God's Smuggler: A Review

I have to admit that I’ve never truly considered the emotional value of a copy of a Bible before reading God’s Smuggler by Brother Andrew. Sure, I’d pondered the spiritual value of a Holy Book; it is after all the Word of God. I spent a great deal of time thinking about the price of one of these treasures, continually taking one off of the shelf, then putting it back on, trying to decide whether or not the thirty Canadian dollars was actually worth the price of a pocket-sized New International Version translation. But after reading about Brother Andrew’s adventures behind the Iron Curtain smuggling Bibles and living entirely on the faith of the Lord, I’ve come to truly realize how blessed I’ve been. Reading this page turner revealed to me the importance of trusting in God, the true value of a Bible, and that God can take anyone of us, no matter the size of our sin, wash us clean and use us to glorify Him.

God’s Smuggler follows Brother Andrew from his time as a rebellious child in Nazi occupied Holland, to his time as a soldier in the Dutch Army fighting in the Indonesian War of Independence, to reading his own Bible, to hearing God’s voice, to becoming a missionary behind the Communist Iron Curtain. Brother Andrew’s testimony of how his mother desperately wanted him to read his Bible and how it took her death to actually get him to do it was heartbreaking and raw. His adventures and friendship with his pet monkey in Indonesia was a touching display of how this bitter young man truly had a love for all of God’s creation even though he himself did not realize it. And perhaps most poignantly, God’s Smuggler reminded me of how God can take a man who has literally fallen as far away from God as possible, not entirely unlike me, and can him into a powerful worker for the expansion of God’s Kingdom.

There were many atrocities in the War of Independence in Indonesia. There was massacre upon massacre, Dutch soldiers were getting killed off left, right and center and Indonesian civilians were taking the brunt of it. Brother Andrew writes of a time where he saw a village-dwelling mother and child, drenched in blood, killed by the same bullet. The break in his heart was so strong that it cracked his mind, and for his remaining time on the Indonesian front, Brother Andrew wore a bright yellow, straw hat instead of his regulation camouflage armoured helmet. This man was desperate for death, having seen and caused so much of it himself. He turned to booze, to women, to anything. And of course, nothing filled the hole caused by the hurt. The damage was done. And in God’s special way, instead of being killed as he had desired, Brother Andrew was shot in the foot, and transported home as a rejected soldier of a defeated army coming home from an inglorious war.

It was during his time of rehabilitation and searching for a future that Brother Andrew started to read the Bible his mother had given him, and over the course of a year it finally sank in, and he committed his life to Jesus. God didn’t hesitate to put his calling on him, and within another two years Brother Andrew had been called to missions, done his own missionary work at a Dutch chocolate factory and moved to England for missionary training. It was at this mission training facility, known as Worldwide Evangelization Crusade (WEC) that Brother Andrew learned to live on faith. Depending on what he calls “The Royal Way,” Andrew would always be in complete trust that God would provide for him from something as simple as toothpaste to something larger like school fees paid by their deadlines. He gives one testimony about a homeless friend of his who had come looking for him for the same amount of money that Andrew had been waiting on. As they were talking, there on the ground was the one British shilling they were both hoping for and what only Andrew could see. Instead of keeping it for himself however, he gave it to his friend, knowing that God doesn’t need or want us to be digging around in the dirt looking for extra change. He’s going to provide for us!

This would not only prove to be an important lesson for Andrew to learn as it would be the way his entire ministry would be funded and run, but it is also an extraordinary example set in front of those of us also living on faith. Money is an easy distraction, something that the worldly kingdom depends on entirely. It is easy to get discouraged or to even lead ourselves off the path that God has laid out for us, or to not even start walking along said path just because we feel like it isn’t something we can afford.

But therein lays the solution.

The truth is that a lot of the situations God has called us to probably are things we personally cannot afford. But God loves us right? When you’re in charge of a project or you’re a supervisor at you’re job, do you charge your workers the expenses of keeping your project or your store or your whatever running? Of course not! It becomes your responsibility because you are in control. The same goes for God. To quote Pastor Sam Song of Solomon’s Porch Church in Hong Kong: “If its God’s will, its God’s bill.” The beautiful thing about that is that God is the creator of all things, and therefore is the creator of money, and therefore will never run out of money because it’s all His. In trusting in the Father, we will be provided for as His children, so stay in accordance to His will and there is nothing to worry about! Brother Andrew’s life story is a testament to this fact.

