In loving memory of my father, LAMBRY MISHKOFF who led me into the great Salvation of Jesus Christ.
THERE is a beautiful little land in the heart of the Balkan Peninsula, the "Land of Red Roses," called Bulgaria. She is the bridge between Europe and Asia by train, and the golden door to Europe. Although the Kingdom of Bulgaria is a small country (43,000 square miles) its beautiful scenery has a variety of forms. There are majestic mountains, fertile valleys, numerous plains crossed by rivers, the Black Sea coast in the east with cliffs, or wooded shore forming the background of small bays. Two-thirds of the six million Bulgarians live in 5,632 villages. One sees these peasants driving into town to sell their products in carts drawn by cows or oxen. Russians, Jews, Armenians, Greeks and Macedonians; and Turks, in red fez and baggy trousers, mingle with the Bulgarians. Modern Bulgaria was born in 1878. She was under the Turks 500 years. Bulgaria has made remarkable progress during the fifty-six years since her liberation. In social conditions, in education, in morality, this youngest of the Balkan States stands preeminent among them all. Bulgaria has a constitutional government based on Anglo-Saxon ideas of democracy. King Boris III is the ruling Tzar. All the nationals in Bulgaria enjoy equal rights. The Constitution guarantees liberty to all. The state church is Greek Orthodox. But there is full freedom of religion, and liberty of conscience and freedom of the press. Bulgaria is a land of aspirations and hopes. A restless, impetuous national spirit, ever striving for reforms and liberation seeks to express itself in many ways, and various organizations. This leads to tolerance and cooperation, and the Bulgarians are remarkably tolerant. Bulgaria of today is a romantic land, pulsating with life.
In this beautiful land of Bulgaria I was born. I was born twice. Once, I was born in 1887, December 15 in the little town of Haskovo, two hours from the Turkish border; and second time, I was born in 1906, April first, into the big Kingdom of God. (You know, those who are born once, will die twice, and those who are born twice will die only once.) It was my great privilege to be born and reared in a Christian home (my parents were members of the Congregational Church at Haskovo). The Christian home! Oh, it is the foundation of our civilization. It is the salt of the earth. It is the light of the world. A home, where the Word of God is read and taught, where prayer is heard, where Christ is the ever-present Friend, and ever-dwelling Counselor. A home, where the family worship is a daily pleasant necessity; a place where the father and the mother are priests and the fire on the altar never goes out; a place where the beauty of the Christian life finds its best expression, and the children may see it in the parents' intercourse. I don't wonder that the rich and great and ambitious Napoleon of France said: "The greatest need of my country is not money, but mothers, "Christian mothers (and I will add and fathers, also).
How did it happen that my parents were evangelical Christians, "believers," as we say now, in that country of Bulgaria, where the State Church is that of Eastern Greek Orthodox Church, (a dead Catholic Church) and where the whole nation was kept in superstition and ignorance for one thousand years, through being deprived of God's Word? Here is the explanation of the turning point in the life of Mishkoff's family, which no doubt was in the plan of our great God. Here is a vision of God's purpose and plan. It was the middle of the nineteenth century that the Bulgarians, a race whose very existence was almost forgotten by the outside world, attracted the attention of Cyrus Hamlin, Elias Riggs and others of the great missionary statesmen then resident in Constantinople, Turkey. In fact as early as 1842 Dr. Riggs the wonderful linguist (who was a leading member of each of the committees, which translated the Bible into modern Greek, Armenian, Turkish and Bulgarian) issued a little paper-covered Bulgarian grammar in English. He stated in the preface that he was prompted to do so by his hope that his country men would be aroused some day to take an interest in the Bulgarians, and would then find his grammar ready to aid them in acquiring the language. His hope and faith were justified when the American Board authorized its Western Turkey Mission to enter Bulgaria and begin a Gospel work among the Bulgarians south of the Balkan in 1858 ("Balkan" is the name of the majestic and high mountain called "Balkan mountain" dividing Bulgaria into North Bulgaria and South Bulgaria. And from that name comes the word "Balkan" States, and "Balkan" Peninsula) .
