The life story of David Livingstone retold by Ravi Zacharias

David Livingston was born in Blantyre, Scotland in 1813. He would sit on his father's knee and his father would tell him stories of missionary medical missionaries and David Livingston's heart would start pounding with a sense of calm. He got on his knees one day and he said this, Send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me. Sever any ties but the ties that bind me to your service and to your heart. And he said through it all came the words of God to me, Lo I'm with you always, even unto the end of the age. He went into Africa as you know and because of sickness that began to maul his family, he had to send his wife back home. Do you know when was the next time he saw his wife Mary after that initial parting? Five years. When I arrived here I was going straight from here to Orlando, Florida. Then when I found out I'd be finishing up this morning, juggled my tickets here and there, paid a little bit extra more to get back just to overnight with my family again. For me seven days looms so large. Five years is outlandish. I am not justifying it. I'm not condemning it. I'm just stating it as it was. The next time he saw her, he was a different looking man. His face had been burnt to a crispened leather by the African sun. He had been attacked by a lion that had torn one shoulder apart. He'd walked into the branch of a tree that had partially blinded one eye and marred his face. And as he hobbled back to his house, he found out that only a few days before they had buried his father and the wound began to grow in Livingston's heart. But one day he said to his wife, he said, honey, the haunting specter of the smoke of a thousand villages in the morning sun is still burning within my heart. I have to go back. And he went and he was not going to see them for some time. Till finally after a long while when Mary joined him, the very day she set foot on African soil again, she contracted a disease that her body was not able to face up to. And a few days after that he was burying her. As he stood by her grave, somebody heard him weeping loudly and crying out, my Jesus, my King, my life, my all, I again consecrate my life to thee. I shall place no value in anything I possess or in anything I do except in relation to thy kingdom and to thy service. He said, through it all came the words of God to me, lo, I'm with you always, even unto the end of the age. He packed his bags and went back to his hometown village of Ujiji. When he arrived there, he found somebody had played a dirty joke on him, stealing all his medication that was his only help from a body that was wracked with pain and unable to find any medication. He buckled down on his knees and he cried out to God, you promised you'd be with me always to the end of the age. I need that medicine. Some time went by, he saw a pair of feet walking towards him. He lifted his countenance and for the first time in a long while he was seeing a stranger, a white face for the first time in a long while. He said, who are you, sir? He said, my name is Henry M. Stanley. I have been commissioned by the papers to come and do a story on your life. Mr. Livingstone, I want you to know two things about me. Number one, I'm the biggest swaggering atheist on the face of the earth. Don't try to convert me. Number two, I have some medication for you that somebody has sent. He said, give me the medication. Four months later, the biggest swaggering atheist on the face of the earth became a Christian and wrote the two-volume biography entitled Livingstone of Africa by Henry M. Stanley. Time began to go by, they'd carry him stretcher from village to village till his body was feverish and trembling with the temperature. One day he told his two national brothers, take me back to my home. I'm very, very ill. He brought him back to his little place there and just about spilled him over into a scot till he says, no, help me onto my knees. He got onto his knees and he started to pray and the atmosphere being so sacred that his brothers left the room to leave him alone with God. Somebody came running and said, I want to see Mr. Livingstone for a moment. They said, wait, he's praying. They did several minutes, looked inside, still on his knees. A long time elapsed, looked inside, still on his knees. Looked even beyond that, he was still on his knees. They walked over out of concern for his wellbeing, grabbed him by the shoulder, said, Livingstone fell over. He was dead. He died exactly the way he had lived in the presence of his Lord.