Sometimes, when living on faith, we might be waiting for more than just money. Especially as Christians, because we know that true life doesn’t just come from food, money, things. No, we’re actually living off of the Holy Spirit and His guidance. Our personal times with God can keep us refreshed for the entire day, sometimes more. And one very powerful way to seek the Lord’s guidance and encouragement is through His Word; through The Bible.

But what if we didn’t have a Bible? I know that I personally probably wouldn’t be able to keep my faith as strong as it is right now without easy access to a Bible, because it’s not only a way for me to seek the Lord’s guidance, but I also receive a lot of encouragement through this book not only from my own time reading it but through Scriptures that others have read to or over me. After reading in God’s Smuggler of how Brother Andrew discovered the desperate need for Bibles behind the Iron Curtain, I realized that this was actually a weakness in my faith; because I’d been taking for granted the fact that I could read my Bible whenever I wanted.

The story that truly hit it home for me was when Brother Andrew was in a Russian controlled Ukrainian village near the Hungary border, and he was visiting a Baptist church there. When the pastor got up to speak, he first stepped down from the pulpit to borrow a Bible in the congregation to read from! After the service, Andrew met with this pastor and they had devotions. After a reading of the borrowed Bible and Andrew’s Dutch Bible, the pastor, in a broken and quiet voice said, “You know, Brother, I have no Bible.”

I was floored and heartbroken after that. The reason this pastor didn’t have a Bible of his own was because it was illegal for him to have one in the Communist Soviet Union. Fortunately Brother Andrew had one to give to this man, but the telling of this story did not fail to open my eyes to the importance of the Bible and the equal importance of not taking for granted how blessed we are for having such easy access to this amazing Book. It has stirred in me the desire to bring Bibles as gifts to people in all nations who are either in short supply or have none whatsoever, whether because of the government or because of poverty or because of whatever reason. The reason behind someone not having a Bible is much less important than the need it is for anybody who wants to have a Bible to read to have one. My eyes have truly been opened to this, and it is in my prayers and on my heart to become a Bible transporter like that of Brother Andrew and so many others. I just want to see God’s people have an easy access to God’s Words.


The thing that makes sin so terrible is when we realize how much we’ve actually sinned. It is so easy to believe that we’re completely unredeemable, that we’re too dirty, that our lives are worth nothing because we’ve fallen so far away from the Lord and now even He can’t reach us. But of course, this is one hundred percent untrue.

The first four chapters of God’s Smuggler tell the tale of Brother Andrew’s time as a rebellious youth pulling pranks on Nazi’s and as a twenty-something soldier fighting in Indonesia’s War of Independence. Through out the entirety of these four chapters, Andrew confesses his denial of the Lord, seeing how his faithful mother suffered with illness her entire life, and how he had become bitter towards God after the death of his already suffering, mentally unwell older brother. Upon witnessing the atrocities of war, Brother Andrew became obsessed with death, and with survival of skirmish after skirmish after skirmish, he would turn to anything that could distract him temporarily, i.e. alcohol, women, drugs, you name it. It took an injury and the divine will of the Lord for Andrew to lie in bed and read his Bible and upon doing so, after a marvellous revelation of what was actually done on the cross, received the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ.

In his early years as a Christian, Andrew was called to the mission field, experienced miraculous physical healings and even lead others to the Lord. He was accepted into missionary training, graduated from WEC and immediately began work behind the Iron Curtain, countries pressed down by the Communist Regime. Over the course of the rest of his life, Andrew experienced God’s hand and God’s love for His people, and literally did whatever he could to bless them and help them. Brother Andrew’s testimony is a shining light for all Christians and for me personally, a person who, in no way as extreme as Andrew’s, experienced bitterness and anger and sadness towards God. But if God can take someone who fell as far as Andrew did and turn him into a missionary truly living the adventure of Jesus, then surely He can do the same, if not even more, with someone like me. And that rule applies to all.

