10250 North Freeway @ West Road
Houston, Texas 77037
Tel: (281) 447-8484
Pastor: Dr. Lester Hutson

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According to Webster, superstitions are beliefs or practices resulting from ignorance, fear of the unknown or trust in magic or chance. They are prevalent in every culture on this globe and I would be shocked to meet a person who had not heard of at least one. Some beliefs are innocuous such as not walking under a ladder or not spilling any salt, but others can be quite pernicious such as the one I will tell you about in this lesson. Harmful or not, superstitions are another obstacle in the missionary's path.

Actually, superstitions are something every Christian must deal with when reaching the lost and teaching new converts. For the missionary or the pastor, however, there is the added dimension of presumed authority. Most people consider the "man of the cloth" (pastor, missionary, priest, etc.) to be the official voice of God or at least of their respective denominations. So these men must take great care in dealing with the superstitions of the people they are trying to evangelize and teach so that none are turned away from them or their message because of any offense or perceived offense against their beliefs.

The great apostle Paul very tactfully dealt with the superstitious nature of the Greeks in his Mars' hill sermon recorded in Acts chapter 17. In verse 22 he said, "Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious." If you use a Strong's Concordance and look up the original Greek word which in our English Bible is translated "superstitious" you will find that it is the word "deisidaimonesteros" meaning more religious than others. However, you will also note that this word is constructed from two other Greek words, "deilos" which means timid or faithless and "daimon" which refers to the demonic or supernatural. This statement of Paul's was prompted by his observation of the Athenians monument to "the unknown god." He, being led by the Holy Spirit, tactfully presented Jesus Christ as that unknown god and was able to inoffensively deliver the plan of salvation to those Greeks.

I remember two separate occasions when my father was faced with superstitious beliefs. One was humorous and involved a Brazilian pastor while the other was deadly and involved an indian tribe on the Northeast coast of Brazil. I'll tell you of the funny one first.

During one of his travels a national pastor stayed in our home for a couple days. This man had accepted Christ during his training to become a priest (that's a mind full isn't it?) and by the time of this occurrence had been saved many years, gone through seminary training and been a pastor for a few years.

The first morning after his arrival to our home my mother set out a somewhat typical breakfast. The traditional Brazilian breakfast, or at least the one I'm most familiar with, consists of plenty of coffee, hot milk to mix with the coffee, fresh hot sourdough bread, plenty of fresh butter, slices of soft white cheese, slices of guava (or other fruit) gel to go on top of the cheese, slices of papaya and some sweat breads. Now, I said that Mom laid out a somewhat typical Brazilian breakfast because she added sliced mangoes and cold milk to drink.

When the pastor sat down at the table with the rest of us and looked over the spread he frowned slightly but then quickly smiled and congratulated my Mother on the beautiful bounty. My mother always did her best to please the Brazilians and to especially not offend in any way. As a result she had become very perceptive and had noticed the pastor's initial reaction despite its brevity. She asked him if everything was to his satisfaction. As politely as he could say it he mentioned that mangoes and milk did not go together and that terrible things would happen to anyone who ate mango and then drank milk. Mom quickly apologized but also explained that we had been eating mangoes and drinking milk for years and never suffered any adverse effects. My father added that maybe he should try it because after all the combination was quite refreshing. Reluctantly he did so and was pleased with the combination of flavors but remained a little apprehensive.

After finishing his breakfast the pastor excused himself to go and finish getting dressed for the day. He then went to the quest bathroom and closed the door. Mom had just started clearing the table and the rest of us were heading our separate ways when we heard an anguished cry come from the quest bathroom. We all ran to it, Dad in the lead just sure that another boa constrictor had entered that room through the toilet (it had happened before and I'll tell you more about it in a later lesson). When my father and I reached the bathroom its door opened and the pastor stumbled out looking like he'd seen a ghost. He was almost crying and quite beside himself yelling that he knew he shouldn't have eaten the mangoes and drunk the milk and for us to just look at what had happened to him. Well, actually, we couldn't see anything wrong with him and told him as much.

"Look at my face!," He yelled back. "Look at how swollen and distorted it is!"

"But your face is fine," soothed my father. "It is as it has always been. I see nothing wrong with it."

"Well look at it in this mirror," cried the pastor dragging my father into the bathroom to stand before the mirror on the wall.