The first work of the American Missionaries at that time was, to employ some of their converts as colporteurs and to send them from place to place to distribute and sell Bibles and Testaments. One of these faithful workers was visiting from shop to shop, when he entered the little shop of a hatter."Dober den, bie Lambry" (Good day. Brother Lambry) said the colporteur to the hatter.
"Dal Bog dobro (God gave the good) answered the hatter.
"I am selling Bibles and Testaments in Bulgarian language. Would you buy a copy?" said the colporteur.
"The Bible in Bulgarian language? The Gospel (Evangelieto) in Bulgarian language? Impossible ! It must be some mistake.We have the 'Evangelieto' (the Gospel) in Slavonic language, and of course, only 'popa' (the priest) can sing it." The said hatter was a member of the Eastern Orthodox church. He was a very pious man. Not a Sunday was he absent from the church. He attended all the long services of the church holidays, standing for hours in an unheated church, listening to the priest, who must sing long Slavonic prayers to the Virgin Mary and many other saints. On entering the church, he immediately goes to the supply at the door to buy candles and carries them to the holy icons and bends low before them, and kisses the sacred pictures of the Virgin Mary and other saints. Many times with tears in his eyes and heart, burdened with sorrow, he kissed the begrimed pictures in a vain effort to find remission of his sins. Every time the name of Jesus is mentioned in the service, this hatter prostrates himself face downward upon the stone floor.
To this pious man the Evangelical Colporteur found no difficulty to sell a copy of the New Testament. The Lord, it seemed, had prepared the heart of the hatter for the seed. He bought a copy of the Bulgarian Testament, and put it into his pocket to read at home, alone, when all retired for the night. That night was the turning point of this hatter. He could not leave the copy of the Testament until the morning was dawning. Every page of the book was something new for him. He swallowed every word of the Testament with a longing, with a relish, wanting to learn more and more, to know everything that night. And, praised be the Name of our God, His Word proved to be a sword sharp on the two edges. A week later, the same Colporteur visited the same hatter, and asked him how he liked the book he sold him not very long ago. "The Book has done its great role. Now I understand what it means to be a Christian. Now my eyes can see. Now I know what the great Savior, Jesus Christ, has done for me, to save my soul. I have peace in my heart. A heavy burden on my back dropped down." . . . The colporteur told him how to read the Word of God, how to pray, and how he must trust Jesus Christ for Salvation. And that was enough. There in the little town of Haskovo, the Lord kindled a small candle with far-reaching results.
The hatter learned from the Word of God that salvation means service to others. He could not keep the nice things he got from the Testament for himself, but he began to share them with his wife. Soon she was converted. Then he thought it would be a nice thing if he could tell the neighbors what he had found in this strange Book called the "New Testament." (Until then they knew only "Evangelieto"the Gospel and of course, in Slavonic). He gathered some of his neighbors in his house and read some pages of the Testament. All were surprised and astonished to hear such precious words, unknown to them until now. They wanted to come once more to listen to the reading of the Book. And once more, and once more, until the house of that hatter was turned into an Evangelical church. But soon the room was too small to gather all who came, and the hatter thought in himself, we must build a special and large hall for the purpose. He bought a lot with his own money, and built a very simple, but large hall. Then he wrote to the American missionaries in Philippopolis to send them a preacher. But, the Evangelical Christianity, the Evangelical church and preaching and praying, were altogether new for the ignorant people in Haskovo, even for their priests, and they thought it was some "foreign propaganda" and began to persecute the believers. They threw stones through the windows of the hatter's house and broke all the panes; they threw stones on the roof of his house and broke to pieces all the tiles; they boycotted his shop; and one Sunday as he was preaching, the mob rushed into the church and abducted him and threw him out of the window to kill him. But, they did not know, that the Lord has promised to give His angels charge over His children, to keep them in all their ways and they shall bear them up in their hands lest they dash their foot against a stone. (This hatter used to say that Psalm 91 was his favorite chapter of the Bible). This was the beginning of the Evangelical work in Haskovo. And the Lord added to the church such as should be saved. The persecution only spread the "Glad News" rapidly.