God’s Smuggler, in all of its excitement, its heartbreaking or touching moments, or its amazing miracles, is truly just a story of a simple man living an extraordinary life because he gave it all to the extraordinary One. There is nothing ordinary about God; He’s a supernatural Creator, with a heart for all of His people. If we’ll just give it all to God like Brother Andrew did, then amazing things can happen through us, for us, to us. If we just wait on the Lord, listen to His voice, trust in Him and do as He says, then maybe one day we too will write a book as exciting, hard-hitting and effective as Brother Andrew’s God’s Smuggler.

Feet in the Fire

As a kid I always thought it'd be great to be a Musketeer or a Knight of the Round Table or a World War 2 soldier or Indiana Jones. I just thought that the battles were so glorifying and adventurous and that ultimately to die in battle would be an amazing honour. I don't think this way anymore.

I've had to, in what has been a very hard struggle actually, learn to realize that life isn't quite like the way it is in the movies. In life there's no behind-the-scenes filmmaker yelliung "Cut!" as you try the same miraculous escape over and over and over again. In life you only get to try it once, with no "Cuts!"

I mention this because over the last 5 months and particularly within the last 5 days I've come to realize that we're in a war. And it's conscription based, calling even the newborns and the elderly into combat mode. This war is vicious, frightening and life taking. There's only one way to survive the turmoil and it's by calling attention to yourself. The war I'm talking about is the 5000 year long Spiritual War.

It's because of my most recent revelation of this war that my desire to don the leather jacket, whip and fedora is because of how vicious I've seen this war can be. My enemy has worked its absolute darndest to destroy my dreams, my beliefs and my life. My enemy has attacked me through finances, fear and family. The three "F"'s.

My enemy is Satan.

As most of my 4 readers know, I recently finished a 5 month school focused entirely on my relationship with Jesus and sharing it with others. Nothing about this school failed me, as I learned to speak with God, listen to God and about this IMMENSE love that He has for me. I can't put how incredible it was into words, but I have come out of this school a new person with new life and a passion for Jesus Christ that will never die! As the school was coming to a close I began to pray about what it was I should do next, and received the answer on the day I graduated, when I was invited to do another school focussed on being a long-term missionary. Through a short series of amazing events, I accepted the invitation. Nothing in the world could drag me down! God and I were tight!

And so I let my guard down...

I've always felt very attached and loyal to my family, but seeing how it is a divorced family, that has lead to a number of painful encounters. But it never changed the fact that I was dead loyal to the people I loved and that has not yet changed. However, upon revealing to my family that I would be staying in Hong Kong for another school doing something that most of them don't actually believe in anyways, all but two remained supportive of me. Maybe a little bit sad that I wouldn't be coming home, but still supportive. All but two...

The two that didn't are two people who have been quite possible the two most important people in my life. They were always there even when they weren't, and always ready to talk. But they really hate the change in The Sister's Son, and really hate the things that I'm saying now. As my words about God and frankly, Spiritual Warfare, became stronger, so did their words against me and my beliefs, so far as to say I didn't have any but that I was faking all of this. I'm not by the way. The comments they were sending my way became so horrible and disgusting that I've now had to break contact with them temporarily. I did that the day my new school started.

That same day I discovered that two of my closest family members have found themselves completely and utterly seperated. No contact. That sucks even more than the first one did to be honest.

You see, there's nothing in this world that I love more than I love God. But second to Him is my family, and they're hurting right now. Both events took place the same day I started my new school, because God has clearly laid this school out for me. I have been called by the Father to serve the Father and that is an amazing blessing. But it scares the shit out of the Devil, and he wants to stop me. I won't let that happen. Talking with my family, I was able to help clear some of the dispute of the seperatees and will hopefully see a resolve come one day soon. As for the people I've seperated myself from, well, time will tell, but I'm praying everyday that they aren't out of my life forever.

I'd thought my victory in my latest savage battle against Beelzebub had ended that night, but in truth it had only begun. The next morning as I was worshipping Jesus, I received a Scripture from the Lord, 2 Peter 2. It described entirely what was going on between me and the loved ones I'd thought I'd lost, and gave me hope for a future. I also felt an anointing fall upon me, what I'm calling the "Noah Anointing," which basically calls me to preach righteousness to those fallen so far that they actually speak insults against the Lord to others and about others. I know the type, because I used to be one of them.

