: 10, NAsB). They who knew very little but who longed to worship the King were filled with an ticipation an d joy They recognized jesus as the King, felldown before Him and worshiped Him.
God brought new Hight and life to the story for me. I was filled "with exceeding great joy" my self, and an ticipation that God would do something special. I could hardly wait for the women to ome. The story of the wise men would grip them, I knew, as it had me. I was convinced that al fourteen of them would come to a saving kowledge of Jesus that very day.
The women began arriving We pushed back the cane sofa and chairs to make room for all ot us," women and children, to sit on the reed matting that coveredthe floor. Hashmat my blind helper, led the singing with her strong, true voice, and her fingers skillfully played her dholki a cylindrical drum with skin stretched tightly over both ends. I loved the enthusiastic singing, clapping and intricate rhythms of Pakistani music.
Then, with excitement, I told these women the wonderful story of the wise men. But theii reaction was the same as mine had been previously_mild interest, but no inner illumination as to its application to the heart. My exhilarating anticipation to witness God at work turned to deep disappointment, even a bit of anger anger at the women for their lack of response, Christians would be like the religious leaders. We know the right answers give them to others, but we oulrselves would go home to our regular daily routinesand anger at God for letting me down.
I ended the wise men's story saying something like this: "If this story had happened today, it would mean that we , ob- and car livious of our need to worship Jesus; whereas some seeking Muslims, who know very little about this story, would be like the wise men, faling at Jesus' feet and worshiping Him." I closed the meeting with a prayer f foT God to have mercy on us all and give us seeking hearts.
I was still standing at the front door bidding the villa ge women good bye when Begum Bilquis Sheikh drove into our driveway. Evervone knew who she was. Who had not heard of the Wah Khans? Wasn't she formerly the wife of General Sheikh, the minister of interior under President Ayub? But was that a Bible she clutched in her hand? The village women could not help but be shocked at the timing of her arrival.
"Welcome to our home, Begum Sheikh," I said, trying to mask my surprise at her arrival, and at the amazing timing.
"I have only come to ask a question," she replied, looking flustered by the Christian village women still in the process of leaving.
I ushered her inside, seated her in one of our cane easy chairs and rearranged the rest of the furniture that had been pushed aside to make room on the floor for everyone, Then I turned my full attention.
"Would you t to like my tea or special coffee, guest Begum Sheikh?" Iasked, following lədord Pakistani etiquette.
"Neither," she replied. "T have come to talk, not to drink tea. Where is your husband?"
"He's on a trip to Afghanistan."
"Do you know anything about God?" she asked abruptly.
Forgeting about serving tea or coffee, I settled into the other cane easy chair. I'm afraid I don't know as much as my husband knows about God, but I do know Him," I answered.
She went on to tell me her story- about recently reading both the Quran and the Bible and being very confused. Until this time she had thought they ran parallel, and that both led to God But now, she said, seeing differences bet ween the books, she was confused. She had prayed, C God, over the years I have not sought You. But now that I am seeking You, do not let me go astray Show me Your way.
"Last Thursday," she continued, "I had a dream. I was on a mountaintop, standing at a cross- roads, and I did not know which way to go. I knew the roads had something to do with the Qurar and the Bible. I did not know which road to take. Standing at the crossroads was a man wearing a long robe, with sandals on his feet. I went up to ask him which way to go to find God. Before he could answer, I woke up and heard myself crying out, John the Baptist,.John the Baptist! Mrs. Mitchell, please tell me, who is John the Baptist?"
In awe at the realization of what God was doing in her heart, I explained to her that John the Baptist was sent as a forerunner to prepare the way for the coming of the Messiah, and the one wholater baptized Him.John was the one who pointed to Jesus, declaring, "Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!"
Pain flashed across Begum Sheikh's face as she bowed her head. "That is what I was afraid of That is what I was afraid of."
"What were you afraid of?" I asked softly.
"I was afraid that John the Baptist was pointing me to Jesus. If I choose Jesus, I lose every- thing!"
She raised her head and looked at me directly,. "Forget I am a Muslim. Forget the problems we have with Jesus being called the Son of God. F orget about our believin g that the Bible has beer changed. Just tell me one thing: W hat has Jesus done for you?"