In the home of this hatter I was born, and he was my father. Oh, I recall many precious memories from my old father's home that live in my soul like many fragrant flowers. I rejoice that I was born and reared there. With the personality of my father are linked the best years of my boyhood. He helped me to make the most important decisions of my life. Because of him I know the most rapturous joy of my life, the supreme joy by which I live up to the present. My father was a Bulgarian Puritan. He practiced puritanism. On Sundays he never allowed us (the children) to go in the street and play with others. The Sunday was spent in the church service, Sunday School, and at home, reading the Bible, praying, meditating, and resting, or visiting the hospital to distribute tracts and say a cheerful word to the sufferers. I will never forget the family worship every evening after supper. Nothing could displace it. Nothing could be substituted for it. Nothing could hinder its performance. As soon as the supper was over, the father would take his old, large, torn-up Bulgarian Bible and we, the five children, two brothers, and three sisters, around him and our beloved mother, listened as he read slowly with clear voice, so we could hear and understand every word. And then, he would ex-
"Will you try to help our church to carry on God's work, in this town?"
"Yes."
"Will you attend all church services?"
"Yes."
"Will you take part in the church services?"
"Yes."
"Will you do your best to live as a true Christian?"
"Yes."
"Will you try to bring others to the church services?"
"Yes."
"Do you smoke; do you drink; do you play cards?"
"No."
"All right. Will you, please, step out of the room, until the Committee makes its decision?"
After a few minutes I was recalled to hear the decision of the Committee: "You are accepted into the membership of the church." They told me very pleasantly, and greeted me with their right hands as brother in the Lord. I could not notice a sign of joy on the faces of my parents. It seemed to me that the news did not fill them with "great" joy. But I heard many times my mother praying: "God make Paul a preacher of Thy Word. Make him a worker in Thy vineyard."
One Sunday morning, at the church service I was sitting at the front chair while the pastor was preaching on the 37th and 38th verses of the 10th chapter of St. Matthew: "The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into His harvest." During the preaching,-f heard a voice speaking to my soul: "Paul you will be My preacher," and I saw the pastor's hand was pointing to me. As soon as I went home, I told my father, that I heard a voice speaking to my soul this morning, and I am going to be a preacher. He laughed in my face.
"Why do you laugh papa (Tate)," I asked, and blushed. I will become a preacher. Why not? I want, and I will be. He again laughed.
"Papa, tell me, what is the matter with you? I am very serious, and I want you to help me to become a preacher." My Conversion
"Are you saved?" he asked me very seriously. You want to be a preacher, that is to say, you will preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the people, and lead them to Christ to be saved. Are you saved? How are you going to give the people that which you do not possess?"
“But, I am a member of the church. I support the church. I attend the church services. I pray in the mid-week prayer meeting. What more must I do to be saved?” I said.
“That is quite a different thing. You may be a member of the church, and not be saved. But you can’t get into the Kingdom without salvation. First you must be born again.”
“But, you know I am not a sinner. I was born in this Christian home and have learned so many verses of the Bible, and so many songs. I have not killed any body. I have not stolen anything. I have not visited bad places. I have never smoked and never played cards.” I tried to show my good character.