Then, the next morning, I played on the worship team and felt the Spirit of the Lord fall upon me in such a powerful way that I actually played with an intensity I didn't know I had. It was amazing! The Power of God was working in me!

We followed the time of worship with baptisms for 4 friends of mine (not you 4 readers of course, but maybe next time) and during their testimonies God reminded me of my baptismal testimony: I was baptized in the 12th grade, but in between that time and now I'd fallen so far that I had actually spoken insults against the Lord to others and about others. Hmm... irony anyone?

As the testimonies ended, our baptizers (which I believe is a real word) asked if anyone else felt as though they needed to be baptized. Three people volunteered. So as they were thanking God and giving testimonies I apologized to Jesus for throwing mud in the face of what was my baptism. And this is what He said to me...

"You could always go wash it off..."

Well there it was. And sure enough, as the last of the second three emerged from the Holy Water, they invited anyone else who felt God speak to come be baptized. And in I went. And out I came. Victorious.

When I was told that my beliefs were false, it was also said that I should be willing to "put my feet in the fire." Well, I am willing to do that and a whole lot more.

In order to win this war once and for all, I need to be completely on fire for Jesus. And so I lit that fire, by covering myself with Holy Water. Now I want to be Indiana Jones again, because I want to live the adventure that comes with fighting for Jesus.

My feet are in, and now I'm running. I encourage you... come catch me.

It's Always Friday Before The Dawn

Today is Good Friday.

I'm 21 years old this year. Not particularly old or anything. Certainly not trying to boast about the fact that there is no country on Earth that I can't drink in. I'm simply counting the years that I've forgotten what Good Friday actually means.

If I'm 21 now that means this is my 22nd Good Friday right?

I missed 21 of them.

As I recall, at my Christian school we hardly ever talked about the dying part. Spare the children the brutal truth and that kind of thing right? Wrong. We need to remember.

There have been three different occasions over the last 3 months where I've been compared to Simon Peter. I take great joy in this. This is the man Jesus entrusted His church too! But I forgot that Peter had denied Our Lord, when He needed him the most, he denied him. I wish I'd remembered.

Last night I was in Yuen Long doing some last minute shopping, feeling kind of bummed out because one of my friends had left without me and I thought we were gonna chill. I let the feelings build quickly and unleashed them on someone totally different, and stormed away like a little girl who got the wrong dollhouse for Christmas. I spent the next two hours huffing and puffing around the city buying dehumidifying bags and other such trivial things one needs when traveling, in such a rage that I actually had the balls to thank God for such a wonderful day.

On my way home, I apologized to Jesus for my behaviour, but asked Him why this was happening. Why was I so upset about something so small? Why was I so sad, angry, etc.?

"It's Thursday night," Jesus said to me.

Oh no. I really am Peter. On the night before Good Friday, I'd acted as Peter had on the night he watched Jeus be put on trial. He denied Jesus. I was tested, and I blamed Jesus. And yet, I'm forgiven. My brothers whom I had yelled at or been left by and thus was angry at forgave me when I got home. They embraced me. When I told them that I'd failed in Spiritual Warfare, they aided me. And when I prayed to the one I'd hurt the most, He forgave me and instructed me.

He told me to fast until further notice.

On Thursday, I'd fasted my supper because some of us were short the fees for our Missions trip that we leave for on Monday. My plan was to eat in Yuen Long, but my anger and depression kept me from going to the restaurant called Mr. Nepali's (where they sell some of the most delicious food you will ever eat for the least amount of money you will ever pay). So my fast started at 3:30 pm on the Thursday before Good Friday.

I didn't eat supper. I didn't eat breakfast. I didn't eat lunch. I didn't eat anything in between. In Worship I cried tears for what Jesus did for me on Friday. At 3:30 pm on this Good Friday, one of my leaders approached me and said that my Outreach had been paid for. Anonymously. Not minutes later, God said I could eat again.

On the day that Jesus gave it all for me, when I finally remembered to appreciate it, He gave me even more. I'll never forget what Good Friday means again.

The first article ever posted on The Sister's Son was Chocolatey Secrets of the Rabbit's Egg, where I essentially denied what it was that Jesus did today. I take it back. I take it back.