O God, I cried out in my heart, why have You sent Begum Sheikh to me when I am dry in m soul? Why didn't You send hertosomeone who is on top spiritually, someone whos could share out of strength, not out of spiritual weakness, as I am experiencing?
But at that moment Iknew that God had sent Begum sheikh to me for my own need. Deeply awed and humbled, I reached out once again to Him. 0 Lord, powr into me, so that what I share with Begum Sheikh will have come from You-words of life.
At that moment all that Jesus did, through His sacrificial death on the cross for the sins of everyone in the world, again became fresh and real to me, I knew God loved me personally. Deepiy, I can still see a picture of myself, figuratively reaching one arm up to God, stretching the other toward Bilquis, and God pouring through me what He wanted to share with her. Out of this fresh awareness, I quietly shared with Begum Sheikh what Jesus had done for me.
"For many years," 1 began softly, T had only known about God . But then, through God's Spirit working in my heart, I realized I did not know Him personally. Because of my sins, I was far from God. Sins that had seemed small to me were shown for what they were -pride, rebellion, going my own way I felt the weight of guilt; and the terrible realization that I deserved God's judgment dawned on me, But then a wonderful truth- that God loved the world so much that He sent Jesus to receive the just punishment for my sin, to die in my place, to become my sacrifice- became wonderfully real to me. I personally received forgiveness. 1 experienced the tremendous joy of being free from guilt. W hat a gift! Jesus brought me to God. Through Jesus I have come to know God. That is what Jesus has done for me Thatis what He longs to do for you Begum sheikh, John the Baptist spoke the truth when he pointed to Jesus and declared, Look, the Lamb of God, who takes awav the sins of the world!"
After what seemed like a long silence, Begum Sheikh asked me to pray. We knelt on the floor to gether. I clearly remember my prayer: "0 God, I know that nothing I can say will convince Begum Sheikh who jesus is. But I thank You that Your Spirit car take the veil off our eves and re- veal Jesus to our hearts. 0 Holy Spirit, do this for Begum Sheikh, In Jesus' name. Amen."
"Yes, God, that is exactly what I want,"' Begum Sheikh responded.
I knew that we both sensed the quiet presence of God. Then, realizing that the book in hen hand was an old-translation Urdu Bible, and since English was like a second mother tongue to her, I offered her my copy of Phillips paraphrase of the New Testament in modern- -day English. I suggested she read the gospel of John, since it clearly explained the role of John the Baptist. Then I shared with her the story of the wise men. Suddenly I knew that God had laid that message on my heart especially for her.
When Icame to the part of the st ory where God told the wise men not to return to Herod as he had requested, she cried out, " God does speak in dreams, then! If the Bible tells about God speaking in dreams, then Iknow He has spoken to me inmy dream Idon't usually dream, Mrs. Mitchell, but I had another dream that I don't understand. I know it has something to do with Jesus, too.
And she told me her dream of the perfume salesman who had come to her house. "T have a weakness for perfume, and had just run out of my favorite kind. But the per fume the salesman howed me was the most wonderful perfume I had ever smelled. It was heavenly perfume! He told me it would spread all through my home, to my neighbors .. . in fact, everywherel I know it has something to do wit h Jesus. Can you explain this dream for me?"
At that moment my heart was singing, He had sent her the dream about John the Baptist the very day I had prayed so desperately'! God has answered my prayer! He has answered all my requests. God loves mel I do not have to pack up and leave. God has deigned to show me His wesome ability to reveal Himself to anyone seeking Him. I could think of nothing else, so I an swered honestly, " I can't think of an explanation right now, Begum sheikh,but pray and ask God to show me."
After saying good-bye to her, I sat for a long time in the living room, basking in God's presence and filled with awe and wonder at His love and grace. He had answered my prayer far above what I ever could have imagined. I was deeply humbled by my anger at God in not answering my prayer by fulfilling my expectations, and overawed at His great patience and mercy shown by bringing Begum Sheikh to me in my own deep need. Iknew was deeply loved by God. Iwould never be able to explain away what He had allowed me to witness, and our neighbors and others living nearby would have a living, present example of the reality and power of Jesus to reveal God.