“Nevertheless,” he said, “you are a sinner. The Bible says so. It was a great privilege for you to be born in a Christian home, but because your parents are Christians, that does not mean that you are already a Christian through patrimony. You had a good Christian environment, but to become a child of God and a worker of His Kingdom, you must be born into that Kingdom.” And he took his old Bible, put on his glasses, and very seriously began to read verse after verse to show my sinful nature, to show my helpless condition, to show that I needed salvation as every sinner needs it. My father was not a trained preacher, but he knew how to use his Bible. He used, the plain, clear language of the Bible. He spoke only of the things that were as clear as daylight to him. He could do so because the light of the Holy Spirit was within his soul. I could not ask any more questions. I saw very clearly where I was standing. I began to feel that I was sick, that there was something in my heart that made me sick, and I felt the need of a physician. You never will call a physician until you feel your sickness. I began to cry. I don’t know why, but something made me cry, and to become mild as wax. Without saying a word more, we knelt down, and my father began to pray. I had not heard him pray in such a way before. I think he was speaking to God on behalf of his son, as a father will speak to a physician about his dying child. Oh, that prayer of my father changed things. I had a real vision of myself, of my heart, of my sins, and I felt the need of salvation, as I feel the need to eat every day, or as I ought to take the medicine according to the doctor’s orders. And I had a clear vision of Christ crucified on Calvary’s Cross for my sins. I had a vision of the price paid for my redemption Maybe I will forget sometimes many of the things done at my father’s home, but that prayer of my father will not be forgotten even in eternity. And I hope the first thing I will do when I meet my father up there, beyond the shore, will be to thank him once more for what his prayer meant to me. Then I prayed. I felt that now was the time, the only time, a time which would never come again. It was now or never. I prayed aloud to the Father in His Son’s Name. I confessed my sins in that prayer (and my father heard all about them), and I confessed my need yes my immediate need of the Savior. Then I expressed my hearty wish to follow Him with the help of God. When I finished my prayer, my father said, “Amen,” and kissed me twice. My prayer was very short. It was just a childish prayer a child talking to his Father and telling Him what he had done, and what he needed. And I remember the wonderful stillness around us. A deep, incomprehensible calmness of eternity and a great joy overflowed my heart.
“And now,” said my father encouragingly, “Be true to your decision and go on in the steps of Jesus Christ.” A light descended upon my soul. Such a joy as I never felt before. Everything seemed to be new. Oh, how I longed to go to men to tell them of a living, saving, loving Christ, Who saved me and who had become a reality for me. Now I have found Christ. Now I have salvation. Now I know that I am a sinner saved lay grace. Now I have found a spiritual power to fight the devil. And now I understand what is my place in the church. What a delight it was for me, to stand up in the church meeting and to bring my testimony to relatives and friends. Now I wanted to be a church member and serve my Lord. My Preparation to Preach Well, I said to my father,
“I still, and now more than ever, long to be prepared for the ministry of the Gospel. I want to be a preacher.”
“All right, my son,” said the father, “But I have no money to send you to school.”
“I will find a way, ‘tate/ (papa), I said. The Lord who led me to this point of my life. He will open the way to school for me.”
I wrote to two American missionaries working in Philippopolis, Bulgaria, stating to them my conversion, desires and need of help. They wrote me back, that they were very glad to hear about my experience and would see that I be accepted as a student at the American school in Samokove, at that time. These letters brought me comfort and encouragement. I saw the Lord’s hand in my life. God abundantly cared for me. These two missionaries enabled me to take the four years course of the said school, studying and working there in the printing room of the mission.
I well remember the day when I left my fa-ther’s home for the Samokove school. All that I had then, and all that my father could give me then, was the mended costume on me all covered with patches. Of course, I had my capouch (my father made it). That was all. But, I felt that all Heaven was on my side. I was the happiest man in the world, because I had something in my heart the world never can give, and I saw the beginning of the realization of my desires and holy ambitions. While in the Samokove school, they used to send me to the neighboring villages on Sundays to preach the Gospel. They paid my expenses, ten levas for a week-end, (lc). I used to go on foot, in order to save the ten levas to buy books After finishing the four years course, I made my plans to go to Chicago and take up the Bible course of Moody Bible Institute, of which I had heard a great deal. But I had not money to buy my third class ticket from Sofia to New York, which cost $4.00 (280 levas, gold) at that time. I went to the same missionaries to beg for their financial help, but they refused, saying:
“You have enough education to start your ministry. We need men to be sent in the field to preach. Here and there churches are calling for preachers.”
“Yes,” I said, “I know the need. But I must have more knowledge of the Bible. I must continue my studies farther and prepare myself for better and wider service. And, I believe that the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago is the place where I must go.”