Jesus reigns, and I won't ever deny that again. Praise the Lord, Oh my Soul Praise the Lord!

Up, Up and Away

So in traditional form of The Sister's Son, I've recently returned from a 6 month hiatus from my writings for no reason other than I had nothing to say. Well, that's not entirely true...

The honest to God truth of it all is that I've been through a shit-ton of stuff since June 6 when I published my last article Labeouf Connection. And I really mean that too. I'm talking flat-out spiritually inarguable, fantastical experiences with the God above and the Asshole below. I'm talking about heeding a call and moving myself to Hong Kong where I've been changed and remade several times over. And I'm talking about a little internet podcast called The Weekly Re-Brew.

Shortly after the publication of Labeouf Connection, I travelled from my home in Calgary to Vancouver, where my plan was to visit with an old friend for a week, and then move myself over to Whistler (the ski resort) for another week to visit my dad. I was only half excited about this trip. My friend is a full-time missionary, having grown up in Pakistan preaching The Word with his family, and now having been involved in several missionary schools and trips, was only in Vancouver a short time before he headed into South Africa for another 9 months of doing the work of the Lord. I, on the other hand, was a burned out drop out on his way out to failure, not doing ANYTHING. I literally mean that. I would go to work for 10 hours a day to a job I loathed, and then spend my evenings getting loaded or high, and on the rare occasion that I stayed in that night, would engulf myself in television or DVDs and study them intrinsically in hopes that I would be inspired to write an article under the oh-so-clever pseudonym of The Sister's Son. In other words, I felt inadequate to my Vancouverite/Pakistani/Internationalite missionary friend, and certainly wasn't looking forward to having God shoved back in my face for what must be the 667th time in my life.

But HE had different plans...

First of all, I recognized that it was Seigneur Cannibis that was slowing me down to discovering where it was I wanted to go and what it was I wanted to do. So a week before leaving for Vancouver, I dropped it like I dropped school; without looking back. Of course, I'd neglected to realize that this missionary pal'o'mine wasn't exactly the drinking type, so when I got to Vancouver I found myself 100% completely sober for probably the first time in 6 months. And it was somewhat painful.

Sure enough, he didn't hesitate even for a second when it came to telling me about God and that He loved me etc. etc. (You've heard it all before). But I was bitter. I won't go into it, but you can pretty much see in all of my previous writings that me and the Big Guy weren't quite seeing eye to eye. And not only that, but here is this old friend of mine (when all I wanted to do was catch up with him) preaching the Good News to me, and I was detoxing. The headaches didn't leave all week, and I sweated half my body weight out of my forehead alone.

And then I started having dreams. Not just dreams, but VISIONS. They were so real, that to this day, 8 months later, I can still remember every image with a crystal clear distinction. I dreamt that I was in Hong Kong with my friend, and that I too was a missionary. It was an adventure and a half, and for those of you who have read my previous works, you won't be surprised to find out that I was in fact wearing the gear of Indiana Jones. It was enough to excite me, but not enough to push me out the door. I told my friend, and he jumped up and down with excitement like a 6 year old who got the golf set that he wanted for Christmas. Ok, that was me, but my friend still looked like that. He started telling me with no lack of exuberance about a Missions base out in Hong Kong, and of all the different areas of Asia that they were reaching out too. He failed to remember once again however, that I just didn't care. So I put it behind me, not forgetting however, the realness that was my dream.

The next day, another missionary friend comes to stay, a petite American girl whose only negative virtue I could really list was that maybe she was TOO loving, if that's possible. As it turns out, missionaries tend to talk, and it didn't take long for this girl to learn about my dream, and it turned out that she'd visited this place in Hong Kong, and was now also trying to talk me into considering it. "Thank Christ," I thought, "that I'm outta here in two days."

Nope.

As it turned out, my dad had also had plans to chat with me about my future plans, and as he was as-of-yet unawares that I'd made up my mind to not finish my oh-so-redundant English major, I was nervous to talk to him. He's not exactly the most understanding guy when it comes to future plans and not following them under his direction. Few dads are from what I've gathered. So on my last night, having barely pulled through the week of swimming in my own sweaty clothes, intense headaches and way-too-real dreams, I was sitting across from this old friend of mine sharing a meal, and enjoying what should have been our last meal together for probably another year at least. I was just a stranded Calgarian while this man of God was traveling from Canada to South Africa to Nepal to who knows where. I told him about the upcoming conversation with my dad, and he told me that he'd like to pray for me.