My older sister and I also entered the bathroom and along with our father looked at the pastor's reflection in the mirror and immediately we all, except for the poor distraught pastor, began laughing. My father quickly explained that the mirror had two sides, one to magnify and the other normal. The side he was using was the magnification side. When my father turned the mirror around and the pastor saw that his face was back to normal he too burst out in laughter.

Not all superstitions are so funny and harmless. I remember one trip I took with my father and another missionary and his son to an indian tribe on the northeast coast of Brazil. That trip started out pleasantly with everyone looking forward to roughing it, seeing new things, experiencing new sights and sounds, but by the end of the trip we were all relieved to be leaving that village behind.

Two graduates of our Bible institute in Recife had moved up to a place called Bahia da Traição (Bay of Treason) to reach an indian fishing village for Christ. One of the graduates was married and the other was a single lady. These two missionaries had a great burden for these people and were willing to endure whatever sacrifice was necessary to bring them the gospel.

Several months after these missionaries had been established in that village my father and another American missionary decided to travel up to the village and see what progress had been made and to also encourage the missionaries. My father invited me to come along and the other missionary did the same with his son since we were close friends.

So off we went in an old VW bus, one of the most popular vehicles in Brazil at the time. We boys had no idea what was ahead so we peppered our fathers with 1.5 million questions. "Are they mean indians?" "Do they eat people?" "Can we play with their kids?" "Do they use bows and arrows to fish?", etc., etc.

After several hard miles and hours of bouncing along poorly built and maintained roads we finally reached the village. It was just getting dark and the missionary couple had prepared supper and a place in their tiny home for each of us to stay. Our fathers decided to sleep in the hammocks provided inside while my friend and I decided to sleep in the van, thus giving ourselves some time of liberty for night-time exploring.

During supper that evening the national missionaries relayed their achievements and how they hoped to soon start putting up a church building. When asked what their greatest hardship was they all answered, "superstition."

My friend and I had wolfed our food down, like growing boys with adventure on their minds do, so we did not hear the bulk of the conversation relating to the native's beliefs. Had we done so we would not have so quickly excused ourselves and headed out into the dark night.

I remember that on this particular night there was a very full moon and despite its brightness you could still see hundreds of thousands of stars. The village had no electricity, of course, but the night was so bright you didn't even need a flashlight. Good thing too, because none of us had brought one.

The first thing we did was take a long swim in the ocean. It was deep and cold quite close to shore but we were young and strong and having a great time. We would dive down 8 to 12 feet and run our hands through the sand to find living sand dollars, something we used to do back home in Recife, just never at night. We then swam parallel to the shore, sometimes racing, sometimes floating on our backs so we could watch the moon and stars.

When we tired out a bit we came in to shore and found a young indian boy watching us. We walked up and asked him if he spoke Portuguese, which he did, and then asked him to play with us. He said not on a full moon night and definitely not in the ocean. "Why not?" we asked. "Because of all the sharks," came the very chilling response. As he said this he pointed up the beach just a few feet away to a large pile of shark fins laying on the sand.

Here's a hint to any of you adventurous types reading this. Fishing villages in remote areas do not dispose of fish carcasses in incinerators or in land fills. They dump them back into the water. They do not do this while out at sea but on the beach in front of their shacks. Fish blood and fish carcasses dumped into the same area on a daily basis produces a Pavlovian response in the cannibalistic marine life in the surrounding waters. This most definitely includes sharks.

The night was suddenly chilly and we decided to get out of the gentle breeze. The young indian followed us back to the van all the while telling us that it was not safe to be out on full moon nights because of the "Papa Figo" (their version of the boogey man, except this guy rips out your liver and eats it in front of you). He told us that on full moon nights he stalked the beaches looking for victims stupid enough to be out on such a night.

Well, that story coupled with the thought of just having spent about 45 minutes swimming in shark infested waters at night successfully replaced our spirit of adventure and liberty with one of subdued apprehension. We decided it was time to sleep and said our good-byes to our new friend, got in the van and shut and locked the doors.

At just the moment we were about to fall asleep I heard a noise outside the van. I sat up and put my face to the window to look out and found myself 1/4 of an inch away from what I was sure was the boogey man. I screamed which scared about 5 years off my friend's life and brought him to full attention. It turned out to be a drunken indian who was just curious about the van and had decided to look in at the same time I had looked out. He too got a bit of a surprise but soon wandered off to sleep. Needless to say we slept very little that night.