“We are afraid if you go to America you will not come back again to Bulgaria. And then we have not such a fund to buy your ticket. You better begin your ministry right away,” they said. Then I went to see the Superintendent of the Methodist Mission at Sofia, at that time, telling him the above story, and my unalterable intention to go to America to carry my studies farther in preparing myself for my Lord’s service.
“All right,” said the Methodist missionary,
“I will gladly help you.” And he loaned me 280 levas ($4.00).
I went to the steam ship agent in Sofia, and bought a third class ticket, (because they had not fourth class) from Sofia to New York, with-out having an idea of the road, of the boat, etc. And I think they cheated me (knowing my ignorance concerning such a long voyage), and instead of a regular passenger boat, they put me on a freight boat, starting from Fiume, Austria, on the Mediterranean Sea via Gibraltar. The trip across the Atlantic Ocean to New York took 28 days! They were feeding us with horse flesh every day. The boat was very dirty and the passengers (I would not mention their nationality) were very dirty bodily and morally. The boat stopped at Ellis Island. I was put (of course, with others) in a wire cage until they found that everything with me was in good order and straight, and forced me to buy a parcel of food which I would need on my way to Chicago. Although I told them again and again, that I had plenty of food with me, they con-strained me to take that parcel. I paid $1 for it! Then they put me into an emigrant’s train to Chicago. As soon as the train started off I had such a continuous stomach-ache, that I thought I would die on the train. I was crying, but no body of the passengers helped me. With such a stomach trouble I reached Chicago. And of course, I went on straight ahead to the Moody Bible Institute.
But, Mr. P, the Superintendent of the men’s department at that time, said that he was very sorry, he could not accept me in the Institute, having no room and no funds available to help me. I left his room almost smitten! Now, where shall I go? I was a stranger among the strangers ! My broken English only drove back the people to whom I stretched out my hand for help. I was in the streets of Chicago helpless and hope-less. No money in my pocket, no work, no friends. I had no place where to sleep. I was broken and desperate. Night after night I wandered in the noisy streets of Chicago. Thank God, my food was secured at that time. The saloons used to offer free food to those who would drink. Of course, they could not recognize who would drink and who would not drink of those who crowded the saloon. The rooms were always crowded. Cursorily and timidly I would fill up my stomach and flee away not to be seen. I was destitute. I was lost. I was tempted to destroy myself. I was going on in the path of destruction, when suddenly the last words of my mother came in my memory. When she arranged my clothes in the suit-case, she put in a small copy of the Bulgarian New Testament and said to me:
“Paul, you are going to a far foreign country.
May be your path will not be sunny always. May be you will get discouraged, helpless, without friends and without work. Here I put this book to be your guide. Take it in your pocket and read it always, especially in such times. Maybe I will not be alive to see you any more, but this book will keep you near to God and only God will help you when all people have forgotten you.” I lost some of my things which I had taken from home. But I had the copy of the Bulgarian Testament in my pocket not only to keep it, but to read it when I was sitting on the benches of the Union Station and other public places night after night. My soul was wakened anew. An ambition was roused in me: “I must prepare myself for a preacher any way."
One day sitting in a Bulgarian restaurant in Chicago, I read a Bulgarian newspaper printed in America and dealing generally with the life of the Bulgarian emigrants. The editor was inviting the intelligent people (Bulgarians) who were in America to send him some articles about their lives, offering to pay two dollars for each good article. I said to myself:
“Here is a good job for me!”
And I wrote an article and sent it to the editor of that paper. The article was appreciated printed in the paper, and I received two dollars and a letter from the editor to continue to send him such articles. Of course, I did. After three weeks, I was invited to take the place of the editor, be-cause he was sick and he needed a long rest and special treating. He went to Florida, and I took his place in the editor’s office. I said to myself:
“Adieu misery !”
After four months of my editorship of the said Bulgarian paper, the chief-Editor and proprietor of the paper returned from Florida worse in health than before he went there. No body wanted to offer him a room, because he was in the last period of tuberculosis. Then I took him into my room. I was not afraid to live with him in the same room. Two weeks passed and he was constrained to go to a hospital in St. Louis. Only four days after, I was called to go at once to the hospital because my chief was dying. I found him in agony. Two “sisters” were waiting on him. The one said to him: “Mr. S, you are in a very critical moment. What will happen with your news paper and property, if you die? To whom will you leave all these things?” “To this man,” he said and pointed to me with his finger. Then the “sister” brought a piece of paper (it was a blue paper) and wrote all what my chief wanted to leave to me. And then she gave that statement to my chief to place his signature. And he did it. After one hour he died. I took that paper and went to the judge to make it legal. Then I divided the inheritance in-to two parts: one for the worker who was with the chief since the paper started, and the other part for myself. Now I was enabled to enter Moody Bible Institute, and I saw the hand of God in my life for the hundredth time. The life of faith! How the Lord plans and works miracles, even to sup-ply our material needs! Praise be to His Holy Name! While in Moody Bible Institute I was privileged to preach to the 5,000 Bulgarians living then in Chicago. That work was supported by Chicago Tract Society.
* * *
Twenty-five years ago I left Moody Bible Institute and went back to Bulgaria to give the people there what I had learned and received in the Institute. I shall always keep in my heart the remembrance of that great Institute of God. While in Moody Bible Institute nothing used to interest me so much as revivals in the Christian church. The revivals under Moody, Torrey, Chapman and Gypsy Smith, filled me with joy and wonder. And having come from the benighted and superstitious expanses of the Balkans, I yearned in my heart to see the day when Bulgaria would be swept by a revival of God. Having heard of John Knox’s prayer: “God, give me Scotland, or I die!” I learned to offer from the very depths of my being a similar prayer for Bulgaria: “0, God! Give me Bulgaria, or I die.”
Because the Methodist missionary at Sofia loaned me $4.00 to pay the third class ticket from Sofia, to America, I felt myself obliged to work for the Methodist church in Bulgaria for a while. And I took the pastorate of the Varna church on the Black Sea. Bishop John L. Nuelson of Zurich, Switzerland ordained me. I was very earnest and enthusiastic in the ministry. I was preaching not only in the church, but also in the City garden and in the streets where large crowds gathered to listen to my preaching. But I was not satisfied. I was not happy. I did not enjoy my ministry. And I could not understand, why? I could not see what I lacked. Now, I know that there is a filling of the Holy Spirit (Sanctification) which constitutes a crisis in the life of a man or woman, and life after that experience can never be the same again. It came to me more than twenty years ago. It was Saturday night. I was preparing my ser-mon for the Sunday morning service. My theme was “The Work of the Holy Spirit.” I usually write all my sermons. And I did very well that night. I read I it once and twice, and I was sure that I wrote every line well, according to the grammar. I had selected some very good words about the power of the Holy Spirit. I finished my sermon well. I read it well. Bu I was not satisfied. There was something in my soul, which disturbed my spirit and troubled my heart continually. It was very late: two o’clock, after midnight. All of the family were sleeping. There was a deadly silence in the room. Suddenly a voice spoke to my soul: “Paul, you are going to preach about the power of the Holy Spirit tomorrow morning. You are going to tell the people Who is the Holy Spirit and what He does. They will hear your good written sermon and will thank you for it. But, do you know the Holy Spirit yourself? Have you experienced His power of cleansing, revealing and sanctification?” I was very disturbed. I sweat a great deal. I began to cry. I was alone before my God. I knelt down and cried as a child when his father discovers his sin. I saw myself. My life was revealed before my eyes as a cinema. I saw my heart. I saw how proud I was, how selfish, and how worldly! I was ordained. I was a pastor. But Jesus Christ was not on the Throne of my heart. The Holy Spirit revealed my own condition, my own heart to me, to see it myself as God sees it. The Holy Spirit revealed my own-self. And that was enough. That was all. God filled me with His Holy Spirit, and made Christ Jesus Master for the first time in my life. Life has never been the same since, praise God! May this be your hour as that was mine! You know that God is willing. Are you? No man knows his heart until the Holy Spirit reveals it. Now I know that there is a power in the Holy Ghost to transform the heart of a man in a moment. Blessed be the name of the Holy Spirit Who still works to sanctify willing hearts. Are you willing? After several years of pastoral work I heard the call of God for a nation-wide service. The Bulgarian Evangelical Alliance authorized me to do the work of the only Bulgarian traveling Evangelist. And the Holy Ghost fell upon our Evangelistic efforts. Towns and villages were moved, and the revival fire kindled and spread through-out the country.