Let me say something here. Desperation is not a feeling or emotion unfamiliar to anyone reading this. How do I know that? Because its the only feeling familiar to us on an everyday basis. It's so easy to find this feeling, because it comes with sadness, lonliness, anger, hunger, constipation and diahrrea.

And at this moment in this silly-themed hamburger joint named SOPHIE'S, sitting across from one of my oldest friends whose offering me the one kind of aid I don't want in this situation, I feel desperate. I had explosive diahrrea of the mind as it were. So I said YES to the prayer. So here I am, a synchromysticism studying English Major drop-out detoxing looking like he's recently just come inside from a rainy day from all of his sweat, praying with a missionary to Jesus Christ for help. And that wasn't even the oddest thing. What was odd was the prayer that was said:

"God, please give [The Sister's Son] more time to find out what it is that he wants to do, what he's supposed to do. And give him the courage to talk to his dad about his plans, and help his dad to have understanding."

What I'm about to say is 100% true. Two. 2. Tah-oo. Two Minutes later, another friend comes running into the restaurant just as we're about to pay for the meal. Before I tell you what he says, let me describe to you the Sea-to-Sky Highway...


British Columbia is treasured by Canada because of how it looks. Put the natural resources, the Olympics and the people aside, this piece of land is gorgeous beyond compare. Vancouver is on a beautiful piece of oceanside property, and right behind it is incredible forestry and mountains. Now, the Sea-to-Sky highway's name must be starting to make sense to you if you were previously unaware of the characteristics of ol' BC. Now let me say this; Whistler, where my dad lives, is on the Sea-to-Sky Highway. Somewhere way up in the mountains. High enough that the Olympic skiers and boarders and bobsledders will all me darting down the mountainside come 2010.

So here I am on the Sea End of the Sea-to-Sky, en route to the Sky, when this friend comes running in. He tells me this:

"There's just been a massive landslide on the road to Whistler! Nobody was hurt, but the sound broke the windows of cars 30 kilometres away. It's 30 metres wide and 9 metres high. They say it's going to block the road for a week!"

What?

Do you remember how many minutes it was before I first heard this sentence that it was prayed for something to give me more time? TWO! It suddenly seemed very clear to me that was God was trying to tell me something. Not only that, He was so annoyed that I wasn't already listening that he threw a MOUNTAIN at me! Fortunately I'm a great catch.

Because I was going to be sticking around Vancouver for an extra week, I ended up that night going to see a man named Sokreaksa Himm, who had survived and escaped the Killing Fields of Cambodia, and had since found God, forgiven the murderers of his family, and now planted churches among the country. I mean come on! How do you do that? I have trouble forgiving my 7 year old brother after he takes the last cookie from the counter before I even get one.

I sat there and listened to this man, but all I could think about was this missionary friend, his missionary friend, and my missionary friend's missionary family's eye watching me from the corners of their eyes, already knowing that there was a next step for me to take, and how stupid must I be if I still don't realize it. I did realize it, and I took the next step.

That night I applied to go to the Missions Base in Hong Kong. One month later I got accepted. 4 months after that, I left. During that time, I helped start and host a movie review podcast called The Weekly Re-Brew. Just as the time for me to leave approached it really started to take off, and get some attention. It was hard to leave it, but I wasn't about to ignore God again. Someone throws a mountain at you, you listen, all I'm gonna say. Leaving the show was really hard, but what I never told the other hosts was that I prayed for that show to work every day. Since leaving, they've received two official sponsors, a host website and are just as funny and entertaining to watch as they were to film with! Check it out here!

So now I'm in Hong Kong. I'm not gonna use this article to describe what I'm doing here. But The Sister's Son did not die in Calgary, and did not reform and vanish when he gave his life over to the Lord. No, instead he just has a few new view points (say that out loud, it's fun!), and it took him a while to start sharing them. So keep reading all, because I'm not ready to stop sharing.

Wrong Way was Way Wright when he wrote The Ferryboat Song. And I'm here to say this. It Really Is Better On The Other Side. It feels like this...