I had given Begum Sheikh the Philips paraphrase that I was currently using, but I found a copy of Ken Taylor's Letters to Young Churches (which was later expanded into The Living Bible), which had been sent us recently. Wanting to spend time with God in His Word, I opened to 2 Corinthians. Starting from the first chapter I began to read. When I reached the fourteenth verso of the second chapter, I could not believe my eyes. Right before me was the word perfume!
Thanks be to God! For through what Christ has done, he has triumphed over us, so that now wherever we go he uses us to telothers about the Lord and to spread the Gospel like a sweet perfume.
The fifteenth verse go es on to say that the perfume "is the fragrance of Christ within us, an aroma to both the saved and the unsaved all around us."
Here, straight from God's Word, was the clear explanation of Begum Sheikh's dream. She had known that the perfume had something to do with Jesus . The perfume was Jesus Himself. Christ would be in her, and the fragrance would spread to"allaround us." Oh, how great is our God!I found a sheet of paper, wrote a note to my new fiend and asked our watchman to take it to hel early in the morning, God's Spirit was drawing her to Himself and His Word was confirming it.
But how could I share with David in Afghanistan God's mighty answers to praye, withou endangering Begum sheilkh? How could Tlet him know that, instead of packing to leave, Iwas overflowing with praise and gratitude for the privilege of seeing Him at work? Then, remem bering that David and I had visited her garden in the spring, filled with all kinds of beautiful flowers, and that some ofthe seeds she had given us were even now beginning to sprout, I care fully /worded a 'elegram: Flower Lady under great conviction, have all pray!
On receiving the telegram, he told me later, David shouted to his firiends, "Praise God My wife isn't packing to leave . God is working in the heart of Begum Sheikh. Let's pray!
God answered those prayers and ushered us into a very special friendship with the Flower Lady, and onto ajourney of watching Him work powerfully through His Spirit and His Word.
You have already read the story of that special jourey in the pages of this book. You have followed Begum Bilquis Sheikh as she came to know God her Father,learned to live daily in Fis presence and was used by Him to share her powerful testimony in many parts of the world. But since the final chapter of this book, first published in 1978, could not include the very last chap ter of her1 life, ,Iwould like to describe Gods gra ce and faithfulness to her in that closing time.
Bilquis wanted to glorify God, not only by her life, but also by her death. she wanted to be sure that, in the future, evervone who saw her grave would know that she died in Christ, follow- ing Him to the very end of her life special gravesite. friend Nina and I drove up to Murree, Pakistan, in the spring of1993.
Knowing how much Bilquis loved the mountains, her daughter, Tooni, her cousin and very to look for a suitable Murree, a "hill station" nestled in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains, would be an ideal place. A fter much searchin g, we found the perfect spot in an old Christian graveyaro urrounded by majestic evergreens and overlooking layer after layer of mountain ranges. There was even a blossoming fruit tree framing the idyllic scenery a reminder to me of the Flower Lady. All three of us were in agreement and at peace. The surroundings reminded us of Bilquis of her love for the mountains and the beauty of God's creation.
Before Dave and Ileft for a six-month furlough in july 1993, Bilquis called us to meet witt her and Tooni to make plans for her funeral should the Lord call her home before we returned to Pakistan. She made it very clear that she believed the Lord wouldlet her live tillwe returned after six months, so David and I could be near her when her time to leave came, and we could be responsible for the Christian part of her funeral. But she wanted everything ready,just in case her Father had other plans.