At breakfast we relayed our story to the adults and received a very stern lecture from all five. The missionaries apologized for not warning us of the sharks but they never dreamed anyone would go swimming at night, sharks or no sharks. As for the drunk, they laughed and said he was always drunk and quite harmless. We boys felt a little better but our adventure to this village was already tainted and we no longer felt like exploring or wandering too far from our fathers.

So it was that we were present when the adults picked up their conversation from the previous night. They talked about visiting a newly converted couple who were being persecuted by the village witch doctor. The local missionary offered to lead us to the family who lived in a part of the village about 1 mile from the beach (I guess the smell of rotting fish carcasses was somewhat of a deterrent to real estate development).

During the walk my father explained to me that these indians believed that anytime a child was born in the breech position it should immediately be put to death or the entire family would be killed by a fiery devil. He continued telling me that a young couple had just accepted Christ and had also given birth to their first child: a breech baby. The mother required help with the delivery and the single missionary lady, who had some medical training, helped turn the baby around in the womb so that it would come out head first. The couple had been taught by the missionaries that killing was a sin and that nothing would happen to them if they allowed their child to live. The couple decided to do the right thing and be a living testimony to the truth the missionaries were teaching.

The local witch doctor, however, took this as a personal attack and began spreading fear into the other villagers of impending doom. Every chance he got he harassed the young couple and warned that they had better not ever leave their child alone because at the first opportunity he would kill it.

When we arrived at the couple's hut my first reaction was "why aren't they wearing clothes?". "One thing at a time son," answered my father. "It is not the same for them as for us. They have never worn clothes."

These people lived very simply. Their huts were made of sticks and mud covered over with palm fronds. No windows or doors. Hard mud floor. No tables or chairs. A place for a fire to cook over. Bedding consisting of mats of woven palm leaves laid on the floor.

The indian couple was very happy to meet us and you could almost see the relief on their faces when my father told them they were doing the right thing and that God would protect them. While our fathers visited with the couple my friend and I walked around the village. Our young friend from the night before showed up and we asked him where the witch doctor lived. He told us that he lived  way back in the jungle and that we shouldn't even talk about him or we would get a terrible sickness. We were in no mood to go exploring so we came back to the young couple's hut and waited for our fathers to finish their visit.

Just before we left the couple's village a voice from the jungle, we assumed it was the witch doctor's, screamed curses and insults at us. The other indians ran for cover but the national missionaries told us to just ignore it and definitely not to react. But we didn't know if an arrow would be following the insults or even if other villagers, wanting to please the witch, would attack us. I was never so glad to see that old beat up van as I was that afternoon.

That night we had a church service outside the national missionary's home. All the born-again indians came with their children and there were also several unsaved persons present. Not the witch doctor though. I remember that a couple men came forward to accept Christ as their Savior. Then after the meeting we had a pleasant time eating fish cooked over open fires and drinking coconut milk and other fruit juices.

The next morning, after a prayer meeting with the national missionaries, we left the village to return home. We boys couldn't help looking back as we drove out of that village wondering if we would get a glimpse of the angry witch doctor. For several weeks after this trip I didn't sleep well and was a little afraid of the dark.

In time I forgot about that trip. In fact, up until writing this I've only thought of it a couple times. When I did however, I would always remember how glad I was that I was a born again child of God and that I had His all-powerful protection.

SUMMARY:

Superstitions can be simple and even humorous beliefs but they can also be very dangerous. I believe that Satan uses them to keep people in a sort of captive lifestyle. Trying to reach people with strong superstitions against doing what is right can be very difficult and time consuming. However, every life reached for Christ is worth any amount of sacrifice and effort.

As for the attacks against God's children by those caught in the more evil beliefs, listen to John's Divinely inspired words in 1 John 4:1-4:

"Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world. Hereby know ye the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God: And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is that spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come; and even now already is it in the world. Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world."

NEXT LESSON:

There is one more barrier to missionary work that I would like to address: the socio-economic one. Sometimes the difference in education and income can work against the missionary. I'll elaborate more in the following lesson.

"It Does Make a Difference What You Believe"