In 1912, July 28, I married the oldest daughter of a Bulgarian Colporteur, who for 43 years traveled from village to Village to sell Bibles and distribute the Word of God. Anna, my good wife, was given to me from God. She was nine years a teacher in the Ameri-can kindergarten at Sofia and well prepared for a pastor’s wife. I know I would not be today all what I am if, after God, Anna was not my wife. I bless the day when she came into my life. God gave us three children; two boys: Parker 22, and Kliment 20, and one girl Emily 13. I did not presume to write my biography. I was asked to recall a few precious memories that live in my soul like so many fragrant flowers and to show the greatness of this life, the life of faith. There are many, even some Christians, who shake their heads doubting over the life of faith. But I believe on Him. Twenty-five years of ministry are behind me; it was a hard task for me to begin the life of faith, but now, as I walk on this way of Faith Life, nothing will put me out of it, when the Lord keeps me by His mighty hand.
“Not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name give glory, for Thy mercy, and for Thy truth’s sake.” (Ps. 115.1).
Rev. Marko N. Popoff, the director of the American Bible Society for Bulgaria writes: "As a pastor of the first Congregational church In Sofia, I have prayed In public and in private that God would raise for Bulgaria some such a servant of His who might be used by Him for a real religious revival in Bulgaria. I have lived to see my prayer answered In the person of Rev. Paul L. Mishkoff. "God endowed Brother Mishkoff with physical energy, with a strong and captivating vioice, with power of speech and above all with the power of the Holy Spirit. He is sound in the faith once delivered to the saints, and in his sermons he pours out the truths of the Gospel of Jesus in such a way night after night, that people who never before went to church now go to hear him. Such has been the case wherever Brother Mishkoff has held revival services heretofore."
Contributions also received for missionary work in Bolivia, South America, and other fields. In sending money be sure and state where you desire to have it sent. No overhead charges are deducted from missionary contributions. All money is used exactly as designated.
It may be wise here briefly to reply to the question so often asked: “Why establish missions in the Balkans at all, when the non-Moslem races already were members of the Eastern Orthodox Church?” Let us recall that the Turkish conquest of the Balkan Peninsula was completed shortly before the first stirrings of the Reformation took place under John Huss. This conquest was leveling all the nationalities and preserving them all alike in a condition of torpor, in a manner comparable to the action of a vast refrigerator. Imagine the circumstances reversed, with Eastern Europe left free and Western European development arrested at just the stage which religion and education had reached in the year 1400. Then suppose that such men as Luther and Calvin had arisen in Russia and Greece, and the progress which followed their labors had taken place in Eastern Europe. Would it have been proper or improper, brotherly or un-brotherly, for Eastern Christians to have sent emissaries bearing their religious and educational acquirements into western Europe? The Westerners can scarcely realize the disadvantage to the growth of a community whose progressive forces got no inspiration from Protestantism and whose conservative forces are not firmly founded in Catholicism . The Christian churches in Macedonia are of ethnological rather than of ethical importance. The autocephalous Christian churches of Eastern Europe have contributed nothing as evangelizing influences to the maintenance there of peace and good will; while as educational influences, they have contributed only to the growth of nationality (chauvinism), and have failed to exercise any influence on the new spiritual life of the Balkan Peninsula. This would seem abundant justification for evangelical missions in the Balkans. And the supreme call, far surpassing the call of the need, in its imperative demand, is the command of the Lord Jesus: “Go ye!” Disobedience has brought disaster; obedience has always and everywhere brought blessing.