Tooni took out a big sheet of paper, and under her mother's specificinstructions sketched het tombstone-a white marble slab with prominent cross, with the simple Bilquis, born a message , Loving the Lord, decorated with engraved narcissus. We wrote down the 12-12-12, died__ hymns to be sun g at her funeral that had been a source of encouragement and strength to her over the years. We also introduced her to the vicar of the Church of Pakistan (a union of severa denominations, including Anglican) who was responsible for the chosen gravesite, the Reverend Isaac Burt Paul. This tall, vibrant Christian Punjabi would be responsible for her funeral, should she leave us before our return to Pakistan
Not only did the Lord let her live through our 1993 furlough, but she lived through July 1996 the time of our next furlough. I had an evening reception to attend in Muree two days before leaving, and decided to visit Bilquis, who now lived in a lovely home her beloved Mahmud had builtjust for her on ahill surounded by pines not far from the main roadto Murree On the way, a sudden monsoon storm came crashing down. Lightning flashed, the skies released torrents of rain and the pickup got mired in mud on the unfinished road leading up to her home. Leaving the truck, I trudged up the slippery hillside in the downpour to the shelter of Bilquis' home
I will never forget her reaction when she saw me standing in her doorway. In utter joy and astonishment, she exclaimed, "Sanovar!" (It was her own little twist on my Pakistani name Sanobar.) You have come on a night like this? The best part is that you have brought Jesus with you!"
I was deeply moved 'by her greeting, It revealed her uwavering, vibrant love for her Lord.
"Yes, my dear Bilquis, and you bring Jesus to me! Didn't He promise that if even just two ofus would meet together, He Himself would be there with us?"
What a wonder ful time of fellowship we had that stormy evening, recounting God's grace and faithfulness in both of our lives.
The next time Isaw her was after our return to Pakistan. Tooni phoned me urgently: "Ma-jis with me. She is very ill with post-flu complications. Wilyou come and give her spiritual help?"
For the next two weeks I visited her just about every day to sing her favorite hymns, to read her favorite passages of Scripture, to pray with her and to have fellowship together. Our time of breaking bread-_taking Communion at her request — just five days before her death will always be a precious memory , Because of jesus, our focus was on eternal life, not death. In the midst of the pain of dying, she received hope from knowing she would soon see her Lord and Savior face to face.
Tooni, as a medical doctor, was able to keep her mother in her home and tend lovingly to her every need. She also had a simple but lovely casket made. Because of our preparations ahead of time, the details of the funeral were not difficult to arrange. But we had a genuine problem It rained every day, those last few days, an d if it rained the day of her homegoing, how would the grave be dug without fillin g up with mud? In Pakistan the funeral has to take place withir 24 hours, which meant we prayed that God would graciously hold back the rain on the day He planned to call her home.
Shortly after daybreak on April 10, 1997, Tooni called to tell Dave and me the news that her mother, our dear friend, had quietly drawn her last breath shortly before midnight. we grieved for all of us left behind, but rejoiced with Bilquis, who was now home with her Father, whom she had come tc know and love.
The sky was dark and threatening, but it was not raining, "That's Mum's Jesus for you" was Tooni's comment as we prepared to leave for Murree.
A small group of between 2 5 and 30 a few of the many who had known and loved her, both Muslim and Christian- gathered for a graveside service to celebrate Bilquis'life, We read pas- sages from the Old and New Testaments, reminding us of the glorious promises awaitin g those who belong to the Lord Jesus. And we san g her favorite hymns- 'Great Is Thy Faithfulness,' "How Great Thou Art" and "] Know Whom I Have Believed," the song based on 2 Timothy 1:12 that wil always bring back for me memories of her life . she first heard it with tears running down her cheeks: I know not how the Spirit moves, convincing men of sin, revealing Jesus through the Word, creating faith in Him. But I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day On first hearing this song, Bilquis had exclamed, with emotion, "Someone else has gone through exactly what I have experienced!" Now that day referred to in the song had arrived.
Before the service started, those of us gat hered at the grave had an unforgettable experience; The upper portion of the simple wooden casket, covered and lined in white, was opened for al of us to see Bilquis' face for a last goodbye. Her head was surrounded by beautiful white flowers and on her fa ce was a serene look of peace, almost a smile, belying the struggle and pain of the last few days.
Suddenly, before the casket was closed, the dark cloud above us parted briefly, and a bright ray of sunshine, almost like a spotlight, shone directly onto her face. I could hear from the audible reactions of others surrounding her casket that they were as taken aback as I was. It looked like a beam shining directly from heaven, God's benediction on her unwavering trust in Him, whom she had dared to call